Day 56- Epic Finish

52.2 miles- Enumclaw to Ballard, Seattle, WA

PEOPLE CAN BE EASILY PLACED IN TWO CATEGORIES
THOSE WHO ASK, WHY HASN'T SOMEONE DONE THIS AND
THOSE WHO ASK, WHO IS GOING TO STOP ME!

Back through Missouri I thought every few hours what I would do when I made it. Through the Rockies I thought about it only every few days. Now that I am here, I have absolutely know idea what to do. I imagined myself riding up with weight and collapsing onto the front lawn. I planned on stopping and putting beer in my water-bottle holders waiting to be opened after the last fateful spin of the legs. I thought I would be exhausted as soon as I got to the end.

What actually happened is this: I was woken up this morning by the preacher of the church I was camped out in. As I hadn't asked permission, he was not pleased. I assume he thought the rain I had received during the night was punishment enough as he let me pack up and be on my way. If he had been more annoyed, I would have told him that I just couldn't wait for Sunday mass.

I hardly stopped for breakfast before heading into the city. People in Seattle sure do love their hills- my last day was a bit of a roller coaster ride. After coming up the east side of the city on Rainier St. I found a bike path along Pugeot Sound and gazed across the water thinking- what in the world have I done. As I headed back into the streets from the bike path, my uncle, Charlie, and cousin, Georgia, were waiting in the car. After throwing my bags in the back, I rode the last 8 miles in wondrous weightlessness. I nearly fell off during my first pedal after the bags had been taken off- the wheel was unbelievably sensitive! Up and down a few hills and I was there! Had an enormous sandwich, a few beers, and haven't moved since. I cannot thank all the people who have helped me along the way enough.

Being here has not hit me yet. However, I imagine when I wake up in the morning and realize that I do not have to bike 70 miles during the day, I will be in full realization. After 3,828.6 miles in 56 days- averaging 75 miles a day (not including the 5 days off)- I am ready to sleep very very satisfied.

[I will post again in a couple days with closing thoughts, and get the rest of the pictures up and attached to the last few days.]

Day 55- Chinook Pass and Rainier Mountain

114.1 miles- Selah to Enumclaw, WA

The feeling as I reached the summit of my last climb of this trip was unexplicable. I felt like yelling as loud as I could for as long as I could. As it turned out, it was a good thing I went straight down as I did not get into Enumclaw until after 8pm. The top of the pass was 70 miles uphill for Selah and Yakima, with a steep grade for the last thirteen. As the pass only opened last week, the banks of snow on each side of the road were ten feet high in places. Attempting to keep my balance, I ran my hand through the banks to feel the snow turn to slush as it passed through my fingers. Really, the only way to explain this day is through pictures... Which will be up soon.

I am on the west side of the Cascades watching the sun go down with all the mountains in the United States at my back. I am less than 50 miles from Seattle. As I have not taken a day off in over 20 day, I am very very much looking forward to MY LAST DAY!

Day 54- Old Inland Empire and Yakima Valley

93.7 miles- Richland to Selah, WA

Much of the beginning of today reminded me of my first day in Missouri Ozarks. The land was hilly and covered with vineyards. I found out tonight that this is one of the premier hop growing country in the United States.

With steadily gusting headwinds, I was on the bike for about ten hours today. I will have to finish this post when I have more energy. Seattle is so close.

Day 53- The Bombers

73.8 miles- Dayton to Richland, WA

Woke up this morning after a deep sleep induced by home-made IPA beer, had an energizing breakfast with Fred and Genie Crowe, and set off in pure sunshine for the first time in several days. The day was a chilling throwback to Kansas- flat fields of lush crops with industrial crop-sprayers lining the road (anyone know the actual name of these things?) After crossing a couple ridges, I rejoined the Snake River as it dumped into the Colombia River. I learned that hard winds blow from the Pacific and up the river valleys, making my day for more... exciting... than it otherwise would have been.

