Day 13, part 2

We left Whitefish a little after 1:00, and soon the temperature began to climb. After only a few miles, the heat started to get to dad and I; we began to wilt. (And this was only 80-ish degrees... how will we ever deal with the truly stifling days in Minnesota and Wisconsin?) Just as I started to lose focus all together and become a crash-risk, we came upon the spring the man had mentioned. It was a black barrel with a long white tube spewing out cold, clear, water. An absolute Godsend. I pried off my shoes and socks, then tore off my helmet and went to soak my feet in the water. I also ducked my head under the flow, refilled my water bottles, and soaked my bandana. The water helped, and the next miles, gravel road and all, passed relatively easily

In West Glacier, as we stopped to pick up groceries, dad met a man riding around on an old bike with a baby trailer attached; sitting quietly in the trailer was a little Scotty dog. The man suggested we stay at the campground at Apgar, just a couple of miles inside the park, and told us how to find it on bike paths (following the bike paths we just happened to circumnavigate the toll booth...We did go back and pay the entry fee the next day... we both felt guilty about sneaking in... but it was still fun to be renegades for one night.) So it was that we stole into Glacier Park at around 5:00 that night, a storm building on the horizon

The clouds looked even more menacing two miles later when we pulled into Apgar Campground, so we hurried to set up our tents and throw on the rain flies. We also had to take all of our food and lock it away in the bear box, "Dad, do you really think a bear would come into the campground with so many people here?" I asked sceptically. "My panniers reek of food, but I don't think I'll put them in the bear box. There's no way a bear's coming in here."

"Probably right." he replied, "I'm keeping my panniers in my tent, but you should put all your food in the bear box." Sighing, I went to work digging through my bags, pulling out all the food in them.

Since the campground had no showers, dad and I went to the bathroom, and washed ourselves as best we could in the sink. After that, dad went to pay and I sat on the bear box, munching handfulls of trail mix. Two girls on bikes approached, and I stared at them out of sheer exhaustion. Just as I started to look away, realizing that it was rude to stare, one of them waved at me. I waved back, out of courtesy, and they continued on. Thus began a night long annoyance: the two rode around the campground loop every 10 minutes or so, and each time she stopped to wave at me. I would grimace back politely, as dad teased my under his breath about my new "girlfriend." At one point she rode by and shouted, "You waved at me. That makes us wave-buddies!" I winced and nodded back weakly.

After dinner (burritos) dad and I rode into Apgar Village to pick up some ice cream (I had huckleberry). We bought post cards, then headed back. On the bike trail, less than a quarter mile from the campground, dad called softly to me, "Seth, keep riding!" To the left of the trail, standing almost perfectly still and sniffing the air, was a brown Black Bear (confusing, I know.) Dad stopped for a picture, and I rode ahead back to camp.

When dad rode up, I looked over at him and said, "I think I'll be putting my panniers in the bear box tonight!" Just as we crawled into our tents that night, the sky split open, lightening flashed, thunder boomed, and rain started to fall. We made it in just in time.

Day 13, part 1

JUNE 21 Eureka MT to Apgar Village, Glacier National Park


We got up early in the park in Eureka to say good bye to mom and Barb, who were driving home. Since most of the "luxury" camping gear and food they had brought was already packed away, we were back to our 'usual' breakfast: a cup of yogurt with grapenuts mixed in and a mug of tea (I don't think I even had the tea, since the stoves were all packed away and we had no hot water... that's also why we didn't eat instant oats.) Since dad and I planned to push a long day, 86 miles from Eureka to Glacier, while everyone else planned to take two days to cover the same distance, we walked around, bidding everyone farewell until tomorrow. Last we came to mom and Barb; the goodbye was rather anticlimactic, considering I won't see my mom for 8 weeks.


Fourteen miles into the ride, we came to the town of Fortine (how coincidental!) As we entered the town, dad spotted a cyclist circling up ahead. "Uh-oh..." he muttered, assuming it was Steve, and that his bike was having mechanical issues again. As we got closer, though, the figure turned into Michael. "Everything okay?" my dad called.


"Yep. Just waiting for pie." Michael said, pointing at a cafe/bakery next to the street. Unfortunately, with 72 miles still to ride, we didn't have time to wait for pie with Michael (now, 72 miles seems like nothing!)


Fifty miles in, we came to the town of Whitefish, where everyone else was stopping to spend the night. We were feeling pretty confident about making it the next 30 miles to Glacier, since it was only about noon. Or first stop in town was the post office, our first mail drop of the trip. Standing outside the post office were two new bike tourists; they turned out to be 2 women I met at our campground in Sandpoint, Kandace and Pritay (pronounced Prithee). Their bags were unpacked, and clothes and gear were strewn across the sidewalk. "We're trying to find some stuff to send home, lighten our load a bit." Kandace explained, "So far, we haven't found much. it's all important!"

I walked into the post office, fingers crossed that I would get some mail. I walked up to the counter and fumbled to display my passport, stammering, "Ah... general delivery for Seth Greendale." The man behind the counter nodded and disappeared into the back. A couple of long moments later, he came back carrying a letter, two postcards and a big Manila envelope. The post cards were from my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Bilal, the letter from my dad's friend Nancy, and the envelope full of hand written letters from Aunt Kathy's first graders, with lots of hand drawn pictures. I was elated! It's always fun to get mail! The letters from the first graders were full of questions: where do you sleep? how tall are the mountains? do you ever get stuck? have you seen any wild animals? etc. etc. A message back to all those first graders: "Dream Big! Riding across the country may seem like a lot of work, but it's also a lot of fun. If it's something you want to do, GO FOR IT!!"

