Pedal Power with a Purpose

Yesterday, I learned that while it may be small, when it puts its mind to it, my new hometown can be mighty. Around 9:30 a.m., I entered the Century High School gymnasium with the intent of riding a spin bike as far as I could for 20 minutes. I was one of 1300 people participating in the Great American Bike Race, an annual effort to raise money to support local people affected by cerebral palsy and related disabilities. By my calculation, over 2% of the town's population passed through the gym doors that day, while the scope of supporters was, of course, much larger. I heard we raised around a quarter of a million dollars. I had lucked into a coveted spot when my swimming friend Mike was unable to participate and gave me the chance to step in. I rode on a 12-person squad from Hub Insurance, captained by Laif (see photo below -- he won a coffee cup for posting the best ride in his heat) who did everything in his power to help me figure stuff out and have a good ride. Oh, and feel at home. A Hub Insurance colleague, Louie, had a son who lost his life to cerebral palsy several years ago; it meant a lot to meet her and her daughter, and be part of the group. In case you are wondering, riding a spin bike as fast as you can for 20 minutes no picnic. All the tension is pulled out of the bike, so the whole idea is to simply make your legs fly with the speediest cadence you can muster. I'm more of a Jan Ullrich than a Lance Armstrong style rider, so I was a little lost without the feeling of big gears. I think I hung around 21 miles per hour. And it was hard.

We rode in the recreational division (our team was made up of swimmers, runners, guys who play basketball and golf, and two very nice high school hockey stars, among others who I didn't have the chance to meet...I'm not sure there was a serious cyclist among our ranks). I'm not certain how we finished up, though midway through the event we were hanging in second place and averaging over 7 miles per person.

Our bright yellow steed was parked next to the "celebrity" bike; I watched the chief of police, the tax commissioner, and even the mayor of Bismarck, John Warford (he's the rider in purple below) put their muscle behind the cause.

There were also teams of grandmas and grandpas who rocked in rocking chairs for 20 minutes instead of riding spin bikes.

My swim coach friend Loic, who participated on a team with his wife, described the Great American Bike Race as "overwhelming." Not in the physical sense, but in the spiritual one that's about community and caring.

It was a powerful thing to be part of. Thank you, everyone, who supported me with your messages and your pledges.

Weather or Not

OK. So I am a little chagrined about the remarks I made on facebook yesterday about the weather. I was kidding around that I hoped the promised blizzard would be one of the Dairy Queen ilk, and grousing that no one in town would bring us a pizza (while we watched the Huskies play their first game of the Pac 10 championship, recorded because it aired after bedtime CST the previous night -- Go Dawgs!).

Turns out, while I watched the "wintry mix" of rain and snow blowing sideways from the cozy comfort of my home office all day, over 800 motorists were stranded on the highways across North Dakota.

From the Bismarck Tribune: "Interstate 94 was still closed from Dickinson to Fargo as of 11:30 a.m. Saturday, as was U.S. Highway 83 from Bismarck to Minot and highways west of Garrison. No travel advisories remained in effect for areas from south and west of Hazen east to state Highway 3 and in the Jamestown and Valley City areas. Interstate 29 was reopened from Fargo to the South Dakota border but remained closed from Watertown to Sisseton. I-29 also was closed from the Canadian border to Grand Forks and state Highway 1806 was closed between Highway 8 and Highway 200."

Wow. After the main arteries of the state were closed because they were impossible to traverse on Friday, many drivers abandoned their vehicles, rescued by state department of transportation workers. Some were even discovered by helicopters this morning.

I should have known not to make light of it. As I was driving home from swim practice early Friday the local announcer on Prairie Public radio warned of a no-travel advisory across the state, and recommended that if you had to go out, you should "be sure your winter emergency kit is well supplied. And if you are stranded, please stay with your car." If I've learned anything about my new demographic, North Dakotans are a hearty, determined bunch. It takes some pretty serious weather to keep them from going about their business. I should have known.

Life goes on, and there's no drama.

