day forty-two: saline to grand rapids, ohio (122km)

Had a scary moment this afternoon: a passing car started laying on its horn the moment it saw me and kept on to it was past. I can't guarantee that I was off on the (very narrow) shoulder at the start, but as soon as I heard the horn, I was. The car kept on honking. I was so shaken that I half stopped, half crashed into the barrier at the side of the road. A little while later, a pickup honked hard right as it was passing. I confess I cursed at length, and loudly. I mean, I get it that they don't believe that bikes should be on the road; but they could cause an accident doing that.

Good to be back on the road after nearly three days off, proofreading. Stopped for second breakfast in Clinton, not because I really needed it but because I'd decided to submit a job application after all, with a deadline at 6pm today. Weather was gorgeous all day: mid to upper twenties, with a light wind from the north.

Stopped a couple times for something to drink -- the first time right after those scary encounters. Just had to fill my water bottles once (and I even forgot to fill them before leaving Josh's). Second place offered me all-you-can-eat free pizza; I wasn't so hungry, so I just took a slice. ("If people don't take it, I'm going to have to throw it away.")

Called Tim and Aunt Ruth. Got them this time. Told them I hoped to make it there (Olmsted Falls) Saturday evening or Sunday morning.

day forty-one: brighton recreation area to saline (48km)

Tried following the Google Maps again, to leave the park, but that led me quickly to a footpath ("no bikes"), and so I navigated instead by a combination of Google Maps, road map, and common sense, eventually arriving in Whitmore Lake and joining old route 23. Had second breakfast at a Coney Island Restaurant: the second I'd seen within a couple of days and, apparently, of no relation to the first. The waitress snorted and shook her head at one point. I asked her why. "That man who just left, his card didn't work, so he said he'd come back and give me ten dollars tomorrow."

There was a lovely cycle path heading in to Ann Arbor, across the old 23 bridge over the river and then along a lake to a dam -- but that didn't last. I returned to old 23 -- Main Street -- and went past lots of freshman-looking students (they can move in to the dorms this weekend). There was one young man with what looked to be his dad. The young man was wearing a "Wolverine dad" T-shirt. Went right past the football stadium, which is downtown, directly on Main Street.

Arrived at Josh's around 1:30pm to do two days' proofreading for a client back in Sweden. Thankfully Josh is happy to have me hang out.

day forty: saginaw to brighton recreational area, hamburg (126km)

Asked the woman at the hotel about restaurants for breakfast. She looked at me oddly then said there was a McDonald's and some other fast food places around the corner. That was, indeed, all I could find. (What I cycled past was mostly slums and rundown industrial areas.) Instead I grabbed something from a convenience store and planned to look out for a picnic area where I could cook breakfast. At the next convenience store I asked about that and the woman directed me to the community park just down the road.

Shortly after I arrived and started setting up, two elderly women drove up and unlocked the back door of the community building in front of the park. There being no water tap in sight, I went over and asked if there was somewhere I might refill my water bottles. The women were clearly terribly relieved I was only asking for water; wondered if they thought I was looking for food or what. They were unloading lots of food from the car, so I asked if they were holding a sale. No, it was a family reunion. A man arrived shortly to join them and help them set up the grill. "That man is cycling cross-country," one of the women told the man. "He only wanted water!" They kept to themselves and I kept to myself, but I did take their photo before I left.

Google Maps directed me onto a road that for several miles was quite good but then went gravel. I checked the map and worked out that the next mile-road over probably was paved. It was. A little while later I stopped at another convenience store to refill water (which I had to buy). Looked closely and realized I'd cycled past the very same corner before, with its sign pointing the way to Howell, MI -- either before my first summer at Interlochen (coming in from Chicago) or after my second (heading to PA).

Had to stop in Howell to take out my contacts and re-moisten them; with the heat and wind, they were drying out enough to interfere with my vision. Bought a chia banana peanut butter smoothie after using the toilet to fix my eyes.

