Day 23. Wolf Point to Circle, 57 miles

Today I parted ways with SR 2, my constant companion and chaperone, friend and foe, my everything since leaving Glacier—over 500 miles. The route drops southeast to enter North Dakota at Beach, rather than Williston, to avoid heavy truck traffic from fracking. Williston is where Joyce and I chose to ride from in 2013, during the height of the fracking boom, about which we knew nothing and quickly learned some. At the time, folks we met were estimating 25 years of work out of the oil fields. Everything was a growth industry: roads, service stops, auto dealerships, strip clubs, security. Campgrounds had been converted to barracks (man camps, they called them) to house the influx of workers.

I’d been wondering how it looked now, whether services would be as sparse or it would even be recognizable. A couple of people I talked to in Montana, including the owner of Spencer’s Bar & Grill, which appeared to comprise the town of Hingham, told me that it was already ending, that the oil was running out and the boom had subsided. They’d seen the traffic and the activity—overloaded old pickups and a lot of rowdy shenanigans—pick up in 2008 or so and then drop off again a few years ago.

At the time we were there, the boom extended as far south as Dickinson, which I’ll pass through in a couple of days; housing there was so scare apartments were commanding thousand of dollars in rent. I’ll miss the bulk of it, since I’m doing the drop south in Montana instead, but I’m curious about what Dickinson will be like.

I started the morning crossing the Missouri River, which I’d been cruising north of for some time.

Crossing a river inevitably means climbing away from it, and I did. I knew from the blogs I’d read and the handy MT bike map that today’s ride entailed a lot of hills, some of them steep. It did! The wind was, as they say, light and variable, so it wasn’t much of a factor. So I went up and down all day, first long, slow rollers, then steep ones (still long, sadly).

The town of Vida offered a grocery store of sorts, where I found no one inside and just left on the counter what seemed like an appropriate amount of money for a bottle of water.

Its other business offered amenities I was not currently in need of (save ice, which would have been grand for three minutes). Also it was closed.

I arrived in Circle to find that the RV park where I’d made a reservation was now defunct, and honestly I’m not sure it was a huge loss; the place looked pretty unappealing. The only motel in town was fully booked for a family reunion, quite surprisingly. The couple running the place told me the Circle public park allowed tent camping, and cyclists often stay there, so armed with their blessing and directions I headed that way. Sadly, I missed the chance for showers at the public pool (built in 1959!), but there were stellar picnic shelters with electric, spigots, and a pair of gussied-up (framed in wood) porta potties. I did some washing up at the spigot and took a tour of the grounds.

I had the park to myself, for the most part, so I put on some tunes (thanks for Joss Stone , Yael!) while I made my Chef Boyardee and drank a margarita in a can from my haul at the Circle c-store.

I made some new friends.

A bit later, a couple out for a walk stopped by to chat and told me it’s been rainier and thus greener than usual this year, much needed after a heat wave and drought caused near-dustbowl conditions last year. Soon after, the folks who owned the motel came by to see if I’d gotten situated okay. They stayed for a bit of socializing (he offered me either a real beer, a Budweiser, or one of hers, a Coors Light) and gave me a preview of tomorrow’s ride: 17-19 miles of steady climbing to start, and then a long, sweet descent. The sheriff also rode by and gave me a wave. Pretty sure the entire town of Circle knew I was spending the night in the park.

That didn’t keep me from feeling a bit more alert and sleeping a bit more lightly than usual, and when I heard the sound of tires on gravel at 1:30 a.m., I sat bolt upright. It turned out to be someone on a road backing the park, but when I stuck my head out of the tent to see I was dazzled by the night sky—more stars than I’ve seen in many years. I put on my glasses to get a good look; it’s so rare I’m awake for full sunset, let alone a gorgeous starry night.