Chuck's Big Ride

Day 16: Noxon, MT to Libby, MT - 49.4 Miles

We spent last night in Two Rivers RV Park in Noxon, Montana, right at the confluence of the Clark Fork and Bull Rivers.  There were other bikers at the RV park last night.  Two recently retired guys from Des Moines, Iowa, had begun their ride home from Anacortes.  I chatted a bit with the two of them, but didn't get their names.  Maybe I'll come across them again.  Dee had also spotted a couple—he on a recumbent, and she on an upright touring bike.  I didn't get a chance to talk with them last night.

Since the temperature was predicted to be cooler for the ride today, I decided to sleep in. I rolled out on the bike at 7:15 and began my ride up the beautiful Bull River valley.  There was still some fog around the river so the temperature was a little cool—just under 60 when I left the campground.  Here's one of the early morning views:

Contrary to the riding conditions warning on the map—"SR 56 offers grand scenery but poor riding: the road is narrow and curvy and a considerable number of logging and mining trucks use it"—SR 56 provided a great ride.  The road didn't seem particularly narrow, and the trucks that did pass (there were quite a few) gave me a wide berth.  The shoulder was not very wide, but it was level and free of many obstacles.  One thing I noticed was the lack of broken beer bottles.  I couldn't swear that folks that drive this road drink better beer, but they don't dispose of their bottles on the shoulder.

At a little over 15 miles, Bull River widens into the very large Bull Lake.  Dee noted, when we talked later, that the residences around the lake (vacation & permanent) varied widely from rustic cabins to McMansions. Here's a not-so-great photo of the lake from the northern edge:

At one point I spotted a sign that reminded me of signs I like to see, e.g. "bike lane," "share the road with bikes," and "free beer."  The latter usually comes with the caveat "tomorrow."  But, here's the sign that prompted my revery:

It's obviously a warning to trucks about a steep downhill coming up.  In this case a 7% grade.  For a cyclist going in the direction of the sign it's like a "Take a ride on the Reading" card in Monopoly.  It's a free ride.  This particular sign was a precursor of a long down-hill ride that got my maximum speed to just over 35 mph.

The turn onto US 2 brought a pleasant surprise.  The shoulder was now 10 feet wide and separated from traffic by a rumble strip.  And, in many places there was a 2-foot strip on the inside of the shoulder where it had not been chip sealed, which rendered the ride much smoother. Another long down-hill run came shortly after the turn, adding to my happiness. The only downside was there was more broken glass, though most was clear glass—moonshine jars?  There was, however lots of room to maneuver around the shards.

I couldn't pass up stopping at Kootenai Falls.  The information boards explaining the history and geology of the area were fascinating:

There were signs pointing to a path that lead to the falls.  I didn't have a bike lock with me today, so I took my bike along.  Here's what I saw:

The folks you see from behind, looking at the falls, are Betsy and Scott.  Turns out they were two of the other bikers in camp with us last night.  They're from San Jose.  They took the train to Bellingham to begin their ride to Whitefish, MT, where they'll catch a train home.

Here's a photo of them at the stairway from the train track crossing:

Yes, I did carry my bike down those stairs…and back up again.  In fact, here's proof (look carefully at the second flight of steps):

Most of the grade was in my favor on the 12-mile ride into Libby. On the way I spotted another of my favorite signs:

It says "Libby 3."  You could substitute any destination town and that would be a welcome sign.

I didn't see much wildlife today.  There was a deer, about 10 miles into the ride, that scampered into the woods too quickly for me to determine what type it was.  I saw another at about 30 miles, standing on the shoulder about 35 yards ahead of me.  It nonchalantly strolled into the woods and was out of sight before I closed the distance.

The only other living, wild creatures I spotted actually looked nearly domestic.  As I entered Libby, there they sat in a nest atop a utility pole—two hawks:

The roadside detritus inventory didn't increase by much today either.  There were a couple of shirts, a machine drive belt, and some pieces of rope.  Everything else was pretty much the same as I've seen elsewhere.

Skink (the Carl Hiassen character who lives on roadkill) would have had somewhat slim pickings today as well.  There were two very small mice (not together), a very small snake, a terribly battered rabbit, and two birds.

