Into Idaho, Slowly

8/31/2006: Day 12, 9.9 miles; Total 435.1 Miles

We awakened early and I just couldn’t get going out of the campground. At 4 AM I needed out of the tent for a bathroom break. It was about 48 degrees out. I could see the big dipper sitting on top of Blue Mountain as if balanced there. It was a beautiful night view. When I got back into my 20-degree sleeping bag in my shorts and t-shirt, I was cold. So I put on full fleece sweatshirt and drawers and slept soundly for the next two hours nice and cozy. However, when time to get up I was chilled and didn’t relish riding and cold. Finally at 8:30 I took off for town as it had warmed to 58 degrees. However, riding in the shade I still had to pull over and put on my nylon windbreaker vest. I then felt good and pedaled the 6 or so miles to Clarkston, Washington, the last town in the state. I stopped at the Walla Walla Community College office for directions to a bike shop and was directed out of state to Lewiston, Idaho, some two miles down the road and over the Snake River. The TB joined me at the College and I started down the street but couldn’t get by the McDonalds so we went in for the big breakfast. Then I pedaled over the Snake into Idaho and to the Spoke and Wheel Bike Shop. We met Scott who was very gracious and checked my front wheel that has a prominent weld joint from manufacturing. He assured me it is okay and safe. He then began to install my fenders I have carried from Pensacola and which have been a huge pain to the TB and me. They just don’t fit in anyplace among our stuff in the van, and as it turned out they didn’t fit on the bike either! What a bummer. Jim from Boulder had recommended fenders, as does my bike book; however, my bike shop advised against them. It now appears that my bike has too narrow of a fork to allow any fender to fit. It’s the same reason I could not use any wider tires and had to settle for 700 x 28c instead of 30c or 32c. (That’s the mm width.) I bought a small bag to use on the handle bar to hold the cell phone and the pepper spray in place of the large handle bar bag that seems to cause unstable steering. I hope to turn the Stallion into a gelding! I also bought a sunshade for around my ears and neck under my helmet at the Army and Navy Store next to the bike shop. Scott said my flats were caused by a local plant with three noames: Goat's Head, Puncture Vine, of Tack Weed.

The TB sat in the Van somewhat bored with my lingering. When I came out I finally admitted I couldn’t go today and we went for a motel room at just past noon. Several good things did happen: We bought an attachment for filling the propane tank on the van. It has been a problem for TB for years as the fill valve is angled and the van had to be jacked up to hook up, now it doesn’t. He’s happy about that. I got a new battery for my altimeter watch that will come in handy to judge the mountaintops for the next month. Many will be a walk up and it will be nice to know I’m approaching the true summit. We washed our clothes, and we made two trips to the DQ. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better biking day in Idaho.

Into Idaho

The Lewis and Clark Trail

Out of the Fire into the Wind and Hills

8/30/2006: Day 11, 62.9 miles; Total 425.2 Miles

We got the early start this AM. It was the coolest day of the trip so far. It was 56 degrees at the start and not expected to get much above 70 all day. It was also very windy all day. The TB slept in the Van with an electric cord through Sam Patel’s Room 14 screen door. He swears he didn’t make the hole in the screen it was just handy! He had an egg sandwich for me as I came out the door and we drove the 4 miles back to the Lewis and Clark Campground where I had stopped yesterday. He dropped me off and went back to the motel and I pedaled in to greet him in about half an hour. On my way into town several dozen fire fighter groups coming in to help with what is called the Dayton Complex Fire passed me. It has now burned over 125 square miles just south of Dayton, but we neither saw nor smelled it in the motel or town. At the gas station beside the motel a lady was selling Dayton Complex Fire t-shirts and all the fire fighters (and me) were buying. Too bad she didn’t have the state (Washington) on the shirts as most of the fire fighters (and me) are from out of state. But we all still bought!

We are starting to get into 2000 foot mountains but the climbs aren’t bad; I can pedal more than half of them and I don’t at all mind walking a few miles up, and rather enjoy it. I noticed at the 51.5-mile mark we would be at our highest summit to date (2750 feet) and then there would be a 10-mile down hill to the Snake River and the Chief Timothy Park Campground. The way I figured was that I could get 10 free miles if I just do 51.5, so that was the plan.

There was supposed to be a town named Delaney at 20 miles; it did not exist. At 28.5 was the city of Dodge, 3 houses! There then was a 1500-foot climb over about twenty miles to the town of Pomeroy, population 1517. At Dodge a Washington DOT worker cleaning the roadside restroom told us about the campground and that the downhill was significant and could be dangerous for bikes and trucks! He assured me there was a run-a-way truck ramp near the bottom if I needed it!

Pomeroy is a very historic town and the TB said each storefront had a right-up giving the history of the establishment or the houses. Many went back to the early 1800’s and one had been the doctor’s office. One started off as the bank but went out in the 1939 crash but is a bank again today.

As I was leaving Pomeroy I saw my first westbound long distance bicyclist, Jim from Boulder, Colorado. Jim didn’t want to give me his last name so I asked him if he had anything to do with the Ramsey case and he said he did not. He was poor and her family was rich so he never met them. He wasn’t up on the news so I told him the DA dropped the case.

Jim from Boulder is quite the cyclist. He has ridden from San Diego across country to St Augustine, Florida and back to Boulder! He was on the gulf coast not long after Katrina, but can’t remember if he went through Pensacola, my hometown. Jim pointed out that he wouldn’t carry a handle bar bag as it makes the bike handle too “squirrelly.” That’s just the problem I’m having with the Stallion, so I vowed to try it without the bag. Jim carries all his gear and when he saw the TB he said, I have a van just like that, but it’s at home; I think he thought I was lucky. He carries two panniers on his front wheels (low riders he called them, almost dragging the ground) and two on the real wheels with a big bedroll on top of the rear wheel. He uses two fenders and said they don’t slow him down and keep his feet a lot warmer in rain. He camps some but also uses quite a few motel rooms “if they are cheap enough.” I told him of the lack of fire evidence in Dayton, and he said he was in thick smoke in Clarkston and Lewiston and in Idaho for several miles before entering Washington. He also told me the hill I was hoping to get the free mileage was a humdinger. He had to walk and pedal slowly and fight wind to get up it and his average for the day was less than 8 MPH, very low for him. Then I made the mistake of asking how many miles he averages per day. Three days ago he did 113 miles in one day; I shouldn’t have asked. However, he did say he averaged about 11-14 miles per hour and that’s about my average also; so the solution is, I need to stay out on the road longer, but that will take some more time. So finally I bid Jim from Boulder good-bye and was on my way out of Pomeroy to tackle those hills and the 2750-foot Sweeney Gulch Peak. I probably walked a mile of it but had an intense trailing wind and was able to go down to my “granny low gear” and pedal part way to the top. Near the top a nice house had a sign out front wishing Debra a happy 17^th birthday. All I saw was the dog!

When I peaked out you could see flat plains all in wheat for 30 or 40 miles. There was a sign that Lewis and Clark came this way on their return trip back to St. Louis. Further back down the hill I stopped and read an historic marker that showed the actual rut marks on the hillside where L & C traveled. The ruts were not made by their several dozen men but were an Indian Trail that existed as a shortcut to the Snake River for thousands of years. The local Nez Perch Indians had given L & C travel directions and advised this return route that saved them several days. It amazed me to see that I traveled US Route 12 through the valley and each time I topped out the mountaintops are perfectly flat plains. The road follows the deep valleys and gulches of the streambeds. Once I peaked out, my 10-mile down hill was before me and my first opportunity to do a 60 plus mile day, or kill myself. I took off the handle bar bag as advised by Jim from Boulder. I checked the tires, the brakes, the pedal cleats, and put on my wind jacket. I was nervous.