The next stop in town was Glacier Cyclrey, which seems to be a major stop for many Northern Tier cyclists. The people at the bike shop suggested we go to lunch two doors down at an excellent pizza place. They also gave us their Bike Tourist Guest Log, which all bike tourists passing through sign and write a little something in, sometimes a note, sometimes a poem, sometimes a picture. I wrote a not about our trip and how wonderful it is to meet so many fantastic people along the way; it's like a constant party atmosphere. Over lunch, Steve and Dave told us stories about Ragbrai, an organized ride across Iowa. That, too, has a very party like atmosphere. "In my opinion," Dave said, not for the first time, "Any bike tourist has to do Ragbrai at least once. It's a must." Apparently, there are people who ride unicylces, paraplegics who pedal with their hands, people who carry barbecues on their bicycles, and lots and lots of beer. As many as 20,000 riders have participated in a single year!

After lunch, dad and I returned to the bike shop to get some alternate directions from Whitefish to Glacier. The man in the bike shop sounded like he'd given this spiel before. "So, nice, strong touring bikes," he said, glancing out the window at our bikes, "You can handle a little dirt road. We'd rather change a flat than scrape our partner off the pavement."

"Depends how hot it is." dad joked.

"Well, of course you'd find a shade tree..." He dove into his instructions, highlighting roads on a map, and noting a place where a spring of ice cold water flows out of the mountain. Just as he finished, Dave, Pat, and Bill walked in.

"Ah, we probably need those exact same directions..." Dave said. Sighing, the man started to give the directions all over again.

Day 12

JUNE 20 Riverbend Campground to Eureka, MT

Honestly, not a ton happened... the road was full of long, rolling hills; there was barely a flat section all day. For much of the ride, dad and I "discussed" (read "argued") about nature vs. nurture... a light topic for riding. It did help make the miles pass faster. We caught up with Michael and Steve (who were out of camp before we even woke up) right as we all stopped for lunch. We were at the top of one of our steeper climbs, between two stubby rock walls dotted with climbers. We climbed out onto a small ledge overlooking Lake Koocanusa to eat; dad and I ate our usual: cream cheese and bagels, trail-mix, roasted almonds, and apples. Steve had a more interesting meal: spam and sardines. The really surprising part was that he enjoyed it.
The rest of the ride, though bumpy, passed relatively quickly. In town, we stopped at Jax Cafe for milkshakes all around: mom had chocolate, dad, Michael, and Barb had huckleberry, Steve had a root beer float, and I had strawberry, my old standby (I'm going to get across the country on strawberry milkshakes, and m&m blizzards!) It was the best milkshake so far.I stopped in at the Library, then went to the city park where we were camping. The site was okay (although it was a Friday night and no one in Eureka has a muffler) but the bathroom easily won the award for worst on the trip; it was dim, dank, and all around unpleasant. As Michael said while leaving it, "I can't see without my glasses, so I didn't really see anything in the shower. I think if I had, I wouldn't have showered." (That means a lot, since one of the cardinal rules of bike touring is NEVER PASS UP A SHOWER. That come right after "never pass up a dairy queen")
For dinner, we went to a restaurant in Eureka with Bill, Pat, and Dave. The waitress took our drink orders, and when she came to Pat, he ordered a beer. I didn't say anything, but I was pretty sure he was only 19. Later (once we left the restaurant) Dave explained it to us, "Pat's been getting away with it for a while now. Especially out west." Since then, Pat has had beer with dinner most nights, and he's only been carded once. I too have been offered beer twice (the waiter will bring out a pitcher of beer, and bring me a glass). I haven't taken them up on it yet, and I don't really plan to. Just a reminder that we're in Montana!

I know, it's a short entry, but as I said it was a slow day. And, as I write this in a hotel lobby, a cheap sounding soap opera is playing on the TV above my head. I'm not watching, but it makes it really hard to focus.

Day 11

JUNE 19 Cabinet Gorge Camp Ground to Riverbend Campground

The ride out of Cabinet Gorge has to be one of the most beautiful of the trip (and we've ridden through Glacier National Park, so the standards are pretty high!) We passed through the Cabinet Mountain Wilderness area; there were beautiful mountains, pine trees, wild flowers (I'm a bit of a flower nut... a lot of my pictures so far have been of the flowers we've seen), and ponds with glassy surfaces to reflect everything. Fifteen miles in, we decided to go on a little detour that Bill (the physics teacher) had suggested. Bill said that just a couple miles off the road there was a hundred acre stand of old growth cedars, the Ross Creek Cedar Grove; one of his friends had told them that the trees are breath taking... almost a religious experience.

What Bill didn't tell us was the of the 4 miles to get to the cedars, nearly two were uphill... up a very steep hill with about a 10% grade! By the time dad and I had discovered this for ourselves, we were too committed to the climb to turn back. Of course, going back to the road... well, that made the climb all worth while!