I resisted the urge to stop at the two breweries and several vineyards I passed on the way to the Tri-cities area (made up of the cities of Richland, Pasco, and Kennewick.) I was rewarded by spending all evening at a pizza/micro-brewery restaurant. I am staying with Rachael and her boyfriend Kacey who are graduate students currently working for the Pacific Northwest Laboratory. They were great people to stay with. Kacey made a keg-orator with wood paneling and molding, and four taps. He only fills this visionary piece of equipment with four different varieties of homemade beer.

The Tri-cities area was integral to the development of the bombs dropped in Japan during World War II. The people remain proud of their heritage and contribution to America's safety. Their high school team is known as the "Bombers"; streets are named Proton, Nuclear, and... drum roll... COSMIC; and there is a mural of a mushroom cloud in the public park.

Lastly, Kacey left dinner early to play in a hockey game. He got back and, as we drank his finely tailored Scotch Amber beer, attempted to explain and justify how he scored on his own goal during the game. We concluded it was the two hours at the microbrewery.

Day 52- Final Frontier

72.1 miles- Lewiston, Idaho to Dayton, Washington

What a relief to cross into Washington. Another cyclist rode past as I tried to set up my camera on a timer to get a picture in front of the state sign. He responded to my request to take the picture for me with "hell no!" Other than that, a rainy, but beautiful day. I climbed out of the river valley a few thousand feet into some desolate rolling countryside before entering the town of Dayton.

Day 51- Nez Pierce Indian Reservation

76.1 miles- Kooskia to Lewiston, ID

I dug down to the bottom of my right rear pannier to find something damp and dirty that hasn't seen the light of day since Kansas. With a high of 71 degrees, I wore short sleeves again! Even with on-and-off rain, the weather was amazing. I continued down the same river valley as yesterday. The valley remained narrow, opening only for the occasional field or Idaho main street.

The Nez Pierce Indian Reservation I went through belongs to the tribe of Chief Joseph who I wrote about while going through Big Hole. I visited the site of their creation story, known as the "heart of the beast." They believe that a beast lived in the Sweetwater River Valley that ate all the animals in the area. To put an end to this a coyote jumped down the throat of the beast and cut it up into pieces. The blood that splattered from this victory became the tribes in the plains. The coyote squeezed a few drops of blood from its heart and created the Nez Pierce.

Today I descended to below 1,000 feet for the first time since Kansas. Tomorrow I climb out of the river valley as the water goes south, and I head west.

Day 50- Another river valley

91.0 miles- Powell to Kooskia, ID

Last night I was pleased to read that the area in between the Bitterroot Mountains and the Sierras, the area I entered today, were protected by rain shadow. However, today, I followed the Selway river to Kooskia in constant light warm rain. The valley was narrow and the road followed along the bank of the river for every twist and turn. For about 70 miles there were no services and the road did not leave the river once. Instead of the valley opening into farmland and towns like in the Bitterroot, here the river widened and the banks remained narrow, with barely enough room for buildings.

I arrived in Kooskia to meet Laurie, a cyclist who leads bike tours for different companies. She has a second house in Kosskia and welcomes cyclists to stay. After showing me around, she trustingly left me to my own devices for the night. (I managed to do laundry for the third time during the trip, and the first since Colorado Springs.) I then met Tom and Therese Jessie Faller-Parrets parents, I think my biggest fans, for dinner. They began feeding me during rowing races over four years ago, and they now are meeting me in the middle of Idaho for much needed drinks- what a amazing people! The speciity of the restaurant was chicken fried steak, reminding me of the earlier days in the trip. Our waitress was so terribly efferfessant that we were not sure if she was going to offer us food or offer to share her pile of meth.

In case you missed the news, I changed the last leg of my route quite significantly from what I had planned originally. I am cutting out Oregon, and instead going through southern Washington via Dayton, Richland, Yakma, and then over the Sierra Mountains before heading north. I am about a week away from Seattle, my aunt and uncles place, and my daunting return to life.

Day 49- Lolo Pass

85.7 miles- Hamilton, Montana to Powell, Idaho

Staying with Terry Tignor in Hamilton was like meeting twenty cyclists at once. Since she began to host cyclists last summer after her son biked from Virginia, she has had over 40 cyclists stay at her house. She recalled a Dutch couple who was cycling around the world continent by continent, a few groups of recent college grads, and a girl who rode a bike covered in tinsels and stickers with no maps. Talking to her has made up for the lack of fellow cyclists I have seen on the road.