I started down. The Stallion loved it. In no time we were at 41 mph. I pulled in the reins and squeezed on the brakes and at about the one mile down mark brought him to a halt. I must admit, he was much more in control as far as steering goes, but the speed was too much for me. We started again and hit 30 in an instant, I applied both front and rear brakes and tried to hold him at 25 or less. Then the TB passed me and pulled in half a mile ahead. I wasn’t so sure I could get the Stallion stopped but I did. The front and rear rims were so hot I couldn’t touch them and the TB confirmed by shouting “ouch, that’s hot.” I had read that the rims could get so hot as to blow a tire, so we gave them some time for cooling. Soon I was on my way again and kept her under control with intermittent bakes and one more complete stop at the run-a-way truck ramp. Also I tried to sit upright and to have my jacket open for braking, but it didn’t help much. After about 5 miles the steepest part was behind us and I coasted five more miles at an acceptable 20-25 mph. Soon I saw the Snake River ahead and our campground with the most beautiful view I have ever seen. The canyons are spectacular and rise 5000 feet from the river and Blue Mountain is just behind my tent.

As I write here in the dark at a picnic table I hear Coyotes howling not far away.

We are less than 10 miles from Idaho. We have done more than 10% of the whole trip. Some might say it’s a piece of cake!

Mileage on the Day Off

8/29/2006: Day 10, 27.8 miles; Total 362.3 Miles

Well, I tried to take a day off, but I couldn’t do it. The TB was up at 5 and came into the room for the bathroom and I never knew it. He insists on sleeping in the Van and running electric out the window from the room, by carefully (his word) prying back the screen to make his extension cord fit. He says his 25 foot cord was always 5 feet short so he got a 30 foot cord and it’s still 5 feet short! He had already been to the “shabby” breakfast, but I asked him to join me for a cup of coffee. They had nice sweet rolls and my favorite bagels and cream cheese and a special bagel toaster that I for one know how to use. I liked it. He thought we should have had eggs. He brought me the Yellow Pages and I found that the Bike Barn was only 4 blocks away; however, at 8:05 AM they did not answer so the TB drove me to the western edge of town and I rode the British Nanny (The Raleigh spare bike) 3.85 miles across town to our Super 8 Motel. He was out looking for Wal-Mart so I put up the Nanny and rode the Stallion some ¾ mile to the Bike Barn.

At the Bike Barn I met the owner Greg Knowles, his daughter Kaylee and his top mechanic Reggie. I told them of my Cross Country Ride and presented them the Stallion with my problems. Number one I wanted the new shifter cable checked as it shifts fine but the handle indicator is not near the gear 1, 2, or 3 indicator any more. Reggie shifted her (him) and put all gears through their paces and said, “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” So we didn’t, and I felt better. Next they added some Teflon Lubricant to the chain then wiped it off nicely so it didn’t get “messy.” Then when I asked them to analyze yesterday’s flat tube Greg showed how it had a “top flat.” That is, the pinhole was not on the road surface of the tube and perhaps was caused by a bad spoke or some other problem with the wheel. So he took the wheel off the bike and removed tire and tube and inspected it all finding no obvious mechanical problem and no burrs on the wheel. I then bought 5 tubes and he said that’s all I owed for. I told him we needed a labor charge, and asked if Reggie worked for free. Reggie shouted out, “I work for beer. This was a very professional establishment, and they were all wonderful people. Greg asked me to talk with Kaylee who is a sophomore in college up in Seattle. She said she “guesses” she did okay last year in school, and doesn’t know what she wants to do with the rest of her life or if she wants to be a doctor. I told her I don’t either! By now the TB had shown up and was pacing the parking lot, anxious to do something else so we left the Bike Barn. I was very happy with the visit and my 5 tubes for about a dollar less each than any other store!

As we headed back for the room he was worried about check out time sneaking up on us. It was 10 AM and check out was at noon. I wanted to drive out of town on US 12 ten or so miles and check on the Dayton Forest Fire that is burning out of control over 100 square miles right in our route. We drove about ten miles and consulted some folks who said the road was open. So we hurried back and started riding.

Three miles out of town I had a front flat tire! The same tire that had the “top flat” on the way into Walla Walla has a flat on the way out. This time I found two potential problems. There was a thorn and a piece of glass stuck in the tire. I believe the glass was the culprit. This tub was fixed in about 20 minutes and I was on my way. While I was changing it a truck pulled in carrying the beautiful alfalfa hay that grows around here and the deriver got out with half the seatbelt in his hand. He said the belt came lose, so he stopped to fix it. There are signs all along reading, “$97 Fine for Not Wearing Your Seatbelt.”

I pulled in at Dixie; a small town with a small Mom and Pop type store and the beautiful girl behind the counter was the owner. She and her husband are entrepreneur’s who live in Walla Walla. They have rental apartments in town. Some muscular young guy in t-shirt, shorts, and 12 inch work boots monopolized all of Angie’s time in the store and I don’t think it was her husband. Outside a local pulled up in his pickup truck and proceeded to tell me all about the fires. They were out of control, increased in size 30% over night, were also burning wheat fields along with forest, firefighters have been here for several weeks and have filled the ball field with tents at Waitsburg, US Route 12 was open all the way and the size of fire was over 125 square miles now—a nice report.

About that time the TB arrived with a pint of Potato Salad and some cold drinks from Wal-Mart. He still has trouble with the flavored soda, no caffeine, and diet purchase. Now he said, “You have to do the purchase yourself.” So I went back in the Dixie store and Angie sold me a diet 7-UP.

I finally got going and the TB stayed behind for an hour or so. About 2 miles out of Dixie while I was walking up a hill I could hear an approaching siren. The road was curvy so I leaned the bike against the guardrail and climbed on the other side as a police car came around the curve probably at 100 mph with the tires leaning. He didn’t slide, but it looked like he could. Soon a second one came by as I jumped over the rail once more. When I got to the top of the hill I had about 5 miles or so of downhill to Waitsburg and was cruising along at 25mph or so when I came upon an accident scene with all the flashing lights. I was a little anxious as the hill was steep, traffic heavy and I needed a quarter to half mile to stop so how much would a semi-truck need. But we all got stopped and a Jeep had hit a truck head on and the Paramedics were just leaving with the victim. No one needed an old retired ER doctor, so I got some more fire information from the flagman and was on my way coasting another 3 or 4 miles into Waitsburg.

I stopped at the first gas station and met Jim Davison, the clerk, who is a retired schoolteacher of business and driver’s education. He taught all the kids in town and most of their parents how to drive and said they were all good drivers, “because they are motivated to get their license. They only turn to bad drivers after the class is over.” I suppose he’s right; I never thought of it that way. Jim is a delightful guy who brought the chair in from out in the sun and plopped me down in front of the air conditioner where I sat drinking a cold Root Beer for 30 or more minutes until my TB showed up. Jim said there was a nice campground, The Lewis and Clark Campground, just 4 more miles down the road. I rode down there but it was a dust bowl and had no electric for the Van so I loaded up and we drove 4 more miles into Dayton and found a motel for $41.00, no tax, owned by Sam Pate. The town was said to be overrun with firefighters and smoke but we saw neither as the wind had changed; but I don’t know how the wind blew the firefighters away. All the stores have signs thanking the men from all states for their efforts against the fire.

We are now around 80 miles from leaving Washington and entering Idaho at the Snake River. Lewis and Clark traveled that route to the Pacific. On the Washington side is the town of Clarkston and on the Idaho side the town of Lewiston. Isn’t that cute. We won’t make it that far tomorrow.

