Day 12: Trust But Verify

I awoke at 0530 and peeked at my phone, which indicated an outside temperature of 33 degrees.  After dawdling a bit, I decided to go outside because the reported temperature wasn’t even close to the forecast.  Sure enough, my bike computer showed a temperature of 46 degrees.  This meant that it was time to go.

As I prepared to hit the road for about a 70-mile planned ride, Trystan told me that he wanted a picture of me and my bike.  During our conversation, I was thoroughly impressed with his knowledge of the intersection of cultures in the American experience. Surely, he must be a fascinating professor!

As I headed towards the Oregon-Idaho border, the weather was biking perfect.

Here’s a sign that could signal a very bad day for a cyclist.  I had no such encounters on this day:

I was fortified with an Egg McMuffin.  I completed the first 40 miles in under 4 hours.  

Here’s a sample vista from the day:

During my journey, I received a text from Miguel warning me of severe slopes towards the summit.  Sure enough, I spent 3 hours climbing slopes exceeding 6 percent.  And, in the process of rough riding over pavement cracks, I broke yet another spoke in my rear wheel (a different one from the first broken spoke).  Fortunately, the wheel was not too wobbly so I pressed on.

The good news is that excessive slopes going up generally means excessive slopes going down:

As I approached the top of the summit, traversing what’s called Hell’s Canyon, the sky ahead became very dark, even angry looking.  I pedaled on and arrived at Coppersfield Camp, after a bit of searching.  It is a beautiful site by the river.

By this time, I made it a habit to plant my American flag by my tent.  As I continued to make camp, a hummingbird approached the flag as if it were a flower.  After a confusing pause, it zoomed away.

After I cleaned up and prepared another delicious freeze-dried dinner, I turned in.  Of course it rained that night but I’m finding that the sound of rain is very soothing to a tired cyclist.

Day 13: Experts Are Experts For Good Reason

When I awoke the next morning, the sun was shining. After breaking camp, I began an immediate climb to enter the Snake River Basin.  It was a spectacular ride through the basin.

On the way, I passed Oxbow Dam and Reservoir:

Here’s a sign for my fishing family and friends:

I also entered my second state, Idaho:

During a Gatorade and Snicker’s Bar stop, I met two TransAm riders who were going from east to west.  Ben and Jee, both from Quebec, started in Yorktown on April 15.  They reported 6 feet of snow that line the roads in Colorado and shared other useful lessons.

As I climbed another summit, I ran into a gentleman named Joe Brian, who was walking the TransAm Trail from west to east.  He was a very impressive young man.  He was pulling a cart that contained all he needed to sustain him during his estimated 7-8 month journey.

After reaching the pass, I enjoyed a very comfortable ride into Cambridge. My first order of business was to find a bike mechanic.  I went to the address shown on the maps and there was nothing there.  So I went to an adjacent shop and the shop owner very kindly called a man named Tom (I had lost cell service days ago).  Tom said that he lived right across the street from my camp site.  He suggested that I set up camp and come over to see him.

I did just that.  When I arrived at Tom’s place, he took me out to his garage where I noticed an envious array of bike mechanic equipment, including a truing stand. Tom is a Navy veteran, having worked as a jet mechanic.  I served as Tom’s apprentice as he guided me through the steps of fixing the wheel, correctly this time.  He showed me how to check the tension of spokes, and even how to estimate tension based on sound.  I surmised that the second broken spoke was the result of me over-tensioning it after performing the first spoke replacement.

Tom’s fee was modest so I tipped him hoping that his good fortune would mean the end of my spoke problems.  To date, that clearly seems to be the case.

I went back to camp:

And marveled at a beautiful sunset (There’s an old saying, “Red at night; Sailor’s Delight.”  That goes for cyclists as well, generally.):

I enjoyed a burger and fries at the Office Bar with Miguel and Esteban. This establishment is known for its dog, Jack, which pesters patrons for a dollar.  Once proffered, Jack takes the dollar behind the bar and presents it to the bartender for the tip jar.

I enjoyed a restful, but very windy, night listening to the harmonics of the adjacent Cambridge water tower.

Day 14: Let Mother Nature Handle It!

I woke to a very windy morning.  After assessing our progress with Miguel and Esteban over breakfast, we decided on a “steady as she goes” course of action. It was a good day for riding, with more humane slopes.  

When going up a hill on a touring bike, it’s never easy.  But today didn’t have its agonizing moments. I added two more reasons to stop while climbing: 1) when you can no longer see because of stinging sweat in your eyes (I must admit to biking with one eye closed) and 2) an urgent bladder.

Today I noted an increase in trucking traffic. Large trucks provide some benefit to cyclists because they create momentary negative pressure that helps pull us along.

