The Parkes and Stockham Cycle Part 2: TransAmerica

Date: Sunday 22nd August  

Route: Ennis, Montana – Madison, Wyoming 

Distance: 86 miles 

Total climb: 3666ft 

Net climb: 1846ft

Despite our blood sacrifice a few days earlier, the cycling Gods clearly had some pent up wrath to expend upon us today.  We cycled out of Ennis at a decent time (we struggle to get on the road before 9:30 of a morning) and for the next three and a half hours we slogged continually into a very strong headwind.  The problem with a headwind is not just that it slows you down – and it does – we averaged only 6mph compared to our normal 17mph; but also that it stops you from speaking to one another and produces a continuous and maddening noise that completely envelopes you. 

We were making such slow progress that in order to retain our sanity and get out of the wind we decided to break the ride up into small chunks of around 10 miles.  In accordance with our plan we stopped at Cameron – a town comprised of one shop which sadly was closed and up for sale (I could not possibly speculate on whether that will, in time, constitute an apt metaphor for our current Prime Minister and his government).  After that brief respite we rejoined the fight, planning to stop again in 10 miles time.  We got to the 20 mile marker but there was no shelter in sight; so we resolved to stop as soon as we saw somewhere suitable at which to get out of the gale’s onslaught. 

After a further 9 miles of toil nowhere had presented itself, save for a half built log cabin with signs saying “Danger.  Do not Enter.  Do not Tresspass [sic.]”   The sight of a large number of pick-up trucks and the questionable spelling of the warning suggested to us that this would not be a sensible place to rest.

Eventually we took a break on the side of a bank which provided enough shelter to at least give our ears a rest.  After a few carefully regulated nutritional snacks (Milky Ways and Snickers Bars) we were once again ready to face  the weather which now consisted of not just wind but also its close friend, torrential rain.  Fortunately for us, after about one more mile our route took a sharp turn left and the headwind became a cross-wind – far more manageable.  From that moment on the wind was no longer a great concern (although it had already taken its toll given that we had travelled 29 miles in three and a half hours).

Having served our penance, the rest of the day was thoroughly enjoyable.  After a quick lunch with Team Heagney in a car park we continued past two lakes: one created by an earthquake in 1959 complete with dead trees rising from its depths and a second (Hebgen Lake}) an enormous expanse of water which looked magnificent with the sun beginning to set over it. 

It was getting late and so, with Fred at the helm, we dashed into West Yellowstone.  With me running low on energy (our food intake for the day had been very low) and Fred keen for a toy from a Happy Meal, we headed across to MacDonalds for some reviving junk-food.  My choice of 6 chicken nuggets as a starter, prior to a double cheese and bacon burger, won the begrudging respect of the semi-professional eaters who were the customers of that particular establishment.

The day was not over yet though and so we hopped back on our bikes in the fading light and headed into Yellowstone Park.  Both $12 dollars lighter after paying the park entry fees we rode the final 14 miles to our campsite in Madison with Fred on continual and somewhat paranoid bear watch.  In terms of actual wildlife we saw little other than some deer and a Trumpteter Swan, and we arrived at our campsite intact.  The cycling Gods had not quite had their fill with us yet though, as, much to both of our frustration, I noticed, as we rode around the campsite to find the RV, that yet another spoke had broken in my rear wheel.  Another trip to a bike shop was in order and our plans for the following day had been severely compromised.

JBS

Date: Saturday 21st August 

Route: Twin Bridges, Montana – Ennis, Montana

Distance: 42 miles

Total climb: 2498ft

Net climb: 405ft

After yesterday’s crash, the first port of call this morning was a bike shop and some more repair work on the wheels.  The nearest offering was in West Yellowstone, over 75 miles away.  We needed to get there in the RV, have the work done and go back behind our overnight stay, to start riding again in Twin Bridges.  Not for the first time, a game of catch up lay ahead.

Team Heagney was hugely helpful in doing the round trip to West Yellowstone with the RV and we managed to get the bikes fixed at Freeheel and Wheel, a funky shop in town.

By the time we got back to Twin Bridges, a storm was brewing and it was late.  42 miles faced us, with one climb to above 7,000 feet and a downhill into Ennis to finish – better to get some miles done than write the day off.