The cedar grove was impressive as well. When we got there, Steve was just propping up his bike (he was the only other person in the group to make it up the climb... even Bill didn't go!) The three of us spent the next half an hour wandering the nature trail, marvelling at the size of the trees (boy did it feel good to be walking instead of riding!) Listening to Steve ooh and ahh at the girth of the cedars, I realized how lucky we are in Oregon; sure, this grove was impressive, but I've certainly seen similar things within an hours drive of my front door. I suppose St. Louis (Steve's home) doesn't have as many massive trees. After taking a few pictures of Artoo "visiting Endor", we remounted our bikes and headed out.

The scenery began to decline after we left the Cedar Grove: the snow capped mountains shrunk to tree -covered domes, the meadows gave way to forests of short trees, and the tumbling streams and glassy ponds disappeared (it was still quite beautiful, especially thinking back to it now, from the heart of the plains!) A short ways down the road we turned onto highway 2, which has been our constant riding companion ever since. Four miles down the road we stopped at Kootenai Falls, basically a mass of pale green water pouring rapidly over a tall lip... not as majestic as the tall, thin waterfalls I'm used to, but it definitely wins in a competition of brute force. Next we went to a swinging bridge a short way down the river, running into Pat and Bill along the way. "There's some excellent physics on that bridge!" Bill told me, "Resonance, standing waves, I mean, if you stand at the right place and jump..." he trailed off, shaking his head excitedly. After a few lively tromps across the bridge (during which I prayed the wooden slats wouldn't give out beneath me and send me to my death) we headed back to the bikes. The two of us were talking animatedly when my eyes fell to the ground in front of me: a garter snake was slithering innocently across the path. My hands clapped to my face, and I made an involuntary yelping-cluck for the next 30 seconds (I HATE snakes!!) After the snake disappeared into the bushes, I calmed down, and dad quit laughing at me, we got back to our bikes to go the rest of the way to camp.

That morning I began to see a new sight alongside the road: stubby white crosses on red pipes, like the ones used in plumbing. Some were decked out with garlands and banners, like for Easter; others were simple left as they are, bare. I began to count them as I rode, and in the first day, in just 64 miles, I reached 24 crosses. By now, I'm up to 121. As a matter of fact, the only thing more common in western Montana were "Vote for Ron Paul" signs (even though he has already dropped out!!)Either way, they represent the same thing: Someone killed in a car accident at that spot. Someone taken from their family ; someone whose story ended at that spot. Dad and I have joked about this ride being the "No Cross Crossing" because we don't want to be made into those little crosses. I'm beginning to think that is taking the story behind those crosses a little to lightly.

Edit

I've been told that the link I gave 2 posts ago doesn't lead to Michael's picture site, so I'm trying again. To see our pictures, go to www.Seaworthy.org and follow the pictures link.

Peace,
Seth

Day 10

Okay... the blog today will probably be of a lower quality than usual; I'm totally beat! Today we rode 114 miles across the high plains. Luckily, we had a nice tail wind... but that story will come with time. For today, my blog will be mostly what's written in my journal, which is a bit rushed at time...

JUNE 18 Sandpoint to Cabinet Gorge RV Park MT (state #3! and a really LONG state at that. We'll probably be as happy to get out of it as we were to get into it.)
We got a bit latter start than normal since we had a short ride... only 55 miles. We started out biking along a bike path into Sandpoint, and conditions couldn't have been better: sunny, mid-60s, tail winds, great scenery... Along the bike path, there weren't even any cars! That changed on highway 200 on the way out of Sandpoint. Cars going to work zinged by, and then massive trucks, carrying logs, rocks, tractors, or nothing at all. Often, the shoulder was non-existent, and only the nice drivers gave us any room. Still, it felt amazing to be back on the bike.
Eventually, Michael and Steve caught up with us (they had started before us, but stopped for a second breakfast at Burger King). A couple of miles later, we pulled into the Idaho town of Clark Fork, and turned away from the Pend Orielle Lake for good (we had ridden next to the Pend Orielle River, and then the Pend Orielle Lake for the past few days, and I was definitely ready for a new name, at least!) We rode along down Clark Fork Road (not a very creative name, but the scenery made up for it) until the road turned from smooth black asphault, to bumpy gray concrete and chip seal. We guessed correctly that we had entered Montana (where, apparently, road maintenence is not high on their priorities). We ate lunch, and I took pictures of Artoo straddeling the change in pavement... right on the boarder. Meanwhile, Dad and Steve tried to fix a mysterious clikcing noise coming from Steve's derailleur. After spending an hour trying to fix the derailleur, including trying to shim it in place with a strip of a beer can (which Steve obligingly drank) and losing another hour to the time zone change along the boarder, we decided to move on, despite the mysterious noise.
The rest of our ride passed by quickly (though not for Michael, whose knee screamed everytime he pushed down the pedal... by the last few miles, he resorted to pedalling with only one foot.) The scenery was phenomonal. All day we had been joking that we were riding through the country where the unabomber lived; after about an hour of riding in Montana, I pulled up next to dad, and called over "You know, the unabomber was crazy and all, but he had some immecable taste in scenery."
Around 4:00, after camp was set up and I had showered, I noticed three touring bikes lying in the grass and three lycra-clad bodies standing near-by. I decdied to go over and introduce myself. "Hi! I saw some other bike tourists so I just came over to meet you. There's a bunch of us already over there," I pointed at our campsite, "you're welcome to join us. I'm Seth , by the way."
"I'm Pat." said the youngest, shaking my hand. He's 19, a little shorter than me, and has a beard.
"And I'm his dad, Dave." said the tallest, who had brown hair.
"And I'm Bill." the last one introduced himself.
"You must be the other father-son team we heard about." Pat said, "Bob at..." he snapped his fingers a few times, "At Colville told us about you two." Dad walked over, and the 5 of us talkeda while, then went our separate ways to get ready for dinner.
Back at the table, Barb was busy making spaghetti sauce, "Maybe one of them's an Orthopedic Surgeon." she said, glancing at the new cyclists, "I worry about Michael and his knee... he's a good kid." She went back to chopping onions for a moment, "How old is he, by the way?"
"Forty-two." Dad told her.
"Wow, that makes me feel old," she said, shaking her head, "I can't believe I just called a 42 year-old a kid!
Before we ate, we went back over to talk to Pat, Dave, and Bill again. Dave told us about midwest colleges- Carleton and Kalamazoo- and about Pat majoring in Chemistry at St. Olaf's. "Just be careful talking about chemistry, "Dave warned, "Bill here was Pat's physics teacher, and he's very proud of his subject."
"Chemistry is just a sub-set of physics!" Bill growled mischieviously.
When everyone was done laughing, mom looked over at Dave, "So, what do you do?"
"Oh, I'm an orthopedic doctor." he said. Mam and Barb looked at each other and started laughing.
"One of the people we're riding with has some knee problems," Barb explained, "and we were just joking that one of you guys might be an Orthopod."
"Hey Michael," dad called, crooking his finger, "I have someone for you to meet. He's an orthopedic surgeon."
"Yep, I'm the real deal." Dave said as Michael walked over.
"Oh, you're my best friend." Michael said as Dave led him away to do some stretches on his knee.
After dinner, I again mangled playing frisbee, this time with Pat, and then went to bed.