My sister, the zoologist, asked me about wildlife.  I’ve talked about the blackbirds, chipmunks, and ravens previously.  I’ve had encounters with voles (they seem to nest along the road), ground squirrels (one was a near miss for me), birds of prey (one very large and angry looking bird displayed defensive aggression as I passed its nest, which was perched on top of an electrical pole; I was too intimidated to stop to take a picture), turkey vultures, and snakes (most dead, except one near miss in the median, which appeared to be a small rattlesnake). To date, I’ve not seen any large prey, except deer, as I have biked through territory known for cougars, bear, elk, and moose.

Speaking of animals, I note the tendency for Western states to leave roadkill on the side of the road.  It appears to be a policy of letting Mother Nature handle it. This creates a bit of intrigue for cyclists as we try to figure out what that pile of bones used to be.

As I approached our intended destination, New Meadows, I called City Hall and spoke to Angie.  She told me that I could camp at the Warr Memorial and that the site had water, restrooms, and outlets for power.  And it was free!

I camped at the site joined by a gentleman named Ron from Arizona.  Ron’s a teacher.  I also ran into a gentleman named Les, who spends half a year on his bike, and the other half riding around in his silver van. He’s biked all across America and shared tips from his experiences.  He says he always gets on the road at daybreak–the best time to see wildlife.

Dinner was provided by Subway.  And I stopped by the local post office to tap into their free WiFi to check email.

I rested well that night, knowing that my spoke problem was in my rear view mirror.

Day 15: Where’s The Prevailing Wind???

As I departed New Meadows on a cold and foggy morning (I waited for most of the fog to dissipate), I ran into a TranAm rider heading west.  Ian, from Scotland, left Yorktown on April 15. He said that he had to get back to work and wanted to rush to finish the ride.  He wasn’t enthralled with the traffic and asked me about side roads (I tend to stick with the main routes).  He recommended enjoying ice cream at the Big Dipper in Missoula.

The fog broke early in the ride unveiling a very sunny day.  That was the first third.  The second third presented a headwind but I was getting accustomed to it.  The third third found me battling an oppressive headwind.  If I stopped pedaling on a downhill, the wind would stop my progress. 

Despite the wind, the views were spectacular.  Here’s the Salmon River:

In the middle of the ride, I ran into Esteban in a gravel section of state road 95.  I ended up talking him into taking a detour with me.  After a mile of backtracking and taking the detour, a van flagged us down and told us that the route was closed due to a rockslide.  So we doubled back to take the gravel road.  

I hate gravel!  It is generally bad for tires, chains, and gears.  Cyclists often slip in it.  Even with wide touring tires, it’s not the safest surface.  I apologized to Esteban for my first episode of taking a wrong turn.  Fortunately, the kind gentleman in van saved us from a more painful detour.

I rode the next portion of the journey with Esteban.  When we arrived at the next water stop, we found Miguel resting under a tree at the Church of Latter Day Saints.

After a break, I rode ahead.  I ran into Ron again at a tourist stop.  He intended to go over the next mountain by the end of the day.  I was less ambitious.

When I arrived at the Swiftwater RV Campground at White Bird, Anna the attendant met me and clearly sensed that I had experienced a hard day on the road.  This campground was an idyllic site on the Salmon River:

Esteban, Miguel, and I enjoyed the private showers, and the pavilion with fire pit. We talked about bike maintenance, stressing the importance of keeping tires properly inflated.

Later that evening, a TransAm racer named Marissa arrived at the camp.  I was impressed with how lightly her bike was packed.  She didn’t have a tent.

Day 16: Out On The Open Range

I got up early and hit the road to “attack the mountain.”  I biked the series of switchbacks almost effortlessly, save the pouring sweat.  The top came before  I knew it.  As I stated before, climbing never feels good, but today it felt much less agonizing.

Along the way, I entered an open range for cattle.  I am not properly schooled in the rules of the road when approaching a section of the highway populated with cattle.  But it became evident that, when approaching a mama cow with two calves, one should wait until they clear the path before proceeding.  Mama cows give you that look that only a mother can give.

Today was my first encounter with cattle grates (take them at a precise 90 degrees and don’t slow or stop).  I also observed three cattlemen and six dogs handily corral a large group of open range cattle.  I was amazed and entertained as I continued to climb.

I normally don’t eat a large lunch but, today I felt compelled to stop at the Palenque Mexican Restaurant in Grangeville, ID, and enjoy a delicious chimichanga. Miguel joined me and decided that he would wait for Esteban there.

As I left Grangeville, I ended up on a series of gravel backroads.  I probably zigged when I should have zagged (but the rural signage was especially confusing).  Fortunately, I had cell coverage so I was able to navigate my way out of the maze.  Through the process, I passed some cows who looked at me like I was some strange creature.  I surmise that I was the first cyclist to venture into their lives.

I soon found myself biking through the Nez Pierce Reservation, one of the most unspoiled, peaceful, and majestic territories I have ventured through to date.

Along the way, the weather changed and it started to drizzle.  The last 27 miles to Lowell required the application of grit, but I knew I was pushing it from the start. I did see a lot of large white tailed deer during this particular portion of the ride.