We battled hard into the wind to Virginia City (Jay battling even harder before realising he was only using his middle chain ring).  The road wound up alongside great piles of stones left by the gold seekers of the past as they dredged the rivers.  A stop was planned at Virginia City, both of us feeling weak from not eating properly for most of the day.  Banditos provided the location, pie was on the mind.

Having ordered a brownie and ice cream each, we spent a long time admiring the building and sifted through the New Yorker (odd choice of magazine to stock in our location), before we became anxious about timing and our need to move on.  The barman then called over to say the food would arrive in a couple of minutes.  When he brought it over, we were surprised to find that ‘someone at the bar’ had felt sorry for us ordering desserts and had paid for some nachos for us.  This continued the theme of generosity and hospitality for the trip, but left us with a slight issue – the need to eat all the food immediately before a big climb on the bikes, so as not to look ungrateful.

With our appetites, this was fairly straightforward but left us feeling sick as we started the climb.  We were boosted by a cheer from a gathering crowd at a bar on the outskirts of Virginia City (I think they liked the fist pumps and Busi impressions), so breezed past two cyclists on their way up to our campsite from the previous night – we are now back in first in the race.

Climb done, we rolled down towards Ennis overlooking shaded mountains to the right and guided by a sunset of purples, oranges and reds over the peaks to the front.  We arrived in time to see the wild deer taking charge of the roads for the night.

Our challenge for tomorrow is to reach West Yellowstone by pedal power, with the bikes still in good shape.

Loosely noteworthy matters in general:

• Jay and I are now fully settled in our beverage choices for the bottles.  He seems focused on the unnaturally coloured blue Gatorade (mountain berry flavour) and I’m a devotee to the lemon and lime, which tastes not dissimilar to Lemsip by mid-afternoon in the heat.  Sometimes shop shortages leave us regressing to primary school art lessons, as we are forced to mix colours and flavours in the bottles – Jay works the greens and browns well, whilst I’ve been at the other end of the spectrum.
• When trying to look objectively at our daily habits, we’ve also found it amusing that other primary school lessons seem to take place with regularity.  In particular, when the person ‘on the front’ is warning the person ‘on the back’ about upcoming obstacles, it sounds very much like an early science lesson… “wood, stone, glass, metal, wood, glass, metal, badger” – a bit like the ‘animal and mineral’ game. The physical emphasis of the journey is clearly causing our mental capabilities to regress as time goes by.

FP

Date: Friday 20th August  

Route: Jackson, Montana – Twin Bridges, Montana 

Distance: 69 miles 

Total climb: -1826ft

The evening spent in Jackson had been fun, chatting with Aidan and Team Heagney, polishing off a couple of medicinal beverages and indulging in the habitual round of Golden Tee.  All of this after a swim in a natural hot springs pool.  Team spirit was consequently high as we rolled out of the campsite the following morning. 

Our ride took us through the high plains of Montana and over the Big Hole and Badger Passes, before we free-wheeled down into Dillon for lunch.  A quick rendezvous with Team Heagney in the town was followed by an excellent (and astonishingly healthy by our recent standards) lunch of pasta, homemade lemonade and cookies in the Sweetwater Cafe.

After lunch we decided to really crack on and get the next 28 miles out of the way quickly in order to leave ourselves a shortish late afternoon section into our proposed destination of Virginia City.  We flew.  Riding at an average speed of about 20mph we raced along State Highway 41 and towards the town of Twin Bridges with the prospect of diner-made milkshakes dominating our thoughts. 

We barely spoke, save to remark that very little of note had happened during the day.  What would we write about in the blog?  At which point, as if on queue, a fly or a piece of gravel struck me just above my sunglasses.  I twitched, and the front wheel of Diana caught the gravel which ran along the side of the narrow hard-shoulder.  Diana slid, and although I tried to right her course I couldn’t hold the back wheel. In an instant I was down and sliding along the hard shoulder.  I felt my helmet bang onto the tarmac as I rolled over and then heard Fred and Rosie come a cropper behind me.  Fred’s recollection is that he piled over the top of me and then travelled, by means of his shoulder, a few metres further up the road.

We had made a quite a mess.  Our bodies were bloodied and bruised and Rosie and Diana had certainly looked better.  We established that there were no broken bones and then I proceeded to go into a minor state of shock, apologising for what had happened at least 20 times in the next 10 minutes.  Fred, conversely, managed to stay almost preternaturally calm; digging out the first aid kit, checking the bikes and conducting the majority of the maintenance that needed to be performed.   It was during this time that the first random acts of kindness occurred.  In the space of 10 minutes three cars stopped on the highway to offer us lifts.  The parable of the good Samaritan has clearly been taken to heart by the people of Montana; more was to follow.

