Peace, I had done (Nov 27th)

Last night I looked down and realized that my coat's entire front had become crusted with white ice.

I stopped under an overpass and beat the coat against the wall for a bit, but the ice wouldn't break off.  So I bivouacked under a pine tree a short distance from there, not too far west of Alexandria, Ohio.

There was too much ice on my boots to easily get them off, so I scraped off what I could with a knife and slept with them on until they started to thaw (dangerous business that).  Once they loosened up, I removed them, threw them into a plastic bag, then took off my cotton jeans and used them to soak up the little bit of moisture that had leaked off the boots into the bivvy (turns out cotton is good for something after all).  I had already removed my overcoat.

The bivvy is warm enough, I was wearing enough woolen undergarments (especially on my legs), and I timed it right so that I didn't get soaked or cold, and my bedroll stayed more or less dry all night.  I was warm and cozy, but still, dangerous business that. 

I put the bag with my boots in them back into the sack so they wouldn't freeze.

This morning my red overcoat was frozen as stiff as old rawhide.  The bike's brakes still work, but the shifters are caked with ice and unresponsive.  The bike path through Granville towards Newark and Newcomers is choked with snow.

So I took the slushy roads fifteen miles as the crow flies (but closer to 20 or 25 as the biker rides) to the town square in Newark.

Winter has been nipping at my heels state by state since I left Idaho.  There was a dusting of snow on my tires on Halloween, but I outran it.  Well, it has finally caught me.  Perhaps I could press on.  Home is less than 300 miles from here, even biking; Pittsburgh and my mother's school apartment only about half that far.

But it's Thanksgiving tomorrow, and a few snow sodden days of biking seem poor trade compared to a holiday with the clan. 

So it is, with a surprisingly light heart and in my last set of dry clothes, that I hereby declare my journey over.

Katelynn is meeting me here in Newark at the "Simply Rising" cafe and bakery where I am treating her to lunch.  I will be riding home with her this evening.

It may seem a shame to come so far only to fail on the last leg before home.  The funny thing is, though, I don't feel like I've failed at all.  Quite the opposite, in fact, though I'm not sure exactly why.  Sorry to let you all down one last time, but in the end this was something I was doing for me (wasn't it?). 

I don't know how many thousands of miles I've travelled.  My phone won't tell me (It's fritzing again), so I will have to tally that up later.  I need to tally up the donations as well, send out a few personalized thank-yous, and see that I donate an equal amount, myself, to nonprofits as promised.  I'm still thinking Chestnuts and maybe Rails-to-Trails.  I'm giving myself six months to make said donation(s), but I should be able to afford them much earlier than that if the tutoring in early 2014 goes well.  So there will be one or two more posts sometime in the future just to complete things.

I don't know what else to say.  I'm going home friends.  It's not far.  The thought of it makes my heart swell.  Thank you all for following with me.  Be well; be warm.

Peace, I had done.

The storm.

Rough storm last night. Had to bivvy early.  Managed to stay mostly dry and warm, though.  More about it later. Trying to make mileage now.

Heading for Home. (Ohio, nov 25th)

Winter has been right behind me state by state.  I think it's about to catch me.

I biked yesterday after (hopefully) fixing my phone and didn't stop until 6 am.  The cold didn't seem to bother me much.  I'm in Ohio now; Dayton to be exact.  There are many good bike paths in Ohio and I aim to follow them again until as late as I can keep going. 

I've taken to waking late so that I can eat lunch buffets for breakfast and then biking long ways when the traffic is low to nill.

A fellow at Rob's diner in Brookville called me inspiring this morning.  Then a woman named Cathy (not the one from Rossville,  a different Cathy) bought me breakfast, and a Veteran in the men's room talked to me about Korea and gave me a ten to help me on my way.

I don't know how inspiring I am, and I never ask for these hand outs.  Usually someone sees the bike helmet and starts asking questions.  All I do is talk: Tell them how I came to be here, and how good I feel, and how much I thoroughly (even desperately) want to be home.  People are kind, it would seem.

Right now I am letting my phone get a good charge and resting up before another hard push.  I need to try to cross Ohio before the snow hits too hard.  I've made it this far, though. 

If the weather shuts me down, that's okay.  I feel like I left the old anxieties somewhere in the Idaho Deserts.  I'm ready to be home. :)

Slow going.

The weather slowed me in Illinois, and my equipment has been giving me trouble in Indiana.

After I wore a hole clean through my rear rubber (leaving Illinois) my phone then started fritzing.  The Verizon guy said it's probably because I took too many photos and used up most of the memory.  So currently I am uploading said photos to the cloud, a slow process that is costing me a lot of mileage, but hopefully one that will fix the problem.

After all, I use this phone not only for photos and updating this blog, but also to find restaurants, crosscheck maps, and keep an eye on the wind and weather.  It is the source of most of my information and when it isn't functioning I am riding a bit blind.  Granted, I can improvise (and have) when the phone was down or out of batteries, but I don't like to be out of contact for long.

I guess I don't mind taking things easy today, being that it has grown mighty cold out, but honestly the cold hasn't really bothered me yet (so long as I am pedaling with the wind). 

On the plus side the Verizon guy gave me a free, rechargeable external battery (and was awesome to talk to) and the people of the town of Advance were very nice company (My phone died, so I went east until I saw their water tower, steered for it, and used the computer in their library to reorient myself).

In other news, I have also upgraded my visibility.  I have gotten a bigger, brighter blinker for the back of the bike and have a bright construction worker vest covering my pack.  There were too many people getting too close for my liking as they came up behind me.  The vest seems to have done the trick, but I still stay off of state highways now as if they were the interstate (because they might as well be the interstate at this point).

The guy at Dunums gave me a huge discount on the safety gear. :)

The sleep sack still keeps me toasty warm at night even at single digit temperature. :)

Indiana

Rossville is a wonderful place.

The Mayor, who introduced himself as Dick Queen, recommended a little cafe on the edge of town, known as Merita's.  My server, whose name is Katherine (or maybe Catherine), just bought me breakfast out of the blue. I was just telling stories as I normally do.

And she called me "kiddo" :)

I'm really starting to like this town.

Nov. 22nd.

I'm still in Illinois friends.  I waited the better part of the last two days for the storms to pass.  I read two novels cover to cover sitting in a bookstore and later a library.

The rain let up last night about seven or eight and I biked long through the fog and mist (some 40 or 50 miles extra miles in the eerie gray oblivion).  I often could barely see the road, but the path was easy, there was no traffic, and the night felt warm. 

I made the last town before the border, Hoopeston it's called, and I would have kept going but I ran into a hitch.  I have finally worn the rubber of my tires clean through. 

There is a hole the size of a quarter in my rear tire now.  I can see the hard "tuffy" strip poking through but still protecting the tire from a blowout.

I have seen no bike shop for at least 100 miles and it was another 50 miles to the next one in Layfayette, Indiana.  So I have decided to turn south some 23 miles out of my way to reach a closer shop in Danville.

The rain caught up with me, though, in the wee hours of the morning, so I took shelter in a small park in Rossville Illinois.

I was woken this morning by the mayor of Rossville.  He brought me coffee. :)

Illinois (Nov 21st)

Illinois is a fine State to bike in.  The back roads are straight, paved, plentiful, and with almost no traffic.