As I continued down the Bitterroot Valley, the flatland in between the mountains grew from a width barely able to fit a main street to the several miles. Twenty miles before reaching the city of Missoula, I turned left to head over the Lolo Pass and into Idaho. The road again followed the Lewis and Clark Trail. After the explorers them came engineers hoping to cut a railway through the pass, but gave up, lamenting that this range was one of the most difficult they had come across. In 1995 a period of high winds devastated the area through the pass. While much of the dead wood was carted out for milling, the destruction remains obvious.

My first view of Idaho on the west side of the pass was stunning. The road spiraled precipitously downward towards a steep-bottomed gushing river. I made it down to a packed US Forest Service Campground fifteen miles after the pass. I am writing this listening to several distinct varieties of country music and a drunken fight.

Day 48- Bitteroot Valley

76.9 miles- Wisdom to Hamilton, MT

As I lay in my bed I listed for the sound of rain coming down outside- silence. As I looked out the window I looked for signs of precipitation- puddles everywhere. As I rode out of Wisdom I smelled the air- apparent dampness in the distance. I expected another miserable cold wet day. Instead the dark clouds could do nothing but spit.

While leaving Big Hole I passed the Big Hole National Battlefield, the site of a significant battle during the Nez Pierce War. The Nez Pierce Indians had been promised land by the United States government in the Wallowa Valley. When this policy was reversed, the Nez Pierce, under the leadership of Chief Joseph, decided to escape to Canada in hopes of better treatment. A group of young Nez Pierce men, angered by the forced exodus, slaughtered several white families in the area. Several weeks later, US Calvary forces launched an attack on about 800 Nez Pierce camped at Big Hole. Both sides suffered casualties. In October 1877, Chief Joseph surrendered only 40 miles before reaching the Canadian border.

A few miles after the battlefield I starred in disdain at the wet snowplow coming towards me. As I came closer to the top of Chief Joseph Pass, the amount of snow on the ground and trees grew precipitously. While it was snowing lightly at the top, I crossed the Pass at 7,264 with enormous relief. I am quite sure that I will not climb above even 6,000 feet again during this trip. As I coasted down the repetitive wages of warmer air brought feeling back to my fingers and toes. I followed the Bitteroot River along the narrow Bitteroot Valley until I reached Hamilton at about 3,000 feet. The valley is dotted with signs denoting significant parts of the first white expedition through the valley in 1805, made by Lewis and Clark. The beginning of the valley is narrow, with just enough room for the road, river, railroad track, and small plots of land squeezed in between the mountains. As it widens, the towns of Darby and Hamilton remain beautifully overshadowed by the Bitteroot Mountain Range.

Day 47- Rocky Mountain Oysters

71.4 miles- Dillon to Wisdom, MT

Had a wonderful night in Dillon with my first couch surfing night. Kurt guides back-country tours through the mountains of Wyoming and Montana and Eve is a soil scientist with Natural Resources Conservation Service around here. Again, I learned more about the area than I even remember to write down.

Kurt is the first person I have met who did the bikecentenial Transamerica ride in 1976 that was the precursor to the trail and maps that I am using today. He recounted a woman in Afton, Virginia who was known by everybody who traveled the route from 76 to at least 09. She had a water spout in her garden and would run out with cookies when she saw cyclists filling up. He also recalled a time in Kentucky when his group was sleeping in the basement of a Baptist church in a dry county. A couple friends tracked down some moonshine and saved the group from the dirges of a dry county.

I had made peace with the fact that today was going to wet and miserable. Thankfully I was picked up by quite the renaissance woman. She ran a cattle ranch with her family, worked at a local ski resort, and ran the motel in Wisdom- my destination for the day. After driving through pouring rain and over a couple snowy passes we entered Big "Hole", a Montana colloquialism for valley. I got a room to escape the frigid rain and walked down the street to find food. At The Big Hole Restaurant I tried rocky mountain oysters for the first... and last time.

