Ft. Pierre to Kadoka

Brian’s Ride Miles Biked: 98.3 Average Speed: 14.5 mph Max Speed: 30.7 mph Time Pedaling: 6 hours 50 minutes Total Feet Climbed: 5210 Start/Stop Time: 6:15 am to 2:30 p.m. Wind: More wind (low velocity) from the south shifting to the northeast.

Comments: I started early with our guest Dave to beat the heat. After making our way out of the park and to the main road, we began to climb out of the Missouri River Valley. Although the land use was similar to yesterday, it was much more interesting because of the rolling terrain.  There were a few gradual shifts in landuse because of the drier climate west of the Missouri River (10 to 20 inches per year). There seemed to be more wheat fields and grazing cows. In fact, the summer wheat harvest for South Dakota was in full force. At one point, we saw 4 harvesters making there way through a wheat field.

     With some new found energy, I felt strong going up the hills and started getting tired about 5 miles from our camp.

     The temperature was near 100oF in the afternoon but the low relative humidity (29%) and breezed generated from biking made if feel a little cooler. I drank more water/electrolyte mixtures than anytime previously and I ate one Powerbar, Clif Bar, or Balance Bar per hour to keep my energy up.

Joan’s Version

Blazing Saddles

     We tried to recreate the chilly conditions of the lake water as we prepared for bed, however the RV’s air conditioner couldn’t quite crank out the desired arctic blasts and dangling icicles. At least the temperature cooled by the time we awoke at sunrise, when Dave and Brian left for yet another scorching day.

     Joan and I took it slow and easy, reading and relaxing over our morning elixirs, ice coffee for me and decaf tea for her. As I craved that jolt of caffeine, she savored the smoothness of tea and honey. A more perfect guest she could not have been, as her daily ritual included vacuuming the RV, preparing meals, straightening up and riding 60 or so miles in debilitating heat. On this day, she would keep me company in the RV.

     As we left the campsite, we stopped at the marina persistently searching for some Walleye, the local fish so highly acclaimed. While it turns out the selling of fresh Walleye was prohibited, we got around it by trading 2 of our "Cycle Across America" tee shirts for 4 small filets, actually Joan remarked they looked more like nuggets. Bartering like the Indians was fun, and both parties departed feeling like each got the better deal!

     Our sights were now set on finding they guys, who had left camp hours and many degrees earlier. Rolling along, Joan spotted a large vulture, the first she’d seen thus far. We were relieved, after closer scrutiny to see the bird wasn’t dining on imported bicyclist or Powerbars, but some prairie dog or other native creature.

     After finding the guys and replenishing supplies, Joan noticed a small building with a large sign "Hayes International Airport" which piqued our curiosity. Sure, this seemed like a foreign country, but could they legally claim it on their sign? Feeling like detectives, we rolled to the hangar where the informative wife of the crop duster explained many years ago, a small, distressed Canadian airplane made an emergency landing thereby making accurate their claim. Upon further investigation, we learned Hayes was home to 8 residents, mostly kin.

     By 11:30 am, the temperature blazed into the upper 90s, which made for hot and steamy riding even in the RV. The guys pedaled on, stopping briefly for lunch in a desolate gas station that served now as starting point for the "harvesters", the crews of men and huge machinery that swept through the Plains cutting and baling grain. For cost efficiency, farmers in many states contracted these mega-sized machines, but sadly the financial struggles of the farmers in this region continued.