Day 16, August 10: the longest day

Hettinger, ND to Mobridge, SD http://cyclemeter.com/85ef50859d8f1e5c/Cycle-20150810-0612

Distance: 125.7 miles (Note: this reading and the three below are from Cyclemeter. I prefer to use my bike odometer because I think it is a little more accurate, but I inadvertently turned it off in the middle of the ride. Cyclemeter gives a slightly shorter distance, fewer ride time minutes, a higher average speed, and a lower maximum speed)

Riding time: 8:56

Average speed: 14.1 mph
Maximum speed: 29.4 mph

Weather: It was 50° with a 49° dew point at my 6:10 am start, with no wind. By 9:00 the wind was westerly at 5 mph and it was 66°. In the afternoon it warmed to the low 80s and the wind shifted to the north with a speed of about 6 mph. 

Terrain: uphill 2757, downhill, 3742. The route sloped downward toward the Grand and Missouri Rivers near Mobridge. The cross section shows a cruel series of hills at the very end of the ride.

In the lightly populated West, a major consideration for my route planning is where the motels are. Starting from Hettinger, ND, I had two choices: Watauga or Mobridge. The motel in the tiny hamlet of Watauga is about 55 miles from Hettinger, but there is no food or services within ten miles of the motel. Google Maps shows Mobridge to be 122 miles from Hettinger, and with a population of 3,500 people, it has several motel and eating options. The weather forecast shows no rain and mostly crosswinds from the north. The route plan is simple--US 12 the whole way (see map below). I decide to take the longest ride of my life. The previous long ride was 114 miles in the Air Conditioned Tour Up North back in 2003 with Tom and Bob. 

The route followed US 12 from Hettinger, ND on the left to Mobridge, SD in the bottom right. The shaded area is the Standing Rock Indian Reservation, which is a Lakota, Yanktonai and Dakota reservation in North Dakota and South Dakota.

I knew it was going to be a long day so I started at 6:10 am. It was perfectly still, and there was mist in lowlying areas because the temperature of 50° was close to the 49° dew point.

Mist in the distance, just east of Hettinger, ND.

The sun lights up dew-covered spider webs in a field.

Dew-covered spider web with spider in the center.

For many days I have been riding across the short grass prairie, that is, landscapes dominated by grass. The photo below is unusual in that it shows a grove of naturally occurring trees.

Native Americans called the grove of trees in the distance Pahachechacha, or Hidden Wood, because the hills cluster
around it in such a way that it cannot be seen from more than two miles away. It has a clear stream at the bottom and
it is the only source of timber in a radius of 30 miles.

I enter South Dakota and the road changes.

Entering South Dakota on US 12.

The wide shoulder in North Dakota narrows down to no shoulder in South Dakota, and the road gets a lot bumpier. I quickly drew some negative conclusions about South Dakota, but I was premature. Fortunately, the rough road only lasted for a few miles before getting wider and smoother.

Lemmon is the first sizable town today with services. It has two museums.

Cowboy on a triceratops at the Grand River Museum in Lemmon, SD.

Close up view of the triceratops at the Grand River Museum.

The Petrified Wood Park and Museum in Lemmon, SD.

The sign says these pieces of petrified wood have dinosaur claw marks. Could it be true?

As I proceed eastward, the ranches and cowboy hats give way to farms and seed caps. There is more rainfall that can support agriculture as well as lakes, ponds, and wetlands.

Sunflower field in Trail Township, SD.

This ranch sign has the iconic cowboys on horseback with cattle. It also has the state bird of South Dakota, the ring-necked pheasant.

I have a long history in South Dakota. Sixty-four years ago I was born about 100 miles south of here in Huron. My family only lived in Huron for a year or two, and then we moved to Sioux Falls, where my brother Bill was born. My dad was a traveling salesman for Quaker Oats in Huron, and in Sioux Falls he sold pens for Parker Pen. In those jobs he drove on US 12 quite a lot. He carried a shotgun in his car and on two or three occasions stopped and shot a pheasant, which Mom later prepared for dinner.

As I biked along US 12, I often flushed out pheasants and grouses. The photo shows a grouse killed by a vehicle. Grouse eat road grit to aid in the digestion of their food.

Small lake with ducks, in Trail Township, SD.

US 12 stretches on forever: rangeland on the left and grassland on the right. Near McLaughlin, SD.

Bales of hay underneath fair weather cumulus clouds, near Watauga, SD.

The only goats I have seen so far. Near Watauga, SD.

I think these are Black Baldies, a type of crossbred beef cattle produced by crossing Hereford cattle with a solid black
breed, usually Aberdeen Angus. They look young to me, and many of them stampeded away from me when they first
saw me, but then their curiosity got the best of them and almost all of them looked me over. Near McIntosh, SD.

The cattle in the previous picture are spread out. The ones in back in the previous picture have come forward, out of
curiosity I guess.

Wheat field, pretty sky. Near McIntosh, SD.

Corn became increasingly common as I rode eastward. I was a little surprised to see it in area with less than 20 inches
of precipitation. Near McIntosh, SD.

A huge storage facility near McLaughlin for the various crops raised in the area. The storage bins are a sign that we are in predominantly agricultural areas rather than ranching. The locomotive engine in the center of the picture provides a sense of scale.

Which way should I go?

Toward the end of the day the route bent southward, so the north wind became mostly a tailwind. This windsock is at the McLaughlin, SD airport.

The Grand River section of Lake Oahe. The lake is the fourth largest reservoir in the US.

It's late in the day and I cast a long shadow. Not a lot of room for bikes on this bridge across the Missouri River. My destination of Mobridge is on the other side. The town's name is a contraction of Missouri Bridge.

The end of the ride was tough, with a series of five hills with 100 to 150 feet of vertical, each equivalent to about a 12-story building, I guess. Somehow I made it. I think (and hope) this will be the longest day of my trip.