I arrived at Wild Goose Campground, situated on a river, and enjoyed a sufficient break in the rain to set up camp. The facilities at Wild Goose were minimal.  The restroom was an outhouse.  The water was not potable, and this was my first opportunity to use my water filter.

After a large lunch, I enjoyed Ramen soup for dinner and turned in.  It rained all night.

Day 17: It’s Hard To Cycle When You Can’t See

I enjoyed a good night along the river. I was becoming accustomed to stowing wet camping gear and today was the worst yet.  I enjoyed a breakfast of oatmeal and cranberries, with coffee.  I donned my rain pants (for the first time) and headed out.

Today was a continuous upslope.  My legs felt strong and willing for the journey. And then the sky fell; it rained so hard that there was zero visibility.  I stopped and put on the rest of my rain gear, including rubber booties to protect my shoes and socks. I learned that putting on wet gear is much easier because the water acts as a lubricant.  My socks and shoes, unfortunately, suffered the downside of that lesson and became very soaked.

Here’s the only picture I was able to take on this dreary day:

Today’s ride felt like a six-hour long spinning class, performed in a rubber suit, and in a drenching rain!  I stopped at a U.S. Forest Service campsite but it didn’t have running water.  I ran into Eric, a TransAm racer, who was waving an orange glow stick on the side of the road.  He had already lost six days due to an injury and now was mechanically impaired due to a broken spoke. His racing bike can’t run on a broken spoke. He said that he was hailing a ride to Lolo Pass with the intention to throw in the towel. But reflecting grit and determination, he said that he looked forward to returning to the challenge next year.  In my misery, I couldn’t help but be buoyed by his courage!

As I rode away from our encounter, I watched a van pass me, slow, and turn around to retrieve Eric and his hobbled bike.  Such are the good people who populate our country!

Shortly thereafter, another TransAm racer, Marissa, passed me as though I was standing still.  I later caught up with her and she told me that her progress had been slowed by the drenching rain.  As a racer, she didn’t have the luxury of carrying the rain gear that I had on my touring bike. She intended to press on up to Lolo Pass.  

Less ambitious, I stopped at Lochsa Lodge.  They were out of cabins but I was offered free camping behind the store, and a hot shower for $5.  I ended up pitching my tent on the porch of one of the cabins used by a white water rafting company. When challenged by one of the young employees, I appealed to his humanity and won a reprieve.  I agreed to be gone before the start of the next business day.

I enjoyed a meal of chicken tenders and sweet potato fries at the Lodge and turned in.

Day 18: Missoula: Here I Come!

I woke up early only to find that the night rain and morning mist and dew had nothing to dry out my camping gear.  Once again, I stowed my gear while it was still wet.  But this time I was comforted by the thought of a warm hotel bed, a laundry, and the opportunity to dry everything out in Missoula, MT, my next intended destination.

As I prepared to depart, I thanked that young employee for his courtesy.  And I ran into another TransAm racer, a woman named Chinda, who had slept on the porch of the Lodge store. She is from Thailand.

After consuming a very large ham and cheese omelet breakfast at the Lodge, I headed out in full rain gear.  It was a slow and steady climb to within six miles of the summit. And then the slope doubled to over six percent. Although the weather was drizzly, I removed layers of clothing because I was sweating so much.  It took a few hours to scale the summit.  

At the top, I entered Montana, my third state:

And the last 20 miles into Missoula were relatively easy.

When I arrived at the Mountain Valley​ Inn (what I though was an America’s Bests motel), I was warmly greeted by Jamie.  This place ended up having everything I needed, and is in the right part of town to start the next leg of the journey.

I did laundry, dried out my camping gear, ordered delivered pizza (Hawaiian-style), and crashed.

Day 19: Happy e-Father’s Day!

Of all of the close personal interactions that I knew I would miss by embarking on this adventure, Father’s Day 2017 is the one I regret the most. I was uplifted by hearing the voices of my wife and three sons.  I continue to be propelled and nurtured by their incredible love and support.  I am fortunate to have made it to a location that has cell phone service.  Cell service has been a luxury for most of the past week.

Today, I enjoyed a fast food lunch at Taco John’s and fabulous pasta dinner at Tamarack Brewing Company.  While repacking my gear and doing preventive maintenance on the bike, I also watched coverage of the U.S. Open.  Today was a good day to reconnect to civilization!

Today was also a day to assess progress to date (3 of 10 states visited; 925 miles completed to date; 60.9 miles per day for the on-the-bike days; taking roughly every sixth day off for rest and recovery (or repair)).  And to plan ahead.

Though challenging, I am enjoying the experience of a lifetime and am pleased with the progress to date. In terms of lessons learned, I need to continue to be very mindful of the weather.  Not surprisingly, it has been the dominant factor in how far and how fast I can go.  There have been days when I had to energize my lights at 3:00 pm because the clouds and rain restricted visibility.  For the sake of safety, I choose not to ride in the dark except in dire circumstances.

Tomorrow, I plan to stop at the Adventure Cycling Association Office, and then return to the open road.