Day 27: Dickinson: Dickin' Around

Day 27:  Wednesday July 2nd, 2014

Dickinson, ND.  0 miles. 

Aaahhhhh!  A day off.  I got up and rode my bike a few miles into the center of Dickinson looking for some breakfast. Without all of my gear loaded on the bike, the short morning commute into town was quick, but a bit wobbly as the feel of the bike is very different when missing those extra 50 pounds.  

As I approached the outskirts, the visually conspicuous sprawling transformation of this otherwise sleepy old town was boggling.  A stark contrast exists between the outer thick ring of brand new apartments, condos, and townhomes and the pre-Bakken-boom Dickinson. 

The area is struggling to keep up with the demand.  Construction of new homes and businesses seemed commonplace. 

Oil trucks and work trucks dominated the road.  Even the non-commercial vehicle of choice was a truck.  I'm not talking about a small pickup.  Big Chevy's and Fords with 4-doors, extended beds, big tires, lifted, and with two big tailpipes belching black smoke from the bowels of their growling engines.  

I found the source of these beasts as I rode by the local Ford dealership. A line at the front of the sales lot 100 trucks long showcased the latest in testosterone-charged options. 

I thought of a slogan for the new side of town.  "Dickinson: Dare to enter without one."  

As I road into the older part of town on West Villard St, I spotted Mandy's Bagel Bar.  Cool!  Somewhat unexpected, as this was the first bagel place I've seen since the Portland area.  Mandy's was hard at work baking fresh tasty bagels with a variety of options and toppings.  Where's the "dude factor" in this seemingly out-of-place shop? Well, apparently they rounded things out by way of the decor in the Men's restroom.  Inside, the majority of wall space was covered in an assortment of "Man Cave" related paraphanelia.

While there, I asked the employees for a recommendation of a place to get a haircut. One gal told me there's a barber shop two blocks down the road. The other employee chimed in, "Yeah, but at that place, every guy that goes in there walks out looking the same, with the exact same haircut."  This stirred up a debate between the two of them.  "Yeah, but they charge around $6 for a cut. Anywhere else in town, especially those new places up near the mall, charge outrageous prices of $20 or more!", the other gal replied as she defended her original recommendation. This became more than just a debate over where to get a haircut, as I listened intently. I couldn't help but think that their disagreement was over the resistance and acceptance of the transformation of their town in the face of the oil boom.   

Post-bagel feast, I was off to "The Brew", a local coffee place that was recommended by the kid working the check-in booth at the campground. 

The Brew serves up excellent coffee, including individualized cups using the pour-over method, in a repurposed old church. I haven't had a cup that good since Union, when Todd (Victoria's brother) busted out some of his favorite beans sourced from a roaster in Portland. 

Inside, the creatively converted church still has some pew seating, stained glass windows, and a crucifix hanging over the entrance to the kitchen. 

Their grilled panini sandwiches were delicious, as was the Lemon-poppyseed cake. 

I spent a good 4-5 hours in this cafe relaxing. It was great!

Then, I was off to get my hairs cut (if I say haircut, Victoria will ask me which one I had cut!).  Recommended by a local, I ventured to the North side of the town, in the "new" zone to the "Man's Den".  Interesting name for a haircut place, I thought to myself. I would soon find out that the name, and everything about the place, was very fitting with the "new" Dickinson. 

As I walked in the door, a quick glance to my left, I saw leather sofas, big screen tv's, sports memorabilia, a basketball game machine. 

"Wait a minute", I thought as I stood in the entry way confused. I glanced to my right hoping to get clarification as to where I was. Bar stools, a keg-erator with 2 beers on draft, a stripper pole in the corner with a scantily-clad mannequin posed as if she was ready to tear it all off, more leather and big screen tv's, a coffee table complete with Maxim and other magazines appropriate to the scene. 

I was trying to remember how I got to this place and why I was here when a voice awakened me from my dream. "Need a haircut?", the receptionist asked. Oh yeah, that's right, a haircut. I replied, "Yes, desperately so."  Apparently she could tell it was my first time to the Man's Den. "Help yourself to the free beer. There's chilled pint glasses in the cooler to the left of the taps, and we will be with you as soon as we can.", she explained. "Take your time", I thought to myself as I headed over to the chilled pint glass cooler.  I kept having to remind myself that I was here for a haircut. I was hoping that it was a 2-3 hour wait, cringing each time the receptionist headed to the front desk to call another name. This place was.....   AWESOME!

I noticed a freshly-trimmed guy that entered the front door and put his name on the list, then helped himself to a beer. "Hey man, it looks like you haven't had a haircut in a week", I said to him. He laughed, and said, "You are exactly right, my friend". Ok, I was beginnig to figure this place out. 

Then, as if hearing the screeching sound that happens when a singer gets too close to the microphone, I heard my name called. "You can bring your beer with you",  the stylist said as she smiled. Ok, so this really was a place for haircuts I guess.  I had to take a picture to remind myself later of why I was here. 

The final product was great. And, they provide traditional barber services as well, including beard trims and straight-razor neck shaves. I walked out feeling great, and thinking that I understood a bit more about the influence of the "new" on this old town. 

Time to do some laundry.  I went to a standard laundromat in town. While there, I met the resident laundrocat, "Zippy". He was very friendly, and apparently knew that I was a cat-friendly visitor. Jumping on my lap, he proceeded to rub all over me while I petted him. 

As I headed back out of town towards the campground to retire for the day, I couldn't pass up the fireworks tent. 

While there I met Kevin, the very friendly owner of the temporary fireworks stand, he is a local who has been living in Dickinson for over a decade with his wife. He spoke of the town's recent transformation, it's growing pains, and his concerns for the sustainability of the growth. "You know, they're building all of this housing and stores, but what happens when the fracking is done, the wells are drilled, the pipes and pumps are installed....  All of these jobs go away."  He added , "Then what?"  "Who's going to rent those apartments or townhomes?"  His concerns for the future of Dickinson once the boom is over were real enough that he and his wife had already made plans to move to Bismarck in the near future. 

I enjoyed my conversation with Kevin, and I was glad to have met him. I browsed around a bit more looking for something small to buy to support Kevin's business.  I found just the thing. 

Returning to the campground, I found that I had acquired some new neighbors. I was staying in the "primitive" camping section, far from the full-hookup sites that are frequently home to motorhome travelers. But, I guess that doesn't prevent large trailers from using the primitive sites that are $8 cheaper. 

I came prepared with ear plugs that allowed me to have a great night of sleep!