Through our two contrasting methods of calm practicality and apologetic shock we managed to get ourselves and the bikes in a fit state to ride the final 5 miles into Twin Bridges.  It was slow progress, in part because I had no inclination to cycle at over 6 miles an hour in the foreseeable future and also because my rear wheel had buckled in the crash (something we could not fix on the roadside).

We made it into town and after a few enquiries confirmed our suspicion that there was no bike shop.  It was the end of our ride for the day, so we set ourselves down in the diner and left a message with Team Heagney that we would wait for them there.  We did not know whether the message would be received.

Our entrance into the diner, limping and with knees covered in blood, made something of a stir; but despite our less than formal attire we were treated very well indeed.  After our pies and milkshakes had arrived we began to talk to a group of people on the table next to us, one of whom, Steve Batchelor, was a keen cyclist.  Steve, his wife Marilyn and their two friends asked about our trip, our crash and where we were planning on staying for the evening.  After we had to turn down the Batchelors’ very kind offer to stay at their home, in Dillon, because Team Heagney were waiting for us at the campsite they went far above and beyond the call of duty.  Putting our battered bikes into the boot of their truck, the Batchelor’s drove us the 29 miles to our campsite (thus making a 58 mile round trip, out of their way) in order to drop us off with a relieved, if somewhat shocked and bemused Team Heagney.  It is difficult to express how grateful we were and are to the Batchelors’ and friends for their kindness to us.  On a personal note, my affection for this country and its people has never been greater.

The rest of our evening was spent dusting ourselves off and trying to work out the extent of the damage to the bikes.  This was followed by some barbequed steaks – just the tonic that was needed after a pretty difficult day.  Afterwards we headed off to bed for an early night and, in my case, a recurring dream about an ever narrowing hard shoulder.

JBS

Date: Thursday 19th August  

Route: Hamilton, Montana – Jackson, Montana 

Distance: 87 miles 

Total climb: 4514ft 

Net climb: 1840ft

It’s been quite cold out here overnight, even with Diana for company.  I do hope the boys will let us stay indoors from now on – there’s plenty of space.  No surprises this morning, Fred can’t get out of bed and will not communicate.  He needs coffee and cereal, quickly.

After a 6am alarm, we’re underway at 9.15am – another efficient morning routine for the boys, not helped by Fred’s waking up issues and Jay’s lack of method to packing the panniers.  However, today is exciting – both Diana and I have new handbags (front panniers) to show off as we make our way along the scheduled runway of 87 miles.  I also have new jewellery, in the form of spokey dokeys sent over by the ever-wonderful Helen.  They look particularly chic in alternate red and black on the front wheels, although Fred did initially cause me confusion by carefully putting them on Diana, before waking up sufficiently to make the change.

The first few miles to Darby are hard going, with a strong headwind meaning that Diana and I take it in turns to go in front, feeling the full resistance on our new panniers.  There’s a highly amusing gym in the town, with the sign reading “the right to bare arms”, and a good selection of Gatorade and provisions at Mr T’s gas station.  I’m getting used to the cultural differences to home, but still find it odd when I notice a gent parked at the gas station with a rifle hanging in the back window of his truck.

Onwards and upwards to Sula, which for a very small place seems to stretch out far.  However, Diana and I are parked up at the designated eating spot, locked together and left to rest in the shade whilst the boys take on calories (and consider a game of mini golf at the facilities available).  I’m not quite sure what happened inside, but the boys spend the first few miles after lunch laughing about restaurant service requiring them to order, find a seat, return to organise drinks, eat the food, ask for the check, pay in the adjacent shop and then finally pay for the drinks – an over-engineered system if ever there was one.

Diana and I cruise up the climb, past ski slopes and wooded mountainsides, to the top of the Chief Joseph Pass (7,241 feet).  The boys continue to motivate themselves with impressions of Chris ‘Busi’ Akabusi, John Fashanu, Tiny Tempah and the occasional La Cucaracha.  It’s an easy cruise downhill from the top to Wisdom, passing the Big Hole battlefield and opening out onto the high plains, surrounded by mountain peaks and a huge, lightly clouded sky.

