East. Day 53.
- patti brehler
- May 28, 2021
- 3 min read
July 31, 2016
Enderlin, North Dakota to Pelican Rapids, Minnesota
We became a group.
Leaving Enderlin, Steve and the boys dismounted to walk across the rail yard tracks. Admittedly, there were a lot of them, but the right-angle tracks did not pose much of a hazard.
"We've had some incidents," Steve said. "It's our rule, we all have to stop and walk across any tracks."
Safety first. And the boys did not begrudge my riding across them.
Back on straight-road SR 46, the wind was already kicking. Where were those blasted west tailwinds? At the first climb out of the Maple River watershed, I inched ahead. And kept going with the downhill. Sometimes my fairing gave an advantage.
About 11:00 a.m., I pulled over by an expansive field of sunflowers. Photo taking as a method of killing time might allow my compadres to catch up.
When that produced no riders, I slid my "while riding" notebook from my map case and started notes for a potential Facebook post:
My deepest apologies to any bicycle tourist traveling in my vicinity. I seem to be the Headwind Queen. Yesterday, five other cyclists left Gackle, ND behind me. Loren and Robin, eventually heading for Moorehead by Fargo, headed north off the route to escape the wind. Steve and his cohorts, Matt and Everett, made it to Enderlin at dusk. But today...we face 80 miles almost due east against a southeast wind...
Still no riders. I continued.
The terrain was flat with wide-open fields in every direction. A spurt of trees like broccoli stalks indicated a town in the distance. I remembered grain elevators in Kansas announcing towns from what seemed like a day's ride away. Pedal and pedal all day long and the thing would get no bigger, we thought we'd never reach town.
It was hot. Wind hit my face like a blast furnace. What was left of my water was warm. I needed a bathroom. I passed through Christine, North Dakota--a few houses with shade trees hugging the interstate, but that was all. No chance for a bathroom, and no cover in the fields that stretched into haze. [Read my book to find out what happened next.]
I reached Pelican Rapids alone, and shared this Facebook post instead of the other:
Postcard from the road. July 31, 2016 Pelican Rapids, MN
I stood barefoot on a wet and narrow metal railing, 12 feet above the Pelican River, my left hand gripping a suspension wire. My heart was beating faster than when I was battling the southeast winds cycling into town.
"Okay, on three we'll all jump!" Miguel said, perched on the railing a few feet away. Between us was his eight-year-old son; his daughter was on my other side.
"I'm really scared," I said, trying not to tremble.
"It's just water," Miguel assured me. "It will support you."
One, two, three....and we jumped. The water enveloped me in coolness and slowed my descent the way gravity grabs away momentum on a downhill when the road rolls up again.
After a long, slow slog against 14-20 mph winds all day, the water was delightful.
After the jump, my new family wished me well and walked home. My dinner was a twilight delight after an eventful day. I texted Steve a warning for his route tomorrow, "Made it. The road after crossing I-94 (hywy 108) has more traffic and not much shoulder. Wasn't a fun ride in after such a hard day. Enjoy the evening and better winds tomorrow.!"
He answered, "Congratulations and you too!"
I doubted they'd catch me. I typed, "Was great meeting you. I'm sorry I didn't get photos with all of us!"
Steve sent a selfie. He and Everett's smiles lit up the evening. Even Matt managed a grin (of sorts).
I texted, "You guys missed a fun evening. I met a family and they were jumping off the suspension bridge into the water. They got me to do it too! Great way to cool off after a hard ride."
"You're extraordinary!" Steve texted back.
I didn't feel extraordinary, but the day sure did.
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