Our First State Line

Out of Oregon into Washington and Real Heat

8/28/2006: Day 9, 52.8 miles; Total 334.5 Miles

Following the TB’s advice, I got up at 6:15 AM and was out the door by 7:15 from Umatilla with a goal of 53 miles to Walla Walla, Washington. This was the “beat the heat” strategy. In order to save money, avoid my snoring, and be closer to his beloved VW Camper, the TB slept in the van last night just outside my window. The parking lot looked flat to me but he put it up on blocks to make it perfect for the refrigerator function. He also ran a cord through the window to plug in his electric and then brought in all our supplies to make me a perfect breakfast. I opened the shades at 6:30, but he never came in. I ate my preferred breakfast of a bowl of cereal and a breakfast bar and felt good to go, when we met on my way out the door. He was upset that he drove off yesterday and left most of his plastic leveling devices at the last stop. Now his warm clothes are in Shreveport, my Pittsburgh Pirate Hat is in Amarillo, and his levelers are in Cascade Locks!

I rode for the final 24 miles along the Columbia River and then cut East away from the river on U. S. Route 12 toward Walla Walla. At the 18-mile mark I left eastern Oregon and entered eastern Washington about 140 miles from Idaho. The terrain changed once more as we came into more irrigated farmland and began wheat, alfalfa hay, beans, and grape/wine country. The route also began to rise so that I had climbed 1000 feet on reaching Walla Walla. After the first 20 miles it was tough, probably related to the heat and the gentle uphill climb. I struggled. The temperature reached 115 degrees on my cycle computer. I know it reads a little high, but this was plenty more heat then yesterday. When the TB came along we hid under a tree (the only tree in miles) near a closed truck weigh station. At the town of Touchet, some 17.5 miles from destination, we went into an air-conditioned gas station/restaurant for about 45 minutes. I changed from my Florescent Yellow long sleep t-shirt to a long sleeve white permanent press dress shirt. The dress shirt was very much cooler. Over top I wear a florescent vest.

At Touchet, I had serious doubt that I would make it to Walla Walla but the A/C and a pint of Grapefruit Juice and an ice cream sandwich seemed to revive me so we agreed to try five more miles to Lowden. In Lowden, a town of perhaps 20 houses, there is a large grain supply store on the south side of the road so the TB pulled in for the shade, blocking their main work door. I pulled in between the building and the van and sat on the entrance floor when a farmer opened the door to bring out a fork truckload of seed. This was Ed Chvatal, Jr., owner of 3500 acres of farmland in wheat, peas, alfalfa, beans, and cattle. Ed is a graduate of Washington State University in agricultural business. He’s a young guy but been a farmer for 30 years. He says the wheat has the largest profit margin this year as the competition further south had a bad year. Usually the Alfalfa is the highest profit margin. Ed is headed out to Atlanta tomorrow to follow his Cougars to their game against that other well-known agriculture school, Auburn. We discussed the former Cougars coach who was hired by Alabama, but got into trouble with women and alcohol and got fired before he started. Ed confirmed that their had been some talk of the coach being involved with coeds at WSU. Ed will also play a little golf in Atlanta, but says he’s a “hacker.” I learned how the circle irrigation equipment turns without breaking. Each set of wheels has a separate electric motor, but the motor only turns when a sensor in the angle between units gets beyond a certain angle. I always wanted to know that! I even stopped outside Umatilla this morning to watch to see if the units actually were moving; I had even thought perhaps they went out and pulled them with a tractor! Go Cougars!

After talking with Ed I had a rejuvenation of energy. The conversation did me good. I jumped on the bike and took off the final blazing 12.5 miles. Ed had told me that no matter how hot it felt, it wasn’t as hot as Florida!

With five miles to go into town I passed a tree! Yes, it was a live tree on the south side of the road and actually making shade. It was in front of a house with two white German shepherd dogs. The dogs were behind a fence, and between fence and road and under the shade was Grass. Yes, it was live grass, the first I’d seen since perhaps Pensacola! I had gone 30 yards past, but recognized the error of my way and turned back. I lay down in the grass, and next I know the homeowner handing me a very cold bottle of water awakens me. Soon the TB came by and we agreed I’d go for the town and he’d have another A/C room ready.

I started once more in the heat above 100 degrees and pedaled the last 6 miles to town. As I looked up I could see half a mile away the van at the Holiday Inn Express; and the front tire went flat! So I walked the Stallion on over to the Holiday Inn to find no vacancy. We loaded the Stallion drove to a hotel across town. There are no rooms in town because the Fair just opened and there are very large forest fires just a dozen miles east of town. The air has looked somewhat hazy, but I didn’t know it was forest fire smoke and exactly on our route.

So I have decided I will take a day off tomorrow as this is the last bike shop for several hundred miles and the Stallion needs his gear wires adjusted and perhaps some oil and grease. And, I hate to use the word, but I’m a little weary. I may ride from the West of town over here to the east of town to get that part finished.

It was warm yesterday, but hot today!

Is Eastern Oregon a Desert?

8/27/2006: Day 8, 45.0 miles; Total 281.7 Miles

At Cimarron the Trail Boss’s insistence I got up early and out the door by 8:15 AM—not early enough it turns out. He made me a fried egg sandwich and I was gone with two bottles of Conquest in the bike holsters. It was 58 degrees at 9 AM. Out onto I-84 and up the road I went walking at first, as there was a hill for about half a mile. I began to pedal at about the ¾ mile mark. It was an interesting change of terrain as I am out of the Gorge and into rolling suede looking brown hills with no sign of it ever having rained. In fact I saw on the morning news rainfall for the month so far in this area (27 days) has been 0.01 inches. That sounds more like sweat! The early traffic count was about 500 cars per hour, but it is Sunday morning. However, I suspect some of the difference is the distance from Portland. The road goes onto Boise and Salt Lake City; however, we saw little traffic when we drove it Westward last week. I think they built the road to get the Wagons off the Oregon Trail.

At 20 miles there was a roadside rest with free coffee--donations only. I pulled in and had half a dozen cookies (white and chocolate) and three cups of coffee and then realized I had no money. This is not a rare event for me but usually Millie is here with the cash. As I begged off and made my apologies, in pulled the Trail Boss to bail me out with a donation. I then loaded up with some cash, as I can’t see a 61 year old traveling the country penniless! It was about 10:15 and the temperature was up to 86. I soon pulled out and again there was a change in terrain to flat with the beginnings of irrigated farms here and there for which eastern Oregon and Washington are famous. On the other side of the river there were hills as high as 1000 feet and irrigated green farms inside the suede that may have been Washington Apples. On my side at lower elevation was beautiful Bermuda hay and probably sugar cane. It smelled nice.

At Exit 168, 168 miles from Portland, I exited I-84 onto Oregon 730 toward Umatilla. A truck driver at the rest stop had advised I stay off of 730 as “it has narrow shoulders especially at turns.” He could not have been more inaccurate. The road had no hills, the shoulder was as wide as the interstate, much smoother, much less debris, and the traffic count was 100 cars per hour—almost like no vehicles at all! The farm fields were beautiful with the irrigation going full blast and at 11 AM the temperature was at 95 degrees. I stopped at a small town gas station and had some hamburger and noodles in red sauce and a quart of 1 percent Chocolate milk worth 760 calories for $3.16. I rested sitting on the curb near my bike in the shade for 10 minutes and may have dozed off a minute. When I pulled out the temperature was 104 degrees and I took the accompanying picture of my cycle computer to prove it. About a half mile down the road the TB came along and wanted me to stop for lunch. Since I already had lunch, I stopped for a cold soda and was on my way for the last 8 miles to Umatilla. The maps had indicated it would be a 50-mile day, but it turned out to be just exactly 45.0 to the motel he picked; and that was enough for me. With this heat, we just can’t stop at 2 PM and not have air conditioning; and I can’t go much longer. Today I drank somewhat less than yesterday, but I think I was hydrated; however, today after stopping I had some minor muscle cramps in hands and feet indicating some dehydration or electrolyte imbalance. I wore a bandana under my helmet and over my ears as the ears got sunburned yesterday. The bandana might have kept some of the sweat (what there is of it in this dry land) out of my eyes, but probably didn’t allow my head to cool so well through the helmet ventilation system.

