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Daily Journal - June 21st - 25th
| Sunday, June 21st, 1998 - Day 7 | |
Today is a long 87 miler - but relatively flat day following the Clearwater river through the Nez Pierce reservation. We drop 800' down "hell hill", which is a test of braking power and wrist strength. Riding with Steph and Rob for the first part of the morning provided a chance to get to know Rob better. Other than a huge pulp mill just outside of Lewiston, we were greeting by gentle grade, wider shoulders, and a wide flowing river to follow upstream. Uneventful day except for a near miss with a logging truck. Truck was passing wide in a no-pass zone, and had to break right to avoid an oncoming car right as he came upon Cathy and me. Cathy held her ground of course. The sound of truck brakes is never pleasant. Heat and headwinds made the last 30 harder than they would have been. Lunch in Orofino. At pit 3 Dave passed around hate literature he had been given by a local. Some great quotes - "You don't need to read hundreds of pages of thick books to understand the evil nature of the US government. Just order our video", "The Unibomber deserves sainthood", "Learn how to bury large objects including cars" - and so forth horrifically mispelled. I guess you need a video when you can't read. Everyone cooled off their feet in a kid's swimming pool provided by the pit 3 crew. We camped in the Kooksia high school. Had a near altercation - a minor turf war with a neighbor "behind our house" where we were told, not asked, to move our tent 2" because it was "over the line". Some people just never learn to crayon outside the lines. Later we look up and notice a line of local's parked on a hill above watching the carnival of tents and trucks. Day 8 is written on the big board as a killer- 96 miles of uphill. I tend to approach these days with a sense of dread. Cathy is more resolved. They have begun to post the maps of the next 5 days riding to help prepare time-wise, sleep-wise, and mental. Met several other silicon valley geeks trying to maintain websites on the road. Nice to commiserate with fellow comrades. We discover that the GTE laptops that are provided for email are actually standalone, and that the email sent-mail folders are gathered up and dumped onto a single laptop, and driven to the nearest town in search of a phone line. So much for high technology. At least they provide power. Feeling out of touch by the inability to find a phone to check email. Resolved to mailing floppies to Scott - my cousin and webmaster in Pennsylvania who is dutifully keeping the site up to date. Thank you Scott. Send him thank you mail if you would like at scott@wheninrom.com. Have trouble falling asleep knowing we have a big climb tomorrow. | |
| Monday, June 22nd, 1998 - Day 8 | |
| Today we climb to Powell, following the wild river Lochsa which feeds into the Clearwater. We get up a ½ hour earlier than normal to give ourselves more time for the ride. It is a gorgeous day. All of the fretting about the climb was wasted energy. It is a 2 to 3% grade all day - no worse than a head wind on level ground. It is a gorgeous sunny and cooler day. We enter the Clearwater National Forest. Few cars, lots of changing scenery as the altitude increases. Early in the morning we were stopped by a logging crew using a helicopter to move logs from a logging site to the road for trimming and truck loading. Had to wait 10 minutes, but got the watch the copter in action. Early in the morning my chain starts slipping. I hobble into pit 1 and start taking things apart. Luckily I am surrounded in seconds by a horde of bike geeks including Craig and Rick who are helpful, but I am stuck in the middle of a Pepsi-Coke-like Shimano vs. Sax debate over why my chain is stretching. All I know is that it is going to be a pain if it continues. Cathy is finding her back brake is wearing much more quickly than it should. We are having trouble getting the bike repair stuff to agree. I don't want to find Cathy at the bottom of a gulch, so we make plans to have it replace. Something else to worry about. An entrepreneurial family is selling Popsicles by the side of the road. I wish everyone would do this - it is a welcome relief . At pit 3 a crew member falls off a chair and hits the concrete hard. Within seconds 3 doctors on the ride are all over him. Nice to know we are among the medically versed. Met a New Zealand couple doing a similar cross-country ride as ourselves and talk for some time. They are Dutch. They have a map that shows more details than the maps we have, and helps us understand the climb over the pass tomorrow. We watch rafters undulating in the rapids. Wish we could be in the water too. We spend so much time having fun along the river, that we have to push the last 10 miles to avoid the sag van - or as Dave calls it - the "shame train". I make it with 20 minutes to spare. Camp is underwhelming. Wild, rustic, and a gravel pit in the middle of nowhere. It rained the night before bringing out from dormancy every known biting creature with roots in the Mesozoic age. Glad we didn't show up earlier. This is the first night where we have to double up, which means only an 8x8' space per 2 people. It is a tight fit, and everyone is cranky. We have to stand to eat. I take it all in stride. To be this far into the wilderness and actually have a hot meal is a joy. The Butterfield and Robinson crowd aren't as pleased. I joke while in line that the "OK Cascade Catering" is a bad name for a food service - kind of like the "Pretty Safe Rafting Company", or the "We Passed All the Tests Doctors Office". We hear cheering while in the food line. The tandem paraplegic team arrives at 7:30, without being sagged. It was a long day for them, as their bike is heavy and better suited for level biking with good rolling momentum. We are rewarded in our isolation by a beautiful sunset over the mountains. It is a long night trying to sleep. I start to count the hard spots where the rocks touch my body. I finally start to count the number of times I turn - 45 is the last number I can remember. The sound of shoes on gravel seems to echo all night, as our tent is near the portable toilets. Cathy and I designate this site as "pit 4". We won't be camping here again. | |
| Tuesday, June 23rd, 1998 - Day Nine | |
