Boomer's Blog

"I don't know what possessed me to want to tag along, 'cause I was raised a Christian and I knew right from wrong..." Robert Earl Keen

Day 23 Bismarck – rest and travel day

I got up in the dark at 5:15, showered and packed my gear and went down to the lobby to find that Robbo had the RV idling under the porte cochere of the hotel. It's time for me to take a break from the ride and head home for a few weeks to celebrate my 30th wedding anniversary, so today I'm flying from Bismarck to Dallas and then home to Reno.

The driving and logistics tasks will be ably filled by Bruce Gilley for the next several weeks and then by the courageous Janie Traeger as the trek continues across Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan and Ontario. I will rejoin the circus near Rochester, New York in mid-September – more then!! Day 22 New Salem to Bismarck 34 miles

In the morning, we drove back out to New Salem so the riders could cover the mileage from there to Bismarck. The route followed Old Highway 10 (as it has for quite a distance) and it proved once a again that getting off the interstate freeway and driving on backroads is the best thing you can do. The road rose and fell with the natural terrain, there were animals (I saw a trio of bulls lying on top of a little mound in the middle of the pasture – masters of all they surveyed - and the riders saw goats), and eventually the route paralleled the railroad through downtown Mandan, which had a charming old train depot across from the “Lewis and Clark Hotel”. We reconnected in Bismarck at the end of quite a long bikepath after crossing the Missouri River on a long bridge.

Day 21 Dickinson to New Salem

The route started out on a quality, rural to-lane road and although there was wind pretty constantly from the south and gloomy overcast skies, it was a pretty efficient day for riding. Solid, small rural towns, most of which look considerably better kept and habitable than many that we passed through in Washington and Montana – oil boom trickle-down?

We landed in New Salem, the intended destination for the day and after bucking a pretty constant crosswind all day, the riders had the opportunity to finally savor a tailwind... for a whole 1/3 of a mile of so to the hotel. The Arrowhead Inn looked pretty bad, but I gamely called the number on the door of the office and the lady who answered the phone said that she'd have her daughter come over and check us in. About fifteen minutes later a guy walked by the RV and asked if we were waiting to check in. I replied that we were and he went and opened the office. He gave me keys to a couple of rooms and said someone would come later and check us in – that he had to get back to work. I asked where he worked – he looked like he worked at the gas station down the street – and he said that he cooked next door at the Sunset Cafe. Soooo, not a terrific first impression of that establishment.

I went and looked at the rooms which were 'around back' – apparently next to someone's apartment who had at some point changed the oil in their car and stored the drain oil in a gallon jug next to one of our rooms. The single room – which would be Cathy's room – was right next to that apartment and the air conditioner was on high, so it was about 60 degrees in the room. The first thing I noticed was that the housekeeper had put a couple of peppermints on the bedspread as a sort of a 'turn-down' spiff and right next to them was a millipede. Ewwwwww. The carpet looked like maybe the oil change job had been a motorcycle and that the work had been done in this room. The double room was better – no insects on the sheets – but not by a lot. I walked back around to the van and found that Robbo was checking on rooms in Bismarck for the night and suggested that he go ahead and book them, which he did. The Arrowhead Inn lady was informed that we wouldn't be staying there and we loaded up and drove the 30-some miles to Bismarck.

We stayed in a Sleep Inn and Suites which was the diametric opposite of the Arrowhead Inn – it looked absolutely brand new and everything was utterly immaculate. We had a good dinner served and cooked by nice people who took obvious pride in their work and made a great cilantro-jalapeno margarita. Day 20 Wibaux to Dickinson, North Dakota

We escaped Wibaux and Montana with our sanity mostly intact and headed toward North Dakota, portaging the first few miles of the ride on I-94, stopping to get pictures at the “Welcome to North Dakota” sign and practicing our hilarious “Oh ya, Margie – you betcha!” North Dakota accents. After a brief blast down a wider portion of I-94, the route transitioned onto secondary roads and passed through the delightful town of Medora, site of Theodore Roosevelt National Park and a sort of 19th century cowboy-y theme town. It was very cute. The roads improved markedly also – it's the badlands, so there are sort of bumpy places in the landscape interspersed with arroyo-like features. Very green and humid and lots and lots of hay and wheat. Two lane road with NO traffic – very refreshing. We followed Old Highway 10 all the way into Dickinson, which is the largest town we've seen in quite a while, you betcha – 25,000 or so – and apparently flush with money from the Bakken oil boom, for Pete's sake (sorry, slipped into the local patois for a minute there). We stayed at a “My Place” hotel (highly recommended, by the way – a great concept, well implemented) and had dinner at a huge restaurant that is apparently hampered by the lack of labor They were telling people there was a 20-25 minute wait while there were lots and lots of tables vacant, evidently because there was no one to bus or wait on them. The food, however, was pretty doggone good, don'tcha know. Oy – this place must be growing on me. Day 19 Circle to Wibaux 25 ridden of 75

Another difficult, demoralizing day. From the outset in Circle, the wind was howling out of the east – a straight-on headwind. Robbo and Cathy bravely saddled up and hammered into it for 25 miles to the town of Lindsay, where Tex and I were waiting. We then drove to Glendive and did a badly needed planning and strategy session. We'll continue into Wibaux. No one feels very good about not riding the remainder of the miles, but the work we've gotten done allows for significant progress in planning entrances and exits for personnel and other important logistic needs.