Our good friend Candy Lady, of Appalachian Trail Fame, suggests there is some information that naming of the bicycles is a good luck charm. So I have named the bikes. The Bianchi Strada is made in Italy and is now the Italian Stallion, or Stallion for short. It is an appropriate name for this bike's characteristics. It is sleek, responsive, sometimes has a mind of its own and over responsive, quick to speed, light and a comfortable ride. The Raleigh spare bike is made in England and will be called the English Nanny, or Nanny for short. It is small, soft, comfortable, stable, a little over weight, reliable, somewhat slow, and takes extra energy to get up to speed. The Stallion and the Nanny will keep me on the road.

Tomorrow we go out of Eastern Oregon at the 18-mile mark and into the southeastern part of Washington as we head to Idaho on Route 12 through Walla Walla, WA, at the 52-mile mark. Walla Walla is tomorrow’s goal; however, Route 12 includes hills and the same heat so we will see how that goes. The weather forecast is for the same heat tomorrow but 10-20 degrees cooler for the following three days. That should be helpful.

A Little Hot Today

A Flat, A Wreck, Tar Stains, and Heat Exhaustion

8/26/2006: Day 7, 39.7 miles; Total 236.7 Miles

We left The Dalles too late at about 9 AM after clearing out the Motel 6 room of just about everything we had in the VAN. I had two bowls of oatmeal and a bowl of cold cereal. Then the TB wanted eggs; but they had frozen in the refrigerator he turned up to the highest setting to assure nothing spoiled. Nothing did, but the eggs were cracked! He threw his hands up in the air, and said now we have to throw a whole dozen away. But we decided we could hard-boil the whole dozen like Earl Shaffer used to do on the Appalachian Trail. I then had two slices of toast and two hard-boiled eggs. So I surely had adequate caloric intake, but I do hate hard-boiled eggs. I hope he can eat the other 10.

He had to drive me, as my stopping point yesterday was 10 miles north of town. That’s one reason I left so late to assure we had some motel time and he didn’t want to double back. He was not happy that I left so late, but I do have trouble getting going in the mornings and I know I can’t pedal all day anyway.

Not far into the ride I saw the dead buck shown in the photo in the bush along the road. About 10 miles later I had a front flat tire. It took me 32 minutes (not bad for me) to change the flat. I sat on the edge of the guardrail and inflated the tube as I had been taught 4 days previous at the bike shop. Inspection of the inside of the tire revealed that a simple home staple (again) had sent both prongs through the tire and into the tube. Now, just how could that happen twice? About 15 miles later I spotted TB half mile ahead waiting at an exit. Just then something moved beside me over the guardrail and I saw 5 Big Horn Sheep, also pictured. I then stopped with TB and had a cold drink, as it seemed to be getting hot and my cycle computer read 102 degrees and in the Gorge there was no shade. As I got off the bike my butt stuck to the seat and we found I had tar over the back of my shorts, apparently from the guardrail. So we used olive oil (now I know why we carry it) to clean the seat and changed to different shorts. I sat for about 10 minutes, as I just didn’t have the energy today. I drank a quart of my sports drink Conquest and a 12 oz Grape Drink.

I pulled out onto the interstate and started again and did well for about a mile when I wondered if I had closed the trunk bag that rides behind me. So I reached back to feel it, pulled to the right off the pavement into soft gravel, and flew over the handlebars onto the blacktop on the I-84 shoulder with the bike spewing out from under me. I was probably only going 5 miles per hour by the time the front tire sunk in, but it was another miraculous event that an old guy like me wasn’t injured. A car from I-84 saw it all and pulled over, but I waved them away. Somehow I blocked the fall with my hands and arms and only lightly scrapped my knees, but no blood.

All of this consumed more energy but I continued on to the 39.7-mile mark at exit 137 where we planned to meet. At the exit notification sign 1 mile from the exit I stopped for 5 minutes for shade behind the sign as there is no shade otherwise. I had planned to go 10 more miles to the next exit, but when I saw there would be a walking uphill we stopped for the day. I had mentioned earlier that chocolate milk sounded great and the TB had bought a quart for me. What a crew boss. I fell into the van and guzzled down the whole quart in no time. He already had us a room and the motel owner said it was 110 degrees! I never knew that eastern Oregon was like a desert, but I know it now. I drank 4 quarts of Conquest, four 12 oz drinks, and a quart of milk today. The book, “Bicycling the TransAm,” says the following about the local area: “If your image…is all green, this day will change your mind as you peddle through the suede-colored, dry…fields.”

Tomorrow I must start early as the hardware clerk said it would be about 60 in the morning, and 100 by noon.

Big Horn Sheep at 20 Yards

A Staple in the Rear This Time

Remants of The Oregon Trail

John Day Dam and Salmon Ladder

Hit by a bike?

Forty-eight Salmon Fishing Boats

Columbia River Near The Dalles

Our First Half-Century Ride

8/25/2006: Day 6, 52.4 miles; Total 195.4 Miles

We slept well in the motel last night. The TB got up and went for a three-mile walk through the streets of Cascade Locks, and feels real good about it. I slept until 8 AM and started riding at about 9:15 after he made me two bowls of oatmeal and a cup of Cappuccino. He hung around the room until 11 AM and it was good for relaxation. Of course he tidied up the van and is proud of the new muffler.

I pulled out of town by riding back up onto Exit 44 and Interstate 84. We had reviewed all the maps and decided to go for the 97-mile exit or 53 miles. This would include passing Hood River, the wind surfing capital of the world (yes, on fresh water not salt), and “The Dalles” a yuppie town with the Dalles Dam, which was built for navigation and hydroelectric purposes. The dams on the Columbia were built with fish ladders so the returning salmon could swim up over the dams and continue up river. Fresh salmon is for sale all along the route.

I made an average of 12.0 mph today, and had no mechanical problems. The TB came along and met me at Hood River some 20 miles into the ride and we decided to go at least to The Dalles, about 44 miles for the day and perhaps onto exit 97 for over 50 miles. As I ate my sandwich at this stop a tractor-trailer pulled in so I asked the driver about services at Exit 97. He said he drives this route every day, but had no idea! In order to keep the TB off the roads we decided to get a room in The Dalles at the mile 87 marker so I could see the Steelers play the Eagles on Friday night football. So he went on to get the room and I continued to ride toward the 97-mile marker. What a relief it is to have the bike functioning well and to know I can get him by cell phone so he can get off the road and away from the stress and strain and boredom of much of the day. As I road through The Dalles he was hanging over the I-84 fence from the access road in front of the Motel-6, shouting we had a room! He was “pumped,” and I was too to know he would get some rest and I could continue on for a later pick up.

As I rode down a hill I saw an Oregon State Trooper spotting radar, so I pulled in to check my speed. He was embarrassed that he had not shot me (radar I hope) and we talked for 10 minutes thus saving several people from tickets! He said he gives 20 or 30 tickets a day “depending on how fast they go.” I would have never guessed! He was a nice guy, like all the cops I ever met, and was wearing a bulletproof vest. I hope he doesn’t need it. About 15 miles down the road I was taking a BOBB (butt off bike break) sitting on the guardrail and he came by as I waved and he gave me a short blast of the siren! I love this stuff!

During the morning I had 1300 vehicles per hour passing me, half in my east bound lane and half west bound. In the afternoon there were 1500 per hour. I did a 6-minute sample count so I suspect this is pretty accurate. In spite of the traffic count, I suspect the interstate is safer than the secondary roads will be as the I-84 mostly (not always!) has a 10-foot smooth paved shoulder.

