North Dakota! (Day 20-ish)

, 9 min, 1748 words

Tags: biking transamerica-2021

I made it to Fargo, North Dakota! I'm at just about a thousand miles, and delighted with where this trip has taken me. I have a couple logistical updates and a lot of gratitude for the kindness of strangers. But first, a few scenery pics:

A wide open expanse of river with miscellaneous grasses and greenery in the shallows. It's visible behind a two-lane road, with gentle hills and a blue sky in the background
A road bends into the distance, with trees on either side and a sunset illuminating the underside of some wispy clouds.

A brilliant yellow and orange sunset with some wispy/ripply clouds, and the silhouette of some trees and a power pole in the foreground. A river is also visible by the way it reflects the sunset.
Grasses and greenery are shown in front of a wide bend in a river, with a treed island visible across the way. The sky is clear except for a few clouds

Mystery of the week: what's the story with these cylindrical buildings with trees growing out of them? (I have no idea; my guess is old silos, replaced by more modern ones?)

Across a road is a dirt driveway, and behind it is a cylindrical building, probably 1-2 stories high, made of concrete or a close relative. It has a tree growing out of the middle of it. Power lines, a small home, and a denser patch of trees are also visible.

Logistical updates

I've now biked about a thousand miles, including parts of Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and North Dakota. My legs are no longer shockingly sore, just normal sore. And I finally have a "right place" for all my miscellaneous possessions on my bike.

I've also taken a tiny detour...back to Chicago! Biking gave me a lot of time to think, and that helped me realize that connections with people in my life are more important to me than some arbitrary biking goal. And one's grandparents don't have a 60th wedding anniversary every day! So I'm back in the Chicago area to celebrate my grandparents with a bunch of (fully vaccinated) extended family. Happy anniversary!

To do this, I hopped on an Amtrak train at 3am in Fargo, North Dakota, and disembarked about 13 hours later in Chicago's Union Station. Fun fact: the Fargo train station is only staffed from midnight to 7:30am each day, because it's only got the two trains: one eastbound and one westbound, at 2am-ish and 3am-ish respectively. I was very grateful that I opted to ride a folding bike! Although the Empire Builder line does allow bikes, it allows a limited number, and those slots were booked up on the day I wanted to travel. But with my fold-in-half bike I was able to hop on the train regardless, which was a huge relief.

On the kindness of strangers

This has been my first real travel experience since Covid hit North America, and honestly it's been incredibly refreshing. Cooped up at home, it's easy to read the news and think "wow, people are terrible". And it's true that there are some awful things happening in the world. But it's easy to forget that the vast, vast majority of people are fundamentally decent human beings. This trip has helped remind me of that by bringing me into contact with a multitude of strangers. I've been welcomed, invited into conversations, fed, housed, and deeply touched by the people I've met.

I'm not one of those word wizards who can help you feel the way I have felt recently. But maybe if I share a couple anecdotes you can get a sense for how awesome people have been.

  • On one very rainy day, I stopped in at a gas station to get out of the rain (immediately dripping a puddle on the floor) and eat something warm. I ended up having a lovely conversation with some other patrons about other bikers in the area and how dang hilly it was. They had a credit card minimum charge, and when I couldn't dig out cash (as it was safely inside a dry saddlebag that I greatly wished to stay dry) and was scrambling to pick out some other purchases to get me above their minimum, the cashier said "hey, don't worry about it" and comped my slice of pizza. It was sweet, and I'm planning to pay it forward as the trip goes on.
  • During this heat wave, I've made a habit of swimming when I can (three cheers for Minnesota's ten thousand lakes). One night I passed a little public beach in town as I made my way to my campsite. So when I had settled in and figured out how to pay for my camping, I struck up a conversation with some neighbors in RVs. They were excited to hear about biking and to share their own road-trip adventures, and at the end of the conversation I said "well I'm off to the watering hole for a little swim". One of the people I'd been talking to ran into their RV and emerged with an inflatable inner tube, which they offered to loan me for the afternoon. So I'm now one of those people who enjoys floating in the water for hours in the afternoon. Photo proof:
Zeph floats in a blue inner tube in a calm lake, partially shaded by trees on shore.
  • I'm finally at the point in my trip where I've started to see other touring cyclists. So far I've encountered three groups (five people) traveling both east and west along the Northern Tier. That means I'm starting to learn the customs around catching up and exchanging news of the road. One day, I biked alongside a fabulous thru-biker for about 45 minutes, chatting about how the road has been, previous adventures, and plans after reaching our respective destinations. The next morning I encountered two eastbound bikers and we pulled over to chat a bit. They talked about what the route past Fargo was like, and asked about traffic and topography in their near future. There's an instant feeling of camaraderie among other people willing to pack up their lives on a bike and hit the road. And it's fun to hear their stories or even just wave across a busy road.
A selfie of Zeph with two (much more serious-looking) touring cyclists, with a road and empty field in the background.
  • Finally, no discussion of the kindness of strangers would be complete without mentioning Warm Showers and the incredible hosts I've met through it. Thus far I've stayed with three different hosts, and each of them has been warm and welcoming in their own way. One time, I got a comprehensive tour of the family's farming equipment and lots of discussion about agriculture in Iowa. Another time I worked with a host to solve one of his kids' homemade escape rooms. Another I was welcomed with a veritable feast, invited to use their cars as needed, and then I talked late into the night about data science in potato farming. One host even was willing to drive me (and my gear and bike) to the train at one in the morning, complete with a driving tour of downtown Fargo. These hosts have been deeply kind and welcoming, and have helped me feel at home along the road.

In short, I've been reminded again and again how lovely people can be. I still know there are mean/cruel/awful people out there, but that's not my subconscious assumption anymore.

Zeph in reflective vest, helmet, and short sleeves smiling at the camera with early morning sky behind
Two small but adorable goats in a circular enclosure also including two trees

Okay, one final anecdote. My last night on the road before Moorhead, I weathered the biggest thunderstorm I think I've ever experienced in the outdoors. I ended up hunkering down in a plumbed and wired bathroom building rather than my tent. The wind from the storm blew over my bike and ripped six out of ten tent stakes from the ground (glad I did all the extra tie-outs!), and RV campers said it was the worst thunderstorm they'd experienced in at least 17 years. The next morning, I passed an old farmhouse whose roof had been ripped off by the wind, scattering debris in a nearby field and causing several cars to slow down for photos. Beyond the sheer destructive power of the storm, it was really beautiful – before it hit, before it was even close enough to hear thunder...it was like a fireworks show, enhanced by fireflies closer to my tent. I was a bit out of it, as I'd just woken up from three hours of sleep, but I'd have sworn that the fireflies preferentially lit up right after a bright flash of lightning. At first, I thought the little insects were sparks dancing over the field.

A large single-story wooden building in a field is shown, with half its roof ripped off and lying upside down from the wind. Ominous dark gray clouds in the background.

Everyone wish my grandparents a happy anniversary!

Cheers,
Zeph