The temperature was about 76 when I arrived at the camp site, where Dee already had everything all set up.  Before showering I downed another bottle of cold water and a glass and a half of chocolate milk.  In the past year I've seen a number of articles promoting the value of chocolate milk as a recovery drink, including this one.  I could tell you that it's the reason I drink it, but the truth is that I just love chocolate milk.

Day 15: Sandpoint, ID, to Noxon, MT - 59.6 Miles

Yesterday we flew from Bellingham to Spokane and drove to Round Lake State Park, near Sandpoint.  When we arrived around 4pm, it was 101 degrees.

When we got to the park there were three bikers who had just resupplied their water and were ready to ride on.  Two were on a tandem and I asked if they were heading to Bellingham for next week's tandem rally.  "We've just come from Bellingham," the father informed me (turns out it was his daughter who was the stoker).  A second young woman was riding a road bike.  They had flown to Bellingham and were riding home to Maine.

We quickly set up and plugged in.  We're lucky to have air conditioning—it brought the temperature inside the Rialta down into the 80's.  We were also fortunate to have it during the night—not so much for the temperature, but the humidity climbed from around 17% to about 50% overnight.

Knowing it would be hot today, I set the alarm for 4:30am.  I woke a few minutes before the alarm and quietly got dressed, hoping not to wake Dee until the last minute before I took off.  It almost worked.  She woke up while I was downing one of Erin Baker's Breakfast Cookies. Too bad Erin's not sponsoring the ride. I've already eaten quite a few for breakfasts.

I was in the saddle and on my way by 5:06.  The sky was overcast and there was a light breeze, so the temperature was very pleasant.  Within 10 minutes of the park I saw my first wildlife of the day as a White Tail Deer scampered through the edge of the woods.

To the east I could see the sun beginning to peek over the edge of the mountains.  The only negative thing about that was that there were still mountains to the east.  So, it's not all downhill from here.

I added to my roadside inventory early today when I spotted a single glove.  Now I know where one glove goes, but I'm still puzzled about single socks.  I didn't discover much more that I hadn't seen before, but I saw more evidence of something I hadn't mentioned before—cigarette butts.  The troubling issue about seeing a cigarette butt on the edge of the road is the supposition that it was tossed from a car while still aflame, and the West is a tinderbox already this summer.

The traffic was light and I was able to easily get onto the shoulder of the usually-busy route 95, heading toward Sandpoint.  I had only taken along map #2 this morning, because getting onto the bike path a few miles north would just be a slam dunk…not so much.  I'm beginning to conclude (as I believe Beth Golay and others must have several days ago) that I may be navigationally challenged.  I knew I was supposed to get on the trail with a right turn at Eagle Rd.  So, I turned right.  About a mile later I realized I'd missed the trail, so I turned back and called Dee.  "Would you please read me the instructions on map #1 for getting on the trail," I asked.  "It just says, 'bear right,'" she said.  So, I got back to route 95 and discovered that the trail began right there, right where I had turned.  I just didn't look the right direction.  Oops.  Drop a few more pennies in the jar, Beth.

I quickly discovered that I would have been much better off to have missed the turn entirely and to have stayed on the shoulder of route 95.  The trail was very rough, with deep ruts and tree roots thrusting out of the asphalt.  I came to the conclusion early, then came across a sign saying "rough trail ahead."  They were right to have marked it.  The trail across Pend Orielle Lake, is on the third of four Long Bridges to be built there.  The first, built in the early 1900's, was wooden, and was claimed to be the longest wooden bridge in the world.  While the separation from traffic was great, and having a two-lane road pretty much to one's self isn't bad, the cracks and expansion joints in the old bridge made for less-than-smooth riding.  As the bridge becomes a causeway, the trail narrows and dips down within 10 feet of the lake, on much smoother asphalt.

I've joked about being a bit tender where the body meets the saddle, but it has been mostly a joke.  You could say I've been the butt of my own joke, or perhaps more accurately, the joke of my own butt.  Truth be told, my seat isn't my greatest problem  Between good bike shorts, Chris's "Magic Cream," and the BodyFloat Isolation Seat Post that I've mentioned, my behind is not in bad shape.

