4,300 miles...riding for lung health!
Where's John? Daily Journal May-June

June 27 June 26 June 25 June 24 June 22-23 June 21 June 20 June 19 June 18 June 17 June 16 - No entry	June 15 - No entry June 14 June 13 June 12 June 11 June 10 June 9 June 8 June 7 - No entry June 6 June 5	June 4 June 3 June 2 June 1 May 31 May 30 May 29 May 28 May 27 The Arrival (5-25) Preparing

I spent a fair amount of time watching the scenery pass and looking for any clues that the landscape in North Dakota might be noticeably different from that of Montana. The hills seemed greener with crops. There were places where there was actually standing water in the form of small ponds. Somehow the houses I noticed look better kept. There seemed to be more horses and fewer cows. These are just impressions, you understand, so I wouldn’t make any lasting judgments about anything without further investigation.

Finally along Route Two near Berthold, I noticed a fenced off area with military people in camouflage outfits. I suspect, though again I’m sure I’d be hard pressed to prove it, that this was one of the infamous nuclear missile silos of North Dakota. I won’t reveal the exact coordinates; the NSA might not appreciate it. There was a large truck parked inside the fence as well. I was wondering if they were in the process of the shell game that they engage in.

Overall, today was an easy day. The sun was shining and it was warm. There was a gentle tail wind which made it seem possible to just breeze across the state.

I’m looking forward to having a day to rest (except that Gretchen and I have to cook tomorrow) and get my bike fixed up. We’ve crossed into the Central time zone. Even though it’s a human construct, it still feels like I’m getting closer to home. There’s only one more time zone to cross and then it will be a snap to get to Maine.

Yesterday I discovered at a roadside weigh station that my bike and trailer together weight 120 pounds! This is about 20 more than I suspected. So all day today I was aware occasionally of the weight I was pedaling about. I know that there were a few hills when I was wishing I could dump some of the load. It’s difficult to decide what to get rid of though.

The highlights of the day were seeing the last landscapes of Montana, stopping at a family restaurant and having a delicious piece of apple pie and coffee for $2.00, and stopping at a bar for a quick lunch. In hindsight, I should have eaten lunch as well at the family restaurant, but I was “thinking” through the haze of the bicycling brain. I stopped at a bar/casino at about 1:30. There were six people there who were busy drinking, smoking and eating. The bartender engaged me in conversation. When I announced that I was riding my bike across the US for the American Lung Association of Maine, the bartender’s sidekick said, “And here we are, smoking up a storm.” Everyone stopped smoking at that point. After they found out enough information from me about what the ride was about, where from and where to, they almost all simultaneously lit up again. Fortunately the room was large and I was almost done eating, so I was able to leave soon. This made me long for the smoke-free restaurants and bars of Maine. This also made me grateful that I could live in a place where such things exist. This also made me very glad that I expend so much effort to support the Lung Association in Maine so that we can have places that are smoke-free.

I was so late in getting to our destination that I was able to go directly to the restaurant where there was an all-you-can-eat buffet and have many delicious items: clam chowder, pasta in white clam sauce and other delights. Sleep came easily and quickly. The following morning came all too quickly.

The tires I had been waiting for arrived at the hotel in town while I was trying to connect to the internet to send in my photos and commentary for the previous two days. The “kiddy” tire I purchased in Glasgow worked very well on the bike and on the road, too.

We finally located an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet – the holy grail of cyclists everywhere. This commentary must needs be short because tomorrow is supposed to be a 100-mile day since our itinerary is changing slightly to accommodate July 4^th.

A wildlife highlight of today was seeing an American Avocet (thank you, Fran for the id.) There were more Marbled Godwits as well who seemed really worried about my passing near what probably were their nests. They make an interesting call which I can’t write out here, unfortunately.

Thanks to the rapidity of getting to the campground, there was plenty of time to compose journal entries, do laundry, shower and get ready to cook. Doug is my partner in “la cuisine” today. A vegetarian macaroni and cheese dish is in store for the group.

Despite the fact that we’re on the prairie, it seems that many houses do have smallish trees surrounding them. There are also trees along creek and river banks. It’s a welcome change from vast “empty” prairie.

I’d hate to make a pronouncement that could be proven false tomorrow, but I am beginning to believe that this ride is achievable. We’re almost out of Montana and we’ll be seeing the vast North Dakota prairie soon. I’m sure there’ll be some other birds and wildlife that I haven’t yet come across.

