Clocking our longest ride time yet, I ask - doesn't the wind ever get tired? We woke to the wind still beating against the tent and a heat lightning show on the horizon. The sound created a pit in my stomach. We pushed off at 5A no knowing how far our bodies and minds could handle. We passed through Pierre in fairly good time and pushed on. The wind got stronger and stronger. Combined with the 90 degree heat, the weather started to take its toll on us. Eddie got very quiet with concentration as we made our way to Highmore finding the last motel room in town. With full stomachs, we start to fantasize about our rest in Brookings where feeling might come back in my left hand (bad).

With the prospects of another long day, I slept deeply but intermittently last night. I could only hope for the wind to cease. At one point it slowed down for a little bit but quickly resumed its contemptuous pace.

In the morning we awoke to what seemed like another episode of the Weather Channel's Storm Stories. The clouds to the east were filled with heat lightning and the ominous gargantuan clouds that loomed above us filled my mind with the likely narrative that we could not outrun a tornado. With no way of getting any warnings on the weather, we broke camp and confronted the winds. Most of today was ridden in silence because it takes too much effort to talk in order to be heard over the howling wind. It was a day of silent suffering. In days like this there is very little to think about besides survival. We finally made it to Highmore.