Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
ternoon wringing out various items of clothing, stuffing my cycle shoes with newspaper,
watching
Seinfeld
reruns, and thinking about my curious experience in North Dakota,
which I'm on the verge of leaving behind.
The state has given me a lesson in perseverance. I've had beautiful rides daily, but
with one irksome problem after another. Okay, it hasn't been so terrible, and I'm not
complaining so much as remarking on what life is like on a bicycle (yes, yes, and every-
where else).
To wit: four days ago, I was finally able to leave I-94 behind for good—and I hope
that's it for the interstate highway system for the rest of the journey. But I had to pay.
I missed a crucial turnoff and was three or four miles beyond it before I realized I was
stuck on the highway for the next twenty or twenty-five miles unless I wanted to turn
around and go back, which I couldn't get myself to do. So I plunged ahead toward exit
230 for Medina, where, before heading east into Minnesota, I planned to go north into a
region of the state that is very sparsely populated and dotted with lakes. Straight ahead
on the interstate was Fargo, so I'd have to miss it, which was too bad—a couple of read-
ers from there had invited me to stop by, and I'd wanted to go there anyway because of
the spiky Coen brothers movie—but by this time I was itchy to ride without truck traffic
and rumble strips.
I was maybe six or seven miles from the exit when I ran into road construction that
had closed down the westbound lanes and reduced what was usually a four-lane divided
highway to two undivided lanes on the eastbound side—my side—and slimmed the
shoulder as well. Alongside me the road was busy, fast-moving, noisy, and threatening.
I had no choice but to dismount, wait for a break in the traffic, sprint across the high-
way, and push my bike over the grassy center strip to ride on the unused westbound
lanes. Luckily, it was a Sunday and the construction crews weren't working. It was a
few miles to the end of the construction zone—a bit of an eerie ride, actually, going the
wrong way on an empty highway with dozens of cars and their cranky drivers clotting
up the lanes next to me—but then I found myself suddenly facing oncoming traffic, so I
had to recross the highway again. Scary. But I took pleasure in my perseverance.
Eastern North Dakota isn't what I expected. Its long stretches of flat plains are interrup-
ted by rolling hills and, partly because of a brutal flood season earlier this summer, dec-
orated by a network of ponds and lakes that adds some striking blues and greens to the
scenery spectrum. It's the kind of terrain that, with a tailwind, makes you feel as if you
owned the world and could gobble up miles without strain. The wind has been peculiar
this week, however, some variation on southerly and easterly—an unusual condition I