Today we ride 11 miles over Lolo Pass at 5233 feet in altitude, and cross the state line into Montana in doing so. It is wet and cold. Cathy pushes ahead and beats me up the pass by 20 minutes. I use my odometer to pace myself, stopping to rest every ¼ mile - what a wimp. At the top 700 bikers converge on a small Ranger Station and soak in the heat and hot cocoa, and pretend to read the Lewis and Clark exhibits. We all get mylar sheeting to cover our heads for the 27 mile downhill in the rain. They work like a charm, and what a fashion statement. We only have 2 pit stops and 54 miles today. We change to Mountain time today and roll into Missoula around 2:30 - but unfortunately are greeted by several different lines to get into our dorms - fill out room key cards, and so on. Just like school. I wish schools were profit institutions. We were greeted by a clean room with bunk beds, and a PHONE - yes a real PHONE allowing us to finally upload our picture selections and journal entries. Finally. Spirits are high as everyone gets a chance to recharge, clean their clothes and tents, and get a real meal. We find a nice Italian place downtown. Definitely a college town - rows of cheap restaurants and bars. This is the U of M Grizzlies. A towering mountain overlooks the campus much like a Swiss Alp town, with what appears to be an easy walking path zig-zagging several miles to the top. We are not tempted. Read email, worked on backing up pictures, and fell asleep at 9:30. | |
| Wednesday, June 24th, 1998 - Day Ten Rest Day | |
Slept in till 7am. Missoula is a great town for a down day. Did laundry first thing - again had to wait in line. The problem with hand laundering at camp at 5pm is that it never has a chance to dry. We have smelled like wet Golden Retrievers for several days. We don't notice - but shop owners seem to when we walk in. Took inventory of everything we had packed, and shipped home everything that we hadn't used to date. We were optimistic on the amount of free time we would have. Robin the shipping clerk at Mailboxes Etc.was more than helpful, and helped us find just the right box for the 3 pound bike pump we won't be lugging around anymore. Louie has left to go home. He is not happy in the clothing bag, and was afraid of the mildew. We haven't had time to give him the attention he deserves. Lisa - if you are reading this expect a big package in a few days - and don't let Louie near the kids. We found a nice lunch spot by the river with great Foccacia sandwiches. We went in search of a new chain for my bike. Two shops later we get a consensus of what is wrong - the chain was last replaced with out changing my back cluster - causing alignment problems are chain freezing. We find a shop doing overtime (16 hours a day) trying to keep up with the Bigride demand - they aren't complaining about the business. I find a Kinko's and create small business cards with our names and web site address to give to people like the shipping clerk, and the couple at dinner last night. It will be easier than writing it down on the back of napkins. The locals tell us the local weather is much wetter than normal, and much cooler. Some are calling Missoula "East Seattle". Given the swollen Clark river flowing through town, and the rain we have experienced ourselves on our ride through Montana thus far, it seems fitting. We return to the dorm room for a late afternoon nap, and the rare opportunity to answer email. From our 2nd floor dorm window we notice some commotion on the pathway below. A bike has crashed outside the dorm and is down on the brick walkway. A man is down on the grass writhing and restrained by 3 onlookers. An ambulance arrives within 2 minutes. We try not to watch from our window. The rumors abound later that his hip was broken in 5 places and such. It is difficult in such a large and diverse community to discern the rumors from the truth. Later we discover the rider was released from the hospital with minor injuries. We pick up our bike before dinner. Mike at the bike shop had replaced my chain and back cluster, as well as put on a new set of pedals - the old pair had a cracked bearing that was driving both of us insane. We went back to the Italian place from last night for a great pizza. Great local micro-brews - including Moose Drool. Returned to our dorm in a light rain. | |
| Thursday, June 25th, 1998 - Day Eleven | |
Awoke to a dumping rain. Tough start after a day off. Carried our cargo bags ¼ mile to the gear trucks. Sometimes I think our arms will be as strong as our legs when we are done. We start the day with cold pizza - a nice change from the now repetitive breakfast. It is a century day. We are on the road by 7am. Within 10 miles we notice we are passing tens or riders with flats. I joke that all these riders with their racing tires are going to have a tough trip. Consequently I have my second flat of the trip within a few minutes. By the end of the day there were probably 200 flats. It seems the flaking Montana rock in this area is razor edged, and has no trouble puncturing even Kevlar tires. On cold rainy days we take every opportunity to stop at a store for a reprieve from the pounding. We stop at a truck stop and make friends with a Labrador who desperately wants to tag along with us. Later we stop at a middle of nowhere general store - with moose heads and elk on the wall. We overwhelm them with 200 bikers trying to warm up and munching on everything in sight. The line for purchases was 30 deep. Pulling out a ¼ mile down the highway, Cathy has her first flat of the trek - and actually her first flat since we started training. We decided it was time for her to learn how to change it herself in case I wasn't around. Luckily we found shelter under a weigh station overhang. The rain finally clears by late morning, and we ride a nice tailwind over green rolling hills. Average over 15 mph. We manage to catch up time after dawdling all morning. A few miles near the 70 mile mark, I blow out a sidewall on my tire. It is sag time - the shame train. Gerald is the sag bus driver. Strange to see the route from the perspective of a vehicle. Cath decides to stay with me, and loans her bike to another rider whose bike broke several spokes, and is desperate to ride every mile. We arrive in camp earlier than usual - giving us time to make bike repairs. We had brought 2 extra tires. When Cath's bike arrives, it has a flat, and is out of true - but luckily not out of round. After dinner we get in line for bike repairs under the tech tent. We wait 3 hours before Paulie the mechanic has time to true her wheel. These guys are completely overworked - starting at 4:30am, finishing up at midnight, sleeping under the repair tent. Plenty of time to talk with Paulie about his downhill biking business at a Colorado resort. We are finally in bed by 11:30pm. Not looking forward to a day without sleep which includes a climb of MacDonald pass. Set the alarm for ½ hour later than usual. | |
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