And so it goes.

The day has a happy ending, however. We've found northern Montana to be something of a food desert. Despite the agricultural abundance surrounding them, the little towns that we've visited have offered not much more than burgers, fried everything and iceberg lettuce. Wibaux looked to be a continuation of this dismal diet and our expectations were pretty low as we set off for the historical downtown area in search of dinner. I had seen a Yelp review (and I think only one) of a place called “The Gem” in Wibaux – a converted movie theater with a brewery attached. We found it, but decided to drag Main Street just to see if there was anything that looked more promising. There was not, so we came back to The Gem/Beaver Creek Brewery and went in. It was just like walking into a brewpub in Avon, Colorado, Durango or Reno! We were transported from funky Wibaux to something that was just like home! There were the two sides to the business and when we asked the difference Wanda, the waitress relied that you could have beer from the brewery in the restaurant and food from the restaurant in the brewery, but you could only have wine on the restaurant side. That made it an easy choice, because Cathy's not a beer drinker, so we settled down on the Gen side, which has a stage in the front and a fantastic original curtain with advertising from the old theater hanging on the wall. The food was wonderful – great salads, a fabulous chicken parm and really nice desserts. The beer was excellent. It was a great end to a lousy day. Then this tall, bald fellow came walking in carrying a beer followed by a guy with a video camera. He explained that the film maker was making a documentary on Wibaux and that he was going to go on stage an sing a song about the town. The tall guy was Jim Devine, who owned the brewery and restaurant and the filmmaker was from Paris and was making a documentary about one of his ancestors, Pierre Wibaux, who was a miner and early settler in the area who had the town named after him. Jim sang an original song about Wibaux and we gamely sang along during the audience participation section. This repeated several times, because, you know, movies.

So, if you're ever in France and see a documentary about Montana and there's a large bald man singing in English with a shot of us singing along, it won't be any weirder or more unexpected than finding good food in Wibaux, Montana and being filmed for a French documentary after dessert. Day 18 Glasgow to Circle 76 miles ridden of 105

A thoroughly miserable day for the riders. We elected to ride Montana Highway 24 along Fort Peck Lake rather than go shoulder to shoulder with the grain trucks on Highway 2 to Wolf Point. The issue du jour was wind – although the route was pretty much of a ball-buster as well. The ride along Fort Peck Lake was pretty terrific. It's a huge man-made lake constructed in the 30's as a WPA project – the fifth largest man-made lake in the country - and it has a longer coastline than California at 1,520 miles. After leaving the north side of the lake, we traveled down the east side, but not within view of the lake, which would have been pleasant.

The route was hilly, rolling terrain, arid and dull, but as you crested the top of a long climb, your view in the distance was always another, seemingly higher hill to be conquered. This happened again and again – you never seemed to reach the top and have the promise of descending and getting a break for a few miles. I was feeling this acutely even driving the van and I could imagine how demoralizing it was to the riders, especially coupled with the fact that it was pretty toasty and there was a pretty sporty headwind. At the 76 mile mark, where 24 intersected with Highway 200, they decided to call it a day and drive the rest of the way into Circle. It was a decision with which I heartily agreed. Day 17 Malta to Glasgow 68 miles

We got up early and started riding promptly at 7:00 as a hedge against predicted headwinds on the ride to Glasgow. After celebrating the 1,000 mile mark just east of Saco, the ride continued over undulating terrain and hay and wheat farms. It's pretty enough country and there are just enough features in the terrain to keep it from being boring. I stopped at a little town called Hinsdale to take some pictures – the Masonic Temple, grain elevator, some interesting signs, a couple or railroad cars on a siding. As I was heading back to the RV, a man with an extravagant white mustache came over and, pointing to the front license plate, said, “Colorado, huh? I'm going there tomorrow.” I asked where he was going and he said that his son had bought a ranch in Coaldale and he was going to go out and help him mend the fences. I told him that my wife's uncle had been a rancher in Coaldale and had worked the ranch up until about two weeks before he died a few years ago at age 95. The man's name was Virgil Vaupel and he'd been a long-haul trucker and had grown up in Saco, the last town we'd stopped at. Nice guy and he let me take a picture of his terrific mustache. We agreed that the grain elevators were an icon of the Hi-Line that were going to vanish, never to return.

