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.