Katy reminded me at dinner to tonight that I needed to work on my optimism. That is certainly a good thought. If you’ve read along this journal so far, you might have noticed a distinct negative bent to descriptions and events. Despite the worry about my front tire, the past two days have felt like a totally different ride from the last three weeks. The presence of the sun makes all the difference in the world. A tailwind doesn’t hurt either. The absence of hills makes for smooth riding. Sometimes it’s too smooth; I find myself deep in thought at times while not paying attention to traffic. Out here on the prairie, though, there isn’t very much traffic.

Only the concern about my front tire overshadowed any pure unadulterated joy derivable from this day’s ride. It was never a given that the tire would last the day. On the previous day, it had had a blowout and I patched it inside and out with the help of several of my more mechanically astute group members. It did make it to the end of the day; but who knows about tomorrow?

It was a blessed relief to have the head wind be much less today. There still was a wind, created at least by my forward rapid movement of 10 mph! Another more positive feature today was that there were actual towns every ten miles or so where one could stop. Names like Kremlin, Joplin and Inverness were somewhat inviting. Every town has a similar feature in that there is at least one wheat elevator. If the bar man is to be believed who told me about these when I stopped in to get a muffin and a coffee, most of the elevators have gone out of business and have been taken over by big corporations in Seattle. The train of thought seemed a tad reactionary so I’m not convinced, without more research, that he knew what he was talking about. Another clue about his veracity came up when he went on about Ted Kennedy and Chappaquiddick (an event from forty years ago.)

There has certainly been a lot of contrast between people: the people at the street fair yesterday evening were happy to meet us and greet us but every so often on the road a driver will go out of his (it usually is a male) way to show me his middle finger. I can’t figure out if he’s angry that I’m biking on his road or in his state. Today, though, after I blew out my front tire about fourteen miles from the finish, several people stopped to help which was incredibly reassuring.

Naturally the only bike shop in Havre didn’t have a tire to replace the blown one, so I have to try and keep the old one going until I can have one sent to me express. This makes me regret of course sending back the two spare tires I had just for this purpose back in Anacortes. I got rid of them because of weight!

At bedtime, since it was so mild, I lay a few pieces of clothing out on my bike to dry overnight. It was not to be! A frost struck during the night – apparently some record low temperature was set that night and my clothes were frozen solid. No one said this wouldn’t be an adventure.

Before departing Cut Bank, I had to locate an ATM since I had been cashless since Canada. It was high time to replenish to cashola grove. It seemed that any ATM that was working was located next to a casino. For only a brief second did the idea occur to me to withdraw a small amount and try to increase it next door at the casino. Fortunately I remembered that casinos, like the lottery, are a hidden tax on people who are bad at math (especially probability.)

From the moment I left town until I parked my bike at the town park in Chester, there was a constant, unrelenting and merciless headwind. Even with my faring I was victim to this. I could minimize it somewhat by scrunching down in the seat hiding behind the faring, but it still claimed my arms and forehead. It was utterly exhausting. The interminable wind combined with cool temperatures, featureless landscape and virtually no food along the entire route that by the time I got in (6:45pm….45 minutes late for a dinner I was expecting) I was spent and my legs felt like I had just run a marathon. There was bad cramping and I could barely walk or function. But other than that, I had great fun all day. As I rolled into the camping area, I found only the leader sitting there. It turned out that there wouldn’t be an official group dinner that night, because everyone was equally spent. There was a 50’s street fair to go to. What was there to eat there? Fries, burgers, hot dogs, corn dogs and bottomless root beer floats. Not exactly what I had in mind to replenish my spent energy.

Fortunately, there was a Spud’s Café a few blocks away. I went there see if I could get some pasta. As luck would have it, they were still open. As luck wouldn’t have it, it was an establishment where smoking was allowed. It made me long for Maine without a doubt. I was able to get hold of a couple of bean burritos to go. The server brought them to me as I waited out in front of the restaurant.

Sleep on this night came swiftly and mercifully.

There were quite a few prairie dogs crossing the road all day. Someone reported seeing white pelicans, though I personally didn’t witness them. There was some sort of hawk that several people saw (including me) and we couldn’t identify it.

On the side of the road by a sign that read “Glendale Welcome”, there was a man sitting apparently waiting for something. We got into a conversation; he commented that I had “quite the machine.” It turned out that he was a Hutterite and was happy to share information about their colony, customs, agriculture and cooperative simple society.

The one thought that kept me going today was that I was definitely going to stay in a motel in order to get proper sleep, proper warmth, and proper quiet. By the end of the day, that is just what I received, thankfully!