Days 7, 8, & 9

For starters, since I can't get any pictures up on this, I'm putting up the link to Michael's Flicker account... he says there are tons of pictures on there already, so maybe it will make up for my lack there of... anyways, it's at http://www.flicker.com/photos/michaelcr .... no promises that it will work getting there; post a comment if you have any problems and I'll ask Michael about it.

JUNE 15 Colville to Blueslide Campground
We got off to a rather late start out of Colville... 7:30. I was trying to rush out of camp to keep up with everybody else, but dad was simply taking his time, "No need to rush... it's a short day. Besides, we're on vacation." Finally, I pulled out my book and read until he was ready. Looking back on it, though, he was 100% right.... there is no need to rush. We're out here to smell the roses! Since then, I've been working on my patience.
On the way out of Colville, dad noticed my rear tire was almost completely flat. We pulled over, and dad decided to fix it since he can change a tire faster than I can; as he did, he discovered an enormous piece of glass- about half the size of my fingernail- wedged into the tire. He removed the glass, then changed the tire, and finally we got out of Colville! Sixteen miles down the road, we stopped for a snack at Crystal Falls... and decided that everything was so pleasant that it would be nice to sit there and read for a few minutes. We situated our sitz-pads by the trail, pulled out our waterbottles, bags of carrots, and trailmix, and sat in the shade reading for the next half an hour.
Eventually we made it into camp... after an awfully long day to cover only 47 miles... at blueslide, along the Pend Orielle River (pronounced Ponderay... it's French, I think.) We dropped our bikes at the site, and soon I was playing frisbee with Steve (or, I was attempting to and failing miserably... I've never had any hand-eye coordination.) I showered, and then dad and I cooked our most creative dinner of the trip so far: for an appetizer, two tortillas with cheese in the middle, and pizza sauce & salami on top; for dinner, a Ramen based soup, with Cayenne, curry, tomato sauce, cream cheese, and greenbeans added to it. Surprisingly, both were quite good.
After dinner, Steve met another dog: Shamus, a mutt with gray fur everywhere but the side of his face and ears, which were brown. I started talking to Steve, an avid dog lover, and he said, "The more people I meet, the more I like dogs." I didn't really think about what he was saying, so I nodded and walked off. But as soon as I started to think about it, I realized I totally disagree. My statement would be, "The more people I meet, the more I like people!" Most people are nice, caring, generous, and curious. This has been proved to me time and again on this trip by people we've met. In truth, that's been my favorite part, meeting new people, hearing their stories, and getting to know them a little better. The world is full of interesting people!