Day 46- Beaverhead Rock

51.9 miles- Alder to Dillon, MT

At the library in Twin Bridges I bumped into the guy to built the cyclists campsite there. After he described the services there I lamented to him that I did not take advantage of the place. The place has a gazebo, showers, and a beautiful river-side location- (all without the high-way robber of KAO campsites.) Quite a few towns along the Transamerica cycling route have places like this, and its amazing that people donate the time, effort, and money for people to stay.

I spent most of my time in the library frowning at the weather reports. As I began to plan the last leg of my route through Washington I logged onto warmshowers.org and couchsurfing sites to see if there was any escape from the elements. Using couchsurfing successfully for the first time, I unbelievably found someone to stay with in Dillon. With such a short day, I wanted to do more miles up to Jackson, but camping at about 6,700ft. As road to Dillon was about 5,200ft and raining, there is a good chance if I pushed onto to Jackson I would find myself in another white-out!

I passed by Beaverhead Rock today, so named by Lewis and Clark. I forced myself to stop and take a picture as I need someone to explain to me how it looks like a beaver! (Will put the picture up as soon as I can.)

Day 45- Montana

96.3 miles- West Yellowstone to Alder, MT

I passed through some beautiful country today. As I started off I was on a desolated lake surrounded by snow-capped mountains. The place was deserted except for a few workmen building log style hotel cabins along its edges. All I could hear for the twenty miles I followed the resevoir was the sound of oarlocks in my head. It would be the flattest and most stunning place to row that I have ever seen in this country.

As I continued descending, I left the snowcapped mountains and entered Madison Valley. The area is characterized by the miles of openness and low population towns like Wyoming. However, the number of resorts and shops catering to tourists shows that this place is given far more attention. Fly fishing seems to be the biggest attraction, taking advantage of the wide, shallow, and low-banked Madison River.

Towards the end of the day I climbed 2,000 feet in 6 miles to Virginia City and Nevada City. They reminded me of towns like Staunton, VA in that all the old buildings were preserved with exhibits of their original use. They were old mining towns that are obviously survived by tourism.

The weather today was the best it has been in weeks and I was on a high. I was planning on doing 70 miles but didn't want to stop. I can take pictures again, but my phone (which I use to write these posts and upload photos) does not seem to read my camera card. This means that I can only upload pictures from libraries. I will try to get to them as often as possible.

Day 44- Yellowstone National Park

77.1 miles- South Yellowstone, WYOMING to West Yellowstone, MONTANA

With a few inches of snow on the ground and the South Gate of Yellowstone closed, I was off to a rocky start. I enjoyed breakfast with a couple who was preparing to do a supported (i.e. instead of bags they use a van and driver) ride from West Yellowstone back the way I had come to Colorado. When I finally entered the park, the snow was deep and the weather was cold. After climbing up for 35 miles and across the continental divide three times the ride rinally began to look up. By Old Faithful I was in lower elevation and had left the snow and frigid weather behind.

Towards West Yellowstone gysers and bison became were around every turn. For the most part, the bison ignored the cars and lone cyclist. Even a mother sitting next to her newborn a few feet from the road did nor bother to chase away onlookers. I was very worried, however, when I caught a particularly mean bison looking at me (which was rare in itself) like the cows from Missouri just before they called the herd to chase.

After the desolate beauty of Wyoming, Yellowstone was a bit disapointing. Holistically, the crouds make the experience dull and unexciting. Speeding campers and touring buses are a far cry from the one-car-an-hour I have become all too comfortable with.

(Water two nights ago did not destroy my camera or phone, but looks like my camera card is useless. Losing my pictures since Colorado has been devistating. I should be able to find another and have more pictures up then.)

Day 43- The No-Teton National Park

21.8 miles- Signal Lake Campground to Flag Ranch Campground, WY

First- my excuse for the short distance is that my plan was to start the day by going about 15 miles south to Moose Junction, a point along Jackson Lake, to see the Tetons in their entirety. However, when I woke up this morning, I found them completely covered in cloud. That was not the only surprise that awaited me this morning. I awoke to a quarter inch of snow on the ground and half the inside of my tent covered in water. While the water did not render my warm riding clothes useless, it soaked my wool socks (essential when riding in twenty and thirty degree weather) and drenched my camera. After sitting for half an hour in dispair, I packed up and headed north to a resort lodge. I found the enormous lobby and, ignoring the prying glances of the staff, spread out my socks and electronics in front of the fire for a few hours. While I did not lose my camera, I am quite sure I lost all my photographs since Colorado, which is far far far more tragic. Without a memory card I also have lost the ability to take pictures (except with my phone) through Yellowstone.

