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| Occasionally I play in traffic |
Waking up in a Walmart parking lot will always be a combination of graciousness, and disorientation. The safety, or illusion thereof, is one that can only be found in the asphalt ocean of the parking lot. The ritual of wandering in, washing up, searching for wifi, and returning to my car has become second nature now. The wifi, when present, offers my daily connection to the rest of the world.
This day, I was waking up in Bismarck, North Dakota. It was day 2 here, and already I had run out of things that interested me. I wandered into the “downtown” of Bismarck, finding a park near the Missouri River to leave my car as I hopped on my bike to explore. Except this wasn’t Missoula, and apparently no one gives a damn about bicyclists around here. With nearly getting hit a handful of times, I figured it was a sign to head in for a minute to escape the midday heat.
Escaping to a local coffee shop for some tea (I still don’t drink coffee), and air condition was a welcome change. Doing some work, surfing the internet, it was both physically and mentally relaxing. With a few hours blown by, I hopped on my bike again to wander around the government complex, the only real highlight of the area. Though I did hear Lincoln State Park was nice, the 22 dollar day pass turned me off to it. With the day closing, I found a grocery store for supplies, and relaxed on the grass as I enjoyed “dinner.”
My destination for the night was 2 hours north, Minot (pronounced My-knot) where a single attraction caught my attention that made the drive seem worth it. With the drive behind me, and a new blacktop to melt my tires into.
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| For reference, the deer on the left is 50 ft tall |
Another day, another parking lot, another walk across the painted lines to the restroom to look reasonable for society, even if I didn’t smell good. Minot had one attraction that piqued my interest: Scandinavian Heritage Park. Down in South Dakota there was merely a replica church on the outskirts of town, but here, there was a whole “park” with memorials of all sorts in the heart of downtown. Wandering around, talking with a volunteer about the architecture of the “garage” vs house.
Interests fulfilled, and finding nothing else in town, I headed for my idea of a shower, a dip in Devils Lake. A massive lake in the middle of the state that’s simply a result of the drain off form all the surrounding farms. Upon arriving, my body was aching from all the sitting I’d done in recent days. Since I was going to hop in a lake to wash off anyways, I fancied a run beforehand. It has been over a month since I last was able to run, and now was an opportune time to fix that.
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| This is the dude that wrote The Little Mermaid, Hans Christian Andersen |
Problem was, like in the previous days, the sun was shining bright, and not a single cloud could be found for as far as the eye could see. Oh well. I tossed on my swim trunks, running shoes, picked a direction on the highway, and headed off. It felt amazing! To unleash again and let my body sit back, hit a groove and sail for a bit felt amazing. I ran till I couldn’t, which wasn’t long since it had been a while since I had last, then I turned around and headed back to my car. Quickly dropping my few items, and grabbing water, I ran into the lake.
The water felt like a hot tub compared to the glacier lakes I had been in just last week. But fully submerged further out, it cooled down a bit and felt wonderful. But the water was far from as clean as the glacial lakes as well. Murky, green with algae, water up to my neck, my elbows couldn’t be seen. Not sure if this water was making me cleaner or dirtier, in either case, anything has to be better than the sweat from my run. Clean, dry and with fresh clothes, I felt awesome.
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| Leif Erikson! |
A local park I had found earlier while looking for the beach called me back to it. Dinner, a book, and my slackline made for the winning combination of the evening. Satisfied all around, I headed to the Devils Lake Walmart as my next home for the night.
Except it was no longer there. Great.
The next closes Walmart? Two hours south to Jamestown. Another evening drive on the longest, flattest, and straightest road one can imagine, and my home for the night was realized.
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| aka, middle of nowhere |