Reflective perhaps of the unsinkable spirit of this place, today dawned sunny and beautiful. Our driveway had been naturally "shoveled" by the wind; the large blizzardy snowfall had drifted gently but firmly into our neighbor's yard.

Primetime Big 10 basketball coverage notwithstanding, I think I am going to like it here. But I'd be lying if I didn't own up to the tug on my heart as I spoke with my sister by phone today, and she said that daffodils are blooming in Oregon.

867-5309

So, when was the last time you opened the phone book to look up a number? Around the same time that Tommy Tutone crooned about finding Jenny's on the wall? Or perhaps when, by definition, phone numbers suddenly had ten digits instead of seven?

Yep, same here.

Until we moved to Bismarck, where the phone book is more than a handy doorstop or a quarterly nuisance to drag to the recycle bin. (Assuming, of course, there was a recycling recepticle at the ready. But that's a story for another day.)

Upon moving into our home, our realtor Amy greeted us with the house keys and a warm welcome. She noticed there didn't seem to be a phone book around, and kindly offered to give us one of the extras she had in her office. We declined, brandishing iPad and Blackberry and bemused grins.

Fast forward to Valentine's Day. Dear Mike had arranged for a beautiful bouquet of red tulips to be delivered me at our home. Around 9 am, I received a call from Amanda, the delivery person.

"I have some flowers for you," she said. "But I can't find your house in the phone book. You know, on the map in the front. Where do you live?"

Our house has been here since 2002. We live in a fairly familiar part of town. Mike had given the florist our address and phone number.

I was excited about the flowers (which were beautiful, by the way -- what could be more precious than tulips when it's 30 below?), I bit my tongue and gave her directions.

In the ensuing weeks, we observed a related phenomenon: very few local businesses have their own websites. A Google search for everything from haircuts to hardware stores coughs up a list of aggregators. Marketing here is word of mouth, charmingly sincere radio advertising, and, you guessed it, the good old fashioned phone book.

On top of that, somehow GPS and Google maps are not yet in vogue. I have given everyone from the plumber to the electrician to the housekeeper directions to our place recently. In Seattle, you wouldn't insult someone's tech savvy by even offering. Here, it's common courtesy. That said, I can get by with "cross the river, get off at Mackenzie, and go left-right-left and stop at the white house" which seems to work even though our home does not have a number on it.

Recently, I spent nine days on the West Coast. I walked barefoot in the sand. I listened to top notch local radio. I drank really great coffee. I saw trees. And mountains. And had conversations about something other than the weather.

And I was homesick for this crazy flat snowy land, and a home that somehow is not on the map in the phone book.

Of Wizardry, Walleye and Wonder

Week 2 in Bismarck is on the books, and our good natured journey up the learning curve continues. The last few days have been filled with more adventure and insight -- and a hearty appreciation for what we've encountered.

Last Saturday night, we enjoyed our "first date" in town by taking in a Dakota Wizards basketball game. The Wizards are a development league squad, made up of young NBA hopefuls and recent NBA draft picks who were sent down from deep teams to get more playing experience instead of riding the bench behind experienced vets all season.

We watched some darn good ball from near-courtside seats, for $10 less than the nosebleeders at the top of Hec Edmundson Pavilion. The talented local gal singing the National Anthem (in jeans and a t-shirt!) put Christina Aguilera's Superbowl flub to even greater shame. The vibe was very fun and family focused, with shoot-around games for kids and grown-ups alike, an enthusiastic rendition of the chicken dance for all to participate in, autograph sessions with the players, and ready high fives and hugs from the team mascot, Dunkie.

This week, our appetite for adventure brought us into the local culinary scene. On Friday night we braved the rough and tumble Broken Oar, a workingman's bar on the Missouri River. The limited menu (Would you like the chicken and rice tonight? our sincere server asked) capped our experience at one light beer apiece. It was strange to hang out in an establishment where smoking is still allowed and stranger still to see boxes of cigarettes tucked between the Doritos and Pringles in the vending machine.