Lots of storms though, and the wind is usually across me, so my progress is slow.  The storms are supposed to pass by tomorrow morning; then the weather is supposed to get cold.  I'm tempted to bike in the rain some but my rain gear, though superb when I am camping, is only marginally effective while I am riding.

Perhaps its best I take it easy for a day or two, though.  I've started to develop that numbness in the hands that long distance cyclists sometimes suffer from.  I read that it comes from too much pressure on the hands, usually due to a poor bike fit.  I had my seat raised a while back and readjusted the handlebars.  This has helped tremendously, but a slight numbness persists, particularly in my right hand.

Ah well.  Once I get home I'll rest my hands plenty for a week or so at least.  I noticed a similar numbness just before reaching Pat and Brandi's.  A few days of no biking back then and it went away fast enough.

Peoria

In Peoria they gave me a giant mug of espresso.  I aim to bike long tonight and maybe get ahead of some of these storms.

Caterwauling

Well, nothing ate me during the night, but that was some serious caterwauling right near camp.

The various howling and rustling and hoofbeats throughout the night weren't bad, but that feline screeching was something else.   It was worse than a fox wail.

Oh well, maybe it was just a bobcat.

Camped Out

Camped out in a little patch of woods in Illinois and evidently so is everything else.  Have heard deer, squirrel, and coyote nearby, Very nearby...and what may or may not have been a mountain lion.  Oh well, google says less than 1 fatal attack in the entire US every five years.  Might as well get some sleep.

Burlington Iowa (sept 18th)

Yesterday (sept. 17), after waiting most of the morning for those heavy storms to pass, I hit an all you can eat buffet, did about five plates worth of damage, and still made Burlington, which is on the Mississippi river.  I've slept 6 times in Iowa, one more than Nebraska in fact.

Of course I was dodging storms, visiting museums, meeting with coffee clubs, and zig zagging all over back roads.  Seriously, you get on a back road in this state and it goes straight for 15 miles, hangs a perfect right angle, and heads either due north or due south for the next 5 or 10.  In addition, the first sleep and the last were both right near the rivers.  So, in reality I only biked Iowa for 5 days.

I'm off to a purposely slow start again today.  There is a YMCA here (in Burlington) not far from a laundromat.  So, in celebration of reaching the mighty Mississippi, I grabbed a long hot shower at the Y (my first since Wamsutter Wyoming) and am now washing my clothing and gear.

I, my clothing, and my sleep gear were all surprisingly non-smelly (except for a few pairs of my socks, which reeked).  I attribute the lack of odor to the fact that I have been using paper towels soaked with skin cleaners, good sage oil deodorant, and talcum powders to take "poor man's" showers nearly every day.  Still, it feels good to be good and thoroughly clean.

The ladies at the Y wanted to introduce me to the local paper, but I politely declined.  I didn't want to deal with any mistaken reporting like last time.  (They tried, but there is a lot of important detail to this story.). Maybe I'll feel differently the next time I'm offered.  Who can say.

After this, it's off to another buffet, then maybe to a grocery store, and then over the River. 

Next stop, Illinois.

Bike Shop Vince

Iowa so Far (Sept 13 through Sept 16)

After my excitement near Omaha (Trinidad called me a day or two ago to see how I was) I treated myself to the Union Pacific Railroad Museum in Council Bluffs (I went mostly for the penny crusher to get some souvenirs for Miss Katelynn Earnest).  After that I picked up the Wabash Trace bike trail, rode it to the town of Malvern, picked up route 34, and kinda stalled out.  It turns out that Iowa highways don't really have berms, at least not very large or very consistent ones.  I plugged on east till I got to a truck stop near the town of Emerson that first day before making camp.

The next morning, while having coffee at said truck stop at a table in the back and looking at my maps, I made the acquaintance of the "Unofficial Emerson Ladies' Morning Coffee Club".

These six wonderful women not only gave me good company for what must have been at least two hours of conversation, one of them actually drove home and obtained for me a copy of the Iowa State Cyclist's Map.

I had tried with limited success to download the map to my phone.  The paper copy has been invaluable, as it shows each road by amount of traffic and berm width.  It also shows all of Iowa's bike trails.

Since then I have been picking my way along the paths and back roads of 34, occasionally riding for a few miles on the loose gravel berm of 34 itself when faced with little alternative.  When traffic is light, I sometimes take to the paved lanes of 34 but prefer not to if possible.

This has slowed my progress some but I've made Ottumwa now with only about 80 miles or so more to the Mississippi.  The storms ended up all missing me today (Nov 16) but the wind is strong so I thought I would finish my writings from this morning anyway.  Ride when the weather is good, I guess, and write when it's rough.

The weather isn't that rough, though, and it's quite warm despite the strong wind (a southern crosswind for those wondering), so I feel the need to get going.  I'm hoping to make at least Fairfield tonight or maybe even Mount Pleasant, but Iowa is often slow going (lots of very hilly back roads).

Less than 1000 miles to home! More posts soon. :)

The Omaha Bicycle Co. (Sept. 12)

I ended up at Omaha Bicycle Co. at 6015 Maple Street in Omaha.  There my bike was serviced by Vince Asta, a man with a mustache so epic it once made the local paper.

He and a young lady named Sarah Johnson (possibly related to the cop? I forgot to ask) fixed me up with coffee, baked goods, and a new rear rim.

Trinidad asked me if I was good for money before he left.  He struck me as the sort of guy who works hard for his money and doesn't have a lot to spare.  I've been there myself, so I told him not to worry about it.

Vince and Sarah told me the repairs would be about $100.00 but by the time I was done telling stories, they knocked it down to $58.00.  Just parts, really.  Vince even went so far as to take the rim off of another bike since he didn't have the part needed on hand.

They told me a few stories of their own, gave me some route advice through the city, and if I ever go through Omaha again you can be sure I'm dropping in to see them.  Take care, you guys, and thanks again. :)

Thought for the day: Evidently the wheel was the only thing damaged.  Makes sense as the bike was still upright when it was hit.  I must have just made it out of there, though.

A bit of excitement, explained.

I'm over halfway through Iowa now (Nov 16), but there is a storm coming this morning so I have decided to hunker down for an hour or two, let the rain pass, and get some writing done.

Let's start with the evening of Nov 12.  I had biked from my last Nebraska camp in Schuyler, gone through Fremont, and was on route 36 heading for Bennington and North Omaha.

Then I was hit by a car.

The man who hit me goes by the name of Trinidad, and it really wasn't his fault.  Two vehicles ahead of him someone turned without signaling making the vehicle ahead of him slam on the brakes, leaving Trinidad with a choice of either swinging into oncoming traffic or swinging onto the berm.  Given the angle and the other vehicles, he couldn't see that I was on the berm until it was too late.

Then I was hit by the car. 

Scratch that.  The bike was hit by a car.  I evidently made some wild leap at the last second, and, after flying through the air, landed safely on my feet just beyond the accident.  I like to imagine I soared like an eagle but I'm pretty sure it looked more like the wild flailings of someone who just shouldn't be on the high dive to begin with.

I say "evidently I leapt" because its hard to remember exactly.  I heard the screeching brakes, looked behind me, and time slowed down.

