To Portland

We have 30 lbs. of dried fruit for you! 

Thanks to Barb, Steve, and their son Stan, I started the day with enough dried fruit and Kate's bars to last me the remaining 45 miles into Portland. Their hike along the Pacific Crest Trail came to an early end in Washington state, where the snowpack is still ridiculously deep. Now they're figuring out the logistics of renting a car to pick up all the food and supplies they mailed ahead to points on the trail, then getting home to Idaho Falls. Thanks to their generosity, my ride today was as nutritious as it was scenic. I hope they make it back to try again.

What I thought all of Oregon would be 

A little odd for a bike path, but ok

Looking to the Washington side of the Gorge 

At Horsetail Falls

Vista House at Crown Point 

Fresh from the backyard 

Oregon - Washington - Oregon

Morning light on some of the hills

I knew that today's ride would be shorter, since the wind was forecast to really start blowing from the west. And blow it did.

That's not normal

Apparently, the weather was perfect for windsurfing. I stopped to talk to a couple people getting ready to go out on the water, and one remarked as I rode up that that (biking) didn't look like fun. On the Columbia, there were dozens of windsurfers riding the waves.

I struggled to stay upright on the bike, but I would have struggled more on a board, I'm sure. Stopping for lunch in Lyle gave me some energy to push onward, and I ended up by white-knuckling it over the grated Bridge of the Gods into Cascade Locks, Oregon. I'll reach Rob and Catherine's place in Portland tomorrow, unless there's an all-day special on breakfast burritos in town here. Or discount pedicures. Or a spa catering to exhausted bikers.

Looking eastward on the Columbia River

Not a whole lot of level ground

Notice how the Washington highway budget shrinks...

Holy [insert favorite expletive here], Batman! What Happened to Your Shoes?

And then there was one

Of all the things to lose, a shoe is seemingly insignificant. I have another pair that I wear while riding, so it's not that one foot will go without; no, it's more the knowledge that I've carried these shoes on the back of the bike for 1700 miles, and now that I'm within a couple hundred miles of Portland, one of them decides to jump off. I blame Google. If Google Maps hadn't sent me up and down a few rockslides masquerading as "roads," my feet would be happy in their comfy shoes right now. So, if you're out rock climbing on the Washington side of the Columbia River Gorge, please let me know if you find a worn, lone, green shoe.

It was 60 miles this morning from Richland to the first place with any water. As the temperature climbed towards the high 90s, I was very happy to reach the Roosevelt mini-mart. And when I did, imagine my surprise at seeing a loaded bamboo mountain bike outside. Inside was David, from Tél Aviv, who is on a trip that started in San Diego, followed the Pacific Crest Trail, and now is bringing him to the East Coast. Having planned, but never yet realized, traverses of the US by plane and automobile, he's now actually doing it by bike. On a bike that he built. Completing the HLC and Red to Dead on his bike gave him inspiration that he could really make a go of it across the US.

Location of today's flat tire 

Google's idea of a joke (the 2nd sign says, "Primitive Road: No Warning Signs") -- 1st of many today! 

Columbia River Gorge 

Just below John Day Dam

Gravel the size of softballs 

In Biggs Jct, OR, tonight. If I open the window, I might hear the Santana concert across the river. Or maybe I'll be asleep.

Early Summer Fire

The sequence of these pictures shows the change from the loess-rich wheat fields of northern Idaho to the high desert of eastern Washington. By the second to last one, I knew a lot had changed in one day!

Dirt roads, no traffic 

Unmaintained dirt roads, no traffic 

Gravel road, light plane traffic 

Dirt road, nobody home

Canola?

One camping option shot down

Wet spring, but there's no indication now

Ended up at a KOA on the Snake River in Washington where the Palouse and Tucannon Rivers come into it. All in all, a fine day.

View from tonight's campsite 

This is not the Potato Belt

Riding from Kellogg, I passed the sites of old lead, zinc, and silver mines. The Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes is a great boost to many of these struggling towns; fishing is non-existent because of the high heavy metal content in the rivers, and the trail does draw a good number of people.

