Today we started off down the gravel road from the cabin towards the small town of Ericson proper. The road was wet from the heavy rains, but rolled well enough. The sunrise was especially hazy, with long yellow white rays across the open lands, and sand hills in the distance. It had been recommended to us by Sue that we go to the Ranch cafe in Ericson for breakfast. This was right next to -- indeed connected to -- the "sale barn" which is where cattle and livestock are auctioned. There were cows baying around it. The pancakes here are huge! And very delicious. I highly recommend stopping by! The early morning crowd all rolled in about 7am with us, and were mostly truckers and rancher types who pulled up a table together and talked about the hail and storms the evening before. We did our best to finish our huge breakfast, though it was a challenge and we were very full! The men at the table talked to us about our trip and the weather and biking, and joked about how they would have some trouble biking such distances (some of them were just a bit pudgey).
The ride through the rollier sand hills brought us back east to connect with 281 to go north. The wind, we noticed with hesitant hope, seemed to be coming from the south! Could it be!? We had some climbs and rides down over this 7 or so miles to the larger 281, but the surroundings were beautiful. Mists and low clouds moved in wisps above the hills. The colors were grey and light with morning. We passed again the leveled section of land where the power station would have been constructed to power the pipeline. I can't emphasize enough how strongly I feel the sand hills are a place of beauty and uniqueness, and to jeopardize it would be a disgrace. How could you wish to do so? While in Nebraska, I did indeed sense some of the pride and stick-together-ness of the people there and was grateful for those that had moved against the pipeline here.
When we reached 281, and turned to go north, the wind was indeed pushing us! And the road had a shoulder! And if was quite smooth! From Ericson to O'Neil it would be about 56 miles, which we hoped to cover by noon in order to have lunch with Jane Kleeb from Bold Nebraska. I was very much looking forward to this, and combined with a road that was almost entirely flat and the wind pushing us, we speed along at a racing pace.
We stopped briefly at a gas station not too far down 281 (where a large truck turned out, and a man waved from the window - this was the trucker, Dwight, who had offered to help us yesterday no doubt glad to see we had not been swept away by the storm). While trying and failing then trying again to add a bit of air to my tires (I hate these presta valves...), a late middle age man with a lap dog on a leash and blond, somewhat scraggy hair walked into the gas station. As he did, he asked us where we were riding and then told us that the word Nebraska came from an Indian language and meaning land with flat water. I don't know about this, but I did guess that the word came from an Indian language of course. Most of the state names and many cities/towns do, in fact, come from the original languages of these lands. When he came back out, I was still trying to pump my tire. He asked us if we carry any sort of gun, and asked us our age, and urged us almost aggressively that we should and that he wished we did. In fact, he seemed almost angry with us not to, and angry when we reacted hesitantly to his urging. Indeed, he made me a bit nervous, making it seem like it was foolish and dangerous as young women bit to carry a hand gun and warning us that we were aiming for trouble not to heed such advice. I strongly disagreed with him, but tried to nod politely till he went on his way. Hopefully he was just overly worried for us and as a result seemed more hostile. I feel that, as two younger women, sometimes men such as him act out of internalized sexism as well as a certain degree of fear for our safety based on the very extant though hopefully unlikely dangers we might encounter. However, I do not feel we are foolish, or that our journey is reckless. I do not believe sexism or dangers that we, as women, are regrettably subject to should stop us or scare us from experiences such as this bike trip. That is crippling and wrong, and only hobbles opportunity. Indeed, as a woman I wanted all the more to take on this trip, in order to combat the persistent aura of fear and danger that stops many other women. And they are not wrong for being fearful. But I have always felt that fear should not stop you, only inform you. Heed warnings, but understand that there is a broad world before you. I hope to inspire other women to take on adventures, and of course to be safe but not to be stopped if they can. And I will never carry a gun, regardless. I carry wits and awareness, not fear and bullets. After this hiccup, though, the roads were so smooth and pleasant and it was soon behind us. I sped along the road so fast! Simply racing, and actually enjoying much of the ride for the first time in quite a while! It reminded me that, yes, biking can still be fun!
We reached O'Neil at 11:50, having covered a lot of ground quickly. Unfortunately for us, we received a message from Jane that she could not meet with us. But for a very good reason! She would be doing an interview with MSNBC, about a recent pipeline leak in North Dakota. So we didn't take it too hard -- I'm actually really hoping to hear this interview. I sure do hope that our paths will cross down the line! I have much to learn from her.
We ate lunch, and discussed what we should do. Originally I had us going through Amelia to Atkinson, and spending the night there. However, remembering the difficulty of biking into a northwest wind, and looking at the weather tomorrow which hinted rain, we decided to try something ambitious. The next possible motel within biking distance on our route was in Butte, NE. This was 47 or so miles away. To go there, we would have a mileage of the day of 99 miles! But we thought of the smooth road of 281, and the push of the wind from the south -- a benevolence which may become increasingly rare -- and decided it was our best bet.
From O'Neil, 281 had a generous shoulder and very smooth. We flew along, coasting atop the hilltops and watching the expanse or grass as far-spreading hills around us. The sky was blue, with only a few white wisps of cloud. We went so fast through this section! Only towards the end did it become a challenge -- because of the neboro River valley -- where there were a couple screeching down hills with panoramas of the land, following by long arduous climbs back up. This brought us across the River, and up one more climb to the town of spencer. Pushing up these loooooong hills was hard, and made us swear instantly in the increasing heat, but I did feel stronger on them then in the past. In spencer we stopped at the gas station for a snack. Here, while we ate and drank, a number of farmers and truckers entered the area with tables, as well as a very old man an I assume his preteen grandsons. The elderly man liked to chime in at opportune moments with one liner jokes --which he had clearly thought much about and was quite proud of--, and a grin anticipating laughs. They all talked to us about the route, giving us some ideas of the land to come through South Dakota and encouraging us. They asked us about our ride, if we had trained (no...though that is a good idea!), and we all laughed about the hills we had just climbed. They were so friendly and smiling, and very mid western. It reminded me of home, and my dad. As a complete contrast to the man that morning who suggested we carry guns, when I mentioned to this group of farmers that some called our trip dangerous, they warmly and emphatically encouraged us that no, we will be fine! They did not seem concerned, only humorous, friendly and helpful.
Another note of interest is that we had gone through Boyd County, which apparently had been very outspoken against the pipeline.
The last section to Butte crossed westwards on 12, but was fortunately flat. We had some trouble with the wind cutting now strong across us but it was only 9 miles to Butte, and in the very end turned north. Butte only has about 300 people, and is clearly mostly for farming. There are some grain bins, some homes, and corn fields.
We got some icecream and a bite to eat down the way at the firehouse cafe.
We are how just under ten miles from South Dakota!
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