"That car is about to hit me," I recall thinking.

Then time sped up. 

The next clear memory I have is me standing beside the car with that thrill one gets as death or injury is narrowly evaded.

Trinidad was incredibly apologetic and very glad that I was okay.  I rode the bike a few yards to see if it was still working properly (he hit it square on the back tire and it launched forward like a spring) and everything seemed good.  Trinidad gave me his number just in case and I gave him mine.  He reassured me several times that I could call him if anything went wrong.

Trinidad drove off then, and I swear I didn't make it ten yards before I noticed the rear wheel was rubbing the brakes.  I flipped the bike over, spun the wheel, and sure enough it was bent.  I probably would have noticed sooner but the adrenaline was still going.

About this time Officer Johnston (or was it Johnson) showed up.

"Pardon me, Sir, but were you just hit by a car?"

"Yes Sir, that was me."

I explained to him what had happened, reassured him that I was not in need of medical attention, and told him I was just about to call Trinidad and see if he would give me a ride to the nearest bike shop.

File this use of motorized transport under "life threatening circumstances" or "compliance with local authorities" because neither the officer nor myself wanted to see me carry a busted bike ten or fifteen miles into town.

Long story short, I called Trinidad, called a few bike shops, and got a ride where I needed to go. 

Officer Johnston let me sit in the heated cruiser until Trinidad arrived and even held a light for us (it was getting dark by then) as we took the wheels off and put the bike into Trinidad's back seat.

The shop I ended up at not only served coffee and baked goods but was also staffed by awesome people.  More on this next post. :)

Thought for the day: Leaping high and clear of imminent automotive wrecks makes one feel awesome regardless of the amount of flailing involved.

A bit of excitement.

A bit of excitement before leaving Nebraska today.  Its going to take some telling though, so it'll have to wait till morning.  Going to sleep for now.

In Iowa.

I slept five times in Nebraska.  One more than what I estimated due to that cold snap yesterday (Nov 11; I only went 25 miles that day.)

I'm only just over the Missouri river tonight (in Council Bluffs), so I'm guessing at least three more sleeps in Iowa after this one.  We shall see.

The Missouri River

Corn mountains.

Because according to Nebraska a town isn't really a town without a few corn mountains.

The granary is easily the biggest structure in every town I've passed. 

There are corn kernels mixed with the gravel in the cracks in the road.

Sometimes a truck will pass and I can smell the fermented corn mash.

Nov. 9th, 10th, and today.

After my mighty 150 mile run, I took the next day easy (some 60 miles), ate plentifully, and went to sleep early.  I might have gone further but my chain developed a slackness I was unable to correct.

Yesterday, (Nov 10th) the wind was sometimes with me and rarely against.  I pulled 120 miles exactly (marker 250 to 370).  This put me in the little town of Duncan just a few miles from Columbus Nevada.  It was a good day.

I would have left the state today (Nov 11th) giving me 4 sleeps in Nebraska; however the weather took an abrupt shift.

The cold north wind made itself known.The temperature dropped from about 50 degrees to near 11 with the wind chill.  Even sitting in this cantina in Schuyler, I can feel the cold seeping in through the glass on the doors and windows.  Makes me shiver.

The forecast said it was coming so I took the day to get my bike tuned up (two broken spokes and a new chain) and then called it quits after a hard fought 25 miles.  The wind was brutal even as a crosswind, and absolutely devastating when it was against me.

I just ate some giant tamales, cooked in the husk and am looking forward to my bivvy tonight.  There is something very wonderful about being out in the freezing cold, yet being warm and comfy.  It makes it easy to hibernate.

I'm not worried about being cold tonight with all the wool and the sleep sack I'm packing, though I may not rise as early tomorrow.

The wind is supposed to die down considerably tomorrow and by Wednesday it will warm up to about 50 and sunny again.  Not sure if I will leave Nebraska tomorrow or Wednesday.

Ogallala , Ogallala, golly what a day.

The night of November 7th I camped just a mile or so east of Northport.  I decided to get a long rest and see just how far an early start and a lot of coffee could take me.

Yesterday, November 8th, saw me clear past Ogallala, back onto route 30, past Sutherland and North Platte, to a field a little outside of the small town of Maxwell Nebraska.  Estimated distance for the day is just over 150 miles.

It was a slight downhill grade and with the wind for much of it.  Even so, I did finally get tired.  I had a few steep climbs and crosswinds for about 20 miles near Ogallala. 

I pedalled long after dark and crossed a time zone in there somewhere.  The night was clear and full of stars.  There is a little town (some of them very little) every 10 or 15 miles along this river, and the land is so broad and flat, I could often see the glow or even the lights of the next town as soon as I left whatever one I was in.  It got a little surreal sometimes when the coffee ran low and I watched, bit by bit, those distance lights creep slowly towards me.

When I finally did sleep, I slept well and an hour or two later than usual this morning. Most any aches or stiffness I might have had seem to have disappeared during my rest.

It's sunny and warm and downhill again today.  I'm eager to be off.

(Extra points if you get the song reference in today's title.)

Shortcuts

Nebraska Sunset and Buffalo

Nebraska (nov 7)

Nebraska is rolling hills, grassland, and corn.  The irrigation rigs are still many, but its not dessert dry like the last three States have mostly been.

It's still Autumn here, and the corn harvest is not yet finished.  I feel I have left winter behind me in the mountains, at least for now.

Have made Northport (Bridgeport) some 70 miles from Torrington.  Going to try for a few more miles yet tonight.  Wind was sometimes with me, sometimes against.  Tomorrow's forecast is sunny and with the wind.

8 Nights in Wyoming.

Fair thee well, Wyoming.  It was fun getting to know you.

Leaving canyon country.

Hit Douglas yesterday (the 5th).  Just a short day, 40 or 50 miles, but quite a but was on back roads.

Am in Guernsey now (65 miles or so).  Hit a few hills today and had to fight the wind for a bit when the road twisted and turned.

Will try to get near Torrington tonight.

All the storms missed me. :)

Should be leaving canyon country soon and getting into the great flatlands.

I've been through the dessert on a bike with no name.

I am looking for suggestions on what to name the bicycle.

My scarf has been dubbed "The Scarf of Destiny" but also goes by the name of "Scarf Russo".

Any ideas for the bike?

(The picture is from the hills near Alcova).

Casper and Onwards (Nov 5)

I made it to the outskirts of Casper last night.  All in all about 110 miles, a new personal best.

The track through the great divide basin was cold, desolate, and troubled by a crosswind.  The first town I was aiming for, Lamont, really isn't there anymore.  It consisted of one closed cafe, a single dog, and a few trailers; a ghost town in the making.

After that, though, it was (mostly) downhill following the North Platte River.  A trend that should continue the rest of Wyoming and all the way through Nebraska. 

The hills near Alcova are beautiful, and the single restaurant/bar there is still open.

Right now, I am in a cafe in Casper (my first city in a while) waiting for the phone to charge and drinking coffee.

Over the next two or three days I aim to pass through Glenrock, Douglas, Guernsey, Torrington, and Scottsbluff, all along the river.