Emerging from the nicotine no worse for wear except for our hair and clothing, on we went to the Toasted Frog, a very nice restaurant which opened recently to much ado in downtown Bismarck. Detered by the lengthy wait, we decided to save that experience for later and found our way to the (smoke free!) Blarney Stone, a popular Irish-themed pub, with tasty food, friendly service, and a cozy atmosphere.

The most interesting culinary event of the week was our own attempt to cook the local favorite fish, the walleye. Walleye is a freshwater fish that looks a bit like a flat halibut, in the seafood case at Dan's Supermarket, anyway. While walleye can be baked and grilled, experts we trusted suggested breading and pan frying, which we did. Felt a little funny since our frying pan experience up to now has been limited to hash browns and the odd sauteed mushroom, but the result was actually very nice...alongside baked sweet potatoes and steamed asparagus, we'll call our first walleye dinner attempt a success!

In order to balance our gourmet indulgences, we needed to move around a bit. So we donned our new snowshoes (many thanks, Seattle Oppies!) and climbed around Fort Abraham Lincoln State Park, located about six miles from our house. The fort was built in 1872, primarily as a military outpost protecting the railway construction passing through the area at the time. We'll post separately as we learn more about the history of North Dakota, but for now here are a few shots of the vistas from the fort and our snowshoeing adventure. Windy, snowy, wonderful.

You've Got Mail.

The first three days we spent in Bismarck were colder than any I'd ever experienced -- or imagined possible. Even under bright sunny skies, after just a few minutes outdoors at 24 degrees below zero, an almost primal panic kicks in and an involuntary flight for cover follows. I need to find that box with my warm hats in it and unpack it, fast!

Life does seem to go on, even on very cold days, as people motor gingerly along on icy streets to the gym, the grocery store, and inevitably the drive-thru Starbucks, which boasts the only rush hour traffic jam in town, it seems.

I am sure we'll learn some tricks to cope with the cold, and even some ways to use it to our advantage. The first advice of this nature was shared with me by my new friend Dave the Mailman.

I had some mail to send out Wednesday morning, so I braved the elements in search of our mailbox, which I expected to find in its customary spot on either side of our driveway. It had snowed a great deal last weekend, and the fluffy white stuff had drifted up to several feet high around our yard...and frozen solid. I figured the mailbox was under one of the drifts, but wasn't sure where to start shoveling.

Enter Dave the Mailman, who rang our doorbell around 1 pm. Mike's sister and her family had sent us a lovely box full of housewarming goodies (thank you, Trish!), which Dave delivered with a smile.

"Do you know where our mailbox is?" I asked him, after introductions were made. "I think I will try to shovel it out when it warms up a little tomorrow."

With a wry smile Dave answered, "You don't have one. The last family who lived here used a P.O. box in town. So you'll need to put one in if you want one."

Together we looked across the yard and did the same math. The snow was high, and the ground will be frozen solid for months. Digging a post hole for a mailbox was out of the question.

"Here's what you can do," he said. "Get a mailbox and put it on a post. Fill a five gallon bucket with water. Put the post in the water, put the bucket outside, and it will stand up just fine until spring."

He saw my skepticism and assured me people do it all the time. Other local folks who have heard this story have just sort of smiled at us indulgently, so we're not sure what to think.

All I know is that it's been nice to see Dave the Mailman each afternoon since, as he's hand delivered the mail that is slowly starting to find its way to our new address. In a world with so much electronic correspondence, there's something awfully comforting about that.

We'll get the box up soon, and keep you posted about how we get it done!

Snow Day

Special Guest blog post from Mike:

We have received all kinds of advice and commentary on our decision to move to Bismarck, but today I want to focus on a specific area. Many of you have taken to following the weather in Bismarck for us, and delight in telling us the current temperature or snowfall. I have been trying to live in denial about this, but as our move nears completion, this is no longer possible. So, today, we talk about snow. Specifically, snow removal.

