August 7: Harlem, Montana

     Aside from a couple of hills just east of Havre, today's stretch of Highway 2 did not rise a foot or descend a foot.  I have never experienced a flatter 38 miles in my life.  About the only drawback to a perfectly flat road can be summed up in the following exchange with myself.
     "Hey!  I see the grain elevator for Chinook.  I'm almost there."
     "Ya think so?  That's still seven miles away, dumb ass."
     The bad news is that the wind shifted directions last night and I fought a brisk headwind all afternoon.  Obviously I knew this would inevitably happen.  I accepted the fact and pedaled on.  Nevertheless, even with that mindset, it still wasn't a pleasant ride.  Even if you discount the harder work, which I've never been afraid of, the constant sound of the wind blasting in your ears has the same irritation factor as having a radio constantly stuck between stations and nobody can tune it in.

     I made it to Harlem.  How many times can you say that with positivity?  This is a different Harlem, a town of about 800 people and it is quite poor and depressing.  It has a small downtown with a few businesses and not much else.  Today, as luck would have it, all those businesses are completely shut down due to a citywide power outage.  There are ways to counteract bad luck and in this case I was prepared.  I have one more freeze-dried meal and a couple more Big Sky IPA's.
     My adventure cycling information told me that the town welcomes bicyclists to camp in their city park and sure enough, I found the city park right next to the city hall and the city swimming pool and there was a big brown sign that read "Welcome to Harlem--Bicyclists Camp Here."
     Immediately upon my arrival, a five year old kid named Nathaniel came running up and started asking me all kinds of questions and was spinning my pedals, squeezing the brakes, turning the crank, and shifting the gears despite my requests to stop.  He was bare-footed and clearly his parents didn't seem to care where he was.  Before long, six other boys were hanging out with me as well.
     A guy named Keith came along.  He had been living in Harlem for just the last week after relocating from Helena.  He had recently been hired as a teacher and will begin his job in three weeks.  In the meantime, he is obviously bored with the nothingness in this town.  I feel bad for him and I'd be surprised if he makes it through the school year.