Friday, June 17
103 miles
Chamberlain to Pierre(ish)
We knew about the length, we knew about the hills, we knew today was going to be interesting. I rolled over at about 5:40 and saw that half the camp was already up and dressed and would be on their way shortly. I dragged myself out of the van, got dressed, got the bike ready and was on my way about 6:15 for a good long day in the saddle. 103 miles with an optional "jump start" about 35 miles into the course. There was no way I was doing the shorter ride since I had really been gearing up to take on the challenge.
One of the things that was on the organizers' schedule for the day was a visit from the Governor to kick today off at 6:30 since the ride was being touted as the "Governor's Challenge." Most of the riders were long gone by the time the Governor must have started, but I was glad to find out that they held back the group that were taking the jump start, so the Governor must have had at least a group of 50 or so to talk to.
One thing I had determined for the day was to take it easy, stop frequently and just treat the day like a victory lap. The first few climbs out of Chamberlain were longer and steeper than most of what we had seen throughout the week and I was just glad that I was fresh to tackle them. There were several spots where I was coasting on the downhills at over 45 mph (I think I peaked at about 48) for a mile or so at a time. It was fun, but I found myself a little worried about what would happen to me if I blew a tire on one of those sections. They'd have had to scrape me off the pavement. Luckily, it proved to not be a problem.
I stopped for the first time at about 20 miles just before Fort Thompson Dam after doing the first two of the nine major climbs. Things felt good and I was riding pretty well without pushing too hard. I knew that most of the friends I had made over the last few days were on the road in front of me still, but there were a few that I thought I might be able to catch up with and ride with for awhile.
Right before the dam, I found myself alongside Mike and Ruth, a couple from Sioux Falls. I had just pulled up to them when Ruth's tube blew. I stopped to help out and they shared that they had never changed a tire before. Ruth has been riding for about 25 years and this was only the second flat tire she had ever had. I part demonstrated and part instructed them through the change. We wound up having to use my mini-frame pump to inflate the tire so that she could ride again. I told her that it would probably only give her enough pressure to limp along, but that we could top off the tire down the road once we got to our van.
I rode with Mike and Ruth for about 10 miles or so and enjoyed talking with them. They both have done marathons in the past and are in good shape, probably in their mid-late 40's. They kept a good tempo on the flats and I waited on the climbs and descents, so we made fairly good progress through some gorgeous scenery. They asked about what I did and I had a chance to, yet again, tell about the call to Sioux Falls. They let me know that they have a nephew that runs a coffee shop in Sioux Falls called "Cool Beans" and suggested that I try to hook up with him. We saw the Spoke-n-Sport support van and they stopped off to get Ruth's tube filled and I kept on.
I settled into a little quicker tempo and tried to make up a little time when, about three miles later, I came across another person with a flat. He seemed to be doing alright, but I stopped just in case he needed anything more. Turned out he had a regular hex nut on his valve stem that he couldn't get loose. Most of the time, bike tires come with a circular nut that twists off easily. This one was way too tight and needed more tools than he had. I happened to have a small wrench kit in my bag that helped us get the nut off, finished the tire change and got him pumped up again (also with my frame pump). Just as we were getting ready to go again, the Spoke-n-Sport van came up and we flagged him down to top off the tire. Once I was sure he was in good hands, I started off again.
Right before I stopped that time, I had crossed paths with Becky Ryder again. She had taken the jump start and seemed to be enjoying the early part of the ride. I slowed and we talked for a minute before resuming the tempo.
A few miles later came my second stop with Amy at the 50 mile point. We had a chance to talk to Becky and the nice couple from Madison that we had met at breakfast the day before. They were riding a tandem and the husband gave me their email address. He had been thinking about us and said there was an event in Madison that he thought might be good for me to know about and might provide an opportunity to make some connections with area artists.
Everybody hit the road again and a few miles later I was on a gradual downhill going about 24 mph when I heard a sound that has become all too familiar to me this year on the road. I had lost another tire. I got myself stopped without any trouble and found that a rock had left a gash in my side wall almost big enough for me to put my pinky through. This is the third tire that I've lost in the last month to the tune of $110 or so. I had only had this tire for about two weeks, so I was ticked.
I called Amy, but we were both in the middle of Indian Reservation land and I wasn't able to get her so that she could bring my spare tire from the van. I decided to wait for the Spoke-n-Sport van who I had just seen a few miles back so that I could buy a new tire. Mike, Ruth, Becky and the other guy with the flat I had helped all passed by, but there was nothing any of them could have done.