The boys stop for pie in Wisdom (a wise move, if you ask me) and discover that they are just days after a harsh swarm of mosquitoes had prevented people from leaving their houses in the daytime.  It is then a roll on over the plains, through the land of 10,000 hay bales, to Jackson and a hot spring.

Final other bullets on my debut (/final?) posting:

– Jay went slightly mad, deciding to have a go at “interval training”, 80 miles into the day, at an altitude above 6,000 feet, by sprinting up the short rolling hills.  Fred and I kept with him, but remain cautious of his mindset.

– We met another bike this evening, being powered by Aidan the Irishman, who is 2 years into his round the world trip and heading west

– Temperatures are noticeably lower up here at night, although the boys did get a soak in the natural hot springs to ease any muscle aches and were confused for Australians (again by some Americans) in the pool

– Jay had another game of Golden Tee and went to bed regretting having not paid the 50 cents to finish his round and secure the course record.  He did beat Fred, though.

Rosie

Date: Wednesday 18th August  

Route: Lolo, Montana – Hamilton, Montana 

Distance: 42 miles 

Total climb: 817ft

Net climb: 436ft 

We had limped into Lolo, by cover of darkness, the previous evening, but had fortunately wound up in an enormous room in the Days Inn.  Today was to be the day that we were meeting up with Team Heagney (Fred’s mum, Amanda and step-dad John) and in addition the bikes needed looking at to get them back in top shape (in particular my back wheel was significantly bent following the broken spoke the previous evening).  A plan was hatched that we would wait at the motel until the Heagney Mobile (a rented RV) arrived.  The only problem with the plan was that we had no idea if John and Amanda knew where we were.  Emails and texts had been sent and messages left on mobile phones, but reception for all forms of mobile communication is patchy at best and so we were in a state of limbo.

The motel kindly allowed us to stay past the check-out time and fortunately, just as we had secured the room until noon we got a text from Amanda informing us that they would be with us by 12:15.  We saw the RV approaching at a distance and as they rolled up we were both glad to see some familiar faces, so far from home. 

We loaded the bikes into the RV and drove to Missoula, the self-styled cycling capital of the US, and also the headquarters of the Adventure Cycling Association of America (the organisation that produces the maps for the TransAmerica Trail, amongst other routes).  We headed straight for the headquarters, where we had our photos taken to go on a wall along with those of other people who were cycling ACAA routes.  We also bought some front pannier racks and bags as well as an additional set of maps for John and Amanda.  We took the bikes to Hellsgate Cycles to get them fixed up and then had a few hours to kill while waiting for them to be repaired.  The four of us wandered around Missoula buying supplies and generally soaking in the atmosphere of what seemed like a very laid back town.  Fred also managed to find a shop that sold Clif Shot Blocks – the only palatable energy products that we have found (save for Haribo Starmix) and which, to us, are worth their weight in gold.

We headed back to Hellsgate Cycles at 4pm to be told that the bikes were fine, but the front pannier racks would not fit our bikes.  We needed low-rider racks instead.  After a farcical series of trips back and forth to ACCA (who were very helpful and took the original racks back even though one had been opened) we managed to get racks that fitted.   By 5pm we were heading back to Lolo in the RV; surrounded by a thunderstorm.

Undeterred by the weather and the late afternoon start time we were determined to get a few miles under our belts.  We set off from Lolo in the pouring rain and rode along an excellent cycle path for the first twenty miles or so.  The front panniers dramatically altered the handling of the bikes, but we still made good progress.  We stopped for a quick drinks break and then headed on through the towns of Stevensville and Corvallis.  We were cycling along a relatively flat valley floor and so made good time, managing to leave the thunderstorm behind.  Nonetheless, the menacing weather and imposing mountains surrounding us certainly made for a dramatic location for our ride.

We rode on into the night and finally arrived at the agreed campsite, just outside Hamilton.  Amanda had already made our dinner and so all that remained was to figure out how to convert the dining table in the RV into a bed for the evening.

Some other points of note:

–          – The extended morning stay in our motel allowed Fred to indulge his worrying addiction to “infomercials” for sporting goods.  He was disappointed not to see Chuck Norris for a second time.

–         – Having overtaken two cyclists we are now back into joint second place in our “race” to Yorktown.