I continued on to the 97-mile exit and thus completed 52.4 miles for the day. We have now completed roughly 200 miles out of 4000 or 5% or 1/20^th of the trip. It sounds so easy. It is so much different from hiking the Appalachian Trail. For one thing I am not nearly so filthy at the end of the day, although we have had a shower every day so far. Also, I have essentially no aches and pains and absolutely no blisters. I am taking one aspirin per day and Aleve 200mg twice a day. I usually take Aleve 400 mg twice a day when hiking or in the old ultramarathon days, but am feeling good on half a dose currently. We’ll get back to camping after tonight. We needed the room last night, and I had to see the Steelers tonight.

Cimarron the Trail Boss just came in from a shopping trip out to the Fred Meyer Store. Earlier he had actually found a Wal-Mart at Hood River and was disappointed that they didn’t have “anything.” He never did find any diet soda. “They didn’t have any in the whole store,” he said. I said, “Did you ask anyone?” He said, “I didn’t need to ask, they didn’t have any!” He also could not find any long underwear or stocking cap. Fred Meyer has managed to keep most of the Wal-Mart’s out of the North West so tonight during the Steelers game he went over to Fred Meyer in The Dalles. He claims it was worse than the Wal-Mart, but he did find the long johns but no cap. The long johns are too small, but he won’t take them back. He now just opened a Coors Light Beer his first beer of his 85^th year. He didn’t have any beer at all in his 84^th year.

We have 71 more miles of I-84 and then will cut north into Washington and pick up route 12 which will take us all the way to Missoula, MT, and the headquarters of the Adventure Cycling Organization. The flat interstate riding will be over for the whole trip. Tomorrow we will shoot for another 50 miler along the interstate.

By the way, I see that Tiger Woods won the PGA Championship last week and is leading the tournament this week. Although none of the current pros can whip Tiger; I'd like to give notice that Tiger's days are limited, as my grandson Gary, III, turns 14 in a month. He has the best swing coach in his Dad, Gary, Jr., a driven manager in his mother Ronda, and a new sports psychologist, Dr. Robert Winter to supplement grandpa's work. He weighs 88 pounds and hits his drives 250. He was student of the year for his grade in middle school last year so he's smarter than Tiger also. Mark my words.

The Columbia River Gorge Just East of Portland

Multnomah Falls, OR

VW Maintenance

Installing a Muffler and Leaving Portland

8/24/2006: Day 5, 34.4 miles; Total 143.0 Miles

We awakened on the TB Cimarron’s birthday in Belcher’s yard where we both slept in the VW for the first time. We slept in until 6:30 and Cimarron reminded me of the hole in the muffler he found during the cattle drive. It needs fixed before we leave Portland, the largest city on the whole trip. Having his van repaired is almost as tough as having his child operated on, so I felt I’d better go with him. He had seen a VW dealer yesterday so we headed over there. I parked the Van while he went into service and asked if they had a muffler so they sent him to the parts department. I came in and said we needed a muffler on the Van quickly as we were riding a bike to Washington, DC. The service manager said, “If it were mine, I’d go 55 blocks down the street to Portland Muffler, the best in town where I took my own car.” So we did, and 2 hours and $90 later we had a new muffler. We then had the giant birthday breakfast and drove to 181^st and Burnside to start the ride again at 1:30 pm.

I rode 6.9 miles along the light rail line on Burnside and a few side streets to the I-84 entrance ramp where we reconnoitered and decided to go for Hood River some 50 miles away. I-84 was a great ride. With me at 16 mph and the traffic at 65 mph, it was really not bad. There is a 10-foot shoulder nice and smooth and the traffic stayed over nicely. There was a trailing wind out of the west and so my pace was good with about a 14 mph average. The route is only slightly uphill and no major climbs as the road follows the Columbia River Gorge for over 200 miles. We saw the Bonneville Hydroelectric Dam and multiple locks and the Bridge of the Gods that crosses over into Washington and is the route of the Pacific Crest Trail that I hope to hike someday before I get old. I stopped at Multnomah Falls that is the most magnificent in Oregon and falls several hundred feet from the cliffs into the gorge right beside the interstate. I didn’t have my camera so asked a nice tourist family to take my picture with their cell phone. I hope to post the picture.

At exit 40 bikers are required to leave the interstate because of a narrow tunnel unsafe for bikers. The bike trail is on old highway 30 built in the 1920’s as a single lane dirt road carved out of the side of the gorge. It was beautiful and views of Bonneville Dam were spectacular; however, the road climbed the side of the gorge and I had to walk the bike up some mile or so and lost much time in my average pace. At one point there are about 60 steps coming down the gorge back to the road and a groove to push the wheels in. It worked pretty well as I used the hand brakes and let the bike roll in the groove as I walked the steps. But this side trail cost me time and energy and I could see I would never make it to Hood River. I had called the TB and he couldn’t find a motel in Hood River because of some type of weekend celebration so he was waiting at the Viento State Park Campground. I was very upset about this, as I had sent him off to find a motel room and to relax away the afternoon while I pedaled. But he never got the rest he needed. As I entered the little town of Cascade Locks some 8 miles short of the destination, I passed the Cascade Motel and got us a room. By the time he got here I was showered and had washed out my biking clothes. He micowaved leftovers from last night’s birthday bash and I went to the local drive in and picked up an excellent hamburger and fries and vanilla shake. I just went back on red meat 3 months ago and the burger was great.

So, although today’s mileage was again not up to standard, I have more excuses and extenuating circumstances (the muffler) and will do better tomorrow. However, the latest problem for tomorrow is the Steelers are on Friday night football and I’d sure love to see it. Being on Pacific time the game will start at 5 PM!

No Breakdowns Today

8/23/2006: Day 4, 42.6 miles; Total 108.6 Miles

We start our day at Columbia City, OR, population 1157. I am now back on the Bianchi with a new front shifter and a new heavy-duty rear tube. The TB’s jobs for the day include doing the laundry and mailing home a large box of excess stuff. I start off and he follows closely for a couple of miles and all is a joy with no breakdowns. So he did his jobs and I pedaled through Portland for a total of 42.6 miles or 1% of the total trip in one day. This isn’t enough but it’s a lot more than we’ve been doing.

Today’s highlights include the lady at the Post Office asking the TB to bring the box into be measured so he left and went to Fed Ex instead. He got the package off and found a laundry that had machines that required him to hold the door to keep running. Then he met me along the route and I was glad to see him after about 20 miles. I ate some Little Debbie’s, Lance crackers, he made me a cup of Cappuccino and I went back to the saddle. It was nice to have a BOBB (a butt off bike break) and sit on the floor of the VAN. We planned to meet on the East of Portland and he would go to the Portland Post Office and pick up our mail of more maps for the Columbia Gorge. However, he couldn’t find the post office and got lost going north on I-5 toward Seattle and gave up the effort.

I wandered around downtown Portland myself unable to follow my maps to get across the Willamette River for about half an hour. Finally I carried the bike up 3 flights to the Burnside Bridge to luckily find it had been closed a week but was open now and across I went. I went the wrong way on the first street and had to circle back climbing a slight hill to a stop sign. I forgot to get my feet out of the cleats that fasten me to the pedals and as the bike came to a stop I fell over onto my left elbow, but suffering no injury. A homeless guy on the side of the road shouted out to see if I was okay. The city is beautiful, the riverfront loaded with sleeping homeless, and many yuppies with orange or blue hair coming out of coffee shops.

The biking was not strenuous, the machine performed beautifully, the zooming cars were not too close, and I cruised some 30 miles into town at an average of 14 miles per hour and through town some 12 more miles taking in some neighborhoods and the MAX (Metropolitan Area Express) a light rail system.

Tonight we are at the home of Dawn and Paul Galli in Portland. She is Belcher of Appalachian Trail fame from our thru-hike of the AT in 2000. Belcher was famous for hiking in a skirt. I can recall seeing her on top of Mt. Washington with her skirt flying in the wind and the temperature at 28 degrees. She did wear long johns. We met her husband Paul who hiked the Pacific Crest Trail with her and their roommate Heidi who is also a PCT Thru-Hiker and works at REI. Paul is a surveyor and Belcher a pre-school teacher.