Met with the riders at a roadside rest area about 15 miles before Glasgow – hilly, prairie country for miles and miles. There were a number of cars that came and went while I was waiting, none more memorable that an older Toyota Corolla driven by an older lady who parked and headed for the restrooms, leaving the car with the windows partially open. A few minutes later, I heard a cheerful “Cock-a-doodle-dooooooo” and looked over at the car to notice that there was a large cage just crammed with chickens (and roosters?) in the back seat – 10 or 12 full-grown birds. The chicken lady soon returned and headed off down the road.

We got into Glasgow and did a little scouting and found the hotel, then returned to the turn off of Highway 2. After a quick and welcome lunch at Dairy Queen, we went to a bike store to get some intel on the route tomorrow, then went to the hotel to check in. To say that the hotel is cool would be an understatement. It's an old hotel that has been renovated to be very cool and fun – kind of the last thing you'd expect to find in Glasgow, Montana, but very welcome. The rooms are large and wonderfully decorated and the hallways – usually a decidedly utilitarian area – have fun décor, funky couches and a Keurig machine available anytime. Our kind of place. The Rundle Suites, should you ever find yourself in Glasgow, Montana!

Day 16 Havre to Malta 90 miles

An 8:15 start for a day of big mileage and we're hoping for another solid tailwind, but so far the morning is dead calm. The first 21 miles to Chinook are knocked out in an hour, with Tex providing an excellent slipstream for Rob and Cathy. Next 21 miles to Harlem and we'll be halfway to Malta. We met a group of ACA (Adventure Cycling Association) riders doing a supported ride across the Northern Tier – they paid a bunch of money to ACA and, in return, get a van to haul their stuff, shared meals and camping facilities. Chris and Jeff – a father and son pair – stopped and chatted for a while. They're from Seattle and had a quite a few tips to share with us. We saw several other groups of that ACA group along the road. Malta is a interesting little town – it seems to be keeping its head above water while a lot of small towns along the Hi-Line are deteriorating. We stayed in another little Mom and Pop motel – the Maltana – that was wonderfully kept and comfortable. Dinner in the Stockman's Bar was a little rough around the edges, but tasty and filling.

Day 15 Chester to Havre 62 miles

This was a day for the record books. The riders rode the distance from Chester to Havre in 2 hours and 38 minutes, averaging better than 23 miles per hour. There might have been a little bit of a tailwind. It's pretty country, especially if you're fond of wheat, but there are mountains in the distance and some pretty cute little towns. We had a visit from a neighborhood kitten who hopped into the RV as we were gearing up this morning – I think she would have been very content to come along, but we left her in Chester. She had a little red harness on and a nametag that said “Maybe”. Day 14 Cut Bank to Chester, Montana 68 miles

It wasn't hard to say farewell to Cut Bank, which was a pretty charmless spot, despite the great dinner we had at the local bar/restaurant/casino and the waitress, Arkady, who was very funny and told us about the tiny house she is building in a school bus she bought in Ely, Nevada for $600 and drove back to Cut Bank. It rained hard overnight and the morning was overcast and gloomy – not ideal conditions for the big event in town for the weekend – a classic car show. The riders saddled up and rode down Highway 2 which passed right through the center of the old downtown portion of Cut Bank. It was a pretty uneventful and flat ride to Chester – 60 miles or so.

After meeting them along the way, I went ahead to Chester, which is all but invisible on the prairie until you crest the final hill before the town. There was an airport with a couple of crop-dusting planes. A couple of large grain elevators were located right next to the railroad. I recognized our destination – a two-story, brick building on the corner housing the Westland Suite – an apartment I had found by doing a Google search for lodging in Chester. The building has a Farmer's Insurance office and a dance studio in the first floor, but when I walked around the corner, there was a door for the second floor which was unlocked. I hadn't gotten check-in instructions, so I went in, yelled “Helloooo?” and when there was no answer, went up the stairs. It was a lovely, four bedroom apartment with a full kitchen and a bath with a washer and dryer. A large living/dining area and the front bedroom had its own sitting area. Very, very nice. I went back downstairs, looked down the street for the riders and then returned to the front to meet Patty and Mimi, who were unloading a bunch of stuff to go up to the apartment. We introduced ourselves and I told them how tickled I was with the apartment and they beamed. Patty and her husband Philip are the owners and at one time, the first floor occupancy was Patty's office. Philip is a pianist who has played with Windham Hill, toured with Elvin Bishop and Peter Gabriel and has a bunch of great CD's of his own work. He grew up in Chester and went to Harvard on a Leonard Bernstein scholarship. Once Rob, Cathy and Tex got there, Patty gave us a tour of their other B 'n B properties and Philip's recording studio, which has a piano room inside a corrugated steel grain bin that towers over the building. It was fascinating and they were delightful – we met their son Jake, who starts at Montana State next week and ski races.