Distance readings were changing erratically on my way out of town, usually a sign that the GPS can't get a proper fix. Ended up going for the nearest campground, to be safe. Still ended up setting up the tent in the dark. The "primitive" campground was maybe 3/4 full. Mine was one of the few if not the only site without a campfire.

day thirty=nine: island lake to saginaw (144km)

The guy at the campground said it was all downhill to Saginaw. That didn't turn out to be true, but it was downhill all the way to Rose City, 7mi.  Quiet former highway from Alger to Standish (which has a lovely train station, albeit no trains) then four lanes, often with no shoulder, to Bay City.

Stopped for a malted milkshake at a drive-in restaurant in Pinconning -- one of the last half dozen in the country, apparently. I told the owner that the only other one I'd ever seen is the Red Rabbit in Clark's Ferry, PA. She offered me free onion rings for the road, which I gracefully accepted, and then a hamburger, which I politely declined. "I know you're not charitable," she said, "but I am" to which I replied, "Erm, I'm not?" I got a photo of her and her children, who run the restaurant with her.

Bay City was lots of busy roads, well to do. Lovely "wild" area south of town, then Saginaw was obviously much, much poorer, with very bad roads.

No camping around Saginaw, that I could see, so I booked a room at the Red Roof Inn. The room was basic but fine. It could have been cleaned better, especially under the bed, and I didn't appreciate the roll-up cigarette floating in the toilet.

day thirty-eight: clear lake state park to island lake NF campground (92km)

Wind was not so strong as the day before, but it was a headwind rather than a crosswind. Temperatures were more moderate at least, so not like cycling into a blast furnace. Had second breakfast in Atlanta, where I overheard the following from a fellow diner, sitting with his wife (I assume), watching Fox News, which I could neither see nor hear (volume turned down): "What this country needs is more assassins. It might sound a bit extreme, but I really wish someone would assassinate that woman." Naturally, I wondered who "that woman" is, though I could and did make some guesses.

Took a break from the wind to visit a craft shop full of concrete, stone and wood figures. The owner makes all the concrete figures herself. Took another break from the wind for a garage sale. In Mio I was drawn in to a restaurant by a sign advertising Friday fish fry. Not too impressed by the food though, so I made a noncommittal positive sound when the waitress asked me how it was.

All alone in the national forest campground save for the hosts, who told me it's been a very quiet summer. "Problem was that the Fourth of July came in the middle of the week, and that messed everybody up. Never got back into rhythm after that." The man said he was bored but was there "for sake of marital harmony. My wife really loves it here."

day thirty-seven: màckinac city to clear lake state park (112km)

Cycled back into town (backtracking!) for breakfast with Lenny at the Brookside Diner ("I have so many friends in the Ukraine who want to come here, but Americans work too hard, they never have time for life; me, I have this business four months a year, work in Florida four months but try not to work too hard, and go to the Ukraine for four months"), followed by groceries from a minimart (my only choice it seems) and a mad hunt for white gas, which I seems to be available only in gallon size. (One place even told me, "I've never seen it in a smaller size" and another place, "everyone's using the [pressurized] cannisters these days.") In the end I bought a gallon from Walmart in Cheboygan and two bottles to try to put the excess in, but I still ended up hunting around the Walmart parking lot for someone who would dispose of the rest. Maybe the sixth person I asked finally did.

Hot and a strong crosswind most of the day. Michigan 33, which I've followed since Cheboygan, is a quiet road. Think I passed just two small towns, next to each other. Feeling kinda crappy so stopped at the state park campground rather than going on four miles to the state forest campground. Shower after three days was nice, but cold.

day thirty-six: melvyn creek to mackinac city (145km)

Stopped for coffee at the general store in Gulliver, about ten miles from the campground; then discovered that the village also had a gas station / convenience store that took cards, so got ice cream and pizza as well. I know; healthy breakfast!

Not much for towns the whole day. Crosswind not infrequently became a tailwind, and it was much warmer... low 20s, perfect temp.

Cyclist switched direction to ride with me a half mile through Naubinway and advise about the Cut River Gorge detour. He asked if I planned to try riding through the bridge out and I said yes, I did. He'd ridden down to the bridge but not across.