JUNE 16 Blueslide Campground to Sandpoint ID (yes, as in IDAHO! State #2!!)
For the first, and probably only, time on this trip, dad and I were the first ones to start biking in the morning, beginning around 6:30 (which had the unfortunate side affect of requiring that we wake up an hour earlier... at 5:30). Both of us were eager to see mom, who was meeting us in Sandpoint to spend the upcoming week with us. The first miles flew by as we rode along broad flat stretches with a gentle tail wind next to the beautiful Pend Orielle River. Mid morning, we crossed to the other side, and dad spotted some tiger lilies growing amongst the lupine alongside the road. The occasion merited at least a picture, so we rolled to a stop and pulled out our cameras. Midway through the break, my nose started to bleed (the air is a lot drier than I'm used to east of the Cascades!), which extended our break another 15 minutes. Furthermore, I swallowed enough blood that I was nauseous the next couple of miles.
We stopped for another snack, hoping that the extra food might calm down my stomach. Two handfuls of gorp later and I felt fine. Dad also found a beat up Star Wars action figure on the ground by our bikes. I took some pictures of him next to an R2-D2 figure Sky lent me for help with any mechanical issue on my bike, and sent one home to Conor. We left the figure my dad found, but I have big plans for R2... I'm going to try to take pictures of him throughout the ride in all the different settings we encounter.
The afternoon seemed to go on for ever, the air slowly getting warmer, and our waterbottles slowly getting emptier. Finally, Dad pulled into Round Lake State Park to refill our waterbottles. A white pickup truck pulled up. "Where y'all goin'?" the ranger inside asked. He had a big face, with tan skin, a gray-black moustache and short hair the same color, and sunglasses.
"Sandpoint tonight," my dad answered, "and eventually to Maine."
"Y'all goin' to Glacier?" the ranger asked, and both dad and I nodded, "That's my favorite playground 'round here."
"Do you think Going-to-the-Sun will be open?" my dad asked, referring to the pass that would take us through Glacier.
"I bet not." he said, "They just got a foot of snow there on Tuesday. They've done miracles before, but I wouldn't count on it." He must have noticed the glum looks on our faces, so he changed the subject, "You ever heard about Theodore Roosevelt National Park?" Dad shook his head, "Well you'll be right by it going through North Dakota. Been to the Badlands?"
"Years ago." dad answered.
"Well, this is the Badlands on steroids. I'd definitely suggest goin' there. Well, have a nice day." Turns out, the park is farther off our route than he thought, but not out of reach. Time allowing, I hope we can amend our plans so we can visit Theodore Roosevelt Park... if only to break up the great plains a little.
Finally, we got to the campground outside of Sandpoint and met Mom, and her friend Barb who came with her. What commenced was a feast (by bike touring standards, at the very least): Strawberries from our garden, root beer, triscuts, cherries, salad, and best of all, goldfish!! I've been shovelling those things down since we opened the box. I will say, it sort of shattered any illusion of simple living dad and I built up over the first week. Oh well, we have 8 more weeks later to rebuild it.
That evening, we found out that Greg and Caroline (right) broke a spoke on their tandem, and Steve began to have issues with his front derailleur. It was a lucky thing that all of the mechanicals happened just outside of Sandpoint!

JUNE 17 Sandpoint to... Sandpoint!
Our first rest day... and not much happened. The scenery didn't change and we didn't really meet anyone new. Sort of a blah day. In return, however, we got to sleep in, do laundry, send out postcards, and catch up in my journal. I still prefer the days when we ride. All of us (Mom , dad, Barb, Michael, Jerry, Greg, Caroline, and myself) minus Steve went out for Mexican food. That was really the extent of the excitement.

Day 6

JUNE 14 Republic to Colville
I woke up freezing the morning in Republic. The day had been warm and I forgot that the town is situated at 3000 ft above sea level, so all my warm clothes were packed. Around 6:30 dad and I made our way into Clifford and Judy's house. When we got there, Clifford offered to make us oatmeal for breakfast, which sounded delicious. The oats turned out to fill only half the bowl; the rest was piled high with dried fruit... apricots, craisens, prunes... as well as sliced bananas. The mixture was so sweet I didn't even need to add sugar (which means a lot, coming from a Sugar addict like me!) That was probably the best bowl of oatmeal I've ever eaten.
Surprisingly, Shurman Pass, the highest we crossed in Washington at 5575 ft, was one of the easier climbs (and not just because we started at 3000 ft.) It was the first pass that I didn't agonize over each mile to the summit. The downhill took us 20 miles, right up to the shore of Franklin D. Roosevelt Lake, which is a part of the Columbia River. The last part of our ride into Colville was over rolling hills, which went rather easily, although both of us were tired and our tempers were beginning to fray.
In Colville, we camped at the fairgrounds, along with Steve, Michael, and Jerry. Shortly after dad and I arrived, a husband and wife on a tandem rolled into camp. Greg and Caroline are from Michigan, and I'm amazed that they are crossing the country on a tandem... I'd want some time apart from who I was riding with. Right after Greg and Caroline, Bob, the camp manager, walked over. "Hello, folks. I'm Bob. What're your names?"
"I'm Chip and this is my son, Seth." My dad replied. After that, whenever Bob talked to us, he used our first name, which always made me feel rather welcome.
"Well, Chip, 't's $10 for the night. And there's a rodeo goin' on tonight you folks might all enjoy." After Bob left, I rode first over to the library with Michael, and then to the store with dad. Back at camp, Bob came over again to show us some "shortcuts" along the road the next couple of days. "So, Steve, you can see here this is the route your maps show to get to Usk" (a city on the way to Sandpoint, or destination for Monday) his finger traced traced the roads along the map. Then he moved his finger along a different path, "The maps say this road is 'undeveloped' but it's all smooth asphalt. There is a little climb in the middle, though. Nothing you can't handle."
"How high?" asked Steve, nervously.
"Well, you can see the mountains in Canada from it's top. Le'see here..." he searched on the map for the height, "5700 ft." We all looked at each other with wide eyes.
"That would be our highest climb so far! We'll be going a different way." Steve said, "We're through with passes."
Dad was going to go to the rodeo, but after dinner, we both decided we were too tired, and would rather stay at camp (which was basically right next to the rodeo anyway) to read (Crime and Punishment is my summer reading project... thanks Mr. Soles!) and catch up in our journals. We read and wrote for the next three hours, then at 10 we tried to go to bed while loud country music played for an after-rodeo dance. Actually, falling asleep wasn't that hard; after riding my bike all day, I usually feel that I could fall asleep on a pile of rocks.