As I continued towards the gates of Yellowstone, planning to camp just outside, drenching snow started to tumble from the sky. Luckily, a workman in a truck picked me and took me ten miles to Flag Ranch as the road was gravel and mud due to construction. Expecting temperatures about twenty degrees and two more inches of snow, I paid for an exuberantly priced, minimally serviced cabin for the night. (Second night during trip without cell service, so late post.)

I am watching heavy snow come down outside, hoping that the limited sunshine predicted tomorrow comes to fruition. Yellowstone Park only opened a week ago due to unseasonable weather. The good news is that the place is not flooded with tourists until after memorial day. The bad news is the unseasonable weather and the fact that many restaurants, camp sites, and other services do not open until this weekend. I suppose I will have to come back- and next time I will definitely be in a car.

Day 42- Hogwatee Pass and Grand Teton National Park

64.5 miles- Dubois to Signal Mountain Campground, WY

I started today with a 30 mile climb from Dubois, at around 6,000ft, to the top of the Hogwatee Pass, at 9,658ft. I continued to follow the Wind River until it dissipated into nothing towards the continental divide. As I came closer and closer to the top, the snow on the ground turned from thin and light to dense and heavy. The temperature dropped from 35 back down into the 20s while a short snow shower came and passed. My hard work was well rewarded when I reached the 17 mile 6% grade to the base of the Grand Teton Mountain range. This morning I wondered how I would know them when I saw them, but it could not have been more obvious. I headed south on Teton Park Road and set up camp on the edge of Jackson Lake.

The are is very commercialized, and after being in the boonies for so long the light to moderate traffic feels like DC rush hour. Also, I am camping around other people for the first time... ever I think. As long as none of the people are bears I should be fine. For the next two days I will be constantly on the watch for bears. To signal my approach I will be singing "Surfin Bear," my spin-off of the old "Surfin Bird" song. Tomorrow I will mosey around Teton Park in the rain and finish up camping just outside Yellowstone in hopeful anticipation of sunny skies by Tuesday.

Day 41- Wind River Indian Reservation

78.3 miles- Lander to Dubois, WY

The Wind River Indian Reservation is one of the most wealthy reservations in the US because of the rich natural resources that lie beneath its surface. The reservation was originally for the Shashonee tribe led by Chief Washakie. During the late 1800's (he lived to be over 100 years old) he realized that his people must assimilate and accept the ways of the whites to survive. He was rewarded by being given the ability to choose the land his people were to keep- the land that is now Wind River. I passed by the site of one of Washakie's famous victories. He avoided a war between his and another tribe by challenging the Chief of the enemy to a one-on-one fight on the top of what is now Cowheart Butte (pictured) to save the lives of their youth. The rumor is that Chief Washakie ate the heat of his enemy to absorb his courage, and the enemy tribe left.

The landscape has changed dramatically again. The cycle of glaciers that have covered this area of the country have created glacial moraine, ridges of gravel and rock that were pushed up and left as rolling hills in the shadow of the Wind River Mountains.

The wind of Wyoming is destructive to ones determination. Today was 45 degrees and sunny with winds at 10 to 30 mph as a head and cross-head. As I climbed from just below 6,000 feet to just below 7,000 feet the wind became stronger and colder. This combined with snow to make for another superb day. I looked at my map and saw the mountains below Dubois marked as "Windy Ridge." I really was hoping the people who named it were merely being facetious rather than descriptive.

Tonight Dubois will be setting a record low for this time of the year. Tomorrow morning I am hoping the Togwotee Pass will be open so I can get to the Tetons!