Took me another maybe 15 miles to reach the bridge. The only problem I had was that, navigating around the construction materials, I brushed against some fencing that looked like plastic but was metal. I stopped a hundred meters down the road to make sure nothing was damaged, only to discover I was missing my tent. Went back and, sure enough, it was hanging (unscathed) off the fence. The drawstring had caught on the fence and pulled the tent right out.

Stopped for the obligatory pasty before leaving the UP, couple miles before the bridge. Think ground beef and potato pie: not fantastically tasty but heavy, very filling. Got to St. Ignace and discovered that my mobile phone couldn't find any compatible mobile network, and I needed to look up the directions for crossing the bridge. So I cycled back to McDs and borrowed their WiFi.

Seems I was to hop on the interstate down to the toll booth and order transport at the administration building, five bucks. Took maybe ten minutes to get anyone's attention, then waited another 15 minutes ("you might have to wait a minute or so") for the pickup to appear. The driver was very friendly and gave me a rundown of basic facts about the bridge while we crossed. The bridge was opened in 1958. It's longer than the Golden Gate Bridge but not as high. Still, at its highest point it's 250ft. above the water.

Opted for the city campground two miles south of town. Forgot to stop at a supermarket on the way, so I'm left with buying eggs from the self-serve fridge and mixing them with the few items I have left. Going to be another fairly chilly night.

day thirty-five: gladstone to melvyn creek (96km)

Extremely cold and windy: 25km/h crosswind. Quit early.

day thirty-four: glidden lake to gladstone (133km)

Got chatting to a gentleman in the convenience store in Sagola who turned out to be a fervent anti-Trumper, "unlike everyone else around here." He went on, "I'm worried he won't ever wiłlingly to leave the office." I assured him I had the same concern. "At least he'll never get re-elected." I wasn't so sure.

I stopped for a fantastic bean burger at an unlikely tavern in Perronville which, despite still being in the Central time zone by a handful of miles, had -- I noticed -- its wall clock set to Eastern.

It was an inexplicably satisfying feeling to cross the line. Shortly thereafter my day-long detour from Route 2 was over, and I was back amid all the familiar traffic, notched up because I was on my way into Escanaba, a fairly large city.

Stopped at the supermarket in Escanaba for breakfast supplies and listened to the checkout clerk discuss with one of the other clerks his inability to grow a beard or even look unshaved. The other clerk was, apparently the same age and had a full and, indeed, bushy beard. I observed as I was leaving that I hadn't been able to grow a (proper) beard till I was 30.

No fever today. I'm still not back at 100% but I'm a great deal better than yesterday.

day thirty-three: lake gogebic to glidden lake (127km)

Took an old (unpaved!) stagecoach road, leaving the campground, to avoid twice the distance, or more, by paved road, cycling west to go east. It wasn't bad except one place where they'd put in new drainage pipes under the road and covered over with medium-large gravel.

Stopped in Watersmeet for lunch. The restaurant was busy but yhe setvice unbelievably bad. One gentleman went up to the counter, "I've been sitting at that table an hour waiting for someone to serve me!" He did then quickly get served.

Leaving the restaurant suddenly felt quite unwell and realized I was running a fever. Stopped on a national forest road to lie down a bit (and not look like an accident!) till I was ready to go on. Think this is why I've been dragging the last few days. Clearly my body is fighting something.

Lovely state forest campground for the night. Just two complaints: no hand sanitizer in the pit toilets, and so far as I could tell very little maintenance done on the whole site.

day thirty-two: ashland to lake gogebic (122km)

Most of the ride to the border was through a seemingly very sparsely populated Native American reservation. Was having balance/steering problems, probably because my food bag was empty, so I stopped at the reservation's IGA in the one small town to buy groceries. The woman ahead of me at the register was buying cigarettes. Not only did she have to listen to a friendly lecture on smoking from the cashier; she had to log her purchase in a special register -- as (glancing at the register) I saw that all inhabitants of the reservation did!