Day 13 McDonald Lodge to St Mary, Montana via Going-to-the-Sun Road

This promised to be one of the greatest days of riding of the trip. We were up very early (5 am) and waiting at the coffee shop when it opened at 6. By 6:30, we were at McDonald Lodge inside Glacier Park and at almost exactly 7:00, Rob and Cathy started riding. There was some pressure, because bikes are banned from Going-to-the-Sun Road between 11 am and 4 pm, so they had to ride to the summit – about 22 miles and more than 3,000 vertical feet away – and then descend the 18 miles to the St. Mary's side of Logan Pass in four hours to avoid friction with the rangers. Meanwhile, Tex and I would drive back to the West Glacier entrance to the park, leave the park and drive Highway 2 over to the East Entrance, then Highways 49 and 89 up to St. Mary to meet them – about a 95 mile trip.

The drive over Highway 2 was pretty and enjoyable – it's a great highway and follows the railroad, more or less. We then went through the town of East Glacier on Highway 49 and things took an immediate turn for the worse. Highway 49 is barely two lanes wide and after we had been on it for a few miles, we saw signs that said that vehicles over 21 feet long weren't allowed on 49. We were about 25 feet in length. Highway 49, however, had redeeming qualities in the form of some spectacular overlooks and we enjoyed the views, if not the lumpy, narrow roadway. We also started encountering cattle on the highway, which made things interesting. We turned onto Highway 89, which was a virtual freeway compared to 49, for the first mile. Then we hit road construction. Not road repair or maintenance – this was construction, as in 'moving dirt to make a road'. This continued for about six miles and included traffic control and scrapers driving across the traffic lanes. Very exciting. We arrived at the St. Mary visitor center in plenty of time, however.

Rob and Cathy rolled in at 11:03, having ridden the Pass in exactly 3 hours of riding time and avoiding any issues with the National Park Service. Although there had been a couple dozen bicyclists at the start at Lake McDonald, they were the only ones we saw on the east side. We loaded up and drove about 60 miles to Cut Bank, Montana – our destination for the night. In doing so, the terrain changed dramatically, from high, craggy mountains and alpine terrain to rolling prairie and grassland. We'll be in Montana for another week or more and will probably be in this kind of landscape for many weeks more, so that final day in the mountains – as spectacular as it was – was more than worth it!

Day 12

This is a 'rest day', although it was a pretty busy day overall. After sleeping until about 7:15, I started with a walk for coffee up the street to Montana Coffee Traders and had a cup of coffee and a scone, both of which were terrific. We had an awesome coffee place in Truckee called “Wild Cherries” and this is the Wild Cherries of Columbia Falls, Montana, which is high praise, indeed. We dropped the rider at the start of the bikeway up to the West Entrance of Glacier Park. The highway to the park is pretty variable in terms of shoulder width and safety, but the bikeway looked great so we opted to ride from there.

Tex and I drove up to the park entrance and went in, and I asked the young woman at the entrance gateway about getting the bicyclists into the park and she filled me in on that and then said, “You know that this is too big to go on Going To The Sun Road, right? It has to be shorter than 21 feet”. No, our plan was totally based on driving the Sprinter over Going To The Sun and to not be able to do that is not only a logistical problem, but a disappointment for yours truly who was looking forward to wrangling the RV over the steep, narrow, winding road with no shoulder and a wall – it was to be a driving achievement that I would look back on with great pride and nostalgia! Dammit.

We met the riders at the West Glacier entrance and broke the news to them, then they rode to Lake McDonald Lodge and we connected there, did some sightseeing and souvenir shopping and drive back to town. A trip to the laundromat, the grocery store and the gas station completed our errands. Now it's off to dinner and an early bedtime, because we want the riders to be riding from Lake McDonald at 0700. I will drive 90 miles or so around Glacier Park and meet them in St. Mary and continue our adventure from there. Day 11 Eureka to Columbia Falls