We entered Waterton Village which is a very small town of forty permanent residents nestled up to the Rockies all around. At times the mountains were stunning beyond imagining and at other times invisible. The weather changed so often; every five minutes in any case. The following morning (the first full rest day) it snowed just above the village itself. I was thankful that I was huddled up in a warm bed.

This rest day has given me a chance to get warm, get caught up, and get a taste of Canadian cuisine.

There were several competing urges I was struggling with while walking up the mountain: quit the ride altogether, hitch a ride, sit at the side of the road hoping someone would take pity on me and give me a lift, or sit at the side of the road and wait for hypothermia to do its thing. This was not a “fun” process at all. It felt awful to be considering quitting. I worried about all the sponsors I would disappoint. I worried about being the only guy to consider quitting. Fortunately I did keep walking. My biking gloves, rain jacket, rain pants, and socks were absolutely drippingly soaked through.

There came a point when I arrived at a place in the road where cars could park. Unbeknownst to me, that was about three-quarters of a mile from the summit (Logan Pass, 6,664’). I virtually threw my bike down and threw myself at the mercy of the first minivan I came to. The driver lowered his window and asked what I wanted. I said, “I need warmth.” It turned out, miraculously so, that the driver was a nurse and a county sheriff. His wife had graduated from UMO some years ago. They gave me a dry fleece jacket to put on. They turned up the heat full-blast inside the van. His wife gave me a pair of warming fleece mitts to keep. I was desperately upset by this time; I was on the verge of crying and wanting to curl up in a ball. They volunteered to drive me back to the bottom to get dry; I turned that down. They volunteered to drive my gear and me up to the top; I turned that down. Finally we came to an agreement; they would drive my trailer the rest of the way to the top. When I finally arrived at the Visitor’s Center there, the only source of heat was a fireplace that gave off almost no heat. They had no hot drinks. I was disappointed beyond description. Fortunately, Nurse “Bob” as the sheriff called himself, spoke to the Park Rangers. They came by and took me (and eventually three others of our group) down to the employee room where there was a fantastic woodstove churning out tremendous heat. One of the rangers gave me a cup of tea with honey. I spent two hours there trying to get warmed up enough to continue down the other side of the mountain. I was able to dry out most of the rain garments thanks to the wonderful heat given off by that stove.

On the way down, I barely had the energy to apply the brakes properly. By the time I got to the bottom, I had virtually no rear brakes left. My front brakes weren’t much to speak of either.

The park ranger, who had given me the restorative cup of tea, recommended that I stop at the Park Café where they had all sorts of pie one could ingest. From the top of Logan Pass until I arrived at St. Mary, I was envisioning a hot slice of pie with ice cream on it to keep me going. When I finally did get the pie, it wasn’t hot enough, but it was a delicious fruity rhubarb pie that was a just reward for having gone through this ordeal.

I was looking forward to seeing Glacier National Park, especially in light of the fact that the glaciers are receding. The mountain tops were all shrouded in clouds until an hour or two before sunset. At that point, they were majestic and snow-covered. Our time at camp came early in the day. There were no showers at this campground, so the most I could manage to do was have a badly needed midday nap!

The Tours Director from Adventure Cycling, Brian Martindale, came by to visit us at the campsite with special treats: cheesecake, raspberries and German chocolate cake. In his words, people who bicycle across the country fully loaded hold a special place in his heart. We were all ecstatic to have such wonderful treats in preparation for our hard day tomorrow over Logan Pass. We all traded biking stories over a campfire until it was time for bed at 9:00pm.

The weather was very encouraging all day, even though we were biking in a remote area. There was only one place to eat once we left Libby. It was a marina that was located on the shore of Kookanusa Lake which was actually a downhill ride from the route we were following. So I left my bike up at the top and walked the mile down to the marina. It was a pleasant meal with my favorite tomato soup and crackers.

All day long the ride went up and down the mountains bordering Kookanusa Lake. The vistas were breathtaking and of a distance that was impossible to estimate. The Rocky Mountains were finally visible in the distance and the blue-green water of the lake receded into the distance as far as the eye and I could see.

At times a helpful tailwind aided the uphill climbs, but mostly, it was leg power that helped me arrive in a somewhat timely and not too discouraging manner at the Marriner’s Haven campground just south of Rexford.