I only wish I had isolation handle bars.  In spite of continuously changing positions, my hands regularly go numb.  So numb at times, that shifting becomes an issue.  I also, like nearly every biker I've talked to, have a tendency to hunch my shoulders, causing tight shoulder and neck muscles.  In "off-season" (meaning anytime the weather is the least bit inclement in Bellingham) I participate in early morning spin classes at Fairhaven Fitness/Bellingham Tennis Club.  All of the instructors are terrific—Robin, Thierry, Elizabeth, but it's Scott's voice I hear in my head when I ride: "get your shoulders out of your ears."  Scott moved to Portland a couple of years back, but his influence continues.

Other than the White Tale Deer first thing this morning, and a toad that I barely missed on the shoulder, the wildlife I spotted today was avian.  There were dozens of ducks and geese in the rivers and lakes that dominated much of my ride.  Then I came upon this pond, with a log jam.

Among the logs there were several Herons, including this one:

 

These look like they could be remnants of a wild life:

Look at the fins on this one:

These old cars and trucks were all at a rock quarry, looking almost as if they were artifacts that had been unearthed there.

Dee planned to drink her coffee, break camp, get some groceries, and meet me in Hope for breakfast.  I arrived before she did, only to learn there was no Hope for breakfast.  We'd have to trundle on down the road a few miles to find a spot, so we headed on to Clarks Fork and the Cabinet Mountain Bar and Grill.  We had a hearty breakfast, and great conversation with the waitress and cook.  While Dee was waiting for me to arrive, she overheard the waitress telling a local patron that the owner of the restaurant was the pilot of the sightseeing plane that crashed in Alaska last Thursday.

Eating in this small town restaurant reminded me of William Least Heat Moon's book Blue Highways (a great read, by the way).  In it he opined that one could judge how good a restaurant was by the number of calendars on the wall.  We didn't spot any calendars here, but there was a large photograph of a brown bear on the pontoon of a float plane.  The connection to the pilot/owner didn't strike us until later.  We hadn't noticed any calendars in the great restaurant at Lake Bonaparte either, but the wall was filled with one dollar bills—all of which had been written upon, and various photos and artifacts, including a Jackalope.  So maybe the theory needs to be broadened a bit to cafés and restaurants that have unusual attractions on the wall.  And, in case you've never seen a Jackalope:

I had fewer than 20 miles left in today's ride, but the terrain became hillier and now I was also hauling chicken fried steak with gravy, hash browns, eggs, and toast—I said it was a hearty breakfast. The ride was slower, but very scenic.  This was the area that had been covered in more than 2400 feet of glacier during the last ice age—imagine Space Needles stacked four high.  Signs at roadside turnouts explained the Sandpoint ice dam, Lake Missoula and the flood(s) that created the landscape of much of the Northwest.

This was the first sign that I saw that let me know I had crossed into Montana:

I saw signs that said it was unlawful to introduce invasive species or drive without one's seat belt fastened, as well as a sign telling me that the white crosses that indicate traffic fatalities are maintained by the American Legion. But, what I didn't see was a "Welcome to Montana" sign—a fact that gave me pause.  I'm hoping it was an oversight, or a money-saving plan, because I'm going to be riding more than 700 miles in this state, and I'd like to feel welcome.

 

Days 10 through 14 - In Bellingham for Chuckanut Writers Conference

Last Wednesday Dee and I flew from Spokane, through Seattle, to Bellingham.  As she posted on Facebook, "It took 8 days to cross WA west to east and 41 minutes to come back east to west."

We came back for the Fifth Annual Chuckanut Writers Conference.  The conference, as usual, received rave reviews from attendees and faculty alike.  And, speaking of faculty, look at this amazing lineup

The weather was terrific, and allowed attendees and faculty to gather and talk outside during breaks and during lunch.

It's so gratifying to see what this great partnership with Whatcom Community College has done with this conference.  Several faculty have told us that it's the best one they've ever attended.  The planning team deserves a big shout out—Jessica Lohafer, the Conference Chair; Shandeen Gemanis, Manager of WCC's Community & Continuing Education Program; and Paul Hanson, General Manager of Village Books.  Anyone with an interest in writing should mark his or her calendar for June 24 & 25, 2016, for the Sixth Annual Chuckanut Writers Conference.