We started at the intersection of Highways 37 and 93 in Eureka. The riders took a detour along a secondary (maybe tertiary...) road, while I followed 93 about 15 miles to the town of Fortine. I was looking for coffee, but there was one to be had – there was a cute little pie shop which looked wonderful, but was closed until tomorrow. Sigh. Next to the pie shop was an intriguing looking antique shop which had not opened yet. I wrote a postcard and mailed it at the post office, repaired the bike rack with parts I had purchased in Eureka and put the tools away, when a pickup came and parked in front of the antique store. A lady got out carrying a cup of coffee and I asked where she had procured it. We started talking and I asked abut the antique shop, which, as luck would have it, she ws just about to open. At one time, this has been the market, post office and pharmacy for the town and the interior featured the original (and very ornate) tin ceiling. The woman's name was Sally and she and her husband had moved to the area after retiring from their jobs in Bakersfield, California. She worked at the antique store a few days each week. We had a great time visiting and she said there was a woman in town who had lived in Truckee, California (where Cindy and I lived for over 30 years) until about ten years ago. The riders arrived and everyone had a great time meeting Sally and browsing the shop a little bit. Rob and Cathy took off and we agreed to meet at a town farther south on 93 called Olney.

Tex and I drove toward Olney and it seemed like we were in the area, but there was no sign of the town. We passed a serious big rig accident, with a chip hauler laying on its side in the woods below, but parallel to the highway and a tow crew getting ready to remove the product and right it. We doubled back to the headquarters for the Stillwater State Forest and parked to wait. There were a number of beautiful, vintage log cabins that had been constructed by the State Forest ranger who originally ran the Forest as well as a bunkhouse and bathhouse for the fire crew headquartered there. I conferred with the secretary in the Forest Supervisor's office inside and she said that we were basically in Olney, so we were in the right place. Cathy and Rob rolled in and had a snack, then we all headed for Whitefish – they again taking a secondary road and Tex and I continuing on Highway 93 into town. Whitefish is a terrific town – great train depot where Amtrak stops, beautiful parks and a very upscale and sophisticated downtown area. The “Big Mountain” ski area is just north of town and looks like it would be a lot of fun. We checked a couple of bike shops for raingear for Tex and got a cup of coffee before Rob and Cathy rolled in and found the van where we had parked. A short drive from Whitefish to Columbia Falls brought us to our home for the next couple of days – the Glacier Inn Motel, which made a good impression right from the start. It's an older motel, but it has an immaculate and fun look with vintage suitcases and a globe on a shelf above the office window and bird feeders and flower boxes scattered around the property – it's more of an art project than a hotel, really. The rooms were equally pleasing and tidy and we had a nice time hanging out with a beer outside the rooms.

We had dinner at a local brewpub, then pre-ran the road up to Glacier Park, just to see what the ride had in store for us. It doesn't look too bad – there's a bike path much of the way. We can ride the section from town up to the park entrance tomorrow and save some valuable miles on Friday morning, because we understand that the Park closes the Going To The Sun Road at 11 am for bicyclists. More about that later.

Day 10 Libby to Eureka 69 miles

We got an early start, given that here at the very western edge of the time zone, it's a lot darker early than at the very eastern edge of the last time zone! The ride out of Libby followed a road called “Old Haul Road” and it may have been used for mining or logging, but there is very little traffic now and it was a spectacular ride – Rob said it was 'one of the great rides of his life'. We crossed the Kootenai River below Libby Dam, then followed a Forest Service Road along the west side of Lake Koocanusa for over 30 miles – again, a virtually traffic-free tide and a very good road. The Forest Service road eventually crossed the upper stretch of the river above the lake and we had a short ride into Eureka. Eureka is a pretty cute little town with about a three block downtown area and a longer commercial district on the north end. I had to pick up a package at the post office that my wife, Cindy had mailed from Reno a few days earlier – a very important package, because it contained my National Parks Pass and the battery charger and a spare battery for my camera. The USPS came through and the package was there!! There was a special care package of gummy bears in the box as well – thanks, honey!!

We connected with the riders and drove out to our lodging for the night – a nice little cabin at the Riverstone Family Lodge, conveniently located only 1.6 miles from the border with Canada! We had a great dinner – the waitress saw my Colorado College hat and commented that her husband is from Colorado Springs! Reset the calibration on Cathy's bike computer so that she won't have to double the reading to know her actual speed or distance. Tomorrow, on to Whitefish and Columbia Falls, but it'll be tough to beat today for great conditions and scenery! Day 9 Clark Fork to Libby, Montana 68 miles

After a night punctuated with train whistles, we were reasonably well rested and were happy to see a cool, overcast, humid but otherwise dry morning. After some bike maintenance, the riders saddled up and we all met at the “Welcome to Montana” sign about 8 miles down the road from the cabin. We took a ceremonial picture, did a little celebratory dance (a tradition originated by our friend and inspiration, Sam Harper, who did this ride several years ago) and then headed for the turn from Highway 200 to Highway 56, which would take us north toward Libby, Montana.

