Where’d You Find The Mud?

Family Car Trip

The North Dakota ride came about during a family trip across the state, east to west. Along the way we amused ourselves at several pit stops. First was Fargo, the notoriously frigid outpost made cultural icon by the Coen Brothers. Fun fact: No scenes in the movie Fargo were shot in Fargo. Fun Fact 2: In Fargo, the Red River floods in Noah-like proportion each year, prompting the locals to sand-bag the shoreline so they don’t all wash away.

Jamestown was next, home to the “World’s Largest Buffalo”. We visited on a Sunday morning and the town was shuttered, due to religiously motivated “Blue Laws”. Then we reached Bismarck, with its capitol building that looks like an office building. Further north is Lake Sakakawea, the largest manmade lake in the country.

The final destination on our journey was Teddy Roosevelt National Park. It has Badlands style terrain, the muddy Little Missouri River coursing through it, and a magnificent herd of bison. We watched the hordes of grunting bison as well as villages of prairie dogs poking out of the ground. To our delight, we caught unusual finger sized catfish on the river.

Beware the mud on the Buffalo Gap Trail

The bike ride began in Medora, just south of the park. We stopped at a local shop to get outfitted for the voyage. Myself and my brothers, Norm and Saul, decided to mountain bike while my parents did the Bicycling Magazine recommendation of road biking through the National Park. Our route featured five miles on the legendary Maah Daah Hey and seven miles on the Buffalo Gap Trail. Bikers doing the road route may have the perilous and thrilling chance to pass a herd of bison stomping down the pavement. To date I’ve biked in one National Park, https://jollyroutes.com/biking-around-big-blue/, but not one with bison.

Although the mountain biking community prides themselves on being adventurous and extreme, they also dabble with a purist streak. In Minnesota, the slightest drop of rain triggers city wide shutdowns of trails. If tracks were discovered after a rainfall, pictures would be broadcast over social media with warnings about “permanent trail closures” and requests for information about the culprits. We cover ourselves in dirt, bike over rocks and streams, but if there’s a small rut, we throw a fit.

The folks who rented our bikes had a similarly amusing mentality. They were adamant that we avoid any mud, instructing us to be on high alert at all times. They even banned us from a trail because it required a stream crossing. Their aversion was rooted in their fear of needing to “unpack the bearings” and “get out the pressure washer”. I have biked hundreds of muddy routes. A hose or wash rag has always done the trick for me.

Finding mud on the Buffalo Gap Trail

We pledged avoidance to mud and went on our way. The Buffalo Gap Trail was rich in character, being a mix of prairie, Badlands, and cattle trail. For anyone losing their cool over a rut, try biking on a trail full of hoof marks. It’s the jackhammer experience of cycling.

Most of the trail was dry and crusty, a terrain I call “North Dakota Crust”. The downhill sections were great for picking up speed and creating a cloud of dust. There was also a healthy dose of rolling over rock features. One moment you’d be curving around a cliff wall, the next you’d be in a cow pasture riding on crusty manure piles.

There was one downhill stretch where I broke my promise to the shopkeeper. We rode up a rocky hill and were on the twisting descent into open terrain. The trail was fast. I sped to the bottom of the hill, ready to coast out into the flats, like a skier at the bottom of a run. Then, SPLAT! My bike jolted to a halt and I fell off. I looked around and saw the culprit, a little mud puddle. Norm and Saul both dismounted to avoid my fate. I brushed myself off and continued down the trail. It’ just a little mud.

Caught brown handed

“Where’d you find the mud?” were the first words from the shopkeeper when we came back to return the bikes. I stammered as I tried to explain myself and avoid any wrath. “No, we did not go anywhere you told us not to…It was on the bottom of a hill halfway through the Buffalo Gap Trail…Okay thanks for understanding, and I apologize.”

The following day we went to Bully Pulpit Golf Course. It was here that an incident occurred which is fit for a Greek tragedy. You see, although biking is my primary sport, I was once a golfer. I was never good, and my inability to obtain a birdie haunted me. I made a pledge that if I scored a birdie I would retire from golf forever.

At Bully Pulpit I had the opportunity to achieve my dream. It was a par 3, maybe 150 yards with a canyon separating the tees from the green. I whipped out my trusty hybrid club, wound back, and blasted away: A near perfect hit! It plopped on the green.

After a long walk around the ridge to the green I had my chance. A six foot putt separated me from birdie. I could retire. I analyzed the slope of the hill, the speed and direction of the wind, and the length of the grass. Then, I lined up the putt, kept calm and steady, and struck the ball. It was on a perfect line. This would be the day! Alas, it lost steam going up the slight incline. One inch short.