Shortly after we decided to move, I started gathering some intelligence on this subject. We have never owned a snow blower. In fact, until recently, we did not own a snow shovel. I was on a road trip a couple months ago with my friend Rick, who was in the process of moving to Bismarck, and my friend Dennis, who lives in Bismarck. Dennis asked how we dealt with snow in Seattle. I told him the second there is a quarter inch of snow on the ground, everyone freaks out, and the city comes to a halt until it melts. I wondered if he thought we could institute this system in Bismarck, but he doubted it. However, Dennis also told me that since Rick and I were both moving there, if we both bought brand new snow blowers, then Murphy’s law would ensure they would sit unused the entire first winter. Personally, I think my friend Dennis is full of it on this subject. I decided to stop worrying about it until we moved.

Then, in early January, I was at a dinner in Boise with several people who live in Bismarck. My friend Doug told a story about his own move to Bismarck in February. The temperature was below zero, the house was unlived in, and very cold, and the moving van was full of all their stuff, which by then was also below zero. He characterized it as moving thousands of pounds of ice into a freezer. Apparently the furnace ran for several days. As we are moving into our house in February, with temperatures expected to be in the single digits, I didn’t thank Doug for this great story.

But what was potentially worse, at the same dinner, my friend Del told me that by January or so, most stores no longer carry snow shovels. What?? Apparently, by then, everyone that needs one, has one, so the stores stop stocking them. Well, this was not good news. I shared this story with my friend Joanne, to see if Del was pulling my leg. Nope, true story. I also got more advice, Joanne shared that not all snow shovels are alike, some have cheap handles and break, and you really don’t want the kind that forces you to lift the snow. Now, this will tell you something about people in North Dakota. Joanne then went out on her own time that weekend to look around to find the best deal for me. She found that the store that had the good kind was down to their last one, so she bought it for me. Thanks again Joanne! Here is a picture of our shovel, which is called a “North Dakota snow blade.”

Next on our agenda is a snow blower. I have also gotten lots of advice about this. My other friend Dennis advised that I don’t get one that is too big, otherwise Karin will have trouble handling it. Karin did not see the humor in this advice. My friend Lee told me to make sure I get heated hand grips, that sounds like excellent advice. From Rick, make sure the chute turns a full 180 degrees so you can blow it where you want to. Sounds good. From lots of people, don’t drive on new snow in your drive way, shovel it or plow it right away while it is light. Makes sense.

Probably the best advice was from my friend Andrea, who recommended that we buy a house next to a retired guy with a snow blower or mini-plow, as they love using them. I hope we followed this advice!

One Way Road Trip

As we pulled out of Seattle late this morning, it occurred to me how odd it was to be on a road trip that wasn't some sort of a loop. Half the fun of road trips is to think about what you will differently "on the way home." This time, "the way home" for us does not involve a return journey, which, my friends, is sort of a surreal thing.

Procrastination and reluctance (and a really comfortable bed!) kept us from the early start we'd planned from Seattle.

We went back to the empty but sparkly clean house and loaded up the kind of odds and ends you take on a one-way road trip. Here are at least 5 I never thought I'd travel halfway across America with:

1. Bonsai plant given to me by Pete in 2006 and I've managed to keep alive

2. Fishtank that movers refused to take

3. Piece of lead pipe that Mike welded "Hi Karin" on when he was learning how in the mid 1990s

4. TV stand that Jerry took off the wall for me yesterday because Mike's tools were already gone

5. Two stuffed meerkats named Suricatta and Kalahari who think they

know the way better than the nav system on the car

Leaving town, Mike very sweetly routed us over the 520 bridge so I could say goodbye to the Madison Park swimmin' hole as we sped by. A favorite P.D. James audio book purloined at the last minute from the Seattle Public Library kept us company for the next 450 miles or so into Missoula. We were through Idaho in a blink and encountered a little snow on Lookout Pass as we entered Montana, but all in all the road was kind to us. T Mobile, not so much. I have had zero cell coverage since Spokane. So sorry if you are trying to reach us...will be back on the grid soon I hope!

Ready for sleep and looking forward to enjoying Montana in the daylight tomorrow.