Day 40- White-out

70.1 miles- Jeffrey City to Lander, WY

I trained for this ride during the epic eastern snowfalls of 2010. A month before I left I said to myself that I would not be able to bare the sight of snow again. I saw it while in Colorado Springs, the Hoto Pass, Breckenridge, etc., but its presence was not offensive and did not bother me. The snow in Wyoming, however, was offensive. It was Offensive Snow. This morning I packed up the tent, ate a pack of peanuts, and was on the road with the sun on the horizon and temperatures in the 30's before 6:45. I raced to a rest area 20 miles away, indicated on my map as having bathrooms. As I warmed up inside I looked out the window. Utter dismay washed over me as I saw the white-out. Buckets of large flakes were invading the land around me and gutting my ride. My Dutch friend (the guy I met also doing the Transamerica a few days ago) pulled into the rest stop shortly after I did. We waited out the onslaught inside for two hours.

The landscape remained rocky and barren until 30 miles into today's ride when I dropped about 1,000 feet to Lander. As I descended the snow disappeared, the temperature rose from 31 to 45 degrees, and the land looked increasingly fertile. As Charlie Norton said to me back in Kansas, the country before Lander should never have been broken by man. The sight of green fields, cows, and productive land created a warm familiar feeling inside me. (The feeling was not actually the sight of the land, but sensation returning to my fingers and toes.)

Tonight I am staying with a family from the warmshowers cycling website. After a quick shower, we are going out for a few drinks.

Day 39- Jeffrey City

70.4 miles- Rawlins to Jeffrey City, WY

The land here is flat and barren, broken only by mountains of only the most erosion-resistant rock. Apparently I passed by some items of note, although I did not notice a thing. Just east of Jeffrey City is "Split Rock," a cleft in the top of low hills and buttes that was used by Indians, trappers and pioneers to guide them in the absence or roads.

On my map, Jeffrey City looked like a barren town in a barren land. This did not do justice to its actual miserable dilapidation. Every store is closed except one cafe/bar- every building has been blatantly abandoned. I stopped for an early dinner there. The waitress there was not overtly rude. Even with this dilapidation someone mowing around the empty buildings in an attempt to achieve expert lawn tidiness. I was hoping to sleep in a church or an RV park and get a shower, but as those are closed I am camping in between two abandoned buildings. I will be bear-bagging my food tonight (i.e. putting it in a bag as far away from my tent as possible.) Tonight is also the first night during this entire trip that I have not had cell coverage for miles in either direction, so this post will go up tomorrow.

Day 38- A Perfect Storm

42.4 miles- Saratoga to Rawlins, WY

Began the day with one of the best breakfasts at a small cafe, and ended the day with a comfortable motel. The time inbetween was spent in the perfect storm of cycling misery. When 40 degree temperatures plus unrelenting rain combine with a 20mph headwind, the result is hopefully the worst day of the trip. I stopped at the first gas station 20 miles from Saratoga. When I asked if I could warm up for a bit the owner/attendant said "For a bit, then you gotta leave."

I could not get the camera out at any point, but for about five miles a herd of deer followed me along the road. There are enormous fences on both side of the route I was on, and they could not get away from me until they found an opening. (I think the fences are there to prevent snow drifting on the roads.) Yesterday at a gas station I saw a picture of a local mountain lion that someone had shot- it was the size of an African lion! To pass the time I started thinking of what I would do if it were a heard of mountain lions following me. I couldn't come up with any "good" solution.

Day 37- Saratoga's sulphur springs

72.4 miles- Walden, Colorado to Saratoga, Wyoming

I finished today in the town of Saratogo, Wyoming. The city has many sulfur hot springs along the Platte River, one of which is walled off as a public hot tub the size of a swimming pool. The water cycles through every four hours and is a comfortable 110 degrees. I would never have gotten out if it were not for approaching thunder.

During the afternoon I was racing storms to finish today's ride. As the idea of a campground along the city reservoir sounded a bit wet (i.e. no cover), I stopped at the city museum to ask if I could camp under their gazebo. When I walked in the group of fifteen women became immediately silent and stared up at me blankly. Finally one of them said no, but to come back later. After a quick lunch, I returned to find her and a friend alone in the building. They were very friendly, informed me that I could camp (but some of the other ladies didn't like it,) and explained some of the towns history. Until recently, the main industry here was lumber. However, the mill closed six years ago, the Union Pacific closed the rail line, and the town has