The mountains are behind me now, though I can still see them.  Time to see how the plains treat me. :)

Nov 4rth

Made 87 miles to Alcova today.  Still have some daylight. Headed for Casper.  might make it tonight.  :)

Mr. Mike Willard (Nov. 3rd)

Joy's father Mike caught up with me in Rawlins this evening.

Excellent sort of fellow.

He bought me diner and provided me with some great company.  I haven't been this full since the tater tot incident in Blackfoot.  (You can ask Joy or Cousin Mike about that one).  We talked maps and routes for a bit.  He even called his uncle up for dome extra local information.

When we parted, he told me to give him a ring if the night got too cold, but he didn't seem to think it odd when I told him I had already scouted a good windbreak nearby to spread out my bivvy.  I like that. 

Maybe its because he's from Wyoming and therefore knows its not really THAT cold tonight.  Not if you have the right gear anyway.

So I'm nestling down in my sack feeling warm, fed, and cozy.  G'night all :)

Rawlins before the storm.

Made Rawlins via some more back roads today about 3:30pm.

Snow storm followed soon after.

Decided to go no further this evening/night.

Debating whether to bunker down and wait for warmer weather Wednesday or just take a few low mile on pavement days.

Thinking of heading slightly north through Lamont and Alcova towards Casper and lower elevations.

So far have been warm and comfy in Wyoming, even while traveling.

Somewhere near the great divide. (Nov 2)

Sights from today. (Nov 2)

Wamsutter (Nov. 2nd)

Hard to stay off of the interstate today. 

Took absurd off road trails.

Was on dirt roads, packed roads, unpacked roads, sand roads, gravel roads, red gravel roads, less than 1 mile of pavement, and a road that wasn't so much a road as just a place where the sage didn't grow as high.

Made about 40 miles round a bout and ended in Wamsutter.  Have a lead on a path that will get me to Rawlins tomorrow.  No time estimates yet.  We will see how this next "road" looks.

Saw many free range horses, antelope, and a herd of some 40 or 50 elk (maybe more) moving fast south along the sage land. Was magnificent to see.

I crossed over the great divide into the great divide basin today somewhere along a rough cow path.  It looked like a little hill to me.

Met Jim and Wayne in Wamsutter.  Are up from Georgia building apartments for the oil employees here.  Was offered shower and place to sleep in their camper.  Had me at 'shower'. 

Jim tells me there is only one two-story building in town.  They are building a second one.  They town does have a post office, grocery store, and two cafes though.  Lots of trailers and oil money here.

Wyoming has finally started looking flat.  High and flat and very sandy.

Table Rock (Nov 1st, after nightfall)

Have reached sparse country near Table Rock about half way between Rock Springs and Rawlins.

Made good time despite late start.  Had to go over gear and resupply before leaving Rock Springs.

Estimate of 65 miles today over rough terrain.

Have found cozy spot out in sage.  No moon.  Perfectly clear sky.  Many stars.

Should make Rawlins tomorrow evening/night at latest.

The Mountain Boy took roads that even angels feared to tread.

Crossing Fish Creek Pass (oct. 29th)

Leaving Mike and Joy's Place

The Potato Museum

So here we are. (Oct 30th)

I will most likely be crossing the Idaho border today.  Against all wisdom and advice I am heading across Wyoming.  I've picked up route 30 and like an old friend I greeted it well. 

Route 30 goes through my hometown. It goes 15 miles north of the family farm.  It's taken me in the past to good memories in Pittsburgh with Tall Josh and Kristi.   It's taken me with brother Trujillo and the Mandrake towards New York, the Jersey Shore, and back.  Route 30 knows the way to the homes of my decade long friends Brad the Troll, Breton Claycomb,  Ian Gayman, and Russell Nycum.  I miss you guys.

It's just over two thousand miles to my home in PA along route 30 and I've just over a thousand dollars left in the budget. I'm not sure exactly how the budget was spent thus far, seeing as how I lost my first black notebook, but after the gear that I bought it seems about right. This leaves me with about 50 cents a mile which is less than I have been spending so far (minus the gear of course).  I don't think the money's going to run out.

I've got the scent of home and a straight road ahead of me.  I've got old devil winter breathing down my back, (and he's another old friend of mine).  I've got a bivvy sack good to 30 below, four layers of wool, and a pair of tires that no longer go flat.

Everyone I talk to says that Wyoming is a bad idea this time of year.  If the wind and the weather is even slightly with me, though, I'll be over the river by mid November and home in less than 40 days.  If it's against me, I doubt I'll make it through at all.  Either way, I think that Wyoming and Nebraska are going to be the telling States. Either I'll break the back of this thing that I'm doing, or the Great Plains will break me of the want to keep going.

If I do have to call it in and take a train, I think that's going to be alright. I may have played in the Mountains for so long that I've let winter catch up with me.  If I had it to do it over, though, I do it the same.

See, the truth is I feel good, I feel happy, and I feel peaceable. Somewhere along the line I got what I came for out here. Now, I just aim to drive it home.

The next few posts are likely to be often but short. I've got a lot of riding to do and a short amount of time if I want to get clear before Wyoming becomes truly impossible.

Wish me luck; I'm going to need it. :-)

The Kids.

Kaycen is always kind of blurry (he never stops moving...ever). 

I don't have a photo of Brandi as she wasn't wearing any makeup yet that morning, though truth be told she doesn't need it.

The Kukri Knife.

The forge.

Pat forging the knife.

Cousin Mike and Joy (a brief recount)

I left Pat and Brandi, mailed my warm weather gear back home, and proceeded all of thirty miles or so to Blackfoot.

I spent Saturday, October 19th to Sunday, October 27th in the company of Cousin Mike and his long-while lady, Joy.  I met Joy briefly when she and Mike came up to visit at Pat and Brandi's.  I took to her immediately and, after a week of staying with her and Mike, I already love her forever.  In addition to being full of hugs, smiles, philosophy, beauty, and cheer; she is also a leather worker who is making me a sheath for the kukri Pat forged.

Mike is the eldest of us cousins (There are 23 of us total, 20 still above ground).  He and Joy treated me to a comfy cot, a lot of food, a trip to the Idaho Potatoe museum (which was in equal parts wonderful, awful, and awfully wonderful).  They also treated me to a night or two on the town where I treated myself to the first hangover I've had in years.

They were so welcoming, I honestly think that if I had stayed another day I wouldn't have left all winter. 

It was great to see both my cousins after being so long separated from them.  It was even better seeing them both doing so well and with fine young ladies on their arms.

Cousin Pat and Brandi (a brief recount)

On Sunday, September the 29th I reached Cousin Pat's place in Idaho Falls and didn't leave again until Saturday, October 19th.

I spent time with Brandi and the kids; getting to know them and playing whatever games the kids invented. 

I went hunting and horseback riding for a week with Pat and his buds, building fires and cooking prairie grouse; then teaching the kids how to do the same when Brandi and they came up to meet us.

Brandi is a wonderful host and a fantastic cook.  I did what I could to help around the house, fixing small things and helping with the dogs and horses.  I did a bit in the garden, finished painting a bit of their deck, and tried to help a bit with the kids.

