Typed 6/27/13
Leaving Wallace, it was
still raining in the morning, but, at least for a few more miles, I had a
rail trail to keep myself off the highway. Just before the Fourth of
July Pass I got back on the Freeway and continued to Coeur d'Alene where
I picked up another bike path that would bring me into Spokane. I was
finally in the last state, and it felt good! I was way ahead of
schedule, and feeling strong. At this point I was planning to only ride
about 85-90 miles and stay in Spokane. I decided to keep up the high
mileage days and make a break for Davenport, WA. I cut it close and got
there a bit before dark, and just as the manager was leaving the motel. I
debated camping, but motel comfort was well worth the cost.
There was a painting on the back of the door that read "Make your life a
story worth telling." This sign helped keep my moral high. At this
point I wanted to go home, a lot. The trip was fun, and I wanted to
finish, but enough was enough. Being alone for that amount of time
and also dealing with the physically stress of pushing so hard everyday
was wearing me down.
The next morning on my way out of Davenport, I met a
group of touring cyclists east bound. I think there were six of them, a
father and son team going to Maine and others breaking off along the
way. The were riding about 60-70 pound bikes and riding about 60 miles a
day. I told them where I was going and the father told me I wouldn't
make it, but I knew what I could do. He honestly did not believe me when I
told him the mileages I was riding. The father was quite over-the-top. I
warned them about the Route 2 MT/ND situation, and the others seemed to accept it, while the father just wanted turn by turn directions
through VT, NH, and ME, as if I remembered exact route numbers from 3000
miles ago. I wanted to get an earlier start, so I finally broke from
the mapquest for NE session, and got on my way. I stopped
for lunch in the town the passing group had camped in the night
before. I was riding into headwinds, but certainly not the worst winds
I've had. Eastern Washington was the desert. Incredible cliff lined
valleys with steep decents into them and steep climbs back out. It also
got quite warm this day. Dropping into one of the valleys I blew out a
tire at about 35mph. Not the normal...pppssssssssstttttt flat. No, full
on BANG, flat tire, blownout sidewall. Again, I've got to give it up to
my incredible disc brakes, I came to a stop safely. The worst part was I
have a tiny 2 foot shoulder, a guard rail with about 6 feet of gravel,
and then a 60 foot drop to the drainage ditch below. If I stayed on that
side of the rail I would've been hit my traffic, and it was about a 2
mile walk down the hill to pass the rail. I boosted my bike over the rail and swapped out
my rear tire for the tire I had carried all the way across the country
but hadn't used due to more than desirable tread. I was certainly glad to have the spare with me!
The
difference of a pass and a valley is where the pay off is. In a valley,
you get an epic decent and pay for it by grinding pedal all the way back
out, sorta like getting a new truck with zero down payment. Riding a
pass is more like a theme park. The wait/work comes first, and finally,
you get the payoff and you get the ride of your life. Actually riding a
huge mountain pass is NOTHING like a theme park ride, but you probably
get what I mean. Just after Waterville, WA I had the most epic descent of
the trip. It was about 8 miles of 6-7% grade dropping down into the
Columbia River Valley, just north of Wenachee. I was easily sustaining
about 40mph and the shoulder was tiny, but had regular pull offs so I
rode in the center of the lane, and pulled off when traffic was coming
behind me. Traveling at near the speed of traffic, I wasn't being passed
enough that it was an issue. Once down in the valley, I was heading
south to Wenachee, and the wind was brutal.
I made my way to a
county park, and sat in the Day Use Area for a bit while I called my
parents. With dark begining to set it, I went to find a campsite, and
put up my tent. I was approached by a woman on a golf cart, who told me
there was "no tenting." I explained my situation, that I had ridden 130
miles, and it was now dark, and I was on a bicycle. She threatened to
have me arrested, I'm still not sure why, so it was back to the highway.