The cashier asked me if I didn't want a better lemon. Clearly, I hadn't taken a good enough look at it; it was somewhat past its prime and had a soft spot. "I'll go get you one." Outside the store, some women were selling homebaked goods for a fundraiser. I bought a piece of frybread: like a donut but not nearly so sweet.

Tempted when I reached Ironwood, just across the border, to call it a day -- got chatting to a really neat guy on duty at the gas station / convenience store ("just moved here from Flint; such a quieter pace of life here, you don't hear a siren every single damn hour") -- but I'd only ridden 65km till 5pm. Ended up riding another 57km.

day thirty-one: superior to ashland (111km)

Highlight of the day was the bridge out. I knew that a stretch of Route 2 was closed, with a long detour. When I got there, I saw that it was a bridge out (as I suspected), but the bridge was only 0,6mi ahead. I've gone through such obstacles before; one time, in Pennsylvania, I came to an old-fashioned iron trestle bridge with the entire deck removed. The workers invited me to walk across on the bare girders, and I did.

In this case the workers paid me no attention. The new bridge was in place but not the road surface leading up to or from it. I had to lift the bike about 30cm onto the span and lower it again on the othet side. For a wonderful number of miles, I had only local traffic to deal with and the road mostly to myself.

Otherwise there was the spot early in the day where the road suddenly became a limited-access highway for 5mi. I got off at the next exit and, at Google Maps' suggestion, turned onto old Route 2. Sadly, that didn't last, and for the rest of the 5mi. I was on the Tri-county Corridor: a rail trail. That would have been fine but the rail bed was very sandy on places.

day thirtyish: duluth to superior, wisconsin (37km)

A mostly unfruitful day in Duluth. The mechanic I'd had recommended to me in Grand Forks appeared not to be working today -- the mechanic who was there refused to tell me, which was weird -- so I went with the guy on hand. He talked like he knew everything about everything, which is rarely a good sign. I heard him hammering on the freewheel like crazy, which wasn't a good sign either. When I suggested he call the mechanic in Grand Forks to hear how he did it, his response was, "I could, but really there's only one way to do these things." I could have said, and didn't, that each mechanic who'd worked on the freewheel went about it in a completely different way.

I had my doubts, but gut instinct said to give him the chance. He said to come back 1:30-2:00, so I retired to the coffee shop on the corner to do an urgent paper review. When I came back, he told me there was no way to get the freewheel off. The way he'd chiseled at it, attempting to create several new grooves to get the extraction tool into, absolutely no one else is going to get it off, either -- not any more! It is, however, still quite usable -- until such time as another spoke breaks. He charged me 15 bucks for labor. "I should have charged 80 for all the work I put in." Maybe, but one traditionally doesn't charge for unsuccessful work. And the mechanic in Cranbrook had put in a whole lot more time, and done various other useful things for me. but only charged me modestly more.

What really annoyed me though was that, cycling away, I felt some unusual resistance. Climbing the insanely steep hill overlooking Duluth to get to the camera shop (to buy a new charger), it really became noticeable. So I stopped and took a closer look at the wheel. Here, with all the pounding and chiseling, the ball races on the axle had tightened against the ball bearings so they were grinding. I think I caught it in time, but I could have done real damage. The mechanic totally should have noticed and fixed that before returning the wheel to me. Of course I hadn't thought to check before leaving the store.

The replacement charger works (what a crazy climb to get it though!) but is the trickiest damn thing to use. I had to get the sales clerk to show me half a dozen times how to put the battery in. Thankfully one charge lasts several weeks.

Reaching the Route 2 bridge -- which both the guy at the cycle shop and Google Maps had assured me was fine to cycle across -- I saw it was posted "no bicycles". So I backed up and called a different bike shop to get their advice, since the long way around was really the long way around. " Oh, it's fine. Just ignore that. I cycle it every day. There's actually a pedestrian walkway" -- I couldn't see it from where I was -- "but it's dangerous as hell. Just stay on the road." So I did.

