Alan Phillip (Big Al) Thompson's
Bicentennial Bicycle Retrace of
The Lewis and Clark Trail
from Saint Louis, Missouri, on 06/22/2005
to Astoria and Seaside, Oregon, ~09/01/2005

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Bicycle Road Trip Report 3 of 10, 07/20/2005,
Chamberlain, South Dakota

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Dear Family and Friends,

      I'm reporting to you from Chamberlain, South Dakota, where the temperature is reading 100 degrees. But you know — it's a "dry heat." 1000 miles of the Lewis and Clark Trail have now passed beneath my wheels. To give you a sense of the experience, here's a composite day in the life of a cyclist:

      Dawn and first light. Mist rises slowly from the waters of the Missouri River, wafting upwards and disappearing in the cool morning air. The sun's first rays peek over the surrounding river bluffs, splashing the sky with a rose colored hue, but also disguising a warning of intense heat yet to come. Breaking camp and ready to roll. Stiff muscles and the first climb of the day — way too early and a body that protests the climb. The winds intensify and blow fiercely across the South Dakota plains. Headwind gusts of 35 miles an hour slow my pace to a crawl. Now they attack from the side; I lean into them to keep my balance. My route seeks a new direction and now the enemy has become my friend and ally. 15, 20, 25, 30 mph. My pedals spin effortlessly. To the left and right of me the tall grass lays over happily, pointing in my direction. A downgrade and I'm racing with the wind — 42 mph flashes across my speedometer. And yet there is no sound as the wind urges me along — only the steady hum of tires on pavement and the clearly audible birdsongs that greet me as I rush on by. Expansive vistas of prairie and fertile fields unfold before me and stretch to the horizon and beyond. A final descent to the river's edge once again and a wind blown campground promising shelter for the night. The sun's final salute casts its glow on hills and cliffs that rush downward to greet the river. Peddling is done for today. Rest!

      Excuse me for getting a little poetic there. Sometimes an experience like this does that to you. There is something about bicycle touring. Each day has its highs and lows, pains and pleasures. Sometimes it's just an awesome experience — and it does make you feel quite small — just you and bicycle and gear hanging off every which way, moving slowly but steadily across this immense and starkly beautiful landscape.

      Since I've last written, the eastern landscapes are giving way to the western panoramic views. It just seems you can see for miles and miles. The river is different now too. In fact, the Missouri River is a much different animal than it was in the days of Lewis and Clark. Then, it was wild and free, moving periodically over it's flood plain with its own will, cutting new channels and creating what are called oxbow lakes — bends in the river that are no longer connected. Now it has been tamed and channelized with levees and damns that insure that it stays where we want it, for the most part. If you check a map of the U. S., take a close look at the Missouri River in South Dakota, and you'll see that is the start of a series of six "main stem" dams that have turned this portion of the river into a series of reservoirs and lakes. The other day at the first of these — Gavins Point Dam — I had a bit of a scare. I had pitched my tent quickly in the campgroud and the rode off to see the Lewis and Clark Welcome Center. When I returned, the tent and items I had left in it were gone. What miscreant had stolen my home? I raced over to the ranger station to find out that they had collected everything because the site had been reserved. A lesson learned!

      It was at the site below the Calumet bluff that Lewis and Clark had their council with the Yankton Sioux. Their councils with the 50 or so Indian tribes they encountered usually followed a similar pattern. The men would be paraded in their uniforms, Lewis would give his speech to tribal leaders telling they had a new father in Washington, and gifts and peace medals would be distributed to tribe. The Corps would also demonstrate their technology to the Indians to impress the heck out them — like a magnifying glass for starting fires and firing the air gun — a unique musket that operated silently with compressed air. That really threw them for a loop.

      On my way to Fort Randall Dam, I met Jerry who is 66 and Norman who is 68, and they are also bicycling the Trail. Norman has had both shoulders replaced, and it is truly amazing that he can be doing this. A third fellow, Leonard, is driving a truck pulling a pop up camper and sets up their campsite for each evenin — which they invited me to share — and a tasty meal in their air conditioned camper.

      It was not far from Fort Randall Dam that the Corps of Discovery spent one entire day trying to flush a prairie dog from its burrow, pouring gallons of water down the hole. They finally succeeded and were able to send a live specimen back to Thomas Jefferson.

      Well, my time here in the library grows short, so I will bid you all a farewell for now. Thank you all for your words of encouragement and additional pledges that continue to come in. Until the next time — I am proceeding on.

      — Al Thompson

P.S. Again, those who have lists, please forward to anyone who might be interested.