P.S. I posted twice today, so you might want to look at the post before this as well!

Days 4 &5

JUNE 12 Winthrop to Tonasket

We left Winthrop a bit later than we had planned, taking time to chat with Tom over breakfast (He made us toast and scrambled eggs.... altogether, he was an amazingly generous host. I hope we meet more people like him. Thank You Tom!!) The first ten miles, from Winthrop to Twisp, went by quickly, riding downhill with a light tailwind. After Twisp, we began to climb again. The climb to Loup Loup Pass was fairly gradual... 3-6% grade... but it was continuous, climbing for 8 miles straight, without leveling off or dropping down. So far, that has been the hardest climb, even though it was not too steep and not too long.
A few miles from the top of the pass, dad and I stopped for a snack/brunch of apples and trailmix (m&ms, craisens, and peanuts). As we were packing up, another bike tourist appeared over a bump in the hill. At first we thought it might be Michael or Steve, but as he drew nearer, we realized we didn't recognize him. "Helyo!" he called out in a funny accent, that at first sounded like a Scottish brogue, and then made me wonder if English was a second language. (I later found out that he lived in Altoona, Pennsylvania, right in the middle of the Appalachians, which explained the accent... those of us from Oregon often think ours is the only correct dialect; I'm learning day by day that we're wrong!) The rider didn't introduce himself, but "William" was written on his bag in Sharpie. William told us that this was his fourth crossing of America, and he and his buddy planned to take only 50 days to do it (dad and I are taking 70!) He's also adding a bunch of miles, zigging down to Yellowstone, then up to Montreal before ending in Bar Harbor.
When we started riding again, William (whose 63 years old) bolted ahead of us and hammered his way to the top, leaving us and his buddy (another Steve) behind. Just as we reached the top, a Red Subaru pulled up next to us, "Are any of you missing a sandal?" the driver asked. Looking back at my bike, I realized that I was.
"Ah...yes." I replied, "How far back is it?"
"Only a mile or two." She must have seen my face fall at the thought of going back, because she offered to go back and get it. I thanked her probably four times when she returned with the shoe. We met our third road angel in 4 days (Randy, Tom, and now the Woman in the Car).
After a glorious descent from Loup Loup (that more than made up for the climbing) dad and I stopped for lunch at a park in Okanogan; it was there that we met our first mosquitoes of the trip... I'm still scratching some of the bites I got there. We decided to push a little farther than we had planned that day, to make it into Tonasket... which would give us a ride of about 70 miles that day The last few miles into town started to feel really long, so I made up a rhyme, singing "A Tisket A Tasket, We're Going to Tonasket!" to keep my legs pumping the pedals. The landscape between Loup Loup and Tonasket really made me realize how lucky I am to live where I do: the land was parched, with few trees and less green; everything seemed a dusty brown. Occasionally a tattered wooden house or rundown trailer would appear out of the grass, only adding to the gloomy feeling of the place. It feels very important to see this stuff, this side of life, but it's also pretty grim. It's so much easier to stick my head in the sand... but that doesn't help anybody.
In Tonasket we went stayed on the front lawn of a restaurant (right by a highway), ate dinner at a pizza parlor, and showered at a laundromat. It was still probably one of my favorite nights so far on the trip. The redeeming quality? William and Steve (above) were staying the same place we were. William was a treasure trove of stories, about biking and otherwise. He told us about "my boy and me" fighting off a bear using pepper spray to save their food; about men in a town on an Indian Reservation "checking out my women... I mean wife."; and about his bike crash that dislocated his clavicle and "the doctors wanted to take out the whole bone, they it wasn' important, but I says I'd take my chances." (He can pop the clavicle out about an inch... See Megowan, you're not alone!) Finally we all went off to bed, about an hour later than we had planned.