Later this morning Dee and I fly to Spokane and drive to Round Lake State Park, near Sandpoint.  Tomorrow morning—likely very early to avoid the heat of the day—I'll resume my ride.

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Day 9: Ione, WA to Sagle, ID - 78.6 Miles

It was very sunny, but quite cool as I left Ione at 7:35 this morning.  The beginning of the ride—in fact most of the day—was along the shore of the Pend Orielle River (pronounced Ponderay).

In comparison to previous days, this ride was flat.  There were some climbs, but only a few required my smaller ring.  Previous days have been spent mostly in the small ring, climbing slowly.  Today felt like cruising.  Much of the chip seal was smoother than usual, so the combination of light breeze, smooth road, and flat terrain made for a pretty fast ride…for me, at least.

The best sighting of the day came fairly early.  Strutting on the shoulder several yards ahead of me was a wild turkey.  As it headed for the side of the road, I noticed three chicks.  Then in the bushes and trees at the side of the road I spotted two more adults and another two or three chicks.  Quite a flock (or gang, rafter, posse, raffle, brood, dole, duke, or death-row—all acceptable collective nouns for groups of turkeys).

The only other wildlife of the day were one more White Tail Deer, one Hummingbird., and a couple of squirrels (not counting the roadkill ground squirrel that, along with a wrench I've added to my detritus list).  There was one animal that I thankfully missed, though I saw many signs—not scat or prints, signs like this...

…and those saying Black Bear Road, and Black Bear Drive, and a jigsawed cutout of a black bear hanging above a mailbox.  OK, so they weren't signs of imminent danger, but would you expect that many signs in an area where there were no bears?  Just sayin.

I thought I might have made a very bad turn when I spotted this:

There stood Stonehenge.  Well, it's not as large as Stonehenge, but it certainly wasn't what I expected along the Pend Orielle River in the midst of Washington State.  I know there's a model of Stonehenge down on the Columbia.  So does Washington win the contest for most models of famous prehistoric monuments?

At 26 miles into the ride I thought I may have reached Nirvana.  Suddenly I was on the smoothest asphalt I'd ever ridden.  I was beginning to imagine this lasting all the way to Illinois.  Then in 5 miles I could hear the words of ac/dc's "Highway to Hell" echoing in my ears.  I was, once again, on rough chip seal, just at the point I was going to appeal to the Kalispell Tribe to take over the U.S. highway system.  Fortunately, 3 miles later the chip seal smoothed out, and while the asphalt was by now a distant memory, I was once again enjoying a fairly smooth ride.

Speaking of the Kalispell Tribe, here's their headquarters and Pow Wow grounds.

 

I think I may have now qualified for a job leading tours in Newport, Washington.  I somehow missed the turn for route 41 and spent a bit of time trying to find my route.  Finally, I called Dee, who quickly got me straightened out.  Bet you're thinking that wasn't the first time, huh?

I hit two major milestones today.  First, my total mileage reached nearly 450 miles—more than 1/6 of my journey, and I crossed out of the state of Washington into Idaho.  Here was one of my first sights.  It was a welcomed welcome.

The next sight was not so welcome.  Facing me was a long climb on a very narrow road, with a rough, nearly non-existent shoulder. I was never so happy as when I arrived at Old Priest River Road.  The traffic thinned, and once again I was enjoying the ride. Dee awaited a few miles down the road for my last break of the day.  Then a 15-mile ride brought me to Round Lake State Park, where I loaded the bike in the Rialta and headed for Spokane.  We'll fly to Bellingham on Wednesday to be part of the Chuckanut Writers Conference, return to Round Lake State Park on Sunday to spend the night, and resume the ride next Monday.

It's been a great trip so far, and I'm looking forward to continuing next week.

Day 8: Kettle Falls to Ione, WA - 61.8 Miles

The day started out beautifully, slightly cool but very pleasant for riding.  I was very quickly on low-traffic roads between Kettle Falls and Colville, mostly in open farmland.  Here's a photo looking back toward Kettle Falls.  Lake Roosevelt is just over that first ridge.