I ended up in Cashmere where all h/motels within 5 miles were full,
there was a wedding going on at the town park, no restaurants were open
anymore, and I had yet to eat, and had nowhere to stay. I used to wifi
at the library, and didnt have anyluck finding anywhere to camp. Back to
the town park I went, where I began to set up my tent in a picnic area
just as the sprinkler system came on. I moved on to the soccer field
where I got my tent up, and tucked inside about a half hour before the
sprinklers came on in that field also. I finally had a night without
rain, and got some atficial rain instead. Knowing that the "Park Closed
At Dark" was about 50 yards from my tent, I was on the road by 515 the
next morning, and I made it to Leavenworth for breakfast. The was a big
charity ride going on locally, so there were bikes everywhere. In the
high class waffle haus I got talking to some other riders who were on a
short tour, I cant remember where to. I aslo got involved in a
conversation with the table on the other side of me, who later picked up
my check. A great breakfast, and interaction with nice people restored a
bit of faith in humanity after the night before, and I set out for
Steven's Pass with a smile on my face. It wasnt raining terribly, but it
was a bit on and off. I saw a bear in a field on my way up, first wild
bear I've seen...ever. I met a group of riders at a convienience store
on my way up. I left, knowing they would pass me, being they had empty
bikes, but it was still crushing to watch them pull away as fast as
the did when passing. They were being shuttled from the top due to the
sketchy western desent.
Dropping off Steven's Pass was probably the scariest thing I've ever done on a bicycle. Narrow to no shoulders with
guard rails and concrete barriers. The shoulder were littered with rock,
sand, garbage, and wheel-eating drainage grates. The traffic was very
heavy. I was smelling burning brakes, and didn't think much of it until I
realized it was my own brakes when I looked down and the top of my
rotors were singed brown and they were steaming from the rain/ road
water spray. I took a lunch break when things mellowed out a bit. I was
stopped for about 40 minutes and got back on the road. Not too much
farther along, traffic was stopped, but the shoulder was wide enough for
me to get through. I found myself passing vehicles that passed me
BEFORE lunch. Only thing I could see that caused the back up was a few stop lights in small villages with such high volume sunday evening
traffic. Pushing into Edmonds, just outside of Seattle, I was in good
position for an early ferry crossing to the Olympic Pennisula.
I was
told that after Steven's Pass, I was in the clear as far as hills/
passes. Whoever came up with that conclusion clearly never rode the
Olympic Peninsula on a bike. I stopped in a Visitor Information booth,
to get some extra road info. I should've known by now that these people
have no idea about the realism and practicality of bike routes. I was
told matter of factually that the hills were all behind me, and the ride to
the coast would be mostly flat. I proceeded to put on another 4500
vertical feet in the next 75 miles. It was raining all day. I chose to
ride WA 112 which was the coastal route. It was like riding a track out
of Mario Kart. Up, down, left, right, over hill and dale, through the
rainforest, and finally...the Pacific Ocean! I wasn't quite
finished, but I could taste victory. I still had another 25 miles of
some of the worst rolling pavement I had ridden since ND's "broken
pavement." It was as if they layed down 3/4" stone and dumped a bit of tar
on top. After a final push, my legs were spent, but at 7:54PM June 24,
2013 the most epic ride of my life to date was complete. I had not yet
reached the westernmost point of the country, but I did reach the ranger
station where the Cape Alava hiking trail continued through wilderness
rainforest to the coast. I didnt set out for any kind of record, so it
wasnt worth attempting the 9 mile roundtrip hike that night. I camped at
"The Lost Resort," which had a small store and bathhouse. I really
couldve used some food, however the store was closed. The only other
camper was the groundskeeper who refused to give me the wifi password,
even though I was staying there!! I wanted to use the store again in the
morning, but it was still closed. Oh well,
free camping I suppose. I
continued on my way to the hike. The dense rainforest was like no other
environment I've ever been in. The boardwalk was not like an Atlantic
City wooden foot highway. It was slicker than owl shit, and, boy is that
slick! I arrived at the Pacific during an extremely low tide, So I
hiked the beach of Cape Alava and all the way out beyond Tskawahyah
Island to as far west as the Contiguous 48 states would allow me to go! I
had carried my rear wheel with me on the hike for a few photos and to
dip in the pond off the left coast!
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