JUNE 13 Tonasket to Republic
Trucks roaring by our "campsite" woke me up that morning about 5. Eventually, i climbed out of my tent, placked up my bags and ate breakfast. William and Steve went over to a shell station to pick up coffee. Returning, William triumphantly held up a pastry "ahh, this is the stuff! Bear Clawrs, this is whot keeps me going... hoh hoh hoh." As we ate, he told us about a Cross country tour he had gone on with his son, " 'e never thought Oi was that 'telligent! 'e comes back and says "it was me dad who got me cross the country. Hoh Hoh Hoh." dad elbowed me as William spoke and I smiled back. I have I feeling I'll learn the same thing William's son did. When dad and I left camp, William called out, "May the wind be at your backs!"
"You too!" we responded, "And keep the rubber side down!" The climb up Wasuconda Pass (4310ft) began just outside of Tonasket, and continued up for 25 miles. William and Steve caught up with us about half way up. Near the top, we passed a pair of people walking over the pass, "Y'see, Sef!" William called, "You don' go' it so bad.It probably take them 3 days to ge' ofver de pass... Hoh hoh hoh."
The steepest part of the pass came in the last few miles. The map said we only had two miles to go to the summit, but it turned into three. My butt and hamstrings were beginning to really hurt, so I was very unhappy about the discrepancy. After perhaps an undue amount of whining on my part we reached the summit. Dad and I munched on our bagels, then said goodbye to William and Steve (probably for good, since they were planning to go overShurman pass that day as well. They traveled 75-85 miles in a day and didn't take rest days.) The rest of our ride was down hill, and we arrived in Republic a little before 1 in the afternoon. As we descended, i noticed that trees were beginning to return to the previously parched landscape: apparently we had left the rain shadow of the Cascades and entered a more verdant area.
In Republic we stopped at the Library (where I posted my first entry while on the trip) the store (where we met a woman with 25 grandchildren, 39 great grandchildren, and 3 great great grandchildren) then went to the house we planned to spend the night at (another couple my dad had met online.)
Clifford and Judy (left) were some of the most hospitable and friendly people we met on the entire trip. Dad and I planned to set up camp and then go to explore Republic, which was having its Prospector's Days Festival. Just as we were about to remount our bikes and head into town, Clifford (who we had met earlier) walked out of the house and introduced us to his wife, Judy. They invited us to have "supper" with them, and we agreed on eating at 6. Then, dad and I pedaled into town (which feels totally different on unloaded bikes!)
In Republic, we ran into Jerry, Steve, and Michael again, who we hadn't seen since Winthrop. Then we sat on the grass in the park, enjoying the sights and sounds of Prospector's Days around us. We also enjoyed the smells... perhaps a little too much: dad got an Italian Sausage sandwich for us to split, our appetizer. It didn't hurt our appetites any... when we returned to Judy and Clifford's house we helped make dinner, then scarfed it down. Judy had made a delicious spaghetti sauce, with mushrooms, sundried tomatoes, and more Italian sausage, as well as a salad with fresh vegetables and dried fruit. We talked for a while, but my energy levels were steadily dropping, so soon we were saying goodnight and heading to bed.

Day 3

Okay... I'm not sure if I'm really allowed to be on the Internet in this library, since I'm only 17, but no one has said anything, so...

JUNE 11 Colonial Creek to Winthrop
This was the big day... our first two passes: Rainy Pass (4855 ft) and Washington Pass (5477 ft).
My alarm went off at 5:30, and dad and I spent the next hour and a half getting ready to take on the passes. Steve, Michael and Jerry had left the camp just ahead of us, but we didn't see them again until we were a good way into the climb. The road goes almost strait up out of Colonial Creek, so soon dad and I were stripping off layers of clothes, down to our jerseys, tights, and gloves (and it was 40 degrees out...). As long as I remained pedalling I stayed nice and toasty. It was only when I stopped to snap a picture or eat a snack that I got chilled. New waterfalls appeared every three minutes or so as we rode, probably from snow melt. As the ascent wore on, dad and I started singing oldies to keep us going (Margarietaville, I Am A Rock, etc.) We usually only got out a verse before running out of words we remembered.
It started to rain about 6 miles from the top, drizzling at first, and then building to a downpour. Dad rode and talked with Michael, while I plowed on toward the pass. Snow appeared by the side of the road in big dirty mounds, my jersey was unzipped to my bellybutton, and my rain jacket was flapping in in the wind, but I was still overheating. With the rain, pine trees, and fog covered mountains, I was reminded of some pictures I've seen of the Alps. When we reached the top of Rainy Pass, we all stood shivering in the rain, taking pictures of the sign and congratulating each other. Shortly, we moved on, descending into a shallow valley between Rainy Pass and Washington Pass. The scenery was, of course, spectacular. (I'm finding that I'm running out of words to describe the things I've seen. You'll just have to see the pictures... which I can't seem to load onto my blog from a library computer! It's quite irksome.) The top of Washington Pass finally came, after only a few brutal miles, leaving us with only a massive downhill, beginning with a glorious sign that read "7.5% grade next 7 miles".
The sign was true to its word, and the next 15 miles flew by. Then, when we reached the bottom, a strong tail wind carried us the rest of the way into Winthrop. During the descent the weather changed: the rain stopped, the sun came out, and the temperature rose about 30 degrees! In Winthrop, Dad and I stopped for ice cream (I had a strawberry milkshake) then headed to the store. On the way a man on a moped/mini-motorcycle passed us and shouted "Walden?!"
"Yeah!" my dad responded, recognizing out email address "You must be Tom." Tom was a man my dad found on the Internet who often let bike tourists spend the night at his house. We picked up our groceries, then found our way to Tom's house. He let us sleep in his basement (Dad got a bed and I got a couch) use his showers and laundry machine, and fed us barbecue chicken for dinner. Over dinner we discussed Tom's own trip across the country (2800 miles across the southern tier in 23 days!) and his trips through Cuba by bike (which sounded like a ton of fun... He's gone 5 times, 3 times with his son, and says the weather is great and the Cubans are really nice.) After dinner, dad and I crashed, exhausted from our 63 miles and 2 passes.

Ciao
Seth

P.S. Hello to everyone in Ms. Greendale's class in Las Vegas, Nevada! It's great to hear your thinking of us.

P.P.S. I'm sorry if this gets to narrative-y... I'm usually writing on a limited time on a library computer. I'm going to have to get less detailed too, otherwise I'll never keep up with what's going on!

Days 1 and 2

Oh my... so much has happened. Each day feels like a whole week! I don't know how in depth to go on this (I could probably write a whole novel) so I'll try to give some of the juicer details and add some pictures for flavor (though I'm not sure I can get them onto this computer... I'm in the Republic Library, and I only have half-an-hour to write, so sorry if I sound a bit rushed.)