The weather was very encouraging all day, even though we were biking in a remote area. There was only one place to eat once we left Libby. It was a marina that was located on the shore of Kookanusa Lake which was actually a downhill ride from the route we were following. So I left my bike up at the top and walked the mile down to the marina. It was a pleasant meal with my favorite tomato soup and crackers.

All day long the ride went up and down the mountains bordering Kookanusa Lake. The vistas were breathtaking and of a distance that was impossible to estimate. The Rocky Mountains were finally visible in the distance and the blue-green water of the lake receded into the distance as far as the eye and I could see.

At times a helpful tailwind aided the uphill climbs, but mostly, it was leg power that helped me arrive in a somewhat timely and not too discouraging manner at the Marriner’s Haven campground just south of Rexford.

I do have to mention the night previous to our departure. On our first night in Sandpoint I did stay in a room. I needed a soft bed, hot shower and a place to lay out all my clothes that needed washing (which was no small pile, I’ll tell you.) The second night, in order to be frugal, I did move outside into my tent. This also served as an opportunity to dry it out. I’m not sure that it has had a true chance to be dry since Anacortes (before I began using it actually.) I had heard from people who camped out the first night that there had been a couple of trains going by. You could throw a stone from the campsite up to the Amtrak line that goes right by. Well, this second night must have been an annual train reunion convention. There were trains going by about every half hour. They wouldn’t pass quietly; no, they would sound their train whistle with all the joy of an eight-year old boy on Christmas morning. This wasn’t my best night’s sleep I’ll have to admit.

The next day as we started out in very windy conditions, it seemed to be fairly challenging to get any momentum. This lasted all the way until East Hope, where I was finally able to stop at a restaurant and have a restorative helping of hash browns and coffee. It was then, though, that the rain began. Did I mention that I was fed up with rain already?

Fortunately, it didn’t last too long when shortly after crossing the Montana border, it cleared and became sunny and actually warm. There was no actual sign again demarcating the state boundary so there is still no typical photo showing my bike crossing the line on its own or the like.

Not only did we cross into Montana, but we also crossed into the Mountain Time Zone (now only two hours difference from Maine.) The campsite was lovely with soft ground that accepted tent stakes happily. We even had the equipment and energy to play a lively game of volleyball.

It was also helpful to focus on a short term goal, for example, the next five miles. Can I do the next five miles in less than half an hour? There came a point when I didn’t want to stop and eat. I pulled some granola bars out of my pocket and ate while still moving. This helped tremendously. My legs could keep moving. I was worried that if I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to get going again. You have to understand that this was far from any sort of Lance Armstrong speed. So it wasn’t a question of racing speed; but rather, it was a question of keeping going when the urge to stop was great.

Yet once again, the topographic map was a tad misleading; there were plenty of hills after the Idaho border (which, by the way, was extremely anti-climactic.) There wasn’t even a spot to take a photo of the border to show you and prove to you that I had finished biking in Washington and was now onto the greener pastures of Idaho.

The last few miles coming into Sand Point were breath-taking. The bike path was long, varied and surrounded on two sides by water.

We had the option that night staying in a tent or perhaps taking a room (sharing ideally). It wasn’t that difficult a decision. The bed in the room was heavenly, soft and not vacated under 8am the next morning. This was to be our rest day.

There was significant rain along the way on occasion. Finally after going through an area that seemed really desolate, I arrived at a lakeside resort that might have been named “Lakeside Resort.” We always prepare lunches before we leave in the morning, but when it’s cold and rainy, a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich just doesn’t cut the proverbial mustard. So I bought fish and chips, despite Al’s admonition to never buy fish too fah from the ocean.

There came a point when I finally arrived at the steep decline sign (a truck on an inclined plane going downwards.) At the bottom, our leader, Fran, was there to let us know that we were going only as far as Ione instead of Usk. There would be “showers.” What we didn’t know was that the space we would be occupying was also the gathering grounds for lots of Canadian geese. As you might know, geese leave droppings the size of small dogs. So we had to pitch our tents in places where there was a dearth of droppings. Sort of an anti-Easter egg hunt.

Jay, our host and owner of the Ione RV Park, insisted that I come into his home which was also the camping office to show him how to play the piano. As many of you might know, I’m actually more of a singer and he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

The showers that were advertised had some limitations: if someone wanted to run the sink or flush the toilet or do laundry, the water pressure would drop precipitously and leave nothing for the shower. So we had to have very intensive communications through walls to coordinate our efforts.

Some local boys were fishing off the dock at the campsite and they sold ten fish they caught to us at $.75 each. I wasn’t sure what they were; they were tasty but also boney and scaley!