After all this, I only left Duluth and entered Wisconsin maybe 5:30pm -- no time to go far before dark. Stopped at the first campground, which has a very strange self-registration system, yhough I finally got it sorted. Two neighbouring RVs offered me food; I must really look starving. (I haven't lost any weight!) The one was a crew of workers doing pipeline installation on 12-hour shifts. The youngest of the crew is a seventeen-year-old high school student.

day twenty-nine: warba to duluth (111km)

Second breakfast at the Great American Roadhouse, with lots of kitschy memorabilia and photos. Theit cranberry bread French toast was pretty good.

Arroving Duluth area, I asked Google maps how to get to the campground. The route it suggested was fairly long and circuitous and required some backtracking. But it also offered a much shorter route. Heh. I almost missed a key turn because it was across a vacant dirt lot -- which led to a footpath of sorts, into the forest. I cycled the first 600m then got off and walked, maybe 1.5km after which I reached something like proper road again and then, suddenly, suburbia.

I asked the woman at the campground office for a secluded site. (I knew they had tenting-only sites.) "Well, I have two left." One was right by the entrance, the other by a pavilion. I forlornly asked which would be more secluded. "The one by the entrance, I suppose. But it is right by the entrance." Then when I was turning to go, she asked whether I might like something more secluded -- and directed me to one of the tenting-only sites I'd wanted in the first place! "It's walk-in only, but I suppose that's okay, because you can wheel your bike in" (!).

The two guys at the next site rode in in a car. 😎 They're going to spend a few days mountain biking. Talked a while to the one, who grew up on the Nez Peirce reservation.

day twenty-eight: bemidgi to warba (138km)

Dramatic change of weather: I was actually slightly cold the first part of my cycle ride. Highs were only in the low 20s.

Chippewa National Forest was nice (though, resorts at every turn!) but even briefer than the map suggested. Campground at the dam on the Mississippi west of Grand Forks was full so ended up having to ride throigh to my originally intended destination, in the dark. With good lighting and a wide shoulder (which I had) it's safe enough but tiring, because the oncoming cars never switch to low beams. Sometimes they see you and switch to high beams. That happened once just as the car was passing. At least the campground was easy enough to find, and the campground host had said, when I called, to take any site.

day twenty-seven: erskine to bemidgi (103km)

The wind was still pretty crazy when I got up and tried to put the tent away. Over the course of the day the wind graduałly shifted to the west and became a tailwind, if a somewhat unreliable one. Heat was crazy so I took things easy. Car stopped and asked if I needed something, and offered to tow me. "I have a 15ft rope. I've done it before." I politely declined and said that all I was short on was water. He gave me his coffee. Half an hour later he was back with bottled water, OJ, potato chips and cheese!  Another car stopped and offered to throw my bike in the back.

Called the campground where Sherry and Wayne, whom I met the othet side of Devil's Lake, were staying. Sure enough they had a tent site for me, but I had to pay over the phone as the owner was heading to bed. (This was 8pm.) Took the route through town and crossed the mighty Mississippi -- all 15m of it, a largish stream. Arrived at the campground at dusk to find Wayne in the washroom. Tent site was nice and set back from the RV spaces. Didn't bother with dinner.

day twenty-six: east grand forks to erskine (96km)

Had my most challenging -- and miserable -- day yet, with 37-38C temperatures and a cross-/headwind of 25-30km/h. Essentially the entire day I was in a low hill-climbing gear, struggling to make any progress. The wind was uncomfortable any time I'd stop to take a drink, and steering was occasionally awkward. A couple of times I thought maybe I'd broken another spoke, but it was just the craziness with the wind. At one point and for several minutes at least the smell of smoke (from Canada apparently) was quite strong -- the strongest I've experienced yet (though people have complained for days about the smoke).

My average speed for most of the day was 10km/h. People jog faster than that. It was like I was going up a hill that never ends. Didn't help that this part of Minnesota makes northwest Ohio look hilly, and there's pretty much nothing to stop the wind.