Highway 56 was pretty great road and we stopped briefly along Bull Lake, a beautiful spot and then continued up to Highway 2 and a fast descent into Libby. Libby is a pretty prosperous little town with a lot going on. The Country Inn looked a little crusty from the outside, but turned out to have clean an comfortable rooms and a fake fireplace in each one! It was a black screen hanging on the wall below the television and you could select different flame patterns. Quite ingenious if not too convincing. We had a terrific dinner across the street at the Venture Inn and retired to the van to do some planning for the route ahead. There were quite a few folks on motorcycles, including a bunch of Harley riders who turned out to be from Ireland. They were loads of fun to talk with and were going to several of the same places as we are. Day 8 Newport to Clark Fork, Idaho 56 miles

I kicked off Day 8 by walking over to Idaho for coffee. Well... almost to Idaho – had I walked another 50 feet past the Safeway, I would have been in Idaho, but I stayed in Washington, got a cup of dark roast at Starbucks and then walked back to the Inn where we were staying. The riders left from the Inn, then we convened at the “Welcome to Idaho” sign about a mile down the road and took pictures to commemorate knocking off our first state. I returned to Safeway for a tank of fuel, a few chocolate milks for recovery drinks, some bananas and a bag of ice – a typical morning haul from the grocery store. The drive over to Sandpoint was about 30 miles and it took a long time to catch up to the group – I was thinking I had somehow missed something and gotten ahead of them, when 20 miles out of Newport I caught up. They were moving along at a torrid pace and had knocked out a third of the day's ride in the first hour and fifteen minutes. We made a strategy for going through Sandpoint and took off. I parked in Sandpoint, called home while there was cell service and while I was on the phone, the group came riding by, so it was off to the races yet again. This time I drove out of Sandpoint, past Kootenai and found a place to stop, when I spied a laden bicyclist coming from the east. I crossed the road and asked if he was riding the Northern Tier. He said he was and introduced himself – Chris O'Hara, who had started from his home town of Beverly, Massachusetts and was now within a week of finishing his cross country journey. I explained what we were doing and how much we respected the folks who were riding their rides unsupported. Chris was a hugely nice guy and we shared a lot of information about where we'd been and some tips from our respective trips. The riders rode up and everyone enjoyed meeting Chris and we wished him a safe conclusion to his epic ride.

We headed out, continuing around Lake Pend Oreille toward the town of Clark Fork. I was ahead of the group by quite a bit and noticed that all of the oncoming traffic had their windshield wipers on – not a very favorable indicator. Pretty soon the rain hit in earnest – it rained hard through the little town of Hope and off and on after that, stopping just before I got to Clark Fork. The rain was less of a concern than the lightning that followed, but I was warm and dry in an RV and knew that the bicyclists were having a lot rougher time of it. They arrived in Clark Fork in a lull in the rain, but everyone was happy to get into the RV, warm up and change into dry clothes There may have been some coffee with tequila consumed, strictly for medicinal purposes, mind you. We stayed in a little cabin with a loft, bedroom and full kitchen, so we were able to make an exploratory foray to the local market, buy some groceries and make a great dinner – burgers, jalapeno brats, salad and baked potatoes. The cabin had a small porch which was a great place to eat dinner and hang out until it was bedtime – about 8:30, because everyone was beat after a tough day and because it was starting to get dark and the bugs were coming out. Day 7 Ione to Newport 50 miles

Today is my 64th birthday! It's very unusual for me to be spending a birthday away from my home and family and it will be great to talk to them later today and fill them in on what we are seeing and doing today. It was a beautiful morning on the Pend Oreille River – the river was literally right out the door of our motel room – and there was mist in the trees upslope across the river and fish jumping in the river. A LOT of fish jumping, actually – several a minute. A guy staying in the motel who was wearing a Baltimore Orioles baseball cap told me his friend had seen a moose swimming across the river when he had stayed there before. As he walked away, I said “Go Orioles” and he said that he was really a Seattle Mariners fan, but that he got the Orioles hat because it fit his head... I'm just gonna leave that there, I think.