Here's another shot of the open farm country this morning.

Dee and I had planned a rendezvous at the corner of Artman-Gibson Road and Route 20, about 20 miles from our starting point.  The maps from the Adventure Cycling Association are pretty clear, except when there's a detour, which I encountered in Colville.  The road I was supposed to take out of town was closed and it took an inquiry at the adjacent gas station to get me around the road closure.  So far so good.  I tried to call Dee to let her know about my delay, but there was no answer so I left her a voicemail.

The next faux pas was my own, and reminded me of the oft-told story about one of my uncles, I don't remember which one.  Supposedly while marching in boot camp he couldn't keep his left and right straight, so they put a stick in one hand and a stone in the other.  I should have had a stick and stone this morning.  I'm sure you can see where this is going…or, more to the point, where I was going—the wrong direction, when I got to Artman-Gibson Road.  I rode merrily on, up and down hills, including some fairly steep, short climbs.  Finally, I noticed the direction of the sun and said #@*%$&.  By that time I figured I had ridden about 3 miles the wrong direction, so I tried once again to call Dee.  Same result.  I began riding my way back, noting where I had made the wrong turn about a half hour before.  Then I timed my ride to the corner where Dee patiently awaited—8 minutes.  Ah well, extra conditioning.

Dee's phone had never rung, and the message about my going the wrong way came in just as I arrived at our rendezvous point.  So much for cell phone coverage in the mountains.

Before leaving Kettle Falls, a fellow there had suggested we stop to see Crystal Falls, which he said was just a few yards off the road.  I was ready for a quick rest when I saw the sign for the falls, so I stopped.  Here's what I saw.  Certainly worth the short walk.

My friend Diane Cain Golz, a touring cyclist herself, expressed her amusement and recognition at the collection of items seen from the bike, with the attempt of avoiding.  I can add to my list with some pennies and a screwdriver, neither of which I stopped for (had the screwdriver been the drink rather than the tool, I might have).  I've also seen enough pieces of truck tires to make a pretty big pile.

The best sightings from the bike today were not flotsam and jetsam however.  I spotted White Tail Deer on three occasions.  I wasn't quick enough with the camera at any of the sightings, however.  If you don't know what they look like, here's a photo (not taken by me).

I ended the ride at Cedar RV about a mile north of Ione, where Dee had already set up the Rialta and had the air conditioner running.  Gabe, the owner, warmly welcomed me as I arrived, and pointed out the Rialta, and the park's amenities. It's a great place, with restrooms and showers even nicer than last night's—and that's saying something. 

And, then there was dinner.  Carbing up for a long ride tomorrow—pasta with puttanesca sauce, a great salad, and a bottle of 2010 Black Slate Lavilella Alta Priorat—thanks Gary Lothian for introducing us to this.  By the way, that's not the wine in that bottle in the photo. That's Persian Lime Olive Oil from Drizzle. It was great on the salad.

Day 7: Rest Day in Kettle Falls, WA - 0 Miles

We're taking a scheduled rest day in Kettle Falls, WA.  We're in Grandview RV Park, just off of highway 395.  It's a place we'd highly recommend.  It's shady and quiet, great shower/restroom, and very friendly hosts. We rolled in yesterday afternoon and after getting set up, had a chance to sit in the shade, with a cool breeze, and read and catch up on some email.

While Dee engages in her favorite pastime, I thought I'd take some time to muse on the first week on the road and mention some things I've observed and learned. So, here it goes with a bit of a music theme.

The Sounds of Silence

A while back I realized that I might go nuts with nothing to listen to while I rode.  I knew that having earbuds in would not be safe, so I began doing some research.  I found some small speakers--about the size of earbuds, that fasten on the underside of one's helmet, just in front of the ears. They're called O-tus Mini Speakers.  I ordered them, along with a Jabra Bluetooth connection so I could go wire-free--first mistake.  In fairness to O-tus, they do mention that folks have had difficulty with Bluetooth, and I did.  It kept cutting out.  So, just before pedaling away from Bellingham I bought a speaker extension cord.  Now my iPhone remains in my handlebar bag and the connecting wire runs to the back of my helmet.  Problem solved?  Well, mostly.

