Day 48: Idaho and 30 random riders
Last nights rest was as hard a sleep as I can remember. Perhaps it was the steady and undulating hills of yesterday that wiped out my body, or perhaps it was the use of the Hammer Recoverite when I finished the day, or maybe both. And likely, the fact the mountain air dropped the overnight temperature to 41 degrees helped. Last night I thought I ate enough, but this morning I was famished, with only some fruit and a vegetable drink to sustain me before picking up some donuts at the grocery store. I do love a healthy breakfast.
The weather was gorgeous this morning, cool with sunny skies, but warm enough that my yellow jersey was all I needed. A bit of climb out of Troy, and I was well on my way, until a few miles later when I reached the Idaho border! Wow. I reached Idaho on a bicycle. I was not quite as overwhelmed as when I reached Montana and turned into the Joker, laughing maniacally at the absurdity of my accomplishment, but the smile on my face caught tasty bugs for a good half hour this morning. At least I gained some protein!
The area is absolutely stunning. Mountains, valleys, rolling streams and beautiful lakes abound. Once again I found myself wishing I knew more about ornithology, as eagles cried and hawks flew overhead for almost the whole day. Occasionally I stopped to listen or watch, but sadly, my FlipHD camera stopped working and I was unable to resurrect it at any point today. So these memories, like so many, will have to remain locked in my mind to replay when I search for calm and peaceful images that live beyond time and outside man’s heavy handed intrusion.
When I stopped at the cross roads near Bonner’s Ferry I spoke with several bikers (motorcyclist) who were cruising and on their way to a rally just shy of the Washington border on Highway 2. They invited me to come hang out for the night and I filed the idea away, figuring I’d want to get further then that stop, if I should decide to take Highway 2 the rest of the way into Seattle, or turn north to 20 and ride the Cascade Mountains. The truth of the matter is, my leg does not feel up to a bunch of climbs and I’m really looking forward to some quiet days in Seattle to recoup from the 2nd stage of the ride, so I plan on riding 2.
As I took the steep downhill into Bonner’s Ferry I realized there must be an uphill out of this valley on the other side. I had taken my helmet, gloves and glasses off at the crossroads in hopes of letting the high noon sun bake away some of my white forehead and hands. Therefore during the climb out, the sweat easily rolled down and off my face and slickened my handlebars. The drawbacks of vanity!
During the last hundred yards to the crest of the climb, I saw 4 riders next to a support vehicle pulling a trailer. They started to ride with the tail rider, Ed waiting to chat with me for a few minutes as I hydrated and wiped down some of the sweat and grime before we rode together down the road. A few miles later the other three riders had pulled over in the shade and I met Tim, Terry and Karen(?) (oh god, this is why I need my flipvideo! That doesn’t seem right). They were riding with 30 people ranging from 8 to 60, 7 days around Washington, Canada and Idaho. Why didn’t we ever do anything like that growing up?
Their group, RAW (Ride Across Washington), has been doing annual rides of some sort for 22 years, Tim told me as we rode together most of the way into Sandpoint. The last time I rode with anyone was back in Minnesota and I enjoyed the competitive juices flowing through my veins and someone besides my alter ego to converse with while pedaling. These four were far back from the group due to multiple flats that day and we finally pedaled into their motel in Sandpoint with music playing, food out and a beer was in my hand within minutes. Tim invited me to stay and Terry said I could crash with their family of 5 and was welcome for the night. It was barely 3:30 at this point but I really considered the possibility of staying with a comfortable group of zany cyclists just like me. However, each passing motorcycle made me long for a rally and to travel the road. Perhaps it’s the free rider mentality instinctively drawn from the roar of the engines, or maybe that after a week of pain and agony with little riding, the idea of stopping didn’t quite settle right.
Whatever the need to ride on was, I had waited until late in the day now, and needed to haul a bit while there was still light, especially considering it was Saturday and this was a touristy relaxed area where folks probably drink and drive a bit more then is safe for us bike riders. Next to the road was a rails to trails bike path that I took for several miles, but it spit me out in a town a mile from Highway 2 and I had to ask several people for directions! I contemplated turning around, but then two motorcycles went by and the interest stuck deep again. So pedaling west I began to ride quickly, figuring an hour ride to Priest’s River, the town near where the rally was supposedly near.
The ride was just wonderful, along rivers and lakes, snaking through the hills as the shadows grew longer by the minute. Every few minutes I saw more motorcycles stream past me, heading east, away from the rally area. It began to occur to me that either the rally wasn’t really going yet or it was lame and people were leaving. As it turned out, the later was true. When I discovered the few weekend warriors hanging there with a band and not much going on I decided to use the last bit of light and pull into town and have a real meal and get a room. Oh well, best intentions.
My rear tire was losing air, but in the low light I couldn’t locate any punctures, so just topped off twice more before arriving in Priest’s River where it went quite flat. Only seems fitting that I finally lose a tube after the RAW folks lost about 10 today. As I pulled into the only motel, the owner had just sold the last room and the campsites in the area were all full. Oh boy. So I rolled next door to change my tire outside a restaurant with lights. After finding the sliver of steel that caused the flat, I went inside to wash my hands and asked the man behind the bar where he thought I could camp for the night. Todd gave some thought about it and offered a park down the street with a house nearby that is used as a temporary shelter for battered women. He said if nothing was happening there to feel free and camp in the back. What a great guy. I’m going there to the Priest’s River Hardwood Grill, for breakfast in the morning.
Across the street was a large grocery where I loaded up with salad, pasta and some desert before finding the house and setting camp. It is strange setting camp behind a (hopefully) empty house and climbing in with my meal, sweaty and gross while bathing with baby wipes. Quite the image I’m sure.
Today’s adventure led me through some of the most astounding and serene environment and I met new friends and saw how fantastic touring can be with a family. Hopefully Victoria will find a love for the bicycle someday and we can do some riding together when we have midgets of our own, but she’d likely rather drive. Support vehicle! Tomorrow I will leave my short journey and arrive in Washington, head to Spokane in hopes of finding a best buy to repair my broken FlipVideo, and keep heading west. Here’s to safe travels and no more flats!
2 years ago