For some reason, the burritos with refried beans and rice were scrumptious.

This was the second day in a row where the weather got hot early and stayed that way. We started the day by immediately beginning the climb up to Sherman Pass. It was a slow slog for me. At least there were no mishaps: cougars, flats, gears falling off, or the like. I was looking forward to getting to the top of the pass. I didn’t really have the mental wherewithal to enjoy each passing moment. It was more like waiting for this moment to be over so that I could get to the next one and the one after that. Not very philosophically sound, I know, but my body was tired and ready for a rest day (or at least a day with no climbing.)

On the way to the pass, there was a large area that had been devastated by a fire in 1988. It was clear that virtually all the growth that was visible was young and dwarfed by the tall spike-like remnants of the old burned trees.

This was a day with several wrong turns on the way to Kettle Falls, a way point on our way to Colville. We did go over a bridge that spanned the Columbia River. The view was spectacular; it seemed like it went on for twenty-five miles.

We found a Town and Country Fair going on in Kettle Falls. That was a good thing, too because the thermometer read 95°. I found a shaved ice cone with coconut custard flavoring. Several of us just lay around in the shade for a little while, trying to cool off and prepare for the last ten miles of the day. Nigel, an Englishman, had an interesting encounter with a local. He asked if he could have a small ice cream The lady responded, “Honey, I don’t do small!” Imagine that with a western twang.

A fourteen-year old boy at the fair was interested in my bike. His questions were such that each effective answer I had the energy to give him was “Maine!” He got a kick out of that, I’m sure.

Tomorrow we look forward to no pass. Yippee!

One thing I forgot to mention. Sabine warned us before we left that the pass we were going to be going over had recent reports of cougars. So this day was definitely one in survival mode. I kept looking in my mirror for a cougar ready to pounce. I was waiting for the next mechanical failure and the next injury. When Fran, the leader, came by I tried using her cell phone to call my trusty bike shop, Back Bay Bikes, in Portland. Alas, no cell service.

In Wauconda I was able to find a phone and get the situation squared thanks to the phenomenal helpfulness of Andy, at BBB. He overnighted, via Haluzak (the manufacturer of my recumbent) the skateboard wheel. I was able to patch up my arm in fine fashion.

But the entire ride was one overshadowed by worry. It was sad in a way, because I couldn’t really enjoy what scenery there was. I missed seeing a couple of petroglyphs. I’m hoping that Fran, who did get pictures of them, will get them to me somehow so you can see them.

On top of all this ill fate coming in one day, this was the day when I was supposed to cook in camp with Orris, another biker from San Diego. I did manage to get into camp in a timely manner. Our responsibilities as cooks include going shopping for dinner, breakfast and lunch. There has to be enough food for fourteen hungry bicyclists. This has to be achieved with $140! I have to say that sometimes I have a sense of what’s in the cart and can stick to a budget, despite what spouses might profess! We came in at $111. We also have to clean up the common pots and pans both for dinner and breakfast.

I was very pleased with what we had to prepare. I chose the meal: salad with romaine, olives, peppers, tomatoes, broccoli, Paul Newman dressing and red leaf lettuce. For the main course we had pasta with canned spaghetti sauce mixed in with sautéed onions and zucchini. Dessert consisted of strawberries mixed with honey-flavored plain yogurt. The group seemed happy with the menu. I have to admit that we were supposed to have woken up at 5:30am to begin preparing breakfast. At 6:00am my cooking partner stirred me from a sound sleep and a plentitude of snoring to ask me where some ingredients were.

I was glad when this day was over. This journal entry was actually written the day after, as I had absolutely no energy to write.

I did forget to mention a sign I saw on the way through Rockport that described the North Cascades as the “Gateway to the American Alps”. From the photos I’ve sent along, I’m hoping that the reason for that categorization is clear. There was one peak that reminded me a great deal of the Matterhorn (or Cervin in French) of Switzerland.

Today was a day that wasn’t filled with dread. The pass we were to do was lower than the two that we wrestled with two days ago and it didn’t seem as steep according to the map. What was surprising was the change in temperature during the day. This cycling season in Maine hasn’t yet seen temperatures in the high 80s much less into the 90s. That kind of heat provides a shock to this body as well as some worry. Most of the time in Maine worry about hypothermia is nearly a year-round pastime. Prior to this trip I was aware that we were going to be in relatively hot places. It was totally unexpected to be thrust into one so quickly after leaving the western part of Washington.

