On the road again

It is late November. In these parts, the outdoor recreational riding season is usually over by now. This year is not usual.

With the temperature close to 50 (10 C), the sun shining, and Spain leading Costa Rica 3-0, getting out of town suddenly took precedence over watching the second half of a World Cup match (and the next match as well). It was time to get on the road again.

One of my favorite places to hear live music

With an errand slightly to the northeast from home, that seemed to be the direction to head. It was a Choose Your Own Adventure day, with a route that made itself known at each major intersection.

When I saw the “Bridge Closed Ahead” sign, I figured I’d have the road to myself. They were serious about the bridge being closed. I had to lift the bike over a barricade, then climb over it myself, repeating that on the other side. It was an Interstate Highway overpass, closed after a truck ran into the abutment a month or so ago, and awaiting major repairs. If 150 pounds of me and bike in motion over it were enough to cause it to collapse, my death would be small potatoes compared to the other problems, so I figured it would hold me. Don’t tell anyone.

I met a lot of cars with trees on roofs and rode past a Christmas tree farm doing a land office business and it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet. I hope those trees don’t go up in flames after a month drying out in various living rooms.

A ride on a beautiful sunny day seems to be an invitation to a post-ride beer, so I had one with dinner. It was billed as a Breakfast Beer. Anyone who can drink an Imperial Stout for breakfast is a much more serious drinker than I.

Late afternoon sun through Armchair Quarterback, a copper lager from 3Sheeps in Sheboygan, WI

Today’s beer

Thanksgiving was a day for the age-old tradition of watching football (after the pie was done), but this year it was the real thing, played with feet, not the mis-named US game. Cristiano Ronaldo of Portugal became the first man to score in five different World Cup tournaments – not the first person, who was Marta of Brasil. She was followed by Christine Sinclair of Canada in the same 2019 tournament, so Ronaldo’s record may need an asterisk. Then there’s his attempt to claim credit for a teammate’s goal a few days later, when he tried to head in what looked like a crossing pass, but turned into a goal when he missed it by a hair. That said, he’s still one of the greatest of all time.

Black Friday was a day for more football after baking two more pies for another Thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat. The colonies faced the motherland. As the UK is the world home of football, what is otherwise a single nation has four national football teams, two of which (England and Wales) are in the 32 team tournament. While the US may have gained its independence 238 years ago (it “declared” its independence 7 years earlier, but still had to win a war, and the Treaty Of Paris in 1784 made it a sovereign nation), and beat England in two wars, on the football pitch they played to a scoreless tie.

Anything that’s worth doing is worth doing again (or is it?), so on Saturday we assembled the Eastern Division of the half-fast cycling club for another ride. It was still warm. There were calories to burn after two days of eating. The Eastern Division is down to three riders from a dozen or so a few years ago. Bad heart, bad knees, bad back, bad head have limited several friends. The Bad Knees Bears mostly walk these days. We headed out into a brisk headwind with Alfred, Lord Tennyson leading the way. I stayed in the small chain ring all the way to Paoli. We stopped for coffee and grilled cheese sandwiches and returned with the wind, staying in the big ring all the way back. After a shower and laundry the weather app says it’s still 49º (9.5 C). Is it really late November? We saw the last of the area corn being harvested.

Riding home from the library, a red-tailed hawk flew by a few feet off the ground, landing a meter off the bike path to grab a snack. It turned around and took off back along the same path so that I had to brake hard to avoid it as it crossed my path about knee high (or, in my case, mid-wheel). It tried to land atop two different brushed aluminum lampposts, having trouble with its footing while holding a small rodent. It took off again looking for a place to land to eat in peace.

Transition Day

In Rapid City it stayed warm enough all night that I never woke up chilly. I slept great with the tent flaps open. That was the good news. The bad news was that that meant it was going to be hot. See the 2018 post for the sculpted trees at the fairgrounds.

It was a short (74 miles) relatively flat day, with mostly tailwinds. We are headed for the Badlands, riding through what one rider dubbed the “Worselands”. The plan was to finish before noon and before the temperature reached 90 degrees (32 C). I succeeded in the former, but the temperature was 92 degrees. It is 97 (36 C) as I write this. At 97 degrees there is no windchill.

We had picnic in Scenic. I’m guessing they gave the town that name in an attempt to draw tourists. It didn’t work. It is a ghost town. I think we saw the half dozen remaining residents sitting in their back yard.

Welcome to Scenic

The other side of the street – all buildings are abandoned

The scenery

At the first water stop, The Datameister informed us of the number of feet we had climbed and the percentage of the day’s climbing we had completed. Another rider said “Too much information” and I asked what percentage of the day’s fun we had had. I got a couple of knowing smiles. I’m not sure how to measure Fun Units or Fun Units/hour. That’s okay as it is entirely unnecessary.

Our last water stop at 66 miles featured ice water. Drinking lukewarm or warmer water gets old. Cold water was great! Even better was the water after arrival in Interior. The first water was cold, sweetened, and caffeinated (Dr Pepper) and the subsequent water was filtered through malted barley and hops. I did my best to support the local economy with a honey weizen from from Montana and a lager from South Dakota.