We reviewed the maps and will head up the Columbia River Gorge after we finish about 6 more miles of Portland. It’s only about 320 more miles to finish Oregon, our first state.

Downtown Portland, OR

Bike Repairs from A to Z

Day 3, 24 miles; Total 66 Miles

We awoke to a glorious day. I had changed the wakeup to 6 AM as the TB was never up at the 5:15 time so far. This is very unusual for him as he is an early riser and always is chomping at the bit to get going for our 5:45 AM walk each morning pacing in my yard as I creep out the door. Also, it is still dark until about 6 AM and our breaking camp is not efficient in the dark.

The Trail Boss was anxious to have fried eggs for breakfast and was making toast and boiling water when I got up. I ate three delicious packs of Oatmeal and had a cup of instant Cappuccino and was cleaning up when he said, “How do you want your eggs?” So I put in my order for an egg sandwich for tomorrow morning! He also fried up some Spam, the first I ever tasted, and not the last.

Since yesterday ended just 3/8 mile from the campground I decided to let TB relax a while and I started the day from here. I rode the bike all of 30 yards and the rear tire blew again, our second flat in the same tire. So I came back to the site and put the bike on the rack behind the car and we changed the tire just as we had learned in the bike shop yesterday. So out of the site I went, now an hour later and started up the hill the 3/8-mile to Route 30. About a quarter mile from the campground I made a shift and the chain broke falling to the ground like a coiled snake. I put the chain in a spare Ziploc and coasted back to the campsite. The Trail Boss drove me up to route 30 now using the Raleigh to start the day. I started off down a steep incline at about 33 MPH for about 3 miles, to Rainier, Oregon. I guess I’ll get used to it, but I frankly enjoyed the two-mile push walking the bike up the hill yesterday better than the fear of 33 MPH down! After Rainier I made good time on the Raleigh as the Trail Boss went off over the Lewis and Clark Bridge to Longview again to Bob’s Bike Shop for chain repair. We sent the flat tube so they could see if there was any explanation for the latest flat. I zoomed on feeling quite good about myself on the spare bike and was sitting at a gas station in Deer Island at 21 miles for the day eating a blueberry muffin and drinking a 20 oz. Cappuccino when the TB pulled up with the good news. Joel at the bike shop is from Defuniak Springs, Florida, just 50 or so miles from Pensacola, and his mother still lives there. The TB thought I should have a spare chain so bought a new one for $25. The TB likes to always have a spare or two! I also wanted a chain repair tool and they sold us a combination set of Allen wrenches and chain repair tool. Joel put on the new chain, explained the flat as a faulty tube with a broken valve stem. Soon TB was on his way back to Oregon from Washington; and we felt none of the problems were of our making.

When the TB pulled up I had just learned about the proper method of cleaning ductwork from a local expert who stopped in for his morning coffee. He used to live in Johnstown, PA, and I did part of my family practice residency in Johnstown. I may have seen him or family as a patient. He puts a flat tire remedy called Slime in the tires of his boys’ mountain bikes and now when they ride through the blackberry bushes they don’t get flats. Although I have yet to go into the bushes, I may Slime my bike next.

After being filled in about the repairs and the new information and the fact that the TB gave Joel a $15 tip, I took off on the Bianchi Strada. I was elated to have 21 miles behind me, a newly fixed and now functional bike, and told the TB I’d make it to Portland today with another 20 miles. At exactly 2.9 miles down the road, I HAD MY THIRD REAR FLAT TIRE. Relying again on the cell phone I called the TB who said, “Now what? I just took the first bite of my sandwich.” So now, with me along this time we made the 20-mile drive back across the Lewis and Clark Bridge one more time to see Joel at Bob’s.

Joel found that the bike still isn’t shifting correctly with the primary problem being the left hand shifter controlling the front chain rings of 3 gears. This was related to the broken chain. He assured me that my excess weight is not the flat tire problem and that he found the valve stem once more pulled from the tube and felt it was a series of faulty tubes I had purchased back home. “Perhaps a bad production lot,” he said. I asked if my chain was bad, stretched or bent and he said no, “your buddy just felt it might be better to have a spare.” So he put the old chain back on and refunded the new chain, sold me a simple chain repair tool and showed me how to use it, and installed a new left from shifter for the front chain rings. He said this one would allow me to “Feather my shifts” and adjust the front gear so it didn’t drag against the chain. In our parking lot demonstration it did adjust and it didn’t drag, so I think it’s better. He charged $15 for the shifter, free labor thanks to the prior tip, took back the chain, and exchanged the chain repair tools.

When the repairs were done I was ready to ride, but sensed that the TB had had enough confusion for one day. It just felt like a day back at the ER for me, but then again, I did retire early! So once more we returned to the Parcher-Hudson Camp Ground of Columbia County, Oregon, for the night.

It was certainly an adventuresome day. Perhaps a little too much confusion for my partner, but not totally beyond what I expected for a Trans-America Adventure. If we can’t iron out the problems with the Bianchi, I’ll ride the Raleigh. This route we are on is 350 miles shorter than the ride through the forest fires of central Oregon so we can make up our time. However, I do need to get up to at least 50 miles per day. But on the other hand, I had thought I would accept 30 miles per day for the first week so we are not far behind that. And the reason for our delay has not been my inability to pedal. So I feel okay about where we are.

Tomorrow’s plan is 30 miles into downtown Portland or beyond, and a visit with our old Appalachian Trail Hiking friend Belcher (Dawn Stringer). Belcher hiked near us for over a thousand miles on the AT and was one of the more famous of the trail personalities that year. She has since married, graduated from College, and is in graduate school. She has also since hiked the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada. Dawn might be able to bike a few days with us.

Cimarron the Trail Boss has turned in at 7:30 and we hope tomorrow will be an even more glorious day, but perhaps with less adventure! I am very, very lucky to have him here to fussbudget over me and look after so many details. In two more days he will have his 84^th birthday. We’ll go out to dinner in Portland and see if the seafood can match his Providence, RI, upbringing.

Tire Problems

Bike Repairs at An Iranian Gun Shop

Bike Day 2, 22 miles: Total 42 Miles

We got up at 5:30 and ate our oatmeal. It was clear, dry, and 55 degrees through the night. It was a great night for sleeping, and I went to bed at 7:30. Since I only went 20 miles the first day, I had no sore body parts and the butt felt good.

As planned we were at yesterday’s stopping point (today’s starting point) at 8 AM sharp. I was now on the secondary bike, the Raleigh Modified Mountain Bike I had bought in Seattle for $100 five years ago. I have ridden it more than the new and now flat tired Bianchi Strada. It’s a comfortable bike but has no pedal cleats so I ride it in sneakers. The Raleigh has its own cycle computer, but I soon found it must be out of adjustment as I went down a hill at 61 miles per hour. It felt fast, and I was frightened; and I was really frightened when I saw the 61 on the speedometer, even though I didn’t believe it. Later I measured a mile and the odometer said 1.8 miles, so it was way off calibration. I figured in my head I needed to take all readings times .55 to be accurate. So I actually went down the hill at about 33 MPH, fast enough for sure. Someone tell me if I’m correct. (A test to see if any one is actually reading this stuff!)