Had the good fortune to have an outfitters directly across the street from the Red River campground, so I was able to replace the white gas that had finally run out, after making it ałl the way from Vancouver. Second breakfast was at a coffee shop, which was a bit unfortunate as there was what looked like a popular diner down the road. Stopped to fill water bottles and buy something to drink every town I came to.

day twenty-fivish: larimore dam to east grand forks (60km)

Spent nearly three hours at the bike shop but the mechanic got the freewheel all the way off, which the guy in Cranbrook thought couldn't be done. Till I visited the second shop to check for bike tires and got something to drink, it was after five. No campgrounds for some distance east so I stopped at the state park just over the bridge into Minnesota. The attendant who checked me in is studying accounting at UND.

Grand Forks is an insane sprawling mass of a city... endless business strips and four-lane avenues. Nice downtown district though. Part of it's closed tonight for a street fair, which I rode past. Someone told me it's a Prince tribute, which is odd because I've heard absolutely no Prince played... rather a mix of '80s and '90s stuff including Green Day, Twisted Sister, and Guns 'n Roses. It's still going strong, clearly.

Had to ask again to borrow a hammer to drive the stakes into the sandy soil. The guy invited me back for hamburgers. I have been such a bad vegetarian on this trip. Food in front of me, I eat.

day twenty-four: kenner's campground to larimore dam (120km)

Another short day today, this time because I again broke a drive-side spoke, somewhere beyond Lakota. Had to cycle somewhat slowly and carefully till I could get somewhere (Michigan) to retrue the wheel to compensate, and naturally that took time, too. The fate of the rest of my trip is largely in the hands of what I find for bike mechanics in town tomorrow, and how much time they need. Looking like I should replace the tires at the same time. These guys are good but nothing like the tire sone years ago that I figured I got 10,000 miles from.

I'm growing tired of the lack of consistent shoulders on Route 2 not to mention the dual carriageway. Of Route 2 stays four lane through much of Minnesota, I'll look for alternate routes. Route 2 was such a great cycling road through Montana.

 Woman came over from one of the neighbouring campsites this morning asking if I wanted carrot cake to take with me. She and her husband are on their way from Alberta, where she teaches at university, to the town in Minnesota where she grew up. I know the campground in that town where they're staying the next ten days; it's right along Route 2 in a couple hundred kilometers. So I may see them again.

Stopped for second breakfast and groceries in Devil's Lake, which looks like a tourist-trap town that's overgrown into a city. Their big thing is catering to fishermen. Stopped for a drink in Lakota and,vof course, in Michigan, where I trued my wheel. Drank like crazy today.

day twenty-three: granville to darby, north dakota (kenner's campground)(160km)

Almost missed the diner in Granville; it looked like a VFW post, not a diner. Ate a big breakfast then went to pay only to be told that I was all paid up! Almost forgot to go to town hall and pay for the campsite (5 bucks).

Passed the geographical center of North America in Rugby. Josh messaged me from Ann Arbor to ask where the hell I was. I explained that I was running behind schedule.

Had bowel problems in the evening, second time on this trip. Wonder if it wasn't the water from the campground, which sat oddly on my stomach.

Stopped at the convenience store in Leeds for a drink and contemplated staying in the canpground by the road. The cashier gave me directions to the (free) town campsite. Still, it was early, so I rode on. Sometimes I had a wide shoulder, sometimes I had to ride on the white line.

Called ahead to the intended campground to make sure they had space. The guy said something about using the self-registration station. The campground was 2km down gravel roads. I couldn't believe there'd be anything there till I arrived. The "registration station" turned out to be a lock box where one could also pay for firewood -- nothing more. Grateful for the hot shower.

day twenty-two: stanley to granville (135km)

Learned this evening that -- after many crazy convolutions -- I will not be allowed to study programming at the local college after all. The problem is that they do not accept the high school physics course I took, and although I took the course a second time this spring and completed it 6 July, the adult education program was closed all of July until two days ago, and now the national grade database is locked until next Monday. That I provided evidence of completing the course (and receiving an A) does not count because I lack the official record -- for a few more days than the college was willing to wait. Hey, at leadt this gives me a few more days to finish my ride.

Ate my second breakfast at the diner in Stanley. The waitress was great, but the food was decidedly mediocre.