Brandi doesn't talk overmuch, but has a beautiful smile.  She's hard to read, especially at first (I honestly don't know how Pat knows when he's done something right or not), but a talk with her sister and a really wonderful thank you card dispelled any doubts I had as to whether she liked my presence or was merely being polite.  It's something when someone prone to being reserved goes out of their way to tell you how much they appreciate you.

Cousin Pat is as ornery as ever, yet somehow marriage seems to suite him.  The man gifted me a pair of boots, a pair of jeans, a hat, some field specs, and then forged me a kukri knife out of an old leaf spring.  I had to leave the hat behind as I couldn't figure out how to pack it.  I'll be back for it someday.

All in all they fed me, housed me, gave me gifts, and cured me of any loneliness I might have been feeling. 

I didn't write much during that time.  I mostly seem to write when I'm alone.  People are, in the end, worth more to me than words, I guess.

It felt like a place that was fast becoming home.  Even more so as I was glad to have a bit of work to do.

It was hard to leave.

Back on the road.

I never did finish my recap about the route between Boise and Idaho Falls.

I might get to it after but my writing is running behind and there are other things to say. 

Suffice it for now to say that the trip involved 2 one hundred mile days, a hot spring in a cow pasture where I may or may not have been woken by a troop of naked Europeans filming a music video, old lava country, and some of the most lonely dessert I have yet to encounter.

Also there where potatoes...and zucchini bread. 

I lingered since then, first with family in Idaho Falls and then in Blackfoot.

Tarrying near a month may be what let's the winter catch me, but it was worth it.  More on this next post.

Heading for Idaho Falls Recap 1(Sept. 25th and 26th)

Sherry made me another fine breakfast.  I tarried late through the morning and at about 10:30 I hit the road.

Now Boise is a fine town for biking in. It has paths and parks and bike racks all over the downtown.  I soon found out though, that it's a very hard town to bike out of.

I was trying to avoid the freeway if I could.  I found a bike path down South Federal Way that took me about as far as Gowen Road before it petered out.

Gowen took me to South Eisenmen which led to West Eisenmen which, according to google, was connected via a dirt road to Kuna Mora road.

Turns out that dirt road was not only fenced off and gated, but had actually been disced under.  It had been done so recently that the disc was still sitting there.  So I back tracked and I looped around.

Things were further complicated by occasional rain showers and back roads that were ribbed like washboards.

Eventually, after two days of travel, sleeping in two barns on account of rain storms, a lot of meandering, and a brief meal in Mountain Home, I finally arrived on Route 20 and set off properly for Idaho Falls.

(The first barn was mostly abandoned, very comfy, and sheltered me from a very long and heavy downpour.  The second barn was definitely in use, rather open and drafty, and was the best I could find amidst the darkness and intermittent rain bursts.  It sure beat getting rained on, though, so I tacked a thank you note and a ten dollar bill to an indoor post before leaving.)

Boise Recap 3 (Sept 24rth)

I awoke the next morning with more stiff muscles and kinked spots than I expected.  On my own, I had been waking up a few times a night to shift positions usually due to the cold nights.  At Sherry's, it felt like I didn't move all night long.  Some quick stretches sorted me out though, and Sherry put on some fine eggs with omelette vegetables for breakfast.

Nikki was, unfortunately, unable to meet me as planned that morning due to a last minute Doctor's appointment.  So (after another long and excellent conversation with Sherry), I took Gus for a walk, put him back in the house, and set off towards the Gernika and the museum on my own.

I made some stops at a Post Office and a bookstore; I finally mailed back my bear canister, and I got myself a new travel log. Then I hit the Gernika. 

I ate three full lunches before I left.  I had a lamb grinder, a local beer, a solomo pork sandwich, a chorizo sausage and two orders of something unique called croquetas.

There were peppers and onions on just about everything, french rolls in abundance, and cheese and mushrooms with the grinder.

The croquetas, they told me, take days to make.  If I recall correctly, they cook down chicken, onions, cheese and possibly a few other things for hour after hour until it's all a single, smooth consistency similar in both texture and appearance to mashed potatoes.  Then, just before serving, they roll it up into little bite sized balls and deep fry it.  They are both fattening and delicious.

Noticeably wider in the middle now, I walked down the block to take a tour of the museum.

It was a smallish Museum, well kept, with some very excellent exhibits.  I learned quite a bit about the Basque homeland and how many of them eventually immigrated to Boise.  The number of different sports they invented surprised me, and I thought the photos of the Ellis Island immigrants were particularly moving.

My museum tour done, I returned to Sherry's, picking up a bottle of wine and a few deserts by way of saying thank you.  Another nap and some writing and the day was all but done.

As the evening wore on, Sherry returned from a busy day of her own with a few Gyros in tow.  We spent the evening the way we spent the morning, eating and talking, this time about energy systems, movies, motivations, debts, religion, and a huge host of other things.

I accepted another night's stay from her and went to sleep well contented. 

(Sherry ran my things through the laundry at some point, as well.  I really couldn't have asked or hoped for a better host.)

Boise Recap 2 (Sept 23rd, evening.)

Sherry was on her way home and, without ever meeting me, told me where her place was and where I could find a spare key.

So I made my way to Sherry's place, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by her trust towards a complete stranger.  I cleaned myself up a bit, rested for a while, and then (at Sherry's request) rode out to meet her, her daughter Nicki, and her great big dog Gus at a cafe known to cater towards cycling enthusiasts.

Sherry is tall; full of light and life.  Nicki, an anthropologist who teaches at the nearby university, struck me as very practical; more reserved than her mother, but very friendly.  Gus is a big, black, old dog who still thinks he's a pup.

They treated me to wine and pizza, told me stories, and I told mine.  We talked about traveling, and philosophy, anthropology, and history, about Neanderthals, Europe, and the Basques (Nicki's specific area of expertise).

They convinced me that in the morning I should accompany Nicki to the Boise Basque museum and a Basque Pub called the Gernika.

So, after a night of good food, good wine, and good company, we parted ways. Sherry and I met back at her place and she set about making me at home.

Her house is comfy and decorated like my Aunt Rose's drum circle studio.  It's the sort of place that is designed, by use of warm colors and a  hint of incense, to make a stranger relax and feel like a stranger no longer. 

So I slept long, and I slept well; eager to see what the following day would bring.

Boise to Idaho Falls Recap 1 (Arrival at Boise)

I came in to Eagle, a town so close to Boise I can't tell them apart, on the 23rd of September.

I was feeling pretty good with my 100+ mile day.  I  did some resupplying, and took my bike into a place call Ridgeline Specialty Sports.  There I met Matt and Mark, some pretty knowledgeable fellas in the bike field. They gave the bike a quick once over, put some tire liners in to help ward off the puncture vines, and threw a shot of what they called "the cocktail" into each tube. It was a mix of greenish goo and some other stuffs that clogs up minor holes (basically, it's bike fix a flat).  They did all this on the cheap and even took time, free of charge, to help me plan a route out of Boise.  I'm glad they did, cause while Boise is a wonderful town to bike in, it's very difficult to bike out of it.

While all this was going on, I was attempting to find a hostel or similar lodging so as to take an evening's rest.  I knew I had some pretty lonely desert coming up.  I figured maybe I should rest up a bit before I left town.

I got in contact with a woman named Sherry, and my stay in Boise took a dramatic turn for the better. 

