East. Day 48.

July 26, 2016

Glendive, Montana to Medora, North Dakota

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Early postcard from the road. July 26, 2017 Still in Glendive, MT.

Asking forgiveness is better than asking permission, but sometimes you still pay.

An addendum on my ACA map stated that camping is allowed at the Lloyd Square Park next to the Glendive pool. When I found it yesterday, I talked to the lady in the "snak shack" by the pool. She made some calls and told me the Rec Dept said no more camping in the park. "I'm a rebel," she said, encouraging me to stay. "If anyone says anything, show them your papers."

Perhaps I should have also taken her advice and pitched my tent on the far side of the pool instead of closer to the bathrooms and a pavilion that had electrical outlets.

A wonderful sleep...until 4 am. CRACK!!!!! Lightning and rain. I snuggled in, nice and dry. But then I noticed the rain hitting my fly from the side, and intermittently.

Sprinklers!!!'

Ah well, no early start today. At least it's not hot. Yet.

Small refuge.

A seam-sealed fly was no protection against water jetting low. At a break in the spray, I peeked. My bike was getting hammered. I lept out and rolled the soggy steed under the overhang at the bathroom entrance. No more sleep for me.

Between blasts I rescued gear, pulled stakes, and lifted the ten as it stood, whisking it away to the nearby pavilion. No protection from the cold wind there, I retreated to the one dry splotch of pavement--by my bike.

I called Andy while waiting out the storm. We had a long chat. He was anxious for me to be home.

I'm on my way.

I left Glendive in spitting rain, but an east wind soon blew it behind me. Yes, headwinds. Again. And heat returned.

At the state line, I stopped to take a selfie with a "Leaving Montana" sign. (You'll have to buy my book to see it.)

Three motorcyclists were parked at the "Welcome to Montana" sign on the westbound side. We waved. They were excited as I was to reach the big sky state--almost four weeks ago.

My excitement this day? Leaving Montana.

I took the Welcome Center woman's advice and hop off I-94 at Beach. I remember stopping there at the post office on my way west to pick up my allergy drugs. Thanks again, Andy. I remember flying downhill and waving to an eastbound cyclist after the long climb leaving Rick's garage in Sentinel Butte.

I was stronger than when I pedaled west. The climb was not too bad.

And I was in North Dakota.

Rick's place. Sentinel Butte, ND. Photo from www.sentinelbutte.org.