Pirsig Day 1 and 2. (July 8-9)

I leave cousin Jo Ann Musumeci behind, and head West.

It is now the first real day of the Robert Pirsig recreation (such as it will be) and I am thinking a lot about the book now. I had such a great time seeing old friends and discovering (re-discovering) a relative, but now it is time to get "serious."

After leaving Minneapolis one of the first things that I notice is that the terrain is beginning to really flatten out. The low rolling hills  around the Mississippi give way to a flat plane. This is still extremely agrarian country and the roads have begun to straighten and level,as well; when I think of farm country I think of rural Maryland, to the west of Frederick, or perhaps, more appropriately, the Eastern Panhandle of Maryland and Delaware through which I rode coming back from the shore. What we don't realize in the east is that even in the lower panhandle of the Delmarva Peninsula, as flat as it is, the eye is always stopped by the tree line or a rise or town: here the fields go on forever. As the country flattens out,  I've become aware that one can see much farther than I've ever been accustomed to seeing. I know that Montana is called "big sky" country but I feel as though I am already there. 

Not too far along in Minnesota, I take advantage of a rest stop, and it is extremely well-appointed, and i take some time out to chat with Mike, the maintenance superintendent of the rest stop. he admires my bike, and tells me how he and his wife go to Sturgis each year. We have a lovely conversation - motorcycles, not zen - and I get all the bugs cleaned off my visor (the bugs will become a constant as I get into the Plains states...)

I remember driving through Ireland and commenting on the fact that around every turn it seems, a castle or ruin would rise up from the terrain... in the West Plains castle ruins are replaced by the structures of agriculture, which rise like modern castles out of the glass-flat landscape. You can see from incredibly far away the shape rising up from the horizon and it grows and grows until you're upon it, and it is a silo, or grain elevator, or some other structure of modern agrarian economy sized to a scale that I've never seen before. Another thing I have noticed is that the roads often follow rail lines and the railway accommodates trains of a size I have also never seen. Across western Minnesota I pace a train to the south that seems to be at least 3 miles long. There is the occasional overpass, but for the most part the land flattens out to a Euclidean plan and eventually the only variation is the modulation of green denoted by the planting of different crops. 

From a distance, this looked just like a medieval castle...

Even in this terrain I am surprised to discover that the landscape can take 180 degree turn with almost no warning; halfway through my ride I realize that a breeze has picked up; the breeze becomes wind but I have never ridden in a crosswind like this before. I remember many years ago, in the 80's,  on a beach trip, we had to evacuate the shore because of an oncoming hurricane. My friend Jason had ridden his motorcycle to the beach, and, as we were evacuating inland, he was out in front of us and we marveled at the sight of him riding in a straight line but leaned over at almost a 30° angle just to keep some tracking off the road because of the winds. This is what the second half of my day is like -  the wind is a constant 90° to my direction of travel and at least 40 mph all the time.

Shortly after the wind picks up, I am surprised to see a small lake to my right, then another to my left, and soon I am completely surrounded buy water on both sides; I realize I am traversing the Lake country of western Minnesota and the eastern Dakotas.

Not too long after leaving Minneapolis, the heat becomes oppressive again. My first destination is Ellendale,  North Dakota, but I make my first variation from the Pirsig route early on to avoid a storm to the north, and I wind up in Aberdeen, South Dakota, by  following Rte. 12 pretty much exactly parallel to Ellendale to the north. As I'm driving, I can see the storm dumping to the north, and when I meet up with riders who were also following the "ZAMM" trail (as they call it) they tell me that they barely managed to avoid the storm that included tornadoes and devastating hail. I hope Pirsig will forgive me, but I am relieved for my decision. I phone ahead to get a reservation in Aberdeen, and get a room in a motel that is also housing quite a few members of what I believe to be Army National Guard. 

You can see the storm I dodged off to the right (North)

This becomes my first attempt to strike up conversation, but it is completely ineffectual as they make it very clear that they are not allowed to (nor predisposed) to discuss politics or the state of the world, (much as one young woman (a corporal, I think) looked as though she would very much like to. I have booked the motel online but find, when I get there, that my confirmation number does not match -  although they have my reservation - and the night clerk cannot help me. I throw up my hands and pay again, unpack the bike,  and crash like a stone. I wake into oppressive heat, and attempt to deal with the overcharge with the day manager, as the night clerk suggested I do. UPDATE: Status still pending as of 7/13. The trip to Aberdeen has been a little brutal: over 300 miles on the straight edge roads and blistering heat, leaning half the way just to keep the bike from going off into one of the lakes. My next stop is Lemmon, North Dakota and it promises more of the same: this will prove to be one of my toughest but most rewarding rides, almost 350 miles. But I know that along this ride I'm going to cross the Missouri River, and  my connection with Robert Pirsig's narration will deepen as we enter reservation territory.

I stop for lunch in Bowdle, ND, and take a moment to wander through the town. Such as it is. While everything natural is much larger out here, everything "human", it sometimes feels, is smaller. It's hot as hell, and the only sound outside the Bowdle luncheonette is the flag rope clanging against the pole across the street. Then, I am off to Mobridge to cross the great river.

The GoPro has remained the bane of my existence: I simply did not spend enough time trying to familiarize myself with the function before I left, the Bluetooth connection with the phone app I am trying to used to control it is dodgy, and I suspect that the speeds I am traveling are too high for it to remain reliably focused ahead of me...  but I vow to get video as I crossed the Missouri, as this is a moment that Pirsig has emphasized in the narrative and I know that the terrain is going to change dramatically after the crossing. This will also be my first time in "reservation territory" and I am looking forward just seeing what that will feel like, in this time of political upheaval, partisan division,  conversations about race, etc.  out of procreation I cannot help but reflect on the fact that before any other divisions occurred, our nation, as we know it today,  was built on the backs of the native populations we displaced. As a white man traveling into "Indian" territory I'm mildly apprehensive but fascinated to see what the culture looks like in the 21st-century.  

I cross the Missouri at Mobridge, just as Pirsig did,  and as I wind my way up the bank on the far side change in the terrain is dramatic. Every mile I travel west from the Missouri I'm increasingly aware of being in the High Plains. I'm entering the landscape that shaped the mythos of the American West. I seek lodging in Lemmon, where Pirsig stayed, but nothing is available, and so I move on until I can find a room. I find a room just a little further on in Hettinger,  and bunk down for the night; from Hettinger, I will move into Montana on the following day. At a gas station in Hettinger, I meet Marcus and John, two fellow travelers, who are also on cycles and tracing the Pirsig route for this, the fiftieth anniversary of the original ride.

The Missouri comes into sight

Now, that's a pretty river...

Look: Hills!!!

Also - I finally saw cows.