There were a few interesting birds, some seen, some unseen. There was one area on the way up Loup Loup Pass where there were two birds hidden in the trees and on opposite sides of the valley through which we were passing. They were calling to each other. Without having seen them it is impossible to identify with any certainty, but their call is distinctive and some have suggested that it might be the Western Quail. I was able to see a magpie at one point and a yellowish bird about the size of a robin. Perhaps one of you can identify it for me and the rest of my readers.

Another time I stopped by the side of the road to change sunglass lenses; it was brilliantly sunny, overpoweringly so. I parked the bike next to a fence that had a birdhouse built on it. There is a photo of one of them. It sat on the fence for a while looking at me, then it disappeared. Shortly after it came back with a friend and they set to dive bombing me.

In this arid and desolate setting, I found several Indian Housing Developments which seemed rather run-down. There didn’t seem to be much evidence of economic activity other than lumber mills and the railroad.

We were treated to a bicycle tour angel by the name of Sabine Ward of Tonasket, who invited us to camp on her backyard lawn and garden instead of going to the campsite that we were supposed to go to. It was rumored that the original destination was a space that was half the size of her yard and in an “alleyway” setup. It would have been difficult. So she received copious thank you (s) from all of us numerous times.

Here in what I thought was cowboy country, there was a deli that served Pannini and called them by that name. This was surprising and fun.

There was an ice cream place in town, Sheri’s, which had a flavor I don’t recall finding in Maine, chocolate coconut swirl. I have to admit that I still like the coconut ice cream better that is found at Bangkok Garden at Fort Andross. Hmmmm, a free ad and they weren’t a sponsor for this year’s ride. Maybe next year?

It’s a small struggle to not think about the passes that are still to come. Yesterday was not easy by any stretch of the imagination and other passes may be as difficult if not more so. Susan did read some journal entries of other riders of this route (Northern Tier) and at least one person commented that this first section was the hardest riding of the whole 4,308 miles. That’s encouraging.

When I reached the summit, Fran, gave me a high-five to congratulate me on doing my first pass. I mentioned that May 31 was also my birthday and that this was certainly a fine way to celebrate. The descent was pure pleasure; it lasted for 18 miles and the highest speed I felt safe to ride at was 38 mph. I was surprised by the buffeting winds that I was encountering on the way down.

The difference between the western side of the North Cascades and the eastern side was sudden, surprising and stark. On the western side, the forest was lush with green and the mountains were densely covered with evergreens. On the eastern side, the vegetation was sparser, shorter, and the mountains were brown and barely covered with any vegetation whatsoever.

During this long crossing of the mountains, I ran out of water, so at the bottom of the long run I was looking for a place to refill both water and energy. We had to go through Mazama which was a little burg with a couple of stores. Their sandwiches were phenomenally delicious for some reason. They had bars of pine tar soap that were tempting. But I still wasn’t in the mood for adding any weight. The reason why was no mystery – going over the mountain pass made me regret not getting rid of even more stuff. The passes did make me worry still about the passes to come.

Rolling into the KOA campground and knowing that tomorrow would be a day off was a very welcome relief. The hot shower was luxurious and long. Shaving helped me feel human again and ready to tackle tomorrow’s rest day in Winthrop.

After that store I missed the turnoff for the predetermined Adventure Cycling route. Fortunately the route I did take ended up in the same place as the actual route. There was a side benefit to making this “mistake”. I came upon Cascadian Farms Organic Fruit Stand. I had overheard Doug, one of our riders, talking about how it was just down the road from our cappuccino break and that it was nationally renowned. Somehow I just missed the obvious turnoff, but stopped in at Cascadian and found delicious looking organic strawberries. I bought a pint and shared them with the group in the evening. They also had smoothies so I purchased a strawberry-banana smoothie and put it in my emergency water bottle. That in itself made the side trip worth it.

In Marblemount most of us stopped at a restaurant, Howie’s, and found that they had actual vegan burgers. This was more shocking than the omnipresent espresso bars. I sort of expected there to be only beef in these here parts, what with all the ranches we passed. That burger really hit the spot and gave me energy to deal with the rest of the day when it started raining and kept up until the next morning.

On the way to the North Cascades National Park Visitor’s Center, I had an unexpected treat: up ahead I spotted some birds scurrying around the road. They were small and reminded me of the sanderlings that I often see at Reid State Park. Since there wasn’t a beach for 150 miles, I knew they couldn’t be shore birds. The small birds turned out to be ruffed grouse. The mother was waiting for them on the other side of the road. I wasn’t sure of the identity until I got a look at Sipley’s bird book at the visitor’s center. I stopped to try to get my camera out to get a photo of them, but the mother flew off before I could. They were very cute.