The first town we passed, Svenson, OR. had about 100 houses, but a nice gas station with Cappuccino. So, I pulled in, leaving the bike hanging out over the edge of the highway so the TB would see it as he went by. As I paid for my Cappuccino I could see him approaching, eyes glued on the road, and he zoomed on by at 45 MPH. This became our first test of the cell phone, which worked and so he waited on down the road. I pulled out and went about 0.3 miles when I realized I had left my gloves behind. So now I was riding west, not east, to fetch the gloves. When I caught TB he was fast asleep at the wheel at a pull off. He fed and watered me and I was on my way again. At Clatskanie, he had gone to the grocery and asked about a bike shop. He was directed to the gun shop across the street where the proprietor had previously owned a bike shop. So on my arrival in town the TB is setting in front of “Sporty’s Gun and Ammo Shop” excited to tell me that Sporty, an Iranian American, was anxious to look at my bike. So in to the gun and ammo shop, not a new experience for me, I go. Sporty is sporting a beanie and a big smile as I immediately look more like a cyclist than an NRA or John Birch society member. “I’ll be right out to look at the bike,” he says in good English. Soon out the door he comes, telling me he road a bike 80 mile once and will ride across country when he is at the stage of life I’m at. I think he meant age. Because of my excessive weight, he told me he had trouble with his passport in Afghanistan once and had to stay 30 extra days until the state department figured it out. And during that time he gained 30 pounds! I told him I’ve not been out of the country.

He expertly looked the bike over and said the tire was not out of round and the rim was true. He suspected the tube just was inflated too fast and not centered on the rim, but since I also had gear adjustment problems he suggested I take it to a bike shop across the river in Washington some 20 miles away. “They’re good, he said, especially the women manager.” He then said he used to have a bike shop in his same location, but “guns and ammo” were better selling. He also used to teach bike repair at the Junior College. Then he said something about his third wife, having previously said he had two wives. So I called him on the confusion, saying, “come on now, is it two or three wives?” And he said, “You know yourself, these white women just don’t last!” I can’t say as I do.

So we packed up and drove the 20 miles to Washington across the Lewis and Clark Bridge. The shop was gigantic and part of Bill’s Outdoor Store that looked every bit as big as an REI. I heard them page Bill Junior once.

The boys checked the bike out, remounted the tire (just as Sporty The Iranian had said), and adjusted the gears. It works great now as I tested in the parking lot. Using Sporty’s technique of leaving no information unstated and trying to get a cheap price I told them I was a retired doctor, had a rich wife, was riding across America, in desperate circumstances, had no where else to go, and was ignorant of bike repair. They said in that case it would be $10; but did I know if there was supposed to be sales tax in Florida? I said, “Yes, there is.” So they charged me $10.65.

We drove back across the Lewis and Clark Bridge to Oregon and Sporty’s place and I started out on the Strada this time. It zoomed along until the first major hill a 6% grade for two miles. So I did what any good hiker would do, I walked it and pushed the bike. Since I was walking I went over on the other side to face the traffic and TB zoomed by missing me again. But the cell phone saved us once more and he waited 5 miles ahead. It was bout 10 miles to the same campsite and we decided to end the day there. After he fed and watered me again, I was just pulling out when I say two more bikers coming up from the rear. They must have pedaled the entire hill I walked. Soon I was headed down the other side and going 30 mph. I was thinking, I’ll show them, but they kept closing and as I was at 33 mph they went by like a paddy car passing a hobo. They sure had the gear of Trans-AM riders, but I’ll probably never know for sure. When we got on the flats they were a quarter mile ahead and I went for a high gear and was actually gaining on them when I came to the road to our campsite. They are very lucky I didn’t have more time or I would have shown them something.

So day two ends and we are 42 miles into the 4200-mile trek. WE HAVE COMPLETED 1% OF OUR RIDE. Tires are fixed and bike is well tuned; we are now on our way.

We Start Our Ride, and Blow a Tire

Bike Day 1, 20 miles: Trip Total 20 miles

We awoke this morning full of excitement and began the final drive to the sea and the beginning. We arrived in Astoria about 9 AM this Sunday morning and I began to look for a Catholic Church for the Trail Boss. We stopped at the Chamber of Commerce and the host Andrew was marvelous. He first gave us a map of the Columbia River Gorge Bike Route. I did not have that map in my packet of Trans-Am maps, as we were to originally go down the Oregon coast route. Second he gave the Trail Boss a listing of all state and county parks. And most importantly, the kid is a Catholic, and directed TB to the 10:30 mass.

We drove to Astoria Columns where there is a great view of the mouth of the Columbia and the Pacific Ocean. It was not a ‘Pacific’ day, and we could hardly see the hand in front of our faces. The highlight was when the TB said, “we’re not supposed to be sight seeing, and you’re supposed to be pedaling.” There’s some truth to that! We’ll do it right after his church.

I parked the Van at the Columbia River Maritime Museum, the official starting point for the Trans-Am Bike Ride and began getting things together for the start as my TB went to church. Immediately, I couldn’t find the key to unlock the massive chain I had on the bike. We tore the van apart and found no key. Finally TB sprinted off the half mile to the church as I continued to search. Finally, after 40 minutes I started to just load the bike while it was on the rack. I put on the handle bar bag, and found no key. I put on the trunk rack bag, and found no key. I dressed into the riding clothes—no key. I put my wallet in the pack and thought I should add some cash from my bank envelope, and there was the key in the envelope! What a stupid place for the key, but that’s where we had it.

About that time TB came back from church saying something about a couple of urchins making noise behind him “just at the most important part.” He didn’t say anything “to be nice,” but left church early to get back to the work at hand.

At precisely noon we took a picture in front of the museum, and in front of a Coast Guard Cutter sitting on the Columbia, and I was off on my ride across America. I said a silent prayer thanking God for this opportunity and for a good friend like Cimarron the Trail Boss dedicated to helping me enjoy the adventure.

The weather was spectacular. Clear, 65 degrees, partly sunny, the slight wind was out of the West—a tail wind. What a start. It was Sunday afternoon and Route 30 is the road to the beach for Portland. By noon they were all going home. Several thousand cars per hour were whizzing by as I pedaled. I’m surely glad I had some of this traffic experience back home with my expert, Dr. Dick Weaver. One red car came by and blew an air horn at me, scaring me out of my whits and consuming a lot of my energy. The old folks (defined as older than me) who tow trailers hug the right side of the road so as to almost blow your helmet off. But for the most part, the shoulder was wide and the cars stayed away and TB checked on me several times. At about 20 miles there was a significant hill climb and I was in a lower gear chugging on up. Suddenly things seemed more difficult and the rear wheel thumped and I had my first flat tire. One cross country rider we met last week in Colorado had gone 2000 miles without a flat and I had gone 20. I am not an experienced bike mechanic—but I will be soon. I took the wheel off with help from the TB and found a common office type staple inside the tire and into the tube. I removed the staple, put in a new tube, inflated the tire and the bead would not hold inside the rim. Each time we inflated to about 30 pounds the tire bead popped off the rim, and the tire is supposed to inflate to 105 pounds. So we quit for the day and came back some 20 miles to the same camp site with the idea of going out in the AM with the spare bike and after stores open, find a bike shop.

We camped with me in the Stephenson Tent (check out their web site) the best tent in the world and one of the most interesting web sites. Cimarron the Trail Boss was in his camper. We were both quite comfortable and pleased with the adventures of our first day.

At the Official Start in Astoria, OR

Trail Boss in a Stampede on the Oregon Trail

We left Larry and Amy Fisher’s about 8 AM and began the final day’s drive of 310 miles to Portland, OR, and another 100 miles to Astoria at the mouth of the Columbia River our final goal and starting point for my Bike Ride Across America. First, much to The Trail Boss’s dismay, we stopped at a yard sale three houses down the street and I bought two shirts for 25 cents each. One, a necessity, a long sleeve white dress shirt, size extra large and permanent press. Permanent press is necessary for a high content of polyester for quick drying. If it were all cotton, it would be clammy, cold, and never dry. White is for sun reflection and when we got into the gorge we confirmed the need. The average temperature in the Columbia River gorge is about 35 degrees higher that up out of the gorge.

