Life Spoke

I'm in Cairo, on the border with Idaho.

The photo to the right is of the desert, east of Riley.

So, where was I? Burns was the last you heard from me, I think.

Well, I left Burns at about 4pm. There was a pretty strong cross wind coming out of town but it didn't slow me down much. I put in another 25 miles to a small place called Buchanan. There is a store there that has a huge amount of Native American art work. Mavis, the owner, has lived there for over 35 years. The store has a single gas pump out front that was designed to accomidate Model T's. There's actually an old Model T on top of the garage next to the shop.

Mavis let me spend the night camped next to the trailer she's having renovated. The weather report called for 28 degree temps and a change of rain. I made a hearty beef, vegitable and rice stew that night. 52.4 miles, 14.2 mph avg., 9:15am-6:30pm

Thursday, 9/15: I woke up and made a huge pot of oatmeal. The stove starting acting up on me so I took it apart and cleaned it with gasoline. The air temp was close to 35 but the morning sun warmed me quickly. There had been no rain, thankfully.

I was facing two passes this day, the first of which I was at the foot of. I didn't want to start riding uphill immediately so I rode a mile down the road to warm up and stretch. As much muscle as I'm building, I'm actually gaining flexibility. I'm stretching properly for once and in the right proportions; focusing on each muscle group and holding poses for 20 seconds at a moderate stretch.

I hit Stinkingwater Pass at 9am and topped out at 9:30. At the summit I stopped to put on a jacket for the cold descent. Hail, the size of peppercorns began falling all around me. The wind up there was gusty and cold. I felt more in the mountains there than I did at the top of the Cascades, which was 1000' higher.

35+ miles per hour for five miles downhill. I coasted for the first bit then began pedalling to put some heat back into me. The air temp was probably about 45 but it felt frigid. At the bottom of the hill I passed the junction to the town of Drewsy. I really wanted to go there because I am Drew and I'm going to Jersey...it rhymes and I'm corny like that.

The second pass, Drinkwater, was a bit more challenging because it was a longer climb. I was being chased by a rain squall that stayed just off my rear, occasionally lobbing big cold drops at me but otherwise just acting ominous as alpine squalls do. Down, down, down from the summit. I hit my all-time top speed of 44mph! I passed from the Pacific Time Zone to Mountain Time! I hadn't even considered going through time zones on a bicycle. Completely amazing.

Into Juntura, OR. I stumbled into the Oasis Cafe and inhaled a cheeseburger and fries with a gallon of hot tea. I had the feeling of being in the ski lodge after a few hours on the slopes. As I was wrapping up, I ran into two motorcycle tourists from Boise; Jon and Ron. They looked over my route through Idaho and confirmed it's feasibility. Jon also gave me the number of a person to coordinate with in Pocatello, ID. I'm psyched to have someone there because it's right before I head into Wyoming.

OK, so after chewing the fat with those guys I hopped back in the cockpit and took off east. I was reluctant to go because the weather had been brewing the whole time was loligagging in the restaurant. The next town was 35 miles away and it was 2pm.

Despite the fear of getting stuck out there in between towns in a storm, there is an incredible feeling about leaving a place. Stepping out of the comfort of a town, getting on the road where relativity is warped, moving on to some new place, a new challenge, unique problems to solve. I feel like every mile I ride is a truly special thing. Every mile counts. Every new town counts. Every moment I'm working my way across this country puts me that much closer to the glorious day when I will stand on the beach in New Jersey. Knowing this keeps me in the cockpit for hours on end.

That day, I left Juntura and headed down the Malhouer River toward the Snake River Valley. There was a fierce gusting northern wind fighting me sometime and pushing me other times as I wound my way east through the crooked canyon. Rain froze my arms until I couldn't feel them, so I stopped to put on a jacket and as I did, the squall blew south past me. I rode only ten minutes in the cold rain but further down the valley I saw signs of a significant rain storm. I was lucky.

By 7:30 (mountain time) I was in Harper, OR. There is a small store on the highway run by a guy named Brian. He had the simple, honest way of speaking that western people do. It was endearing and made me feel like I had moved on geographically from the Pacific Coast to the Western US. Brian mentioned that the principal of the Harper school had an open invitation for any cyclist to camp on the school grounds.

I rode the mile over to the small town and found the school. I set up camp on a small piece of grass where I could imagine myself a little kid playing games with my friends during lunch recess. The town was a quiet place with horses coralled in backyards and where people ride ATV's on the few narrow streets. There was a hose where the athletic teams fill up water coolers, that I used to wash my face and fill my bottles. It was simply the most friendly place I had been on my trip and I felt comfortable and safe for once.

My stove on the other hand was not being friendly. I took it apart again and cleaned it, but something was brewing I could tell. 73.5 mi, 13.6mph avg., 9am-7:30

9/16 - No oatmeal, no coffee, no stove because the damn thing won't burn the gasoline properly. It sputters and flares and then dies completely and I can't light it even though it's volitalizing fuel. This scenario played out twice this morning before I packed it up and munched some cold granola and a ClifBar.

Not too cold this morning, but brisk. I packed and rode back out to the highway after a nice quiet night at school. Brian poured me a cup of coffee to warm my hands and I wrote a thank you letter to the school principal. I was on the road at 9:30.

Pretty straight forward day. My left butt bone is sore but my legs are good solid tree trunks by now. The one short pass I climbed was cake and I coasted into Vale by 11:30, 23 miles away.

I grabbed more coffee and mailed some letters then headed out. At Cairo I headed north and found my way to the home of Lester and May Scott. They are the parents of a person my uncle met at his church. I'm sitting at their computer writing this to you. Lester was a surgeon for years and years, serving in the Army durring WWII and in the Air Force during the Korean War. Mary raised their four daughters in this very house. They have watermelons they can't eat fast enough and I spied a big crate of walnuts in the basement. They even used to run a few head of cattle years ago, something I truly admire.

So I've done a load of wash, taken a shower and am wearing an old set of Lester's jeans and oxford shirt. I'm relaxed for once. Mary fed me a huge sandwich and Lester cut me a slice of watermelon fit for three people.

I feel like I am at home for once and am able to collect my thoughts a bit. Still I'm antsy. I have a long road ahead. I've been warned several times about Wyoming and the coming fall weather. This cold snap is certainly worrisome because it brings undertones of early season blizzards and cold Rocky Mountain rain.

Can't worry about the weather. Just have to ride through it if it gets bad. Hole up when I can and grit my teeth when I can't.

This respite is exactly what I needed at this point in the trip. It will prepare me the days and weeks ahead.

Thank you for all your comments, they were fun to read. Please keep them coming!
Lots of love,
Andrew