JBS

Date: Tuesday 17th August  

Route: Lowell, Idaho – Lolo, Montana 

Distance: 110 miles 

Total climb: 4171ft

Net climb: 1679ft

Today was expected to present a few challenges, being 110 miles long, starting with a 75 mile uphill and having no amenities for the first 66 miles (albeit we would be riding alongside a river, if dehydration became a serious issue).  We started early on the gradual climb to our lunch stop, watching out for the logging trucks thundering up our narrow route.  With an average speed of 15 mph and achieving some La Cucarachas, we flew the first half of the day up the river, through a wooded canyon into a cool breeze and a healthy balance of sun and shade.

The climb after lunch promised greater severity, being steeper and hotter.  However, we achieved the summit of the Lolo pass and a move in to Montana (losing an hour) after a break for a third puncture for me.  35 miles of downhill now separated us from catching up on the blog and other admin.

We stopped briefly at the Lolo Springs resort, at which point our irregular dietary habits hit Jay with full force, leaving him slumping over his handlebars and in great need of a revival.  Carbohydrates were loaded and we set off again, lights and high visibility gear in action, to race against the sunset.  The temperatures dropped as low as 75 degrees, the light vanished and we ended up thrashing out the final 20 miles in the dark, guided by moonlight and the stars.  One of Jay’s spokes on the rear wheel snapped with 15 miles to go, so we held our breaths in hope that we could get to Lolo and avoid setting up a wild camp in grizzly country, with no clear idea of how to make up the mileage or carry out the maintenance in the morning.

Arriving in Lolo after 10pm came as a huge relief, pushing the bikes to the motel to avoid a wheel taco for Jay.  Good teamwork and some fierce peddling got us here, supported by some great renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody and other songs (with held breaths?!).

McDonalds provided the nourishment and a local bar provided the beer, game of pool and quick Golden Tee fix that Jay needed, leaving some ‘blog work to be done before hitting the pillow in the early hours.

Tomorrow, we are in real need of some bike kit before ticking off some more miles.

Idaho is a state we’ll remember for hard climbs, hot weather, fun and more changing landscapes.

FP

Date: Monday 16th August 

Route: Riggins, Idaho – Lowell, Idaho

Distance: 98 miles

Total climb: 4527 ft

Net climb: -228ft

Having opted to make use of our motel room in Riggins for our second night there we woke up in rather more prosaic surroundings.  For once we also woke up early.  So early, in fact, that we were the first customers in the diner, next door to our motel.  We were greeted by Pam, our enthusiastic (if somewhat eccentric) waitress from the night before.  “I bet you boys didn’t expect to see me here again” exclaimed Pam.  We hadn’t, but then in truth we hadn’t really given a great deal of thought to the matter in advance.

We were out on the bikes by 8am and got an hour back as we crossed back into Pacific time as we rolled out of Riggins.  Just as we were setting off we had a brief conversation with a fellow guest at the motel – he was interested in our exploits but informed us that we did not have a chance of completing the ride unless we were Lance Armstrong.  With this ringing endorsement in our ears we stopped to take a few photos of the town and then we were off again.  Our mood was mixed: excited to be back out on the road, but rather sad at leaving the first town for which we had developed a genuine sense of affection.

We followed the road down the Salmon River on our rafting route for the first hour or so before turning off at the town of White Bird in order to climb the infamous White Bird Hill.  We had been warned by the locals that this was a horrendous climb of epic proportions – one had even offered us a lift to the top.  Somewhat perturbed by these sentiments we stopped at a cafe in the town to fortify ourselves with some cookies and tea/coffee (and to take photos of Fred wrestling the wooden bear outside).  Procrastination would only get us so far though, and all too soon we had to take on the challenge.    

The climb itself proved to be fairly straightforward, although the searing heat made what would otherwise have been a straightforward ascent rather more difficult.  We were so hot that we stopped at a lodge at what we thought was half way up the hill to try to buy water.  We were told to head up to the house where we were informed that we were in fact at the summit of White Bird Hill (in truth the name of the lodge “White Bird Summit Lodge” should have been a clue).   After hearing this news the water from the lodge tasted particularly refreshing.

From the summit we had a long and winding downhill into Grangeville where we stopped for lunch.  We ate at a “bistro” which ranks as one of the oddest places we have been.  Despite purporting to be an Italian restaurant it offered no Italian food whatsoever on its menu.  It also seemed as if it was run by a group of people all under the age of 14 and most of the conversation concerned people from the town with an addiction to crystal meth.  The food was a good standard of diner fare though and so we had no grounds for complaint.