This journal entry is two days late because there was not even a phone at the primitive campsite we were staying in. How primitive you might ask. There were flush toilets, but no hot water. There was no sheltered place to eat, so it was a very wet dinner.

As I was returning from the bathrooms, I was approaching my tent site where my bike also was parked. As I got closer to my bike, a chipmunk jumped clear out of a compartment in my trailer. This was only the first surprise; it had found some Fig Newtons I had in there and he had succeeded in nibbling on one of them. He also left a calling card; I must 
have scared it out of him when I approached.

It wasn’t too long in the idyllic setting before rain arrived. In the distance ahead of us in the mountains, we could see sunny skies…this kept us trying to go faster in that direction. Unfortunately we still got caught. At this point of the day, it wasn’t a rain that was maddening, but I still would have preferred sunny skies. Later on the day, after we passed Sedra-Woolley, we were riding quite a long stretch along the Skagit (rhymes with gadget NOT bag it) River valley. The forest was lush with green; green moss, evergreens, and ferns. The trees formed a lovely canopy over the road and in many places completely covered it. This canopy was somewhat helpful when the hard rain hit; but unfortunately not helpful enough.

We finally arrived in Concrete, Washington. The most prominent landmark in town was a three-tower structure made with concrete that looks like what you might see at a construction company. Tonight I don’t have comfortable access to the Internet so I can’t research the history of Concrete. I’m sure it’s peopled with very solid citizens.

One of the difficulties of bike touring in this manner is that when one arrives at the campsite, there is no guarantee that it will be possible to set up the tent with it getting wet. This day was one of those times; having just biked 60 miles, it would have been nice to get a hot shower and crawl into bed for an hour to get warm. But first it was necessary to put up the tent in the rain in order to have a bed to crawl into.

I set up the tent on ground that wasn’t very solid; after I had completed staking it down, I walked away to get something off the bike and I thought I heard a noise. The tent had collapsed so I had to move it to a different spot and remount it. I’m sure it would have been a fine comedy sequence to an outside observer, but it was rather frustrating for me. Fortunately the cooks had set out a snack for us. Getting some quick carbohydrates helped the somber soaked mood immensely.

The cooks prepared a fine pasta dinner with garlic bread. It was fine dining though it did lack some Chianti.

We circumnavigated the island on which Anacortes is located. We even crossed over to a lovely island, Whidbey Island, which has an impressive bridge spanning a deep chasm filled with sea water between the two islands. It almost looked like a fjord except for the fact that the chasm’s water had an outlet on both ends. Another dead giveaway was that I heard no Norwegian being spoken nearby.

There were several spots where the route that had been mapped out went along small fishing and pleasure boat harbors. It reminded me of the Pemaquid Peninsula south of Damariscotta.

Washington Park had a wonderful bicycle/walking path through rolling hills in the woods with evergreens and ground plants, like ferns, to make it a beautiful green canopy to ride through.

There were some very large Great Blue Herons on the shore near the town of Dewey. It’s always a pleasure to see them, though it would be a special treat if we could see a Green Heron now and then.

This ride was fairly exhausting because it was the first ride since Saturday May 15^{th. Fortunately in the evening, I spoke with Fran, the leader, and she reminded me that the first week is difficult for everyone. It was definitely worrisome to feel this tired on Day 1. A helpful thought did come to mind: I don’t have to worry about the mountains in 2 days, I just need to be focused on what’s in front of me now.}

For the rather lengthy ferry ride out to the island, we were all somewhat pensive about what we were about to embark upon. This really was a very positive distraction. Everyone in the group thanked me for organizing the outing. I was pleased to be able to feel effective at convincing, organizing and executing an ad hoc plan.

This evening was the first time we all assembled as a group. There are fourteen of us (four women and ten men) of varying ages and experience. There is one other recumbent rider, Mike, from California. He has been riding his bike for five weeks! I suggested that he was inaugurating his bike pretty thoroughly. We were led through many aspects of the ride: logistics, cooking, cleaning, gear handling, and other important details. We were asked to share a memory of bicycling from childhood. It turns out that several of us, including me, had early experiences of crashes involving being unable to stop the forward movement of the bike.

Sadly today, somewhere on San Juan Island I misplaced my Marriner Lumber hat, which Mike Hall gave me as a way to promote them across the country. This was annoying, since I had been so careful with al the other items I have to carry. I replaced it with a San Juan Island hat, but it’s not the same, of course.