I love the O-tus speakers...when I'm riding on a really quiet stretch with no wind.  Long, fast downhill stretches pretty much obliterate any sound from the speakers.  Sometimes I can just hear a bit of the beat.  Cranking uphill is usually better, and Janis Joplin, The Band, The Beatles, et al provide some needed inspiration.

Our friends at Libro-fm, an emerging digital audiobook company based in Seattle, very generously provided some audiobooks for my ride.  Unfortunately, the volume and clarity of my speakers doesn't let me hear the narration well enough.  My friend Pam also reminded me that music and speech are processed in different parts of the brain.  Maybe riding and processing speech doesn't go so well for a guy who has trouble chewing gum and walking at the same time. Sorry guys, no book reports from my riding time.  Maybe we'll get a chance to listen to them on the drive back from Illinois.  We are excited about Libro-fm, however.  If all goes well we should be selling their digital audiobooks through our website by fall. Stay tuned…so to speak.

The Long & Winding Road

As some of you know, I've done quite a few distance rides in the past--three STP's (Seattle to Portland, 204 miles in 2 days); three and a half RSVP's (Seattle to Vancouver, BC, 184 miles in 2 days); a couple of Chuckanut Centuries, a few Tour de Whatcoms; and the 70-mile uphill grind from Vancouver to Whistler, BC called Gran Fondo Whister.

However, I've never strung together more than two long days…until this week.  My friend Pinky Nelson, who's ridden across the country a couple of times, told me that for him it got better every day.  It certainly hasn't gotten worse for me, and I look forward to sharing Pinky's experience.  You might say that in terms of long distance touring that I'm a tenderfoot, though I can assure you that it's not my foot that's tender right now.  I can't imagine how sore I might be if it wasn't for two things: 1) my Body Float Isolation Seat Post, and 2) the thoughtful present from VB's Claire and her husband Chris--Chris's homemade "Wonder Cream."

There's a great video on the website for the Body Float that shows how the seat post isolates the bumps of the road.  I certainly appreciate it when I hit a rough bump, but the real saving grace is how it renders mile upon mile of chip seal to nearly the feel of blacktop.  I'm a believer.

Chris makes his "Wonder Cream" from shea butter and cocoa butter.  As Claire pointed out in the accompanying card, "…if you don't like it for its intended use, you could always cook with it."  I love it too much for its intended use to ever use it for cooking, but I must admit that the aroma of it sure beats any of the commercial "butt butter" I've ever used.

Stairway to Heaven

I've never really loved hills.  Over time I've become less daunted by them, and some are even fun.  The past week has given me plenty of time to get used to hills--actually mountains.  Some folks who missed their geography class think that there's just one big pass between the West Coast and Illinois.  I can't tell you how many people have asked "what about the Rockies?" as if that might be the only challenge between Bellingham and Galva.  It's true, Logan Pass on the Going to the Sun Highway crosses the continental divide at 6,664 feet, but that climb will begin at about 3200 feet, for an elevation gain of about 3500 feet.  The climb from Newhalem to the top of Washington Pass was about 4675 feet, so the longest climbs are behind me. 

I'm starting to get in the groove, though I still feel that at times I should be going faster.  Maybe I'll get over that before long.

Side of the Road

I haven't kept an exhaustive inventory of what I've seen along the shoulder as I've ridden these 300+ miles, but here's a bit of a list: bolts of every shape and size; miscellaneous small parts from cars and bikes; (does everything fall apart at the side of the road?); food packages of every description; chunks of wood, likely dropped from logging trucks; a few pieces of lumber; road kill; and every type of beverage container.

Seeing road kill reminded me of the character Skink in Carl Hiaasen's novels.  He survives on road kill, though on this stretch of highway he might have remained a bit peckish.  There were a couple of snakes, two rabbits (on one only one leg remained--not a very lucky rabbit's foot), and a handful of birds. I'm happy to say that the deer that loped across in front of me yesterday did not join this crushed menagerie--at least not on that crossing.

The beverage containers are of greater concern.  There are many cans and plastic bottles, but it's the glass beer bottles that are troublesome.  They're often smashed, right on the shoulder, and sometimes remain unseen until the bike has nearly run through the shards.  I've so far managed to miss them, but I'll be lucky to get all the way without inadvertently running through the remains of someone's drunken spree.  