A few minutes passed and Chad from Spoke-n-Sport came by. He had been really busy so far on the day with a lot of people experiencing flat tires, a few broken spokes and other mechanical maladies. He asked where I was from and I had yet another chance to share about the move. He told me a little about the bike club he's a part of in Sioux Falls and even joked about whether I had ever thought about working in a bike shop. He put on a new $50 tire for me which I told him I'd have to pay him for later at the campground and I was on my way again.
By this point, the temperature had climbed and there was no place to escape the sun. The wind had kicked up to over 20 mph from the south which helped by keeping us cool on the western stretches and pushed us a bit when the road hinted north.
I reached 68 miles and our next scheduled stop in a machine shed where they were selling sandwiches and allowing people to hole up inside the garage, in the shade, on seats that were not of the bike variety. Chad was there when I got there, so I told Amy what had happened and we got him paid. Pretty much everybody I had ridden with for the day was there including Mike, Ruth, Becky, Warren, flat tire guy and the couple from Madison. I was treated as somewhat of a saint for all of my efforts trying to help out followed by my own mechanical incident. A sandwich, some chips, some water and a pit stop later and I was back at it.
By this time, temps were pretty high and even the wind wasn't doing much to cool us down. The pavement for most of the day had been a little less than forgiving. It was mostly chip and seal stuff that usually takes a few mph off of the speed while also softening up the legs a bit. As we approached the last two big climbs, both the pavement and wind conspired to make life a bit more difficult.
Time for a little bikespeak. My road bike has 14 speeds with two chainrings and a seven speed cluster in the back. I really could have used a third chainring or a few larger cogs on the cluster to help me with the last two hills.
Eightyish miles in, the first hill bit. The pavement at the bottom of the hill was not good and forced me to slow down faster than I wanted to. The grade of the hill was probably as steep as we had seen all day and the road was headed dead west, so we were fighting a pretty good crosswind at this point that made it a little harder.
I was in first gear almost immediately and had to alternate between grinding very slowly and standing to dance on the pedals a little to keep any kind of forward momentum. Near the bottom of the hill I had to ask myself whether I was really going to be able to make it to the top without walking. I inched my way up the hill at the only pace possible to me, any faster and I would have blown up, any slower and I would have fallen over. I was still passing folks, but none of us seemed to be enjoying it much.
As I finally reached the top, I could see a very short respite of maybe a mile before the next hill. It was exactly like the previous one and I hurt on every pedal stroke on the way to the top.
Once I reached it, it was just a few miles to our last scheduled stop at the Buffalo Interpretive Center. We had been wondering all day about what exactly that meant. It turned out to be a center where they raise buffalo and educate people about the unique relationship that the Sioux people have with the buffalo. I didn't go in. I just wanted a quick refuel and an end to the day.
We were told it was all downhill from there. I had heard that kind of thing before and wasn't really willing to believe it for fear that I would find my spirit crushed by one more meat grinder of a climb. I knew that there were supposed to be nine big climbs on the day, but I had lost count long before we reached this point.
I asked Amy to go back down the road a bit to check on Warren and Becky to see if they needed anything and that I'd meet her at the camp. She went back, neither needed anything and the one person that she tried to offer assistance to chewed her out. The rider had apparently fallen off the bike on one of the hills and her frustration, weariness, the temperature and her embarrassment seemed to cause her to snap at Amy. My hope is that her offer to Becky and Warren showed that we cared about them and made them feel better even if they didn't accept any help at that point.
It turned out that the forecast for it being all downhill from that point was correct. In fact, there was a stretch of winding descent that seemed to go forever. It was all I could have asked for at that moment. We then turned and rode through Fort Pierre (Pierre's ugly little sister across the river) before turning toward the Oahe downstream camping area. I pulled into the campground right in front of Amy and my day of pain ended.
Once in the campground, I was able to find Verne, Tim and a few other folks I'd met. We said our goodbyes, I got cleaned up and we headed for home.
I found it to be a very bittersweet ending to the week. After leaving Indiana, this was the first group of people that I got to identify with, the first group I found belonging in, and just as quickly as it started, it was over. I may not ever see any of these people again, and fresh off of dealing with leaving another community of people that I love, I found the sense of loss something that I hadn't anticipated.
This week begins the next chapter as I begin to look for a job. More on that in the days to come.
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