Getting Close

I am sitting in the library (as usual) in Walla Walla, Washington. The last three days I rode with Gene Myers, a 47-year-old computer tech worker from Pittsburgh. Gene took a leave of absence from work and started his trip in Washington, D. C. on June 4. Riding across country has been a dream of his since he was 20; and yet, like me, he finds it hard to believe how close he is to the end. I think when we crossed the Snake River and entered Washington it hit both of us that we not only SAID we were going to ride coast-to-coast.

Now we are going to DO IT.

Well...I guess that depends...Gene had three flats in two days. I did my part by racking up FOUR.

Since last updating I decided I had seen ENOUGH beautiful country. So I hopped on the Interstate in Montana and rode I-90 for a day-and-a-half to pick up speed. On August 6, with a strong tailwind, I managed 120 miles, from Butte to Missoula. There were several large forest fires burning across the state at the time. So everything was masked in a gray haze. But still no trouble riding.

I think at this point my strength and endurance are excellent.

The next day I left Missoula and pedaled south to Lolo, then took the road to Lolo Hot Springs, up over Lolo Pass. I was worried about this stretch because I knew Lewis and Clark had trouble in the area when they crossed in 1804. The Pass, however, was not bad at all. It was a gradual uphill for thirty miles and then a good climb of four miles to the summit. Then it was downhill to Powell Junction, where I ran into Gene and stopped early for the day. Gene and I killed part of the evening at a campground lodge playing checkers. Neither one of us remembered the rules and I was almost sure you could jump your own men. Using this novel approach, I beat Gene soundly, until another camper set us straight.

On August 8 we rode down the Lochsa River, which carries a "wild and scenic" designation. It was fabulous. And the bonus: from Powell Junction to Kooskia, where we stayed that evening, it was 93 miles downhill! We enjoyed a swim in the clear, cold waters and this proved to be a great day.

It was fun to ride with someone else who could appreciate the joys and difficulties of this undertaking. Gene has been riding with a variety of people, himself. For a long time he paired up with Laura "Big Red" Santiago. Laura (who I met briefly when we all stopped at the same place for a meal) joked that her diet on the trip consisted of "lard, sugar and alcohol." Margaritas, she freely acknowledges, are her weakness. But she HAS ridden from North Carolina and you have to credit a woman in her 40s for the determination to even make the attempt.

As evening approached, Gene and I found a comfortable camping spot at the Kooskia City Park. The grass was soft and lush. The Middle Fork of the Clearwater River ran alongside. Our tents went up easily and soon we were asleep, dreaming of....what the....I awakened all too suddenly....it seemed to be raining!! Gene could be heard rummaging around with his gear, cursing softly.

It was clear sky when we went to bed. What the heck?

Suddenly a HUGE blast of water hit my tent. A downpour seemed to be beginning.

(Fill in the bad words here if you know me.)

I unzipped my tent flap and suddenly realized the park sprinklers were pumping away feet from my camping spot. Gene and I did some quick dancing in the rain and moved our tents, bikes and equipment to a new, drier location.

After hooking up with Gene I changed course so I could ride with him. We took Route 12 across the Nez Perce Reservation and fought our way against headwind to Lewiston, Idaho. Yesterday we got off to a late start, both fixing flats before we began, and I fixing a second inside of five miles. By the time we hit Lewiston we had dropped to around 500 feet above sea level. And then we paid the price for our easy ride the day before. We climbed back to 2785 feet at Alpowa Pass, just a few miles inside the Washington border. But what made this a killer was the wind. The Pass served as a giant wind tunnel and we got knocked back most of the way by 30-45 mph blasts. In places the wind almost stopped our forward progress entirely. It was the two hardest hours of riding I've experienced in the entire trip.

Fortunately, we recovered in Pomeroy at the Sagebrush Cafe. The food was fine and the "Brownie Delight" made the labors of the morning all worthwhile.

Last night, after 75 tough miles, Gene and I camped near Dayton, Washington, still on Route 12. This morning he took Route 124 toward Seattle and I followed 12 south, aiming for Portland. Gene was a humble, soft-spoken man and a pleasure to ride beside.