I really struggled with myself this morning about getting
back on the road, due to the headwinds and heat today. Finally I made a deal with myself that I
would quit in Chinook, 23 miles away, if I didn’t feel better by then. The next lodging would be in Dodson, at a
B&B, but it was full on Thursday night, so I’d have to camp, but at least
it would be civilization.
After my new routine of dousing both myself and my clothes
in 98% DEET, I went off into the relentless sun, which is totally unusual for
this part of the plains. The big high
pressure ridge that has barely budged this summer from the intermountain west
has disturbed the weather patterns up here too, with day after day of temps
10-15 degrees above normal. However,
today’s forecast discussion promises that a big pacific trough coming from
Alaska will push through next week, after we get a big of relief tomorrow from
a big Hudson Bay front moving east (highly unusual and the source of the
persistent easterly winds).
It was a pretty busy road between Havre and Chinook, as
Chinook has become a bedroom community for Havre (houses are even cheaper, if
you can believe that’s possible in these parts), with lots of service trucks
headed for Chinook. However, the traffic
was polite, and the local people seem to be used to seeing a lot of cyclists on
their roads in the summer season.
I pulled into Chinook after a couple of hours of pedaling into
the wind, and it turned out to be a cute little town. I went to the Blaine County Museum, which is
serving as the interim visitor center for the new Chief Joseph battlefield
monument. The executive director was the
only staff person there, and Jude was a local who had grown up in Chinook. She was full of interesting information, and
the museum is really well done, with a lot of good interpretation, which is
rare at the little museums in these parts.
We had a chat about the ‘blueness’ of this part of Montana
(Blaine County is a blue companion to neighboring Hill County), and it turns
out her daughter works for the new Democratic Governor. Like most people my age in these parts, the
kids live far away, as there isn’t any work for them here. She told me that there isn’t even an
electrician in Chinook any more (a town of about 1000) and that electricians
from Havre are reluctant to make the trip.
I commiserated with her, but pointed out that if there was enough work,
someone would set up business. This is a
common refrain in the under 1000 person towns out here, that no one wants to
provide services, but the economist in me wonders how you would ever make a
living trying to service such small towns, given the costs of gas, supplies,
helpers, etc. Once an area starts into a
death spiral, with people driving 200 miles to the nearest Costco, I’m not sure
there’s any stopping it.
My visit to the last grocery store in town was
instructive. I bought some food for
lunch and asked for cash back on my ATM card.
“Oh I’m sorry we can’t do that here,” was the response. In this day and age, it’s easy and
frictionless for them to do so, but the owner clearly sees no need. No wonder the locals shop at the nice, new
IGA in Havre on their way home, reducing the local spend on groceries even
more.
The business people who’ve hung on here through the years
and years of decline are clearly not the great American entrepreneurial class
that the GOP touts as job creators.
Instead they are survivors who complain and whine about government
regulation while the world passes them by.
They are truly resentful, and while it’s understandable, given the way
things have gone here, it’s a recipe for continued decline. Not sure what the solution could be, but the
endgame is clearly a continuing shrinking economy and population. In another generation, most of these towns
will be ghost towns.
After my experiences in Chinook, I decided that I had enough
to go on another 50 miles to Dodson, and headed off into the heat and
wind. After 20 miles the improbably
named Harlem appeared (after Zurich and just before Savoy and Coburg), where I
spent a half an hour in a convenience store getting rehydrated, and regretting
my decision to push on in the heat and wind.
I still had 30 more miles to go, so I pushed on all afternoon, making
just over 10 mph in the wind.
A mile short of Dodson, I picked up a piece of glass on the
road, and the back tire punctured with a whoosh, and in the heat, and with an
approaching thunderstorm, I rushed to fix the tire. I had to stop at the local convenience store
to find some dinner, and my options were frozen sandwiches, sigh.
A quick ride to the Stage Road B&B, and Sandra was there
to greet me. She was worried as I was
later than I had told her (due to the flat and the heat) and immediately
offered me watermelon! She was going
over to some friends for dinner, and I rehydrated with watermelon, and just
relaxed, then showered. By the time I
was all ready for dinner, she was back, and offered me some yummy home grown
lettuce for a salad too. Made my Deli
Express microwave sandwich taste much better!
Just as I was finishing dinner, another cyclist called, and
a few minutes later Steve showed up, looking much worse for the wear than I had
when I’d arrived. Turned out he’d done a
crazy 110 miles in the heat, and he’s at least my age. It was the 5th day that he’d done
100+ miles a day, and boy was he tired out.
The store had closed, so Sandy offered him my other sandwich, which I
hadn’t needed due to the watermelon and salad.
We chatted a bit, and Steve was a retired horticulture instructor from
Plymouth NH, who lives not far from my friend Faith in Orford. He said that my route will take me right
through his town, so I’m looking forward to catching up with him there.
After dinner, I took a very careful look at the map, and
lodging options, and realized that things are so far apart here that my
original plan to blast through here at 70+ miles a day wasn’t going to work
with the forecast headwinds. Also,
hearing and seeing Steve made me realize that I don’t have to set a crazy pace,
and that I should enjoy what I’m doing, rather than make it a competition or
death march.
So I’ve mapped myself out for around 50 miles each day until
I get to Williston, which means I’ll get there two or three days later than I’d
planned. I think I can tackle the
endless monotony and the awful headwinds by taking it easier, and moving a bit
more slowly, trying to limit my bicycle time to around 5 hours a day.
I was very tired and was grateful for the earlier sunsets on
this end of the time zone, and got myself in bed at 9.
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