Stopped for water mid-afternoon at a house where I'd just seen someone drive in. The woman was very friendly and happily gave me water. "I have a friend who does that sort of thing. I could never do it myself."

Finally have gotten to the point in my trip where people are more impressed by where I'm riding from than where I'm riding to.

Made it to the bike shop in Minot with an hour to spare. Learned that the cyclist I met in Wolf Point (and saw go by just beyond Williston) had been in six hours earlier. My glue job on my shoe has been holding brilliantly for three days now, and I didn't see any shoes on display anyway; but I did replace my helmet, which had started falling apart.

Stopped again for water at a bar along the old highway in Surrey. Chatted with a woman at the bar while I waited for the bartender. "I took in a group of cyclists last year when my husband wasn't home. He was so furious when he found out. 'You didn't know a damn thing about them. They could have done anything to you.' But I took one look and knew they were okay. They sent me such wonderful pictures, too, when they reached Maine!"

Camping tonight in the Granville City Campground. Once again, I have the place all to myself. Not clear if there's a charge or not. Tried calling the number posted for after hours, but got no answer. Will check in at the town offices in the morning.

day twenty-one: williston to stanley (121km)

Staying in the Stanley municipal campground tonight: electricity, hot showers, and no charge! ...Directly across the tracks from the Amtrak station. Found this place on Google. Policeman came and registered me, which just consisted of photographing my ID. There's a cafe just past the Amtrak station for my second breakfast tomorrow. Want to get up early so I can make it to the bike shop on Minot before it closes at six and make it another 30km to a similar campground to this one.

Stopped at the post office before leaving Williston to mail a few things to myself c/p my sister. Cycling down the highway afterward, a car waved me over. It was the postmaster. I'd left my camera on the counter! I told her this was service above and beyond the call of duty.

Blazingly hot and water hard to come by. I stopped by a farm for water because I saw two men out in the yard. I guzzled down a bottleful of the (well) water and refilled both my water bottles -- but threw most of it out when I shortly reached a gas station, because it tasted so awful.

Stopped for a pizza when I got to to town. Asked for directions here from the convenience store clerk from whom I bought the pizza. Her directions were mostly useless, but thankfully I have a mobile signal again.

day twenty: wolf point to williston (166km)

Caught off guard by the time change at the border. Logically North Dakota should still be on Mountain time. Could not find the RV parks (two?) I was meant to be passing and arrived to town -- thanks to the new time zone -- much later than intended. Had a good mobile signal outside town (really, first city I've come to since Vancouver) but no connectivity once in town -- consequently left flying blind. So, again at a motel, but hopefully for the last time for a while. Oh, and the last bike shop here closed, but my most recent glue job on the shoe appears to be holding. Next bike shop is in Minot.

Cooler weather yesterday meant better progress; temperature was only 27C. Helpful gentleman directed me off onto old highway 2 before Culbertson. "You'll avoid a number of mini-mountains. Heck, this highway is so bad I'm going to go that way myself!" Thankfully this time the road stayed paved. Forced back onto the new highway just before Big Muddy Creek -- at a guess, the old bridge was no longer there. Temperatures are to reach 40 by tomorrow and stay there for a few days.

Had to bite my tongue a couple times in recent days. One time a shopkeeper, who did not know what he was talking about, held forth on socialism. Another time, at a restaurant, a man held forth on genetic modification like a real authority -- and, again, hadn't a clue. Probably should have held my tongue when the man at the diner in Culbertson asked if we had problems with "the Muslims" in Sweden, too. I said no, but the far-right basically neo-Nazi party is doing worryingly well in the polls ahead of next month's elections.

day nineteen: fort peck to wolf point (85km)

Left shoe came apart leaving the Chinese restaurant. Stayed in the community park with a couple from Boston heading west to Seattle.

day eighteen: malta to fort peck (146km)

Out of mosquito/black fly country!

day seventeen: chinook to malta (145km)

The actual distance was only about 113km, but then leaving town (because the time was still early) I decided to take old Highway 2, which parallels the new road. For the first few miles, it seemed like the perfect choice. Then the pavement became more primitive, but that was still okay. Then when I reached the national wildlife refuge, it went to loose gravel. That still would have been okay, but the small black flies that had been eating me all day (and stung! worse than a mosquito) went to town, and now that it was cooler, the mosquitoes were out in force as well. I tried to carry on for fifteen minutes but had to turn around. There was no paved road over to the new highway, and the two gravel roads I met looked sketchy (and didn't appear on my map) so I went all the way back to town. It was pretty well dark till I got there, and I was covered in bites, so I did the cheap motel route again rather than carrying on back to the campground.

