June 28: Minnewaukan to Rugby, North Dakota
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WE LEFT EARLY to beat the wind... and it barely blew. We rolled along through attractive but not memorable countryside, happy to be on the move again - there is only so much for a soul to do in Minnewaukan on a Sunday - and happy above all that Steph was feeling brighter.
We rode rollercoaster hills through drying wetlands - a surprise at that altitude - and halted to chat with Scott and Julia, who were coming the other way. Their luggage included a traditional heavy frying pan, "essential if you want a proper stir-fry," Scott insisted. They are raising money to help children with diabetes. Julia is a triplet and, unusually, escaped diabetes even though one of her sisters has it.
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Our other encounter was at the cafe at the crossroads in Rugby. We never did get his name. Or if we did then I have forgotten it. What we most remember about him is that he had been on the road for about a week and hadn't yet mastered getting out of his tent. It happened later and later each day so that, in early afternoon just as we were finishing our ride, he was just starting his.
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The car park of the cafe holds a stone monument to mark the geographical centre of North America. It is suspiciously well sited, at a crossroads, in a car park. And suspicion, it seems, is justified. It appears not to be the continent's centre at all. That, if it is anywhere, is an hour's ride back down the route at Balta, out in the middle of a field. That has no official status, we gathered, and Rugby's claim has even less. But, in the end, does it matter? Except to geographers and pedants, that is.
AMERICAN FLAGS SEEN: 48
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