I feel sorry in two ways for people who dispose of their empty bottles this way: 1) it's sad that they seem to feel that the only way to make their life better is to make someone else's life worse, and 2) they drink bad beer.

So much for this week's musings.  Time to clean my chain, check my tires and get things ready for tomorrow's ride.

Oh, and here's a video that Lanny Little made of the send off last Monday: Lanny's Video

Days 5 & 6: Riverside to Kettle Falls - 99 miles

I would have posted Friday night near Wauconda.  The spirit was willing but the wifi was weak (read nearly nonexistent).  Day 5 riding through the Okanogan provided a real change of scenery.  I'd left Douglas Fir behind and entered into an area of sage brush, fruit trees,and much barer mountainsides.

The day included quite a bit of climbing, from a low point near Tonasket (just under 1000 ft) to the highest point about three miles short of Wauconda (just over 3500 ft). Distance-wise it was a short day--only 37 miles. I hit 10% of my expected total about 21 miles into today's ride. Dee met me at Bonaparte Lake Road, and we drove north about six miles to Bonaparte Lake, which sits right below the 7257 foot Mount Bonaparte.  I couldn't find any reference to why the mountain, and everything else around is named Bonaparte.  Is it for the little general?  I don't know.  At any rate, it's a beautiful spot.

The campground here was a bit primitive, though sufficient.  The restaurant, on the other hand, was a huge surprise.  The Friday night special was prime rib, smoked in an outdoor smoker, and included all the "fixins."  I couldn't resist.  Oh, and I added on 4 grilled prawns.

Everything was delicious, among the best prime rib I've ever had.  Dee had grilled prawns, with similar sides. You would think that plate of food would have satisfied me, but then I heard the waitress say "coconut cream pie."  It's one of my favorites, and Dee can't stand the texture of coconut (that's not why I order it, by the way).  So….

I figured I'd have more than 60 miles to ride it off the next day.  What the heck?

Another great night's sleep--amazing what all that pedaling and fresh air will do for one's sleeping habits--and I was ready to roll.  I was tempted to ride back to the point I ended on Friday afternoon since it was mostly down hill.  But then my Baptist boyhood memory kicked in, reminding me of the oft-sung hymn "Yield not to temptation."  What could I do?  I hopped in the Rialta and we cruised back to the Day 6 start point.

The only trouble with ending a ride 6 miles or so short of a summit is that the day begins with a climb.  In about three miles I came to Wauconda.

It's difficult to see in this photo, but yes, you're seeing the entire town of Wauconda--a gas station and a cafe.

Three miles farther up the road came another of my favorite sights.

The sign says "Wauconda Pass Elev. 4310.  I'd love to be able to say that it was all down hill from there.  The next 14 miles was mostly a fast downhill ride, but then came the long slog up to Sherman Pass.  About a mile and a half below the summit I stopped to chat with another biker.  I missed her name, and forgot to take a photo--perhaps the altitude was getting to me.  She was an experienced touring cyclist who had done the TransAmerica route, the Key West to Maine route, and had toured extensively in Europe.  Her bike was loaded with both front and back panniers that seemed to be stuffed to the top.  She told me she was riding with a guy on a recumbent who had gone ahead towards the summit where he would wait for her.  Just a short distance below the summit I encountered Lou.

This was his first long tour.  He lives along Hood Canal and had gone to La Push to begin his ride to Maine.  He'd listed in Adventure Cycle's magazine that he was looking for a riding companion, and the woman I talked to had responded.  He said his recumbent was slow going up steep grades, but that he had no shoulder, hand, or seat problems.  He loves it.

A short distance later came this sight...

Waiting at the summit was my second favorite sight--the Rialta.  The first, of course, is and has been for nearly 50 years, Dee.  And of course, both were there.  We had lunch, then I began the 25-mile ride to Kettle Falls.  It was mostly a speedy 4000 foot descent.  But there always seems to be a climb waiting, and so there was.  The last few miles into Kettle Falls had me ready for a rest, and Day 7 will be.

