A cool front moved in after midnight and the morning was gloriously comfortable.  I made and lingered over a couple of extra cups of coffee at my campsite.  I just didn't want to leave.

Yet, leave I did, and I not only left the campsite, but I also left the Northern Tier for the remainder of this trip.  From this point on, I will be improvising my own route on a daily basis.  Today the wind is blowing from the north so I maintained excellent speeds as I rode south on the Sheyenne River National Scenic Byway.  I made a short detour to see a state historic site, namely, Fort Ransom, an important military post in the 1860's and 1870's.

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Did I see log buildings?  Did I see two blockhouses?  Did I even see a fort?  No, I did not.  What I DID see was an empty, forgotten field with white signs indicating where, for example, the captain's quarters, the enlisted men's barracks, and the mess hall formerly stood.  There wasn't an original log or block or chunk of wood left.  There was nothing at all, except for a shiny flagpole in the midst of all those white signs.  

Lisbon (pop. 2,154) was the "North Dakota City of the Year" in 2008 according to a sign at the edge of town.  I probably will never know the reasons for that distinction.  The town didn't make much of an impression on me (aside from the friendly librarian who allowed me all the computer time I needed for updating three day's worth of my blog.)  Unfortunately, her friendliness was counteracted by a witch at the town's Super 8 Motel who told me, with a distrustful look in her eye, that they were booked up for the night.

I ended up at a dumpy motel on the south side of town because I did not feel like riding anywhere else today.  That motel wasn't very clean, but it sure was cheap.  I washed my clothing in the tub and settled in for some television watching.  But something continued to bug me.

Going back a couple of hours, when the witch told me the Super 8 was booked for the night, I noticed there wasn't a single car in the parking lot.  I felt compelled to do some further investigation.  After dark, I set out on my bike to see what was going on at the Super 8.  As I suspected, the parking lot was still almost completely empty.  It was clear to me that I had been discriminated against on the basis of my scraggly beard, my sweaty, sun dried face, my blistered lips, perhaps my odor, and my general appearance of homelessness.