Slept in longer than intended - around eight or nine, methinks. Had some of that "free" breakfast so many places offer, but can't remember if it was a deluxe version complete with eggs/meats in food warmers, fresh fruit, and waffle maker for the temporary tenant's down-home convenience, or one of the simple ones limited to bagels, toast, and miniature muffins. Whichever, I imagine the "butter" wasn't butter and that the juice had more sugar than I like.
Bikes and bags down the hall and stairs and out the door took two trips at the least. Didn't trust anybody, but resigned to loss possibility and moved with haste.
Hit the road happy breathing cool air. Didn't last long - found much wind again just outside town. Casino existed eight miles away, but I pedaled 2,397,423,836 of them before wishing Lone Wolf/Four Eagles and his mother would be waiting there with massive breakfast and warm regard to give. Casino hill only greeted with more wind, though. Northwest wind pushed hard at the time I found the slight southwest curve - foot went down to prevent falling; stopped for angry break and enjoyed the view.
Its trafficandgroundshaking-telling details were abundant as those in any other gravel pit, but you can't even see it (thanks, Google camera, for being on a car in the wrong ditch):
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Wondered if anyone was home:
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Contemplated the hopeful hopelessness of gamblers:
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Got cold sitting around, so continued leaning and pedaling...for another 2,397,423,836 miles [3 or 4 or something] before reaching Pickstown, home of Fort Randall Dam. Had learned pre-high-school Tom Brokaw's father brought the family there during his work with the Army Corps of Engineers, and imagined the place as wizened by Brokaw, whatever that would look like. But town existed like many others I've experienced - one that many people only drive through, and others stop in only to get gasoline, and hey, while we're at it, food and restroom use. Me, too, wanted comfort-amid-cold burger:
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Just minutes after leaving the station/restaurant, looked forward to escaping cold wind through dam information center's provisions. Dam information center provided nothing but an external view, though - closed. Sad.
Reveled in glory crossing into, passing through (maybe 1/4 mile) a coned zone as construction left wide space between itself and single lane traffic's designated path of which direction did not at the time coincide with my intended vector here:
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Admired, loathed, idealized, felt grateful for human determination here:
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Continued that and wondered what being behind object of perception would feel like here:
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But frustration quickly set in again after turning here:
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Forecast said wind averaged 25ish miles per hour and gusted 30 to 40 of those - I had no doubt. In last dam's straightaway measuring (approximated) mile-point-five, referenced wind nearly bisected intended vector. Conditions demanded my roll frequently vary within range from far to very far if I wanted straight-line travel between tires. [Mind pictured 45 degrees between yaw axis and the (apparently) horizontal shoulder, but mind is no camera, let alone precise or at third-person perspective, so don't trust mind.] Other conditions (primarily my incompetence and traffic fear) demanded path be roughly two feet into shoulder consisting of loose, coarse gravel/crushed pavement. Persistently turned front wheel sharp side to side and leaned heavily rightward. Sometimes almost fell into guard cable, sometimes almost fell into roadway, all while tires' contact patches shifted unpredictably with the relatively unstable ground. Wished whole time panniers didn't catch wind. Thighs, hips, and core exhausted, misjudged gust or just couldn't compensate regardless, pissed-off put roadside foot down at about three quarters the way.
Stopped to yell into louder wind, relax, pout, and calm, looking northwestward:
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Attention caught two white-feather-headed eagles maybe 50 feet out and up. Recalled increase in sighting them at home, reflected on chance to see them, felt happy. Decided on walking to dam's end. Created triangle between my roll, bicycle's roll, and ground. Tension between muscle pairs highly imbalanced, pouted some more. Anticipated these trees like childhood self longed for post-bus half-mile driveway's shelterbelt end:
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Emanating from elevation lower than the shoulder, trees disrupted little wind heading toward me - pouted some more. In the exhaustion, found slight uphill in following two miles irritating. Think I peed by tree on right side:
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Don't remember anything between then and reaching this fork where I stopped at the octagonal red sign:
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Sun's rays reaching the area for the day had nearly all made it by this point. Had no reflectors and didn't enjoy previous two nights' darkness riding, so zip tied van's newly hired retired license plate [23 tooth on a 44-8, what?] to trailing bmx bicycle's handlebars, put on the headlamp, and turned southward.
Some distance between seven and eight miles lay between position and destination. Think first six point five might have been most gentle joyful of entire trip. Hilly pasture land in all directions filled with light brown grass, speckled with trees and curious cows, all perceived as warm in the dusk's "glow". Wind at my back, downhill (much slight, though some plenty) and high gear all the way. Pleased with existence focused on visible and audible surroundings and coinciding emotion.
But a long uphill near the end spoiled that concentration:
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From that vantage saw four-legged figure cross roadway at hill top. Thought it larger than dog but shorter than deer. In reflecting on recent years' South Dakota history, considered mountain lion possibility. Sightings and population had increased, so I left home with bear mace. Wondering all up that long hill and keeping in mind the mace's position (in front left pannier's inside bottom) excited limb impulses. Near top caught glimpse of eyes in corn field edge - they quickly turned away and I lost track. In my slow speed, got scared, decided to stop and pull out mace. Nervously fumbled through bag and waved down oncoming cars for comforting presence, but they no stop. Found what I was looking for, removed the safety clip, started pedaling hard as could, frantically scanning corn field until heard rustle and saw eyes again, this time ably viewing antlers. Laughed at myself...then considered cat could be hunting buck, pushed the pedaling again.
Reached town with relief. Wandered through empty streets between dark homes and businesses. Wondered where everyone was, until heard vocal projection via unclear loud speaker and recognized football game took place some distant town part. Enjoyed dinner as the only customer in restaurant manned by two people just down this street on the right:
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Proprietors directed me to city park (Google maps says 41.3 miles for the day) where I pitched tent on side of picnic shelter's wall opposite main road:
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Thought that side might prevent drivers noticing me, but didn't count on (I presume) high school kids riled up after football game driving repeatedly through park's alley/parking lot, nor them parking with lights shining on my tent and exiting car for whatever reason. Was then I remembered I didn't sleep with mace and phone in bag only to keep them from freezing. After however many paranoid minutes (hours?), fell asleep, but around three or four woke again hearing rummaging in nearby trash cans which then fell over. Imagined raccoon, but after minute or so heard dragging footwear and heavy breathing I believed originated from male human on sidewalk immediately neighboring tent. Quietly readied mace and light and held still. He continued walking, and walked away. After not moving for some time...fell stressly asleep for the last time of the morning.