So we loaded up at the motel, drove the four miles or so into Ione, parked on the corner, unloaded the bikes and walked across the street to a drive through coffee place in a six by twelve foot kiosk. We got coffee from a young woman named Rusty, who had opened the place at 5:00am. A medium drip coffee cost all of $1.35. Tex got drip coffee with some squirts of hazelnut syrup, which I'm pretty sure you can't order in Texas without relinquishing your man card. The ride today is about 50 miles to Newport, Washington, which is right on the border with Idaho. The route is along the east bank of the Pend Oreille on a very lightly traveled road. I drove about 20 miles ahead after crossing the river and waited for the riders to come by and check in. I parked in a little Forest Service access road which is a good place to stop and write. A car passed on the main road about every ten minutes or so. After a quick stop, the riding group continued own the road and I headed south, passing them and continuing to Newport, where I located the Inn we'll be staying at tonight. I headed back up to the road they are riding, because at some point only a short distance from town, we had crossed into Idaho and I figured I had somehow missed the sign at the border – it would be nice to get a picture at it. I find the state line on the road using the GPS, but there is no sign on either side – no Washington sign and nothing indicating you're in Idaho. I found a place to park a few hundred feet north of that spot and wait. While waiting, I was delighted to see a pair of Great Blue Heron fly across the road and perch in a tree on the side toward the river. I don't know if I have ever seen a heron in a tree before. They would occasionally fly across the other way, but kept returning to one dead tree. Then a Bald Eagle flew by – great day for bird watching along Leclerc Road.

The riders came by and I explained how to get to the Inn and we all met there, then loaded up and hauled the bikes to Sandpoint, Idaho, about 30 miles east, to have Cathy's bike repaired and Tex's bike checked. While the bikes were being fixed, we explored downtown Sandpoint a little and had a great lunch, then walked over to the City Beach, which was beautiful and loaded with families. The bikes repaired, we headed back to Newport, previewing the route for tomorrow. I had a great phone call with Cindy and our kids, Paul and Helen and Paul's partner, Louise – they sang the best rendition of “Happy Birthday to You” of the day!

Day 6 Colville to Ione 40 miles

After a productive morning and a leisurely start, the 40 or so miles to Ione – with no significant ascents and a pretty mellow and fun descent - seemed like a walk in the park. I stopped frequently along the way and worked on this writing project, allowing the riders to catch up and resupply or just take a breather along the road. We rolled into Ione, which, after Colville, looks somewhat depressed and depressing. The grocery store, however, had ice cream cones, which I suggested as a recovery break when the riding group hit town. The portion was about the size of a softball. We stayed at a cute little 9 room motel/resort right on the Pend Oreille River about 4 miles north of town. The river flows north out of Lake Pend Oreille, up into Canada and then turns west and then south and flows into Lake Roosevelt and the Columbia River. Day 5 Republic to Colville 54 miles

Leaving Republic, the route (as seems inevitable in the Northern Cascades) covered a couple of long, grinding climbs. After a pleasant enough start along a forested bike path and then a winding stretch of gently climbing highway through a dense forest, the grade became more significant and the uphill to Sherman Pass took on a more serious tone. There were several stretches of significant road construction. The first was only a mile or so while a new guardrail was installed and the riders could ride along with the flow of traffic when it was released. Rob asked the flagger if they could start ahead of the waiting cars and trucks, so as to get through the traffic controlled section more efficiently and he replied, “No: you don't want to piss her off...” which was interrupted by a woman's voice on his radio calling someone a jackass. “See?” asked the flagger, “she's already pissed off...” That section went without incident, but at the second (and much longer) traffic control area, things were different. I'm going to let Rob tell that part of the story.

After a long and very gravelly and dusty downhill, we finally got out of the chip seal and into better conditions. The temperature, however, seemed to rise about 20 degrees in a matter of a few miles and by the time we got to the Columbia River, it was between 96 and 100. We connected with the riders at the bridge crossing Roosevelt Lake on the Columbia and they followed the AC routing into Colville while I took the highway. In contrast to many of the towns we've been seeing, Colville looked prosperous and neat. The downtown area seemed to have full occupancy in the storefronts and the lumber mill had an amazing machine for grabbing an entire log truck load of 40 foot long timber in one bite with a mammoth grapple – it could then straddle the log deck (a pile of cut timber that can be 60 feet high and 1,000 feet long) and place the load on top. Simply an astounding piece of equipment. We gaped at it like we'd just fallen off the turnip truck.

We checked into Benny's Colville Inn, which seemed to have a patronage divided between construction workers (we met several of the guys working on the road construction project and there was a helicopter crew either doing firefighting or logging) and tourists, many on motorcycles. It was a comfortable night and we had a fabulous dinner at “Rancho Chico”; a terrific Mexican restaurant in the downtown area – the meal included margaritas, oh yes. Cathy and I put our heads down and booked the lodging for the next week, which was a ordeal, but should avoid a lot of hassle as we head into Montana and head towards Glacier Park. We met Andy, the owner of the hotel, who was a delightful guy and deservedly proud of his property and his employees, who were terrific. He also described the hunt for an enormous bull elk that was displayed in the lobby which he took with a bow and arrow along with about 100 incredible fish trophies taken by his grandfather, Benny. We've met some fascinating people along the way so far and there will be many more to come. Day 4 Okanogan to Republic 69 miles