Setting up the tent was big fun, with a 15-20 mph gusty wind that tended to change directions, trying to fly the tent in different directions. It dried the laundry very quickly. I hung out in the air-conditioned campground office/store/restaurant chatting and hydrating.

We’ve had the same caterer for a couple of days, following us across the state. She’ll be here for dinner again tonight. Tomorrow will be breakfast in the Badlands after a short ride, then we explore the Badlands before visiting the famous Wall Drug on our way to Philip. See the 2018 post for the plumbing here, with a urinal that includes iron, brass, and copper all within a few inches, and a bubbler (drinking fountain) valve to actuate it. If you’re not a plumber, that may not interest you.

The campground has a pool, but that requires being in the sun. With my biker tan, the newly-exposed areas would likely burn ni minutes. On the other hand, the shade I’m currently using is disappearing quickly. My hands are still in shade, but the screen and top row of the keyboard are now in sun.

Tail between my legs

Riding across the continent couldn’t defeat me, but COVID-19 can. It was with a heavy heart that I clicked the button to purchase my plane ticket.

I wasn’t going to decide today, but there were only a few seats left on the plane for the second leg of the journey, so I scarfed one up (a middle seat at the back). I felt both disappointed and relieved.

I failed to meet Rootchopper (riding east to west – or, rather, south to north today – on my route…turns out he was on MT 287 and we were on US 287 so, while I am in the town where he was last night, our paths diverged here. I will follow his route to West Yellowstone Thursday. Rootchopper is a self-contained rider going east to west and blogging at A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel (see blogroll).

We landed in Ennis, MT, home of lots of fly fishing guides. ( I understand muskie fishing, bass fishing, perch fishing, but why would anybody want to catch flies? 😉 Ennis also has lots of horse and fishing- related public sculpture – see the 2018 post from here for photos.

In the 70s, a feminist slogan said “A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle”. At the Ennis Public Library, I saw fish with bicycles.

Four years ago I visited a distillery here. Today, I had Belgian chocolate gelato followed by a rye IPA at a brewpub next to the gelato stand. Chocolate, ice cream, and beer – also medicinal substances that may help my recovery.

Our gear trailer – it is this full for 16’.

The gear after it comes out of the trailer.

I’ve written about the many countries riders are from – from the top of my head I’ll say UK, Bosnia, France, Greece, Netherlands, South Africa, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and the US. We are ⅓ to ½ women, and ages range from early 20s to maybe 80. Many are early retirees (meaning younger than I and retired longer than I), but there is no gap from 20-60 this time, with a smattering of people in between. Generally, the people who can afford to do this are students, teachers, and retired folks. Others have trouble getting the summer off.

Just because I’m sitting in a van doesn’t mean I can’t see some things.

More local sculpture

Before this blog changes to a tale of COVID rehabilitation, I hope to get on the bike tomorrow for a short ride; or maybe that will be the first installment in the rehab program. Last night was 5 degrees warmer than the night before and not damp – downright balmy by comparison. Tonight promises to be back to the mid 40s, which will pale compared to the near-freezing temperatures in West Yellowstone tomorrow night. I will be wearing my fleece riding clothes to bed – or at least having them close at hand for when the cold comes. A chill went through the crowd when the Trail Boss reviewed the forecast.

Pennant Race

The Milwaukee Braves were hosting the Cincinnati Redlegs in a crucial series. The Reds were known as the Redlegs in those years so we’d know they weren’t commies, this being the McCarthy Era.

Warren Spahn was on the mound for the Braves; Milton Famey pitched for the Redlegs. Famey was looking great that day. He had all his stuff and the Braves hitters couldn’t touch him; not the great Eddie Mathews, not the feared Hank Aaron. As the zeros piled up on the scoreboard, a perfect game was on the horizon. Spahn was pitching a gem as well, and as the seventh inning stretch rolled around, it was still a scoreless tie. The Braves were getting desperate. Lew Burdette snuck off and arranged a little plot.

A beautiful woman lured Milton Famey up the tunnel from the dugout and convinced him to join her for a beer, with an unspoken promise of more to come after the game.

Milt went out and pitched a perfect seventh and eighth. When he came to the mound for the bottom of the ninth, something had changed. The beer had taken effect. His pinpoint control was not quite the same. He walked Mathews to open the inning. He followed that with a walk to Aaron. Reds fans began to worry, but he struck out Frank Torre on 4 pitches and forced Harry Hanebrook to ground out before walking the bases full. The pitching coach came out and Famey assured him all was well. The no-hitter was still in play.

1954 Schlitz ad

Catcher Del Crandall stepped to the plate and swung and missed on a blazing fastball. A wicked curve caught him looking. He took the count to 3-2. He fouled off the next four pitches. Finally, Famey missed low and away and the winning run walked in. He lost while pitching a no-hitter.

Once the story came to light, that seventh inning stretch can of Schlitz became known as “The Beer That Made Milt Famey Walk Us.”