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).
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