 

Day 4: Winthrop to Riverside, WA - 54 Miles

Just before we drove off to resume the ride in Winthrop, Pam took this photo (and the one below) & emailed them to us--isn't tech wonderful? It was overcast--as the photo shows--and cool.  A nice beginning for a riding day.

Driving off to Winthrop to begin the ride to Riverside.  Don't worry, I didn't leave Dee behind.  She's sitting in the back because we have a cooler sitting in the passenger seat.

It's a relatively short (9 miles or so) and mostly downhill ride to Twisp.  I planned to meet Dee at Blue Star Coffee Roasters.  Imagine my surprise as I pulled into the parking lot and heard a guy sitting at an outdoor table call out my name.  It was our friend Jack Kimmes--former owner of Kulshan Cycle, sitting with his friend Mike.  They were out driving in the mountains in Mike's sports car. It made me wonder why all my other friends weren't meeting me in Twisp.  Here are the three of us sitting at the table.

The overcast sky and a light breeze made the ride over Loup Loup a lot easier than it might have been in really hot weather.  This was today's sight for sore eyes (not me, the sign).

The sign, however, doesn't tell the whole story.  After a steep, nearly 10-mile descent, comes another steep climb.  Then the descent resumes.  Once on flatter ground I found myself riding into a fairly stiff breeze.  Don't believe the old saw that the wind always blows from the West.  Check out this wind map, or any other wind map on the web.

Once in Riverside we settled into this quiet RV park...

…where we were soon joined by Dan and Gina Rippl who are biking from Anacortes to Bar Harbor.

It's always great to meet fellow bikers and to swap stories.  You can follow their journey here, if you like.

And, if you'd like to make a per-mile pledge to one or more of the three foundations for which Chuck is raising funds, you may go here.

 

Day 3: Rest Day With Friends Near Winthrop

It's been a great day with our friends Pam and Phil just outside of Winthrop. When you've known folks for three decades there's lots to talk about, and over some wonderful food we had some great conversations. It's hard to believe they've been over here in the Methow for 24 years, and we don't see them nearly enough.  It's been a great reminder of how much friends mean to each other.

Here's a photo of Dee, Phil, and Pam, and one of a beautiful sunset.  I hope my Mom was right when she quoted "sunset red, clear day ahead."  I'll climb on the bike to head up over Loop Loop Pass tomorrow for my third riding day.  For now, it's off to another good night's sleep.

Day 2: Newhalem to Winthrop - Up and Over the Cascades - 75 miles

On morning two Dee took this picture of me just before I began my first big climbing day.  You may be able to see that I'm wearing a Mount Ventoux bike jersey.  Last fall ten of us from Bellingham rode that famous Tour de France climb.  Four of us rode 50 miles and had 6500 feet of elevation gain on the day we rode.  I'm wearing the jersey for inspiration, knowing that if I did that, I'm capable of this climb.  Oh, and that's my beloved sag wagon and portable motel parked behind me.

Newhalem is at about 600 feet elevation, and the top of Washington Pass is 5,477.  I knew it would be a slog.  David Fayram rode the first 6 miles with me to the Diablo junction, and then I was on my own.  There are advantages to riding alone.  I can ride at my own pace and take breaks when I want to.  That's one of the great things about having the sag wagon.  Dee leapfrogs with me, waiting a while before taking off, then passing me and waiting ahead.  I took a break every hour or two, having some food and resting for a while.

This is the sign I anticipated all day:

Then came the thrilling down-hill ride (the part Dee doesn't like to hear about).  There were a few times in the first few miles that I topped 40 mph.  The ride from the summit to Mazama required very little pedaling.  Then it was an easy, fairly level 13-mile ride from Mazama to Winthrop, where I finished the 75-mile day--appropriately--at Trails End Bookstore.

It's a great little store, and after a chat with Chris and Moe, we strolled down the street where I treated myself to a well-deserved strawberry shake.  Then we drove to Pam and Phil Ager's house to spend the next two nights and my first rest day.  We've been friends for nearly 30 years, and Pam was once our children's book buyer at Village Books.  After a great dinner and lots of conversation I headed off to bed at 11:30--much later than last night, and surprisingly much less exhausted.