I seriously wonder what the flies were. Unlike mosquitoes, they showed no preference for bare skin but happily bit through shirt, shorts, socks. The heat of the day didn't phase them. They weren't put off much by DEET. I mentioned them to the hotel manager, who simply called them "gnats", a handy catchall term. But these things were bigger than what I'm used to calling gnats. The touring cyclist Ilya who warned me in the morning that I was entering mosquito country was, I suspect, really talking about the flies. (Like the three other cyclists I met shortly before him -- by maybe an hour -- he started from Bar Harbor, but he knew nothing about them.) I'm desperately hoping to pass from their territory soon.

day sixteen: chester to chinook (140km)

After yesterday's grueling 25km of temporary road surface, the worst I had to deal with today was a bad pothole in Havre (pronounced differently by everyone I talk to!) that I didn't see. Cross my fingers on no damage to the wheels. The heat of the day had finally started to cool a bit till I reached Havre. Temperature was "down" to 36. Leaving Havre, there was a noticeable change in climate: the air was less dry, and I saw trees for pretty much the first time in three days. Campground that I first stopped at had no toilets on site so no tenting, but the owner directed me on to this city park -- the third I've stayed in now. Refilled my water bottle while I was there; boy, the sulphur content is high!

More (small!) towns today than yesterday -- nearly all off down side roads over the tracks, to the north -- so water was less of a problem. Think I never went more than 15km between towns. First town was the hardest for finding water; knocked on a door first, then the postmaster directed me to the adjacent (closed) "restaurant" ( more like bar), but then I hit it lucky at the Conoco car shop. The guy sold me peanuts; I got a soda out of his vending machine; and he directed me to the restroom to refill my bottles.

Tried to follow the signs to a restaurant in a later town -- no luck -- so I ended up having lunch (a very non-memorable turkey Swiss sandwich and crisps) at a bar on the main highway.

day fifteen: cut bank to chester (120km)

The words for today are "hot and insanely dry". Finally now starting to cool down. Ran out of water half way here from Shelby. Tried a grain silo where there were obviously people working -- I could hear their voices -- but I couldn't work out where they were. Ended up getting water from the cooler in the basement of the adjacent (unlocked but empty) Lutheran church. (Turned out I had to use the cooler; when I went to use the toilet I discovered that the pipes were off.)

It got hot fast after I left town, around 8:45 after a visit to the local Albertsons. On the way, chatted to a tourist who'd stopped at the side of the road. He filled my empty water bottle with Gerber's baby water, which I'd never heard of. He said it was " processed differently" than "regular water" and he understood it to be healthier.  Reaching Shelby, I stopped for a drink at the gas station, then bought another, and looked up what baby water is. Turns out to be unflouridated. Leaving town I decided I was hungry so I went back to the one restaurant in town, where I proceeded to drink several more glasses of water. The food (biscuits and gravy, hash browns, and eggs)would have tasted good except that it wasn't warm at all.

Quite disappointed that I saw no Amtrak train, despite following the rail line all day. I should have seen the eastbound late morning and the westbound early evening. I know that the trains especially on this route are often wildly off schedule, but still. Lots of BNSF freight trains.

Got to town just before 7pm. Checked out the Lions Park, which did not appear to be open for tenting. Asked a couple at the supermarket, who gave me (bad) directions to the city park, which does. It's not nearly so nice as the one in Eureka, but it is a safe, cheap place to sleep, for which I'm grateful. Just have to get away before the sprinklers come on in the morning.