Page 13 - Peter Farrelly Issue

out of the way and off the highway to revisit a gravel road I found by accident a few years ago. East River Road runs along the river all the way down to the south- ern Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota. Incredible views and nothing but cows and wild horses along the way. No mail boxes, no telephone poles and best of all, no interstate potholes!
like to caution drivers. It was actually not as slippery as I have experienced in the past and I enjoyed the crunchy sucking sound as my tires rolled through the coat of damp oil. I turned onto the first of many gravel roads. It was well groomed and I was able to maintain freeway speeds. The views were getting better, but more remote and the roads were getting narrower. After 100 miles or so, the one lane road began to get a bit rough, with ruts from the tires of trucks and farm equipment getting deeper and deeper. A week earlier, it was all mud, and would have been impossible for any street vehicle to travel.
I stayed in Williston ND and mapped my way south to the start of the scenic dirt road. It was 5:00 am and I did not have much time to waste, as the plan was to ride the 100 mile dirt road and then hit the highway hard for 800 miles to make Chicago by nightfall. From Chicago, I could make it home in one day saving the expense of another day and night on the road.
Despite the wrong tread on my tires and being over- weight, I knew keeping my speed up and trying to get the weight rearward with my body was important to keep from crashing. Of course there was no cell service or abil- ity to get help should I have an incident, so I concentrated on staying upright and going forward as my favorite road was just a few miles ahead. It began to get hot. The ruts got deeper and once I got stuck riding in one, I was there for ever, unable to get out! My bike has a seat height of 33” and my inseam is 28”. Duck walking the bike at slow speeds wasn’t even a possibility, so 20-30 mph was my best chance of getting through the miles and miles of ruts.
It looked like about 150 miles to get to where I wanted to start, but my mapping app on my phone and my GPS unit were in disagreement of the best way to get there. I tried to zoom in on both devices to see the actual route, but finally had to make a decision while moving and chose to trust the GPS which said I could save 30 miles and reach the road I wanted from the west side of the river through a series of very small roads. ROADS, not goat paths or trails or a river crossing, actual roads!
By the time I reached a stop sign, I knew I was in trouble. It wasn’t octagon shaped, it was a herd of cows grazing on the road refusing to get out of my way! I had enough time to look at my GPS and realized it said I had passed the
The first road started off beautiful, with the sun cresting on the horizon stirring up feelings of new opportunities that only a fresh day can bring. The state had just laid fresh crushed stone and oil or “fresh chip seal” as they
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