The route through Western Oregon is on I-84 that goes all the way from Salt Lake to Boise to Portland. There is little traffic, beautiful irrigated farmland, and multiple crossings of the Snake River. Soon we left the Snake as it coursed more northerly to join the Columbia and we followed the old Oregon Trail made famous by the pioneers of the 1800’s and a number one selling computer game of the 2000’s. We could see some of the Oregon Trail wheel ruts in fields along the interstate and it was easy to imagine wagon trains and buffalo. We stopped at the only café we saw, “Rednecks.” The interstate interchanges are basically uninhabited—no Cracker Barrel, no Waffle House, no Pilot Gas, and no Motel 6. Redneck’s was clean; he himself was cooking in his cowboy hat with his southern drawl and served grits. I commenced a conversation as he whipped up a wonderful breakfast just like I like it: scrambled eggs, grits, dry wheat toast nearly burnt, and good coffee. I asked Redneck about the cement plant down the road and as luck would have it he had previously worked there. He had all the answers I needed. They make Portland cement. It’s named after distant Portland, England, not nearby Portland, Oregon. The cement is made from Calcium Trisilacate, limestone and sand. We could see the mine 1000 feet up the mountain and the conveyor bringing it down. The stuff is ground up (“1000 time finer than talcum powder”), sintered to 2000 degrees and turns into half-inch size balls that look like glass. These balls are again ground and heated and Portland cement is the final product, and is shipped out in rail cars in bulk and also 50-pound bags. Over 150 work at the plant and no one much works anywhere else. As Redneck said, “they’ve been thinking of putting in a Wal-mart, but they’d have no one to work!”

Trail Boss, showing no interest in the fascination of Redneck’s story, had disappeared from the restaurant. Suddenly, he burst in through the door shouting, “Gary, get out here you need to get this picture.” And there he stood with my camera in the middle of a cattle drive! Two cowboys and a cowchild (a very young looking cowboy) were trying to drive 50 head around the restaurant and across the highway. The cowboys were screaming at, I believe, the cows, or perhaps the dogs, or perhaps at us; but the cattle were not obeying any of it. My Trail Boss was screaming that he thought they were going to run over his VW as he was “underneath checking the muffler” when the entourage appeared. He peered out from between the wheels when he heard cattle mooing and saw “legs, hair and hooves” coming from behind the van and heard shouting, swearing, whistling and barking. Showing no regard for personal safety, but a significant fear for the safety of his beloved VW Camper, he jumped in and fired her up and drove off from the midst of the stampede! The most ornery of the cowboys shouted for me to get back and just after snapping the picture, I did. The cows were apparently to go down the road and under the overpass behind the lead cowperson to the other side of I-84. The young cowpoke was way too far ahead as the lead pony (Redneck explained). So the cattle went their own way out into the field with much shouting and cursing from the cowboys. Redneck said, “those guys are not the ones who drove them over last week; the guys last week knew what they were doing.” Poised for the get away, my Trail Boss drove us up onto I-84 and we left the stampede behind.

We drove another 100 miles of beautiful and desolate Oregon Plains and suddenly we were approaching the mile wide Columbia River over 200 miles upstream from Portland and about 300 miles from the Pacific. We read a sign that said Lewis called it “the great ocean because I can not use the word Pacific, as I have not had a ‘Pacific’ day since arriving.” He apparently arrived too late in the season, as all the days have been ‘Pacific’ for us.

We had been on-line and found that the Standard Cross America Bike Route was closed in central Oregon (south of us) because of a large forest fire at Sisters, Oregon. The suggestion was to find an alternate route. So we will go up the Columbia River riding the bike on I-84 across Oregon and cross into Idaho.

We passed through Portland and started down Route 30, the Old Lincoln Highway, the first trans continental highway. Route 30 winds along the southern side of the Columbia some 100 miles from Portland to the coast at the little town of Astoria. We made it to the Hudson-Porcher Park of Columbia, County, Oregon. With the old folks discount we are here for $12.60/night. Trail Boss talked them into tent site 31 and he was allowed to stretch his electrical extension across to motor home site 32 for free electric. The lady told him she’d charge him for a full motor home when his grew-up. He didn’t like that, but took the discount.

The Stampede

A Night In Boise, Idaho

We made the beautiful trip from Ogden, Utah, to Boise, Idaho along I-84 arriving at about 1 PM, Mountain Time. The route follows part of the Snake River valley. One recalls that Lewis and Clark and Evil Knivel made the Snake River famous. Near Twin Falls we stopped at a Wendy’s and asked the window gal (after ordering our Frosty) directions to the falls—she didn’t know! Later in Boise we learned the Twin Falls of the Snake River are in the middle of Twin Falls and beautiful and very near the famous site of Evil Knivel’s jump. Like the gal at Wendy’s, we never saw it. However, we did see the beautiful irrigated farmlands in the Snake valley and some magnificent canyons as we drove along at about 3000 feet elevation.

We stopped at the home of Larry and Amy Fisher in Meridian, Idaho, a suburb of Boise the state capital. Larry is a retired J. C. Penny store manager and Amy a still working accountant. Larry took us on a tour (we’ve driven over 2000 miles in 4 days and went out for a ride) of the state capital and the town. Boise is French for trees, and the town sure has them. The Boise River flows through town and past the capital building. It’s a brown state, but a green town for sure. Larry points out that there are no bad neighborhoods, high employment, beautiful scenery, low cost of living, moderate weather, and the state is the most solid Republican in the country! Larry once rode a bike across America with the Lung Association having to raise $5000 for the supported ride. So I decided I better buy Cimarron, The Trail Boss his dinner last night!

Larry has tried to walk the Appalachian Trail two different years. He was amazed that he never made it past 80 miles and 83-year-old Cimarron has done the whole 2171 miles. The Old Trail Boss filled him in on a lot of details and secrets for the successful hike and he showed pictures of his cross-country bike ride. Larry showed a documentary film on the Cross Country Bike ride from which we learned some more about what we are getting into. In particular he advises to buy a large container of “Bag Balm” a product for the udder of cows but also apparently necessary for biking cross-country. Should you be interested it’s available at all cattle and feed stores and some pharmacies.

We went out to eat at their favorite Mexican place and the mariachi band played at our table. That’s the same thing we do on Friday nights in Pensacola at Vallarta’s. This time we skipped the large Marguerita’s.

Yesterday we spoke with Adventure Cycling, the organization that produces all the information and maps for the Cross Country Bike Ride. The web site (www.adventurecycling.org) states that a large forest fire is out of control in the center of Oregon and the bike road is closed to all vehicular traffic. They suggest an alternate route; so we will now definitely go from the mouth of the Columbia at Astoria, Oregon, and follow the River gorge some 300 miles up stream and then cut directly across Western Washington on route 12 into Idaho and then back on the original route. This route will be some 300 miles shorter and there will be much less elevation change. We will miss the Oregon coast; however, highway 101 along the coast was said to be a dangerous route with log trucks and tourists pulling trailers on a curvy road with minimal shoulders. I’ll like my route better. To earn a certificate from Adventure Cycling and to be listed in their cross America log I need to cross the country by my own power and do at least 90% of the original trail. Because of the fire, the gorge route will be official and I’ll then have over 400 miles of acceptable route changes. Perhaps this will allow a side ride to Punxsutawney, my birth town, or to Fredericksburg, VA, where our daughter is about to give birth to the fourth grandchild, and Millie will soon be visiting probably until the child gets out of medical school.

Today we could make it to the start and be riding the bike tomorrow. It’s about 400 miles to Portland, Oregon, and another 70 miles to the mouth of the river and the start. I’m getting pre-event excitement (I don’t allow the kids to be nervous for their events!) and The Trail Boss psyched. He’s rearranging the van and making shopping lists, and says he’ll be happy for me to get out!