After Grangeville we had a fast, winding and, to Fred’s mind, incredible downhill (I prefer rather more sedate downhills) to the Clearwater River.   The road then followed the river along the Clearwater and into the Nez Prece Indian Reservation.  We raced through the towns of Stites and Harpster and into Kooskia, where we stopped for a drink and, in my case, some apple pie and ice cream.  Although it was 6pm by this time the temperature was still 35 degrees outside and so we were glad just to get into an air-conditioned room.

The rest of our day was spent meandering along the Clearwater and finally arriving at the town of Lowell, where we secured a log cabin at the Three Rivers Resort.  After the usual routine of stretching, showering and dinner (in an empty restaurant) it was time for bed.

Other points of note:

–          The first instance of dropping “Greta the Garmin” GPS system, just outside White Bird.  She survived intact, if slightly shaken by the experience.

–          Our waitress in Kooskia who, although friendly, appeared to have possibly had one cooking sherry too many and proceeded to make a very strange rasping noise with her throat with great regularity.

–          Lowell is notable for its welcome sign which includes reference to the population of the town.  It currently has “24” crossed out and replaced by “23”. 

JBS

Date: Sunday 15th August 

After nine days on the road and a good night chatting to the folk of Riggins, we had decided to take up an offer of a guided white water rafting trip today.  Having stayed overnight on a riverside beach, we woke to see the sun rising over the mountains surrounding the canyon.  The morning was cool, prompting agreement to set off on the bikes very early on Monday.

We raced around Riggins, sourcing food and rafting equipment.  I was assigned the task of sandwich making, which proved a mighty challenge in a pressure-cooker environment – who needs to worry about multiple-thousand feet climbs on the bikes when you have Jay telling the rafting group that you are a former runner-up in the sandwich-making world championships (it’s strange what becomes amusing when wider human interaction is limited for such long periods of time…).

The rafting team comprised the experienced Heather, Mary, Jocelyn and Ina, together with two people whose background in the adventure sport extended to having seen the man-made setup at the Tees barrage from afar.  We had a good safety briefing from Heather and some practice strokes, before launching into the first rapid, Timezone (so-called since it sits on the threshold between Pacific and Mountain time).  Jay and I were both looking forward to the run, if a little apprehensive about sustaining any injuries that might stop us cycling.

The day turned out to be a perfect break from the riding, finding the balance between a lot of fun and a good chance to relax by swimming in the cool waters of the Salmon River.  Our fellow rafters were great company and, importantly, led a smooth run through some interesting rapids.  Both Jay and I had a go at ‘running the bull’ on the front of the raft and carried out a useful reconnaissance mission for the first 15 miles of riding to follow tomorrow.

Once the rafting was over, we stopped at an amazing organic store on the way back to Riggins, for a fresh huckleberry milkshake (fruit grown onsite), had a look through the rafting photos for the day (someone takes them from the river bank, a little like for the rides at UK theme parks) and thanked our hosts for an excellent day off.  All that was left to do was eat, watch the Legend of Seeker on tv and sleep, ready for a hot and long day to follow.

We’ll probably not be rafting again on any rest days we may take, due to bike maintenance and other tasks, but today has left us in high spirits and feeling fresh, if a little behind on ‘blogging. 

Some bullet points for consistency:

–           A new name has been given to my holdall for money, cards, sentimental items and travel documents – the’ European hand sack’.  After over a week of mocking from Jay and the general public (including one girl asking another if it was their purse), I feel my dignity is restored.

–           You may have noticed the beard (in Jay’s case) and miss-tache and neckbeard in my case gradually developing, possibly with some interest or confusion.  We have agreed, in the same way as we did for JOGLE in 2007, to keep growing for a while.  I’ve suggested no shaving until we get over the 11,000+ foot Hoosier Pass and Jay seems to like the idea.  However, they do frustrate in the heat.

FP  

Date: Saturday 14th August 

Route: Gateway Motel, Idaho – Riggins, Idaho

Distance: 96 miles

Total climb: 4671ft

Net climb: -488ft

Having turned down the option to watch a VHS copy of Tom Cruise’s magnum opus “Cocktail” the night before (which came free with the room) we had both managed to get a pretty good night’s sleep in our “cosy” motel room.  It is safe to say though that the humble beginnings of our day gave no forewarning of how the day would pan out. 

We popped across to the shop/restaurant for what turned out to be a really good breakfast and some pointers as to how our route would be for the next couple of days.  We also stocked up on drinks and snacks for what we knew would be a long climb out of Hell’s Canyon.  Long and hot as it turned out.  Although we were on the road for 8:30 it was already seriously hot as we began to climb out of the canyon.  By the time we had reached the top, sweat was pouring from our foreheads.  Dispiritingly we had only travelled 8 miles in our first hour of cycling; but we were out of Hell’s Canyon.

Our labours were rewarded with a long downhill stretch into Cambridge.  Lacking the dreaming spires of its more high profile namesake, Cambridge, Idaho is blessed with a diner with far better fare than the average college meal.  As ever, I ate about twice as much as Fred, but we both felt much better (and cooler) after the break.  We paused again for a drink a few miles later in Council, before heading on for the 15 mile climb up to New Meadows.  That small, logging town had become my target for the day as the maps showed that from then on in the route was downhill.  New Meadows itself was unremarkable as a town, we ate in the gas station (Americanisms are noticeably creeping into our speech) and bought some more supplies.  We did however run into a fellow cyclist who was exceedingly keen to expound the virtues of the hot springs resorts of Idaho.  It was unclear whether he had some form of investment at stake in the hot springs industry, but he certainly was a fan.  We had a schedule to stick to though and so sadly we had to pass by a number of these geological marvels on route to our final destination – Riggins.

We had a long fight into the wind as we left New Meadows, but we were more than compensated for that by a downhill of about 25 miles during which we barely had to pedal.  Running along the side of the Salmon River our only concerns were dodging any rattle snakes that may have slid out onto the road and hoping that there would be a motel room available for us to stay in.

We dived into the first motel in town, which fortunately had a room.  After a quick shower and change we then passed up the recommendations of our host regarding food and headed to the Summerville Restaurant and Bar for dinner.  We had made it just in time for dinner and were informed by our waitress that the bar would be open until two and that Riggins is considered by some to be the Vegas of Idaho.  We thought that it would be rude not to pop next door for a quiet drink. 

At this stage we had completed 9 days of cycling and as the barmaid asked us if we fancied a third bottle of Budweiser the inescapable conclusion was that the following day would be perfect for a rest day.  Once that executive decision had been taken we decided that it was time to bring the party to Riggins.  I managed to secure multiple plays of Journey’s classic “Don’t Stop Believing” on the jukebox; we got chatting to a number of the locals and tourists who were thronging the bar; the barmaid began to give us free drinks and, towards the end of the night, we met a group of girls who were white water rafting the following day and had some space in their raft.  This seemed like the perfect way to spend a rest day (exertion; a distinct chance of injury and allowing no time to get any of our organisational tasks done) and so we accepted the offer.

The rest of the evening was spent in a whirl of explaining exactly why we were in the process of cycling across the US, leaving the bar and collecting stuff from our motel room (swimming trunks and sleeping bags) and heading to the girls’ rafting base camp on a beach a few miles downriver from the town.  Having been so worried about finding a room in town, it was rather amusing that we ended the night sleeping on a beach, at the bottom of a canyon looking up at the most incredible night’s sky that I have seen in years.  The most surprising things come about when you rely on serendipity to do its work.  We were a far cry from our Hell’s Canyon motel.

Some other notable points:

– Fred’s altercation with a man driving one of the largest SUV’s we’ve ever seen; without any provocation the guy practically crashed his car into Fred’sbike. Classic small man’s syndrome.

– A message on the hand drier in the Council public toilets “Press this button for a message from our President”.

JBS

Just a quick note to apologise to all those of you who are keeping up with the ‘blog.  You may have noticed that we have fallen somewhat behind in recent days.  This has been due to a lack of internet access and a few late night finishes.  We are both well; have now finished cycling Day 11 (and taken one rest day) and are ensconced in the Day’s Inn Motel, Lolo, Montana.  We aim to have the ‘blog fully up to date in a couple of days.

All of the messages we have received (and comments on the blog) have been great and have cheered us up at times when we have been tired/weary/fed up of being sat on a bike.  Please keep them coming, they really are appreciated.  

JBS