Tomorrow we go on our shakedown ride at 9am. This is our last chance before hitting the road to see if there is anything else we’d like to mail home, for example, any cast iron frying pans we might have wanted to use for making fried eggs in the morning. We have to do this ride fully “loaded”, which means all our stuff plus any group cooking gear. It’s late now, so I should close by thanking everyone for supporting ALA-ME to get me here.

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They had just seated their last customers, but they offered to let me have a selection from a VERY limited menu. My basic options were salad, dolmades, or lamb. If I had just ridden 70 miles, I might have taken all three, but I felt like I wanted more choice. So I was thinking about going the Daddy O’s up the street. Another man had come into the restaurant seeking dinner. We both ended up talking with the server about options. It was raining (as is the common belief about the weather in Seattle) and Greg offered to drive me to the pizza place. So we ended up eating together. Ironically, he turned out to be an Art History professor whose specialty is Meso-American art. That is Susan’s (my wife) second interest in art!

We had a thoroughly engaging conversation. He’s about to retire from college teaching. His name was Greg Hawkins. He spoke of being able to trace his routes back to a long line of New England Yankees.

It was with tremendous relief that I arrived in my room with all bags and body intact from the long trip.

Now if only all my computer equipment will work as promised. So far so good, I’m able to write this entry. The first of 96. I suppose it would be prudent to not leave it until bedtime. There is the pressure to quit writing and run the risk of forgetting some detail that seemed interesting at the time. There were a couple of things. Already, I’ve passed by the Tulalip Indian Reservation Casino. The stress is on the second syllable. Then there was the mysterious sign that said something like “Hot Mud Pails”. I’m hoping to find such a sign again somewhere in Washington, so that I might have a faint chance of deciphering it…

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This last period of fundraising before an event is always worrisome. Many sponsors have pledged and given in such a phenomenal and generous way. Others have yet to actually send in their pledges, still, all have been generous in their promise and delivery. Overall, the results are monumental and the average increase is over 100%. At this rate, it looks like I will reach my lofty goal of $20,000, which is a tremendous accomplishment for me and the American Lung Association of Maine.

I never thought fund-raising could be a peak experience. When people promise dramatic increases and send them along quickly, it is a peak experience. When people promise and two months go by, it's more like waiting for an egg to hatch. This is not to reflect badly on the generous individuals who have made the promise; no, it's more a reflection on my lack of patience or my faith in things working out. 

At this point, I don't know how I can thank everyone for what they've given this year. I can only promise that I will do my utmost to ride every mile, write eloquently and humorously about it, show a decent slide show after, and with a little bit o' luck, produce an electronic or paper book. I will also produce a newsletter that will summarize the odyssey, recognize supporting businesses, and prep my sponsors for next year! 

Overall, I must admit, the greatest challenge isn't raising money, training, committing to leave my wife behind for three months; the greatest challenge is in believing I can actually do the ride! For many years I have thought of doing a transcontinental ride. In 1973, before I could afford a bicycle helmet, the glimmer of dreaming about this ride began. That was 31 years ago and, of course, somehow time kept on moving. Meaning, I've aged and had physical ills. None of which I believe make it impossible for me to achieve this goal. As recently as last year, I thought that because of a physical problem and surgery, a final door had closed on the possibility. At this point I believe firmly that this particular door has not closed. 

So, on my journey, I hope to find some balance between observing and recounting stories about all the places, people, and nature I hope to see and tracking any important reflections I might have along the long route.

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About John and ALA-ME 
Trek Flash Article
Trekker John Fischer from Brunswick is taking on a 4,300 mile Adventure Cycling Association trip from Anacortes, Washington to Bar Harbor, Maine. The dates are: May 27th through August 27th, 2004. 

John is well on his way to raising his goal of $20,000 for the American Lung Association of Maine (ALA-ME), so far,  he has raised over $16,000!

John is a 9-year Trek Across Maine veteran and has raised a phenomenal total of $65,569 in the last eight years for the work of the ALA-ME! A venture between ALA-ME and Adventure Cycling in Missoula, Montana, allows John to do his 93-day ride and raise funds  for lung health!

The Lung Association thanks John for his dedication and support!

If you are interested in welcoming John home at the finish line in Bar Harbor on August 27, 2004, email Sue Grenier: or call: 1-888-241-6566 x116

Click Here to Make a Pledge to John' Ride