Entry Six

Thunderstorms
Growing up and living mostly in the West Coast area, I have always understood that I really don't know what a real thunderstorm is. Well, out on the Great Plains I have gotten an education in a hurry! There has been one storm for each day I've been out here. For those weather neophytes uneducated in violent storms, I'll describe a typical encounter. You will see a large, dark cloud forming west of you in the afternoon. There's nothing to block the view on the Great Plains, so it doesn't take an Einstein to spot trouble brewing in the sky. These cloud systems can be 10-50 miles in diameter and always (so far) move to the northeast. They don't look like they are coming on fast, but I guarantee that you can't outrun one on a bicycle, especially with the @#$%# wind blowing against you.

As the Front approaches, you can see the individual lightning strikes. When you can hear the thunder, you've got perhaps 20 minutes to find shelter. By that time, you'd better be in a town or be knocking desperately on a ranch house door. The sun will be quickly blocked out and it will grow dark enough for street lights to come on. Lightning will begin to strike all around you and the thunder will grow to deafening proportions. There may or may not be a few initial blasts of wind. However, the rain will come on very suddenly. It will fall in sheets that obscure the view even across the street. Standing in this rain is very much like taking a shower; you are drenched within seconds. The wind can easily gust up to 50 mph or more, adding great drama (as if more drama was needed). The only saving grace to this potential disaster is that is usually lasts less than 15 minutes, during which you can easily get more than an inch of rain.

As quickly as the violent storm arrives, it ends, tailing off with a light shower and perhaps a rainblow as the sun re-emerges. Within an hour, the streets are dry and its almost as if nothing happened. As an example of this, on July Fourth in the little Town of Winnett, MT, we had a rip-roaring thunderstorm at 7:00 pm. Less than 3 hours later, the whole town turned out for the Fireworks show, which went off without a hitch. I am happy to report that so far I have comfortablly ridden out all of the thunderstorms from under a town picnic shelter or inside a cafe. Needless to say, I keep a sharp lookout on the southwest horizen all day while I'm biking!

Freedom
East of the tiny Town of Dodge, ND, a mother antelope and her two fawns leaped across the highway a few hundred yards ahead of me. They jumped over a fence into a field of new-mown hay and began to run parallel to the highway and in my direction. I was heading downhill at the time and caught up with them. Together, the four of us ran on in unison, hardly 50 yards apart. It was a truely magical moment that only lasted about 20 seconds and a few hundred yards. The antelope stopped and watch as I quickly sped down the highway. I like to think that that moment symbolized the freedom the four of us briefly shared, each in our own way.