She runs The Pink House B&B.  I called asking if it was a hostel and found it wasn't.  She gave me some contact info for a hostel down the street.  It had closed, and I figured that was the end of it.  Time to move on.

Sherry called me back. "Did you get a hold of them?" she says, or something to that effect. 

"No," I say, "They closed down."

"Well, would you like to crash on my couch?" She asks.

"Yes," I say, "Yes, I do."

Still kicking (Oct. 2nd)

This post is mostly just to let everyone know I am still alive.

These kids are an endless supply of sound and motion.  They keep me pretty busy.  Biking a few hundred miles can't hold a candle to the energy involved looking after and entertaining these three for half a day.

I'll get some writing done tomorrow, hopefully, while they are at their aunt's place.  Till then, goodnight all.

Cousin Pat's Place

After two 100 mile days and a lot of dessert wind and lonely country, I have today arrived at my cousin Pat's house.

Pat isn't home just now (I arrived very early due to the bike), but his wife has been very welcoming. 

This ends the first leg of my journey.  I haven't tallied it up in full, but I estimate an even thousand miles.

Pat has scheduled off a few weeks work so that when I leave here it'll be by horseback at his side.  I am thoroughly excited. 

My early arrival has thrown things off, though, so my stay may be a week or two (or three) longer than originally planned.  I'm not sure how much longer just yet.  I'll have to talk to Pat before I know.

Furthermore, due to the extended nature of my stay, I will be temporarily suspending the rules.  It seems like I've been bending the rules left and right, but what can I say.  I am perhaps just not so hardcore as some.

The truth is that Brandi and Pat have three young children and have been kind enough to take me in.  I can be more help and less trouble on them, I think, if I put the rules on hold.  Young parents have enough on their plates without a long term houseguest who stubbornly refuses to ever get into a car. 

I will however keep to the rules today (the day of my arrival) and the last day (the day of my departure).  This feels like a good compromise and is good enough for me.  I hope it doesn't break the spirit of things for those who have so avidly followed me.

Many Miles

Boise (and the trip afterwards) has been very eventful.  I've made 193 miles in the last two days despite taking time to sight see and soak in a hot spring.  I'll be reaching my cousin's place today. 

I'll be taking a break there for a week or two as we plan our horseback trip, and I gear up for colder weather.  It'll be nice to visit his family.  I'm looking forward to the company.

Once there, I shall do a Boise to Idaho Falls recap.  I've been taking notes as I go.  For now, though, I ride.

Dessert Rain

Have much to say about the incredible hospitality encountered in Boise (so good I stayed an extra day!), but am very tired.  Will tell the tale tomorrow.

Have made some miles today but was caught by massive rain storm (It has been raining an awful lot in this dessert).  Have taken shelter in an old barn.  Very warm. Very dry.  :)  Barn does not appear to be in use.  1/2 way repaired and empty. 

Am not quite to mountain home area but rain coming in buckets.  No more traveling tonight.

Highway 55 (sept. 22nd)

(Midday)
Flat for a few miles out of New Medows, uphill for about 4.5 and then downhill all the way to McCall.  Slightly downhill to Donnelly after that, then flat open spaces and more headwind.  After 8 or 10 miles of such, have started uphill climb again. 

Not quite the downhill run to Boise I was hoping for, but easier than canyon country.  Here it's either uphill or headwind, not both.

Traffic very heavy with people leaving resort towns for Boise.

(After Dark)
After about a dozen miles of fighting the wind on the flats past Cascade, I hit a downhill canyon run following the Payate River all the way to the Town of HorseShoe Bend  (miles and miles). The wind was still against me, sometimes light and sometimes hard, but it didn't matter.  It's like having wings.  The canyons are just as Beautiful on the way down.  Good rafting country.

Just past HorseShoe Bend was another 6 mile climb and then down hill to Boise.  I've stopped shy of the city.  102 miles total today.  And goodnight.

Uphill and More Wind (21 Sept.)

Midday
Took care of the punctures in my tire this morning.  Still air was a blessing. 

Its been uphill ever since White Bird.  Not a very steep grade, but mile after mile of it with a stiff headwind left my legs a touch sore this morning.  First time this has happened.

Been crawling along up the Salmon and Little Salmon Rivers.  Made some 20 additional uphill miles this morning but now wind is picking up again.  Need a topograph. Wondering how much longer this grade can keep going.

Evening
Wind didn't get too bad.  Not like yesterday.  Estimate 53 miles uphill from White Bird to meadow valley about 11 miles shy of New Meadows (where I am now) getting progressively steeper the whole time.  The uphill plus the headwind really did me in.  It seems I am no true cyclist.  (Did a total of about 80 miles the last two days).

Rumor is  there is about 5 miles of flat followed by 5 miles of climbing followed by a downhill run all the way to Boise.  It sounds nice.

Despite the wind and the grade the land was stunning the whole way.  It started as wide, fertile canyon bottom and rose into a place of pines, stone, and small waterfalls.  When it finally leveled out, the land became high meadow and beef pasture.

Moods (Sept 20, at nightfall)

My mood each day is solid through morning, midday, and such.  I have noticed that setbacks affect me most if they happen in the evening.  Dusk gets lonely.

Often, if I haven't found a good campsite by evening time, I start to feel a twinge of sky sickness.  Its a feeling of being too exposed; too far from cover.  This abates if I find a good spot, somewhere hidden and protected from any chill breeze that might come in off of the prairie. 

Its been prairie country now for a few days.  Since I entered Idaho, nearly.  I enjoyed the sage deserts with their pine trees, but I'm happy to leave the treeless "scab lands" behind.  I didn't realize how much I missed the pines until I could smell them again near Winchester.

I found a good place tonight.  I think I'll sleep well.

Puncture Vines

Was making decent progress today (50 miles) despite the headwind.  Wind has died down now, and temperature is perfect but have hit another puncture vine.  Multiple holes in both tubes now.

Below are pics of an example of the vine along with a closeup.

Wind and Grade. (Sept. 19 and 20)

Left Sweetwater, passed through Culdasac, and climbed 15 miles of hill called Old Winchester Grade yesterday.  8 or 9 miles was particularly steep.  I'm told that the steepest part was 3 miles at a 25% grade.  The view was beyond worth it.

Camped last night at Tolo lake.  Did White Bird grade this morning.  What a ride! Yesterday felt like it was all up hill.  White Bird was 8 miles of steep downhill grade after only two or three miles climb.

Been fighting a headwind the entire length of 95.  Wind is always from the South.  Particularly strong today.

Days are hot (90 degrees), nights are cold by comparison (40 degrees).

Front tire has been soft the last two mornings.  A quick pump up and it lasts all day.  Probably a slow leak from one of the many patches.

Wind continues to get stronger.  Constantly straining against pedals, especially on the flats.  I stop often to drink but wind leaves face and mouth quickly parched. 

Canyon country is beautiful.  Salmon river picturesque.

Pedalled other direction for 50 yards to see what a tailwind feels like.  I could make 100 miles with a tailwind like that!

Oh well.  At least no more major climbs today.

Crossed time zone today.  Had really big, inexpensive burger in an empty bar in White Bird. 

