May 27 Brownlee Dam into Idaho

Earliest arousal yet at 4:45 am (helps to be sleeping outside and a bit cold) and with no breakfast options, it's got to be>> Hit the road!. Along the Snake River for an hour in the cool morning air. No traffic at all. Took some fun shadow photos. [Riding early morn or at sundown gives opportunities to take photos, where the shadows recreate the stretchy mirror effect like in the circus. Good clean fun when your other options are pedalling or talking to your deaf dog.] Brownlee Dam rises mightily in front at the 10 mile point, and in so crossing the bridge over the Snake, I leave Oregon behind. I'm now getting quite hungry, but hear word of a cafe up ahead and close too. I gradually leave the water over a few windy miles along an ascending escarpment and turn SE, and the Gateway (to Hell's Canyon) Cafe materializes. Great breakfast, and even Brindil scores half a discarded omlette as she charms the hosts. (It's true, she has been scoring more free food than I so far. But the trip is young and at this point, she looks more pathetic than I. This will change)
As much as the double b'fast was triply tasty-great, hauling it all up the ensuing 3800' climb to Brownlee Summit was quadruply hard, and I lay on my sleeping bag for an hour on top til the little green men went away. Then I got out the trpt and (tried) to play some blues in C#, but all I got was some very odd looks from driver-bys, esp. the big equipment operators. [See, one of my little music projects for this trip is to learn to become more fluent in the remoter blues keys. Too hard to explain here if you are not in the know on this. Word to self, try this when not exhausted. And don't try to encultureate the local boyz too quickly.]
Downhill rules and we glide a full 10 miles (aka free miles) into Cambridge. The only thing I remember about this stretch was a half mile section where the road and air were alive with, get this... grasshoppers. They bounced off me like I had entered an asteroid field, and my tires could be heard doing squishes and squashes as we cut a swath thru them. Now, Dear Lord, today ye hath thrown at me 1)extreme heat, 2)steep hills and now 3)locusts. When cometh the hailstones and death to my firstborne blogsite???
Took a break under a watertank in a small park in hot, dusty Cambridge, that is til a local gentleman came up and politely told me that the sprinklers around me were due to come on in 20 minutes. Since the rest of the park was already under 2" of sprinkler water, I took this as the sign to hightail it. But I did re-establish cel phone contact with the outside world, so was feeling very secure in spite of the recent locust attack.
Only 13 miles more and I'm settled into the Elkhorn B&B near Mesa. This gorgeous loghome retreat sets neatly atop a small hill with expansive views in all directions and the owner, Debra Bruckner, has done a masterfull job creating a very comfortable get away. I would recommend this stopover for anyone passing through. Somehow, I passed out for most of the rest of the day, but I do remember a delicious dinner, fun conversation and 2 or 3 beers in there somewhere.
PS The Elkhorn's kitchen ceiling is adorned with 30' philodendron vines interlaced together. I suggested some Christmas ornaments as well...

May 26 Flowers Galore!

What a day of scenery! Flowers, hills, and rivers were all for the taking in on the backroads of the Wallowas.
It was so cold (in the mid-30's!) this morning that I needed my gloves, down vest and balaclava just to feel sorta comfortable. The first long downhill was such a big chill that I longed to climb and warm up. And I got my wish soon enough, ascending 11 miles to mile high Salt Creek Summit. Wow! The fields of purple-blue lupines, salmon paintbrush, stalks of dark violet delfiniums, clusters of yellow-orange mule ears, plus a whole company of to-be-named-later varieties. It's their time and they weren't holding back. And neither did I on the ensuing 11 mile descent, racking up a max speed of 31.8 mph! But I was overtaken by a motorcyclist, and to my surprise, I encountered him again downhill stopped and taking photos of me as I passed, hanging on for dear everything. I stopped and we chatted and it turns out that Greg, now living in Snohomish, WA, had grown up in Seattle and attended Nathan Hale high school, just a few blocks from my house!
The fields of flowzers kept coming on as I finished the afternoon with another long climb then descent to join SR 86 and the final push to the Copperfield CG on the banks of the Snake River. We are back into barren canyons, sage and brown landscape. Idaho Power maintains a series of public, minimal cost campgrounds along this southern access to Hell's Canyon and they are stunningly well located and maintained. Good news tonite>> there were great showers, no bugs and a soft lawn to set camp on. Bad news tonite>> there was no store of any kind nearby for dinner or supplies. None of the lounging RVers took pity on the lone biker with the old, scraggly dog, and left him to munching feverishly on peanuts, crackers and half an apple after a 71 mile ride. Guess I'll need to start awakening my mooching gland...
Great stars tonite to end this gorgeous day.
Passed 500 miles today.