The hills in my future 

Tripsyclists

Once I left the trail, the next 50 or so miles were open to the wind, with rolling hills,  until I landed in Viola, where friends awaited. Cathy, James, and Isabel live in this beautiful, remote spot, at the bottom of a hill after the top of another hill. It's been wonderful to see them and get a renewed glimpse into each other's lives.

The view in Viola 

Lest you think I've just been riding incessantly, I  can assure you that I have some serious scientific goals along the way. I believe that I've met one with this photograph below. If you require corroborating stories, then look no further.

NOT Bigfoot? Don't be so sure...

Into Idaho, the long way

Things I wish I had a picture of:

• Riding in the left lane (it was closed to car traffic) on interstate 90 for nearly 5 miles on the way to Lookout Pass;
• the look on the face of the Taft, MT, road crew employee, who was sure the trail I was on petered out in a couple of miles, when I rode up and over the pass on that same trail;
• the look on my face when the trail marshals told me that no, contrary to what I was told by the Taft road crew, the Hiawatha Trail didn't connect with the Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes;
• the mule deer that lazily jumped up an almost vertical incline as I rode up the trail;
• pictures of Mark Carbone and Michael Landon to accompany this photo. 

Once over the pass and into Idaho, the trails were suddenly well marked, the trail was paved (well, after the first 11.7 miles downhill), and the coffee came with real half and half. Of course, there are the matters of the silver miners' strike at the mine in Mullan, the controlled burns they have to start to keep whole valleys from going up in flames,  and the sign above the Coeur d'Alene River not to enter the river because of mine waste. Not all is just and good and easy. 

Still, it is beautiful country, and I find myself at times wondering why anyone would want to live anywhere else.

Along the Northern Pacific Trail

What my handlebars see all the time

What do you call a gathering of recumbent trikes?

Through Jocko Canyon to Paradise

Leaving Ovando 

Someone way too happy about a lake

Mts. on the way to Glacier--not my route 

1500 acres burned in the summer of 2013
Jocko Canyon Road 

Looking down on one of the Jocko Lakes

Morning on the Clark Fork River, Paradise, MT 

Llama of Jocko Canyon 

Surprise! It's the Tour Divide riders!

Rolling into Ovando in the late afternoon yesterday, I remembered that someone at the great breakfast place in East Helena told me two things about Ovando: something about Trixi's, where I could get a meal, and that the town park welcomed bikers to camp there. Well, that was an understatement.

One of the sleeping choices

My abode last night 

As soon as I parked my bike next to the chuck wagon, other bikers started to roll into the town green. Not just any bikers--these were people who had been riding hard. In all, 7 participants in this year's Tour Divide Race came into Ovando in the course of an hour or so. The race started on June 9th in Banff, Alberta, and it concludes in New Mexico, at the US-Mexico border.

HJ pulling in to Ovando 

None of these riders is in contention to win the Tour Divide. From Brooklyn, Minnesota, and many other places, they entered the race to challenge themselves, knowing full well that there is no guarantee that they will make it to Colorado, let alone the finish line. Each has a different approach to the issues of hydration, calories, bikes, gear, navigation, and the psychology of keeping going when there seems to be no way to keep going. As a group, and individually, they're pretty amazing. To check in on HJ, Jim, Trevor, Clyde, Patrick, and Dan, take a look at http://trackleaders.com/tourdivide17f.php.

To Canyon Ferry Lake

Three miles up a sketchy dirt road outside Columbus, coming back from a quick nature call / rattlesnake check, and Brad, from the Stillwater road crew, pulls up. On his advice, I head back to I-90, ride on it to Reed Point, where whom do I meet again, but Brad. And again he has helpful words! This time, he advises me to get on the old highway just past the grain elevators, telling me, "that way you can see some more shit and maybe not get killed." Thanks, Brad.

Yesterday was a great rest day with friends Dan and Marcia in Bozeman. A few hairs lighter, I took off today towards Helena, ending up 85 miles later camping at Canyon Ferry Lake. Once again, the wind picked up steadily through the day. By the end, I could not wait to stop battling it (until tomorrow). Tonight's campsite isn't quite as picturesque as the one beside the Yellowstone, but it totally works. There is even the Montana version of Beansie's!

Dan and Marcia in heated competition

It seemed like a good idea at the time

What I see when there's a real shoulder