Had a slice of huckleberry pie at a mom and pop roadside grocery store/produce stand near Riggins.  Not worth the money. 

If you want good pie in this area go up to the Calamity Cafe in Winchester.  Its the best you'll find this side of my mother's oven.

A Better Story (Sept. 19 mid-day)

This post has been late in coming.  I should have posted it a while back.

As I've said before, my story is not so hard as many.  I was never beaten, starved, or abused.  I never fought with addiction, or cancer, or had to flee a foreign army.  There are plenty of other stories out there, harder won and better written.

There is no villain in this story, just a misinformed young man with a decade of unfortunate coincidences.  Turns out there are tens of thousands of people like me who got the same wrong advice.

My folks are good folks.  My mother used to mix boiled potatoes into the homemade bread to make sure we were eating right as kids, and my father never missed an opportunity to tell me how proud he was.

You can count the times they let me down or led me astray, and it comes to a total of about twice between the two of them.  In both cases they've worked hard to make up for it, so I hope I've not painted them in too harsh a light before now.

Besides, in the end it's given me something I value very highly: it's made for a better story.

No one who has read all I have written has given me harsh words, yet.  No one has given the folks harsh words either.  This gives me hope that I'm telling it right.

More updates to come.

Lapwai (Sept. 18)

Did not make if far today.  Maybe 10 miles into Lewiston and another 15 or 18 through Lapwai to near small town of Sweetwater.  Total 25, 30 miles at best.

Bought extra tubes in Lewiston just in case.  Hit another puncture vine on a bike path out of Lewiston.  Punctured front tire 4 times and rear tire once.  Mostly slow leaks.

Was feeling frustrated so stopped at cafe in Lapwai on Nez Pierce reservation.  Ate giant burger and talked with locals.

Everyone exceedingly friendly. 

Felt better.  Patched tires.  Patches holding.  Still have two extra brand new tubes.

Searched for 29 inch puncture proof tubeless tires.  Shops only have 26 inch tubeless tires.  Might mail order some.  Losing too much time patching things.  Everything has stickers and thorns on it.

Learned about Chief Joseph.  Good man.  Did good things for his people.

Going to sleep now. Hoping for early start tomorrow down 95 towards Boise.  Getting colder now.  There are trees again.

Since the Falls (Sept. 16th, 17th, and 18th)

Between the falls and this morning (Sept. 18), I have left the state of Washington. I haven't made many miles each day.  I keep getting caught in the rain.  I received 5 punctures in one tire and 6 in another, all from one five foot stretch of what looked like grass and turned out to be some sort of thorny weed someone had mown off.  I was chilled to the bone by the spray, and the wind, and the wet coming off of Alpowa Summit.  This is supposed to be dry country still.  The weather is being odd.

Somewhere last night I lost my travel book and my state map.  The map I can do without, but the book is sad loss to me. 

Among other things, it held the contact info for Cassie, a fellow cross country cyclist whom I met at the falls.  She was great company for a lot of reasons, not least of which her own stories, and now all I can do is just hope she might read this and send her information to me again.

I'd try to tell some of those stories here, but I don't want to get the details wrong.

All-in-All, though, things aren't too bad. I'm in Lewiston, just over the Idaho border and am looking forward to Pat's place.  My bike is fixed, and I found a warm, dry place to sleep last night despite the rain and the lack of anything you could string a hammock from.

It occurs to me that I would be making better time if I didn't write so much, (I often spend an hour or two each day just typing on his phone) but I think in the end I will be glad to have the record.

Be well all.  More updates to come.

Where I Went Swimming (Sept. 16)

I didn't stray far from the bank.  The water was deep and the current swift.

The Path Down Into the Palouse Falls Canyon

The Palouse Falls

Where the Storm Caught Me.

This picture was taken the next day after I went back to find my helmet.  You can see my rock.  There isn't much else.

The Storm (Sept. 15) Part 3 (Conclusion.)

I could only see a single vehicle and a single tent in the camp (there were more, but beyond the limited visibility I had). A man stuck his head out.

"Hello, the tent" I said, "I'm in a bit of a situation.". I explained quickly what had occurred.  "Can you take me to get my gear? I can pay."

"No money," he said, "just give me a minute."  He started to converse with someone else inside the tent.

Their names were also in the book I lost, but as I recall they went by James and Erika.  James said he was an even 6 feet tall, but for the sake of this narrative we are going to portray them both as seven feet in height surrounded by a glowing aura of kindness towards strangers.

They rearranged the things in their jeep (hastily thrown in when the storm approached), drove me out, helped me find my bike, phone, and pack (bone dry somehow, and right where I left them), and even took the front wheel off the bike so it would fit in the back.

Lightning still abounded as they helped me gather up the gear, but by the time we returned to the camp, the storm had ceased.

No more rain, wind, or lightning.  It was over. 

I'm not sure if the final rule applies to the trip for the gear, but my phone was pit there and you don't leave family thinking you're in danger a minute longer than necessary.  I ran the battery dead trying to tell Pat I was okay.  No one had any service.

I finally got a text message out to Pat on the cellphone of a ranger who came to check on the grounds.  Then I made camp and went to sleep.

As a final kindness, James let me charge my phone a little bit using the car charger before he and Erika left the next morning.  This allowed me to get some pictures of the falls and surrounding area the next day. 

I gave him and Erika my contact information and told them if they were ever out east to drop in and we would invent a holiday for them.

Thus passed the storm.

The Storm (Sept. 15) Part 2.

I was surprisingly comfortable in my scant shelter despite the hurricane quality of the winds.  In truth the windspeed would barely have made a category 1 hurricane, but there had been no news or weather alert (or warning at all).  People all over had been caught unaware.

I considered going to sleep.  Only the lightning and the possibility of a tornado still troubled me.  I was too high up and too exposed still to deal with either.

Then I saw headlights moving slowly along the road.  The moment I left the shelter of my rock the wind nearly ripped the tarp from my hands.  I sped back towards the roadway.  Someone must have seen my headlamp because the headlights slowed further.

The headlights became a van and the van stopped.  My pants got caught in the barbed wire fence.  The wind died down a hair.  I struggled for a minute, and the van began to pull away.  I broke free, tore a small hole in my tarp, and ran up to the vehicle.

"Is this tornado weather?" I shouted as the passenger window rolled down.

"Yes! What?" came the reply.

"Is there shelter at the camp site?"

"Yes?". He sounded hesitant. "You staying there?"

"I'm going there.  I'm on a bike.  Is it far?"

"Not far.  You can go there."

There were three young men and a lot of fishing gear in the car.  I was having trouble hearing due to the wind and, as good as their English was, the accents made me think maybe it was their second language.

"Is there shelter there?"

"Yes, and other people that can help you.  It's right back there.  You want me to drive you?"

The lightning lit up all around us.  The land was visible for a moment, high, open, and flat.  The dust was mostly gone, but the wind picked up again. 

"Sure," I said.  Final rule invoked.  Motorized vehicles are acceptable in the case of immediate physical danger, and a high plains full of lightning is a deadly place to be.  Beyond that, "Yes!  What?" was not a reassuring answer in regards to asking if it was tornado weather.