Getting out of Okanogan/Omak proved to be a difficult task – the Adventure Cycling route took a road that appeared to intersect with Highway 97, but to access it, you actually had to turn right and then use an undercrossing, which threw both the riders and the support vehicle for a loop. Once on the correct road, we traveled along for a few miles across the river from the main road, then overshot the turn that returned us (inevitably) to it. In turning around, Tex had a low-speed tipover, scraping up his elbow and leg. I collected Tex and we continued into Tonasket where we tended to his road rash and he restored his bodily balance with a delicious corndog from the gas station/convenience store on the corner. We found a lovely parking spot in the Tonasket Bible Church parking lot and did some people watching while waiting for Cathy and Rob. Once they arrived, attention turned to Wauconda Summit, the crux of the day's ride. Wauconda Summit proved to be a formidable challenge: a steady climb through low forest and farmland, capped by a small road construction project with traffic control. It was brutally hot: even at the top of the summit the temperature was well into the 90's and while we could feel sorry for ourselves, you couldn't help but feel sympathy for the paving crew who were laying down smokin' hot asphalt-y goodness on the hottest week of the year. The downhill to Republic was long and cool and a reward for a tough climb. I arrived at the Prospector and met a delightful couple from Switzerland who were riding fully laden bikes from east to west on the AC route and had started in Philadelphia and ridden through Washington D.C., the Blue Ridge Parkway, Tennessee and St. Louis before making their way to the Northern Tier route – my heroes! They were planning on camping part way up Washington Pass and doing in five days what had taken us four, but given that each of their loaded bikes probably weighed 50 pounds or more, this seemed like a heroic undertaking. We had a delicious dinner and cocktails at the Knotty Pine in Republic and left our delightful waitress Izzy shaking her head at how much food one table could consume. Day 3 Mazama to Okanogan 54 miles

We backtracked to Mazama to start riding where the mechanical problem had caused us to stop the day prior, riding through the now-familiar Old West (and really very charming) town of Winthrop and on to Twisp and the base of a pretty gnarly climb over to Okanogan and Omak, our goal for the day. The technical crux of the day was Loup Loup Summit, an unremarkable but draining climb followed by a solid downhill into the typically dry and hot rolling hills of north-central Washington. Lodging for the night was in Okanogan, part of the twin cities of Okanogan and Omak, both of which seemed economically depressed and grim. One bright spot was a wonderful dinner at the Red Rooster Grill which served up a mean mango Margarita as well as pretty terrific food. The “Quality” Inn was a pretty grim hostelry, but there was a (filthy) washing machine in which we did a couple of loads. Day 2 Marblemount to Mazama 75 miles

My day started with a logistic challenge – having a leaking valve stem replaced on the RV. This involved backtracking from Marblemount to Sedro Woolley and then hustling back toward the east to overtake the riders, hopefully before they ran out of water on the very tough climb between Newhalem and Mazama. Fortunately, the Les Schwab crew in Sedro Woolley had a service bay available and they made the repair quickly and efficiently. We caught the riders at a great location, replenished their water and then took pictures at the top of Washington Pass before the long, fast downhill run to Mazama. I found a good location to wait at the bottom of the hill and before long Rob rolled in to report that Cathy had experienced a mechanical failure and was a few miles up the road, able to coast, but not pedal. She actually made it a remarkable distance, but we loaded up the bikes and headed into Winthrop and found a bike shop immediately as we entered the town. They looked at her bike and made a quick repair, even using a deeply discounted, barely used, 'takeoff' cassette from another bike to temporarily effect a fix. The gearing would not be as low for climbing as that to which Cathy is accustomed, but it's a lot better than just coasting. A great pizza dinner topped a very challenging and satisfying day, during which the efficiency and professionalism of others played a major role in keeping us rolling. Day 1 Anacortes, Washington to Marblemount 65 miles

The ride started with a great sendoff by Kiera, Colten and Lety Murphy at Seafarer's Park in Anacortes. After a ceremonial dip in the ocean, the riders headed east, initially along a waterfront bike path and then along Highway 20 through Burlington, Sedro Woolley, Lyman, Hamilton and Concrete before winding up in Marblemount, Washington.

I spent quite a bit of time in Marblemount at the bridge over the Skagit River hoping to get a shot of the riders crossing the bridge, but as luck would have it, they appeared at a time when I was out of position. We were fortunate to be in town on the night when there was a community salmon barbecue to benefit the community hall, so that was our dinner and it was an excellent choice. We also had a chance to see the local volunteer firefighters in action, because a piece of agricultural equipment on a nearby farm caught on fire just as we were driving to the salmon barbecue. Since the community center shared a driveway with the fire station we had front row seats to the volunteers arriving and responding in the engine. After 36 years in the fire service, starting as a volunteer, it was just like old times!