JUNE 9 Anacortes to Concrete
Dad and I started riding at about 9 am, after saying goodbye to mom. We stopped three times in the first 15 minutes to put on rain gear. That really set the mood for the day. The sky stayed cloudy for most of the day, the rain coming in spurts. Still, the scenery was amazing, and dad and I soon developed a rhythm to our riding. Just as we finished cycling along the Padilla Bay Shore Trail (a beautiful ride along a hard-packed gravel path with mud flats to the left and farmland to the right) three bikers (shown below left to right Steve, Jerry, Dad, Me, Michael) we met in Anacortes who are also planning to cross the country caught up with us (actually, my dad had met Michael online a few months ago, and the two of them have been talking about the trip ever since).
The rain picked up again a few miles farther along, so dad and I decided to stop for lunch. We rolled up to a house that had a shed with a promising looking overhang, and knocked on the door. When nobody had answered after a couple of minutes, we decided to go ahead and eat under the overhang anyway. Before long, I was shivering away in the cold weather, so we decided to keep moving to warm back up.
We spent the second half of the day riding through the Skagit River Valley, probably one of the most amazing places I've been, even in the rain. Especially in the rain! The Sakgit river flowed by to the left of the road, and to the right fields stretched away to green mountains with mist floating off of them. Eventually, after 54 miles of cold, wet riding, we rolled into Concrete Washington where we planned to stay for the night.
In concrete, we set up camp in a small RV park, fighting against the wind just to set up camp. Dad and I wanted to go into town to pick up food for dinner, but the storm just seemed to be getting worse, so we decided to eat in the cafe at the RV park, with Steve, Michael, and Jerry. I suppose I ought to introduce Steve, Michael, and Jerry, beyond just "other riders". Steve is 54, retired, and from St. Louis. He's sort of the leader of their group. Michael is 42 and from Bar Harbor, and not yet retired, so he has to hurry home. He has a very dry sense of humor. Jerry is 60 and retired; he's from Michigan. He also rides a recumbent, which is easier on his butt and knees, but makes climbing hills a difficult task.
After dinner, we called mom, then rode into the store to pick up groceries for breakfast the next morning and dinner the next night. Big purple clouds were building as we pulled into the parking lot at the Red Apple. As we dismounted, two women walked out and glanced at our bikes, "My friends up in Sedro Wooley say that storm just blew by, dropping big hailstones!" said one.
"I've considered building up my back room so bicyclists passing through can stay there during a storm." The other said.
"There's a word for people like that," my dad replied, "Road Angels."
"Oooh, I like that!" she said, "I've spent the last 10 years pissing off people on the road as a flagger. It'd be nice to be an Angel."
The clouds burst just as we got into the store, pelting down giant rain drops. dad and I took our time picking out our groceries, hoping that the storm would pass, but it didn't. We were just preparing to ride out through the storm when a short man with tan skin, a crease down the side of his face, and long dark hair walked up and offered us a ride back to our campsite.
We couldn't fit two bikes into his PT Cruiser, so he ferried us back, taking me first and then dad. Just as we neared the campsite, he told me his name was Randy. I introduced myself and thanked him, and then we were hustling the bike and gear out of his car and over to the tent. Just before he drove away, Randy looked back at me, "You know, Seth, getting this ride from me is cheating!" he grinned, then left. It was day one, and we had already met our first Road Angel. The rain falling on my tent that night was almost loud enough to keep me awake. Almost.

JUNE 10 Concrete to Colonial Creek Campground
We woke up around 7 the next morning, thankful that it wasn't raining. It took us 2 hours to break camp that morning (a process we'll have to streamline!) and then we were back riding through the Skagit River Valley. Around 11, the sun came out for us for the first time on the trip, and stayed with us for the rest of the day. We stopped for lunch in a quarry/rock yard and even considered putting on sunscreen. That afternoon we passed through Newhalem, and after that the road turned skyward. The last 10 miles of our day were spent climbing through the beginning of the North Cascades (we got to pass through 2 tunnels along the way!!) until we descended into our campground near Diablo Lake (probably one of the prettiest we'll see for the whole trip, even though the water was out, meaning pit toilets and no showers).
That evening we ate dinner (a stir fry of rice and vegetables) sitting around Steve, Michael, and Jerry's campfire (for an "entry fee" of extra firewood). After dinner, Jerry began scavenging through his bags, searching for items to leave behind, trying to drop weight for the brutal climb up to Washington pass the next day. The things he pulled out were astonishing: a battery powered shaver (that Michael ended up saving) a huge pair of scissors, a bolt driver.... That night I went to bed around 8:45, exhausted, and still hungry, even after eating more than half a pot of rice and vegetables!

I'm pretty much out of time now, so I'll write about the climb to Washington Pass later.

Cheers!
Seth

Only 1 week!!

I had an exciting weekend... two "goodbye" parties, plus a study group, and I got my head shaved. It's definitely a new look (and feel) for me. I haven't been able to stop touching my head. The picture is of me and one of our family friends, Mel; he's the one who shaved my head (he did a really good job... he barely even nicked me).

On Sunday I was stuck by a moment of panic: We haven't been taining enough! We're not going to make it over the cascades! My knees will give out after the first day!... all my nervousness came out at once. I've gotten over it for the most part now, though. I think we'll make it all the way across the country.

PS - this is from the Mom/Sue. this blog should've been posted last week; i just left chip and seth this morning -the 9th- they started on their adventure at 8:57am. will leave it to seth to write the specifics!!!