I left my bike behind and my pack out in the darkness.  I started to go back for the pack, but the fellow driving got a confused look as if maybe I didn't want a ride after all.  I decided not to chance it, and there wasn't much in the pack that wouldn't dry.

The camp site was just over a mile away.  When they pulled into the camp I reached for my wallet.  They waved me off. "No money" they said, so I reached for my travel book and wrote down their names instead.  I have since lost that book and, sadly, their names as well.

I got out and looked around.  The van pulled off.  There was wind and rain, but also trees and windbreaks, small hills and galleys.  It wasn't so fierce here.  There also was no ranger station, pavilion, or any other "shelter" that I could see.  I reached for my phone to tell Pat I was alright.  It wasn't there. In my mad dash for the road I had left it with my pack.

So there I was, standing in the rain with no phone and no gear other than my rain poncho. 

The rain picked up again.  There were already branches strewn along the ground and more began to fall from the trees.  To be continued...

The Storm (Sept. 15) Part 1

I had biked all day, and after Kahlotus, I was making slow time uphill through a hot, still evening.   A mile or three from the park entrance that led to the falls, a woman stopped to offer me a ride.  I thought this a bit odd. In hindsight I can't help but wonder if she knew what was coming.

As I neared the park entrance, I saw lightning in the distance on my right.  There were no trees about but I considered slinging my hammock between a road sign and a fence post.

That was when I realized the monster for what it was.  Cresting the southern hills was not a storm, but a nightmare of wind, dirt, and lightning.

It filled the horizon from ground to sky and ate the last of the fading daylight as it came.

I was at the turnoff for the falls park.  2 miles, the sign said, to the campsite.  Downhill and away from the coming wall of sand.  A campsite means the hope of trees, windbreaks, and maybe even a ranger station.  I swung hard to the left and put on the speed.

I learned later that the campsite is closer to 2.5 miles from the turnoff.  The cloud of sand chased me for a mile and better as it obliterated the landscape behind me. Then, about halfway,  the road hung a turn to the right, and the beast took me.  A ranger told me later that the winds were clocked at over 75 miles per hour and the front was moving at 45.

In a single second, the air turned from being dead still to a swirling maelstrom of sand and grit.  Darkness fell like an avalanche.  One minute I could see for miles and the next only a matter of feet at best.

I couldn't keep the bike upright so I let the force carry me off the bike and off the road into a ditch about 6 inches deep at best.  I ducked down as best I could but the cover was next to nothing.  "Is this tornado country?" I started to wonder.  "Is this normal?  How did no one I met today mention this?"

In a brief lull, I could see the vague outlines of a stone outcrop jutting up some 10 yards away.  Hoping for a gulley, I undid my pack, left the bike and jumped the barbed wire.  My bike helmet strap got caught, and I left it behind, dancing and jumping a jig on the wire. 

The stones were just stones; a windbreak the size of a dining room chair.  I broke out my rain poncho/tarp, hunkered down, and made the best of it.  Then came the rain.

So there I was, bundled dry under my tarp with the water rolling down off of it wondering how long it would be before the sky sucked me up or the lightning found my rock. 

My phone was near dead but I fished it out and shot a message off to cousin Pat: "If this windstorm is really a tornado you tell them I love them and I died happy and free."

As last words go, maybe not the best but good enough I figured.

To be continued...

Easy Morning (Sept 16)

Only have come about 8 miles today (Sept. 16 2:00pm).  Only been biking since a little after noon.  Stopped in marina/diner on the Snake River.

Spent much of morning talking with Cassie, another coast to coast cyclist, headed west.  More about this later. Also hiked down to the river above Polouse Falls this morning and went swimming for a bit before heading out, hence the late start.

Fought a strong headwind all 8 miles today.  My pack, clothes, and chest catch the wind like a sail.  I have to pedal often and hard even on the downhill.

They say its uphill to the town of Starbuck from here, but the wind looks like it will still be against me.  Gonna be a slow mile day.

Last evening a man at the museum/bar in Kahlotus recommended I see the falls.  The falls were 52 miles or so from where I started that morning between Othello and Connell.  I figured I could make the falls by dusk and pedal on a dozen or so more miles after dark like usual.  The Storm had other Ideas.

A Different Way (Sept 13 and 14)

(Sept. 13)
So after going to inquire about a permit to take the iron horse trail towards Spokane, I learned that though the trail is well kept up to Ellensburg, as you go further east it turns into a desolate mess of broken bridges, stony slides, and jurisdictional tangles.  The bridge over the Columbia was said to be in no fit state, and no one could tell me which way the alternate routes ran or provide a decent map.  So I took to the paved routes.

I went down Kittitas road, promptly got a flat, learned my patch kit is sub-par, and eventually used one of my spare tubes.  I made it about as far east as I was that morning and then slept (surprisingly well I might add).  I had biked about 30 miles all together and made 0 forward miles.  Oh well, the night was good.

Today (Sept. 14)
I biked some 65 miles and feel great.  I hit Vantage, used the freeway to cross the Columbia (a little hair raising), went uphill to a high plateau at Royal City, went through Othello, and am now back in the sage brush about a third of the way to Connell.  It was about 95 degrees today (and the two previous days) and it didn't even phase me.  My knee is feeling better, too. 

I'm no longer making for Spokane and Missoula.  I have decided to head for Clarkston/Lewiston and hit Idaho Falls from the East instead of the North.  There are more bike shops this way, and I need a better patch kit.

Scrubland

Sleeping in the scrub.  Clear stars above.  Listening to the coyotes, crickets, and the hum of distant cars.

Coming Down the Other Side. (Sept. 11th and 12th)

More Coming Down the Other Side (Sept. 11th and 12th)

Tunnel at the Top of the Pass.

Over two miles long, unlit, with the soot of old rail engines still clinging to the walls.  The day was hot.  The tunnel breathed ice cold air.

Coming up Snoqualmie Pass (West Side, Sept. 11th)

Rainforest to Desert in a Day.

After leaving the news crew in Cle Elum yesterday (sept. 12th) I kept east for some 39 miles along the Iron Horse Trail past Ellensburg and the little town of Kittitas.  It was late but I found a place to stop for supplies en route.

Having come over the pass the day before (sept 11th), the land abruptly changed from dripping conifers surrounded by lush ferns and waterfalls to dry pines surrounded by sand, scrub brush, and carefully measured canals.

Gone are the logging trucks and the fisheries; replaced by irrigated hay fields and beef pastures, beyond which stretch the dry brown hills.

The salt tang of the ocean is far behind now.  The air now has a scent like distant cedar smoke mixed with the strong incense smell of wild sage.  I'm in another world.  I drink three times the water but don't seem to sweat.  I have to use balm to keep my lips from chapping. 

Where before there were toads, huge slugs, eagles, and otters along my paths, now there are wild turkey, rabbit, and deer which move differently than the ones back home (they tend to bounce a lot here).  I surprised two skunks last night (without getting sprayed) and an owl whom I only know was an owl by the silence of its flight.

What a place this is, to be so different so suddenly.

I had to backtrack 12 miles to Ellensburg today due to a closed bridge and a trail permit you can only acquire here.  No worries though, as this allowed me to take my bike in for a tune-up (currently in progress).  There aren't many bike shops ahead for a while.

More posts (and pictures) to come.