May 25 In Memorial

Today is Memorial Day and there are flags everywhere. After a food fortification at the Waffle Iron Cafe, we climb through fields to Minam Summit at 9 miles. Here in the mountains, the early morning air is crisp, and makes for very easy breathing, as the warming sun slowly takes over. Very early starts are the best recipe for a good biking day; getting in miles early makes them seem easier and gets you into "camp" sooner. Late starts mean missing all those friendly, waving farmers driving by in older model pickups, hot late afternoon climbs, and panting dogs.
We drop into a canyon that is a preview of the Snake River Canyon and race downhill on winding curves, often with only a concrete barrier separating me from a long plunge. Mule ear flowers appear on the grassy slopes and there are fir trees mixed with the pines. The Wallowa River below is roaring. I pass the hamlet of Minam tucked into a rare straight stretch of road within the steep canyon walls. We wind along the river to the town of Wallowa where I get in a breather in the local park, chatting by cel with Peggy Hudson about what types of wildflowers I had just whizzed by at 25 mph. Most of the traffic is going against me, as folks head home from the long weekend, but the roads are sure full of RVs! Now into high cattle country and we pass through Lostine and Enterprise and stop in Joseph, set next to the incredibly gorgeous, snow spangled peaks of the Eagle Cap Wilderness. I am treated to a wonderful sunset as the cool evening falls here at 4500'.

May 24 Into the Blues Yonder

Today just had to be Sunday :-(
I was so prepped to hit the Super8 B'fast bar hard this morning and get rolling early. As I reached the door to the cafeteria at 6:05 am, I saw the sidesign that said something to the effect that the only-on-Sunday opening time was 7 am! Well, on the road with black coffee and 2 cups of OJ. Thru a very quiet downtown, then south on SR 11 and suddenly "Welcome to Oregon" (and blank ag fields and a headwind). Thru Milton-Freewater (home of this odd frog theme which has the town adorned with at least 50 wooden carved and joyously painted frog statues and an exit slogan of "Thanks for hopping through". (oh well, musta been one those art grant type things).
More fields and Weston passes soon, then it's up,up,up, into the Blue Mountains, and I see the far off snowline. 20 miles and 3500' of hard climbing later, I reach Tollgate ski area still buried in 10 feet of snow and the Summit Blue Mountains (5158'). What goes up must come down, so we test (and tap) the brakes all the way to the Stampede Inn in the picturesque logging town of Elgin, which is our home for the night. Elgin has suffered badly from both the change in the logging industry over the last decade and the more recent economic downturn. People are super friendly, but one can detect the underlying depressed tone. I helped the local economy by purchasing a large pizza, 2 Pepsis, a bag of Fritos and a tub of Ben and Jerry's New York Super Fudgechunk ice cream. (Anyone else like that flavor? I find it intoxicatingly good.)

May 23 R & R in WW

And on the 8th day, he rested. A quiet day, which is what it was supposed to be. Won't bore you with blogs on eats, sleeps or more eats and more sleeps, but I did have my first equipment failure.
This morning, I was surprised to find both trailer wheels dead flat! I had gotten my first experience with "goathead" thorns. Yesterday, when I had pulled the rig off the road through some grass, I noticed these innocent looking stickers in all my tires. Well, I carefully pulled them out, but evidently not all of them. The trailer wheels were softer rubber and had come "off the shelf" with very thin tubes... A trip to the local bike store scored some heavier, INLINE brand tubes and I installed Tufty tape tire liners as well. Talk about good timing, this could have happened in a lot of much less convenient places. (Whit, could this be the guardian angel!) Also broke down (in a very different sense) and got a wireless odo-speedometer. Gary, now the hightechgadgetguy. Hmm, maybe I need to get one of these for my '64 Ford pickup...

May 22 Wheatfields to Walla Walla

The sun beats me up this morning, but not by much. (It was to beat me up much worse, in another sense, later in the afternoon!) After a delightful chat over breakfast with Cathy Umbarger and the basic daily "bike chores", like chain cleaning and tire air pressure plus checking for loose nuts, bolts and tiedowns, the GravyTrain2Maine heads east out of Burbank station. Unfortuneately, it's directly into an easterly breeze and not much to block it but me. After running the heat with semis on my tail for the better part of the morning, the decision is made to head south to Walla Walla via North Touchet road and some "backroads".
[A note on interpretation of road designations on maps is in order here. Unless one is willing to haul a detailed topo map with (which I was not), one is staring at a bunch of lines going A to B, with little info on elevations or road conditions. In general, continuous lines mean paved and dashed lines unpaved, tho this data can become out of date quickly. And generally, fatter and more colorful map lines translate into heavier used (and more gently graded with wide shoulders) routes, while thin black or grey lines mean backroads that are lesser travelled (with inconsistent shoulders and unpredictable ups and downs). In short, the path less travelled is less travelled for a darn good reason... ]
Well, the thin black line on the map sure LOOKED LIKE the shortcut to Walla Walla, or the hypotenuse of this big triangle I was making today, but then again it WAS a backroad. Well, our shortcut quickly left all signs of mankind behind, screamed us down several miles to a trickle of a river, then took us all the way back up in stages of climbs, all within steep canyon walls and rock cuts, with the 80 + temp beating down. Dog is panting heavily now and I think I hear " Hey daddy, this 4 mph speed you're doing uphill just isn't getting me any good air con. Can you step on it? Gotta a better date tonight!" After the third hour of hot and stuffy climbs broken only by short drops giving up just hard-earned elevation, the terrain relaxes into gorgeous green wheat fields and Walla Walla comes onto the radar. Parched and feeling like I have a touch of heat exhaustion, I straggle into the Super8 motel. Brindil gets a can of Alpo and me a Subway sub(footlong, of course, with everything on it). Still $5, what a deal!
As I close my eyes this evening, and recount the days events, as I'm prone to doing, I keep seeing this 1950's pickup truck in the middle of a pasture, rusty and abandoned, but proudly adorned with an American flag.

May 21 Nothin' like a tailwind!

Woke with my diary on my chest and the last legible words written about a page back. Really cold at 5:40 am here in Othello and super calm. What a great little b'fast bar at the La Cabana motel here, and after a thorough face stuffing and lively chat over illegal (Mexican) immigration with the desk clerk born-in-Ballard, the dog and I load-em-up and strike out. Today's goal is John and Cathy Umbargers' place in Burbank, just east of the Tri-cities of Pasco, Richland and Kennewick, WA. The Umbargers are parents of Kristin Keene (married to Steve) whose place I just left 2 days prior. Caught this faboo tailwind and sailed the 50 miles of sagebrush and ag fields thru Basin City (where I bought an 8" crescent wrench to fill out my mobile bike repair kit) thru Pasco, and finally east to Burbank by 1 pm. I now sit in the shade of sycamores along the bank of the Snake River, two beers behind me and one giant tugboat with barges in front of me, working on this blog. You know it used to be that we went on trips to get away and to tell our tale upon returning. Not anymore. The curious want up-to-date and realtime streamlining of tales and lies...
300 miles along already.

May 20 Potholes and a sore butt

Tough day. Legs really tired. Butt even worse; need to find some better butt butter. (There really is such a product, for those who don't know about the down side of too much cycling) Let's just say that I covered 56 miles, the last 2 being uphill into a headwind into Othello. Had to break out the parting gift from Dan Rowe: a tube of Hammer Gel, chocolate flavor, which has the consistency of butt butter, but has a better taste and different use (Hmm, hoping I never get the two mixed up...) The mocha in George was really needed, the birds around Potholes Reservoir were varied and numerous but all flew away when I started tooting lip slurs on the pocket trumpet, the ride thru Columbia NWR was spectacular with columnar-jointed columns of grey rock, undulating sagebrush terrain and nestled ponds full of waterfowl. The local Mexi-restaurant did serve up some great enchiladas, and as is becoming the pattern, I ate everything closeby.

May 19 On my own

Somehow the night slipped by too quickly and it was light again with the road (and breakfast) calling. Too bad for the achy legs, huh? I am just a terrible keyboard guy and I spent an hour writing blog and moving pics around. It's just a lot easier with a tool box and a pile of untrue lumber, but I'll get faster. Thanks Steve, for helping me with the blogsite.
Now back to biking. This is the first morning on my own. No more bikemates for awhile. So with a paper of scribbled instructions for alternative backroads, I start south toward Wenatchee. Let's just say that the rule of thumb for asking directions of locals is that, if you get an answer that somewhere is "just a couple miles down the road", this actually means that it's down the road all right but actually six miles. Conversely, if you ask a local about somewhere quite close, you'll get several very detailed explanations of the same route, and way more info than you need, but are glad to receive anyway cuz now you don't feel so lost anymore. I did apply this route-seeking methodology, and after a variety of wrong turns and inquiries, did manage to reach Wenatchee, via Dryden, Cashmere and Monitor, and had a delightful tour of the Pioneer Village in Cashmere, where I bumped into Kristin Keene and little Jesse, who got to pet Brindil again (and share her lunch with). Back onto SR 28 and a hottish ride along the Columbia River thru Rock Island. Finally, I waved farewell to the Mighty Columbia, as a jet fighter roared overhead, turned east and stared at the last nasty hill up to Quincy. Two gals serving at the take out shop musta thought I was real hungry (which I was) and loaded me down with extra fries, sodas and rolls, in addition to my regular order of 2 sandwiches and salad. Brindil and I did are best job at cleaning up, but I confess that I left some (don't tell the brassbanders or the Pumphaus staff).

May 18 Over Steven's Pass^^^^^

Cool morning! After some bad Folger's coffee and Deli b'fast we start up the pass at 8:30 (slowly, cuz I have never pulled this kind of weight up 3100' in one stretch). The idea was to ride some of the old SR 2 that takes a more circuitous route up to Stevens Pass. Well, we got in about 5 miles of gorgeous forested, meandering old route before reaching snow and being forced back out onto the new road. But we did surprise the heck out of a black bear who hightailed it up the ridge. Slow and steady and with verbal proddings from Dan, we reached 4061' Stevens Pass at noon after a 3 hour, 3100' climb, averaging 6.5 mph. Smokin'! One can almost count the flowers at that speed!
Dan and I say goodbye and he heads west. The phone rings and it is another longtime Seattle friend, Sarah Cooke, who was en route over SR 2 to attend a conference in Wenatchee. Sarah is always good for some treats and is a veteran of more long epic trips than anyone I know. She catches me 10 miles down the pass and out pops some delish homemade quiche. Gonna be hard when I get further from home and the "treat wagon" doesn't show...
Mostly long downhill runs (tough on the wrists) bring me to the gorgeous Tumwater canyon, some nasty headwinds, and the Bavarian-ish town of Leavenworth. It's much warmer down here on the plains of eastern Washington. A quick 5 more miles past many fields of fruit orchards and one big American flag, reach me Peshastin and the home of Steve and Kristin Keene. For many years Steve gave me trumpet lessons and was the originator and conductor of Brassband Northwest, in which I play. Steve and I spend the evening troubleshooting Gary's new blogsite, camera compatibilities, and cell phone. Technology is definitely moving faster than me on my bike!

May 17 Mickey says it's waffle time!

My wife Ellen joined us last night, as Rick returned home, and Andy is busy in the kitchen this morning, and, wa la, it's waffles and strawberries that come out this time. Delish! Dan and Gretchen have just arrived, dropping Dan for the next trip leg. Dan Rowe and I have known each other for 27 years, and we have had all sorts of adventures together. Dan will accompany me (no doubt will need to urge me) up Steven's Pass, before returning home. After another round of farewells, we set off. It's Sunday and traffic is heavy, and the day is heating up. It's the weekend rush all the way up SR 2, with lines of weekend traffic in both directions. Finally Skykomish, at the foothills to the Cascade Range, and we find our room at the historic Cascadia Inn. The town of Skykomish is undergoing a 5 year decontamination project to clean up a decades old oil tank leak that reached the Skykomish River. This will necessitate the demolition or moving of most of this town of 200 persons, removal and replacement of a large amount of soil and infusion of many millions of railroad $$.

May 16, 2009 Off we go!

Day 1 Well, after 2 years of thinking about and a year of training, my timeless Brindilhound and I are setting off to cycle from my home in Seattle, Washington to my sister's place in Oldtown, Maine. Let's see what adventures lie before us...
Out the pleasant Burke-Gilman biketrail, and Rick Hudson soon joins me. Rick and I have been cycling together for several years now, and it's only fitting that he comes along for the start. Then into the "burbs", where we take a wrong turn, climb a few extra hills, but pop out close to where we should have. The rig is heavy; 100 lbs. incl. a 43 lb. dog, clothes, food, water, maps, and the pocket trumpet. We land at my good friends Andy and Mary Wones' house near Carnation. Homemade pizza and catching up take up our evening. Gary falls asleep on the living room floor during a kids' drum and bugle presentation. Only 31 miles today, but I'm pooped!