JUNE

John's Daily Journals

Baggage worries were assuaged yesterday by 4pm and participants began flowing in steadily through the evening and today. There are 40 riders and 4 leaders along with various caterers to deal with food preparation. This answers my questions about how much involvement riders have in that activity: none.

Today we went on a sort of shake-down ride of all of 12 miles. There was one small feature of the ride that made it notable: we went up a 1 mile hill that was at a 20% grade. Our leader, Ryan, described this as the steepest slope anywhere in Washington State . Miraculously I didn’t have to walk, but I did have to stop twice. I think the slope helped me find my maximum heart rate. So, I have to be grateful for that much.

We went to Saltwater State Park where we would dip our rear wheels ceremoniously into the Pacific Ocean . I was hoping to be able to dip the wheels of my trailer while it was attached to the bike, but there was no boat ramp and everyone had to carry their bike over a short expanse of sand. I removed the trailer and carried the bike to the water’s edge. With 30-40 people vying for space, the scene was somewhat subdued. The above-mentioned hill could have had something to do with our lack of enthusiasm.

This evening we participated in a 30^th anniversary fest for Adventure Cycling. It was a sort of reunion between people who actually biked across the country in 1976 and our group who were crossing with this new approach of a fully-supported ride. The best part of the evening besides meeting people with long-standing connections to Adventure Cycling and eating a phenomenally delicious meal was getting to listen to Willie Weir talk about how bicycle touring across the United States in 1981 changed his life. He told stories of having to knock on strangers’ doors to ask for permission to pitch a tent on their lawns. In all cases, he and his traveling companion were greeted with open arms and welcomed into the homes of people who were more than happy to help 2 adventurers making a transcontinental crossing. It was uplifting and encouraging to hear his stories. It was clear to me that it was very helpful and timely for me to be hearing these stories the evening before departing on this expedition.

Date	22 June Thursday Day 1
Starting Point	Seattle, WA
Ending Point	Easton, WA
VIA	Sammamish, Fall City, Snoqualmie, N Bend, Hyak, Easton
Mileage	89.5
Time	8:57
Terrain	Very Hilly
Mph	8.6
Lodging	Lake Easton State Park
Weather	58 in morning, warming to 70 Sunny
Cumulative Mileage	109.2
Miles to Go	4170.8

Two years ago when I did the "other" transcontinental ride, I decided to send in reports after 1,000 miles were completed. This saved my readers from hearing about the misery that accompanies truly getting into the kind of shape needed to do these rides.. The first part of any trip of this magnitude is difficult. There is the acclimation problem of getting used to high-mileage days back-to-back. With this trip there is the pitiless sun and heat. It was in the 80s right before I came out here and it was just rainy prior to that. So getting used to slathering on enough sunscreen is a challenge in itself. We were instructed by our leader, Ryan, to use the buddy system. This is to help avoid mishaps with no one around to help. With that in mind, Mike, Hillary and I set off together on our first day of this great adventure. We had "cue sheets" in hand which gave us turn by turn directions on how to reach our destination 86 miles away. Along the way, of course, we took a few wrong turns which explains the longer distance above. I was looking forward greatly to leaving the big city of Seattle and getting out onto quiet country roads with no traffic. The design of this first day left me still greatly looking forward to that. We rode for a total of 30 miles on the Interstate (Route 10). In Maine, of course, this would be not only dangerous, but also illegal. Apparently here in Washington bicycles are allowed. I didn't witness the problems that arose for some of the other riders, but I did hear that many people got flat tires while riding on the debris-strewn shoulder. Apparently, too, someone had purposely strewn tacks on the bike lane to give us yet more trouble. Leaving Seattle was astonishingly mazelike; it took more than 3 hours to actually leave the city proper. Of course, taking a few wrong turns didn't help matters. The first identifiable town, Sammamish, was where we stopped in the hopes of finding some important items, such as, water, ice, cold fizzy drinks, batteries, bathrooms and the like. We stopped at a service station. A better name for it would have been noservice station. The proprietor insisted in very broken English that he "doesn't provide free water….bye, bye." It was difficult to surmise the source of his sourness; it's possible that other rabid gangs of vicious bicyclists must have cleaned him out of water and ice. But that's just a guess. After recovering from that unpleasantness, Mike commented, "So much for that ride magic." I know from experience that when one is on a bike, one hopes that the world will somehow give a care and cut a break. Sometimes it happens, sometimes not. I guess my view is that it's wonderful and inspirational when it happens, but it can't be depended on only hoped for. In North Bend, we experienced a similar thing where a server in a supermarket wanted to actually charge $.50 to fill up a water bottle from the faucet. This seemed to be just another confirmation that "ride magic" was not operational yet on this ride. I mentioned earlier how intensely miserable riding on I-90 was. If I didn't, then yes, it was miserable. Fortunately as we approached Snoqualmie Pass we had to bike on Forest Road 58. This road was dark with pine tree canopy and it was fragrant with a strong pine scent. This was the kind of beautifully silent road that I have come to expect on Adventure Cycling rides. It was striking enough to almost compensate for the madness of interstate highway bicycling. By this time it was Mike and I biking together. We lost Hillary back in North Bend when we went to a hardware store to pick out heavy chainsaws to bring along on the tour. As we neared the summit, we both realized that we were extremely low on water and we were wondering what we should do. We had just passed by a fire brigade having some sort of training exercise; they were in their turn-out gear. So I suggested to Mike that if anyone would have water, it should be a fire brigade. Sure enough, we went back to them and they gave us each a bottle of cold spring water. There was a firefighter on the rocks below in the middle of a flowing creek. I asked them how he got there. One firefighter volunteered, "oh, we threw him down there." Another piped in, "He did a swan dive off the rock wall." At this point of the day humor was desperately needed because it was so late. I had been looking forward to reaching the summit of Snoqualmie Pass and having our picture taken at the altitude sign. Alas, it was not to be; there was no altitude sign. Another disappointment. They seemed to be piling up a bit. There was yet another stretch of Interstate 90 that we had to traverse to get into camp. We arrived at camp about 3 ½ hours late for dinner. Fortunately Cathy the caterer still had some food we could gulp down. It was a long but satisfying day; a good start.

Not long after leaving Easton, we came to the limit of the pine forest in the shadow of the Cascade Mountains. It was a sudden and stark contrast. We arrived in what the locals refer to as Scab Lands. There is nothing but sagebrush and the occasional cow. It would be surprising to be biking along in the middle of what could be most easily described as "nothing" and to come upon a lone cow chewing on who knows what. The only place that had any life at all was in a restaurant in Thorp where I had a chance to have a visit with locals to learn about the area and the Timothy Hay they cultivate to feed racehorses both domestic and Asian. The dessert was a piece of apple-rhubarb pie that could, in theory, rival Moody's quality. It wasn't served so much with a scoop of ice cream as a large cube big enough to feed at least two cyclists.

Desolate landscape Dry heat Surprise lunch - very delicious (WA cherries) Yet one more 6-mile stint on I-90

Today was mostly more of the same desolate landscape, but there was one point when trees suddenly reappeared. I thought that would be a change of temperature. It brought a change of color of the scenery. Again the situation was extremely dry heat combined with intensely dazzling sun. It's a good thing that I have sunscreen. Today, however, was overshadowed by an incredible tragedy on the ride. A male recumbent rider in our group was struck by a car and killed. The entire group is in shock, both from the incredible loss of one of our own, but also the clear and painful reminder that cycling has inherent risks. No one has spoken of quitting the ride because of this. I think we all feel that he would have wanted us to continue on in his honor and memory. I also don't know that any details are necessary in this forum; just be assured that I do everything I can to ride safely. It seems that it was a fluke accident. Fortunately tomorrow is a day-off so we can meditate on things.

D.  The entry area to a camp located next to a stream: “Drive slow or die fast!” Next to this text was a picture of a Colt .45.

It was no longer useful to get up at 4am to try and leave early. Now that we’ve entered the Mountain Time Zone, it is still pitch dark at that time. We were slated to have breakfast at Minnie’s Montana Café at 7am. I was one of the last people to arrive; though I’m not sure why. I hadn’t set up my tent, but rather, I slept on the floor in the corridor of Thompson Falls High School. Perhaps I was still fatigued from my century (100 miles or nearly) ride from the prior day. Breakfast was a fine filling feast of pancakes. One could choose a meat side dish, such as, bacon, ham or sausage. One could not choose to substitute hash browns for meat though. The server informed me that, if I was allowed to substitute hash browns for meat, everyone in the restaurant would want to do the same. I suppose some large neon warning light must flash for all to see, “Attention Eaters! Substitution has been Allowed!” Ryan, the leader, generously shared his toast with me

There seemed to be quite a lot of pressure from the leaders for us to get out on the road together because there was a stretch of construction where we would have to be shuttled in vehicles for about 18 miles. The way out of town and for the next 58 miles was generally a pleasant ride. There wasn’t much traffic. Along with that, there wasn’t much of anything actually. At about 8 miles out of Thompson Falls there was some construction with flagmen (though they were both actually women.).  We had been forewarned about this stretch and told that there would be a pilot vehicle to follow. When I stopped by the first flagger, I asked her if there was an escort vehicle. She asked me, “Do you think you’re in the big city or something? We don’t have no escort service.” We struck up a conversation. Ahead of the construction there were signs posted warning of a crossing for big-horned sheep. I hadn’t seen any so I asked her where they were. She stated that they were usually up the road from the construction site and that they were pretty dumb animals. She asked me where I was from. I told her why I was doing this ride and so forth. She made a further comment that I must be a cheap date. She did wonder about our group and how a bunch of middle-class people could find the time to do such a long ride. I didn’t quite know how to answer her and just continued on. When she finally let me go ahead, she said that I should ask the lady at the other end of the construction of the escort vehicle. Of course, I did just to hear the reply. She said that the new paved road was our escort vehicle. She wasn’t as lively as the lady at the other end.

After that construction I didn’t see anyone in our group or any support staff for about 50 miles. That was very disconcerting and I did feel somewhat discouraged and threatened. Running out of water in the middle of nowhere didn’t help matters either. I didn’t refill in Plains because I assumed (and you know what happens when you “ass-u-me” something) I would run into support staff surely around the next corner.

The terrain was mostly rolling hills surrounded by high hills. For the first part of my ride they were sparsely covered with trees, and in the second part of what I rode, they were covered with grasses. At the base of all these hills were large piles of stone debris that had eroded from the sides of the rock faces. We followed along a meandering river (Flathead River). For once the heat was not in the broiling range, so it was pretty enjoyable. There were quarries of what looked like flagstones.

It was a challenging aspect to be going along so far without seeing anyone, including staff. In essence I was riding what is called “sweep.” This is the person who rides last in a group to make sure everyone near the end of the line of people makes it to the next waypoint. Normally I don’t really mind riding sweep, because it removes all pressure to keep up and pedal faster than I might feel like. But yesterday was difficult because I was still worn out and badly needed rest. So when I came upon Bill, a support staff person, I jumped at the chance to catch a ride in the van. We discussed the idea of getting off at the point where everyone else was shuttling to; in that way I could enjoy a significant 10-mile downhill. After working so hard, I hate to miss downhills. Bill did point out that there would be a lot of traffic going down this hill as well. I choose to stay in the van until the U. of Montana parking lot. This turned out to be a fine decision in hindsight. Many of the riders who did ride down the hill had lots of complaints about trucks driving to closely to the shoulder as they were going down the hill at 45mph.

Today was a well-deserved rest day to recuperate from yesterday. I spent the day sequestered in a cool place away from the sun. There was plenty of time to catch up on writing. The campus was crawling with incoming first-year students and their parents so it was a lively place. It was such a relaxing day that I almost forgot to go the post office and check to see if I received any general delivery mail. Sure enough, my wife had sent me a really friendly letter.

The goal of the day was to do as little as possible because yesterday was so draining both physically and psychologically that it took an entire day to feel back in some sort of rested state.