August 15, 2013
A High-Class Neighborhood
Lake Patterson Recreation Area, North Dakota
Medora is the gateway town to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. For a town with a year-round population of 112 people, it sure has a lot of businesses, especially restaurants and gift shops. It is very touristy. In fact, it pretty much exists ONLY because of tourism. It's all done up in a faux old-west style which really has no more authenticity than a set for, say, Blazing Saddles. Medora does have some charm, though, due mostly to the backdrop of high sandstone cliffs along the Little Missouri River.
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A combination of I-94 and "Old Highway 10" was my route today. Old Highway 10 was freshly paved and much quieter than the interstate, so it was pleasant in that regard. But what did I do to deserve the grasshopper plague I encountered a few miles past the town of Belfield. I think I recall what that Egyptian pharaoh did--something about enslaving Moses' people--but why me? I've never held anybody captive. Tens of thousands of grasshoppers were going nuts all over the place and some sections of the road were greasy with the guts of dead ones.
Frequently they landed on my legs and stuck to the skin. It gave me the creeps. Some of the more unfortunate grasshoppers went under my tires or into my spokes. The crunching and slicing sounds gave me the same twisted satisfaction I used to get as a grade-schooler when my brothers and I would swat big, scary June bugs with tennis rackets.
Western North Dakota is experiencing an oil boom and there is a housing shortage because so many new workers are flooding into the area in search of the new high paying oil jobs. As a result, motels are almost constantly full and campgrounds are loaded with oil workers as well--even down here in the Dickinson area which is about 50 miles from the heart of the Bakken Oilfields.
Despite the warning I got from from my new friend Frank (you may remember Frank from my post four days ago) I decided to camp at the Lake Patterson Recreation Area. Frank encountered young, loud, drunken oil workers. I encountered a neighbor at the site next to mine, shirtless and with a big beer belly, belching and slurring his words, and swearing at his wife. Don't worry though. She kept up with him F-word for F-word.
I struck up a short conversation with beer belly late in the afternoon. I couldn't help but notice he had a big jug of Black Velvet Canadian Whiskey and he kept pouring it from the jug into a 1/2-pint Black Velvet bottle from which he took frequent healthy swigs. I wondered why he didn't just pour the whiskey into a cup--or chug it directly from the big bottle.
In the evening, some young, loud drunken oil workers joined beer belly for some serious drinking and swearing. AC/DC blared from a Chevy Blazer. It was terribly hot inside my tent. Not a great night.
Today's ride: 41 miles (66 km)
Total: 1,300 miles (2,092 km)
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