On day 17 of riding, my butt hurts. 78.5 miles to ride today.
Only 23.2 miles to go. Done.
Only 21.3 miles to go. Done.
Only 13.6 miles to go. Done.
Only 20.4 miles to go. Done.
That’s how I complete a 78.5 mile ride.
We rolled out of Poplar, Montana and left behind the green landscape that extended all the way to the blue sky to our left (North) and the green on the right (South) that was fringed by purple-blue mountains with splashes and strings of blue-green water. As we cycled eastward, the terrain changed so that we were in a bowl of green that looked like globs of Play-Doh that God had carpeted with a rug of various green colors; all meticulously manicured.
Farm buildings were so far off the road that they looked miniature—Lego style. By 9:30 am, we exited Fort Peck Indian Reservation and the terrain changed again. This time to cliffs with different layers; top golden brown, lower silver gray and the bottom soil like the sand we left behind in Seaside. And the railroads, always the railroads, sometimes below us and sometimes above us so high that the trees could only peek over it at us.
Bins, bins and bins to store the bountiful grain harvests God has provided. As we approached North Dakota, the bins changed to tanks for storing oil. There appears to be lots of oil in the grounds around here.
We had to climb out of Montana. Some hills were so long it seemed I’d climb two miles, look up and there be two more miles to climb. I cannot look at the top; that’s discouraging. I studied the asphalt directly in front of my wheel until I must be qualified as an asphaltologist.
I noticed the soil that was rich and black turning more brown and clay in places and sandy in others. The agriculture changed from grain production to cattle production and back several times. We saw some wildlife (a pronghorn antelope) and enough road kill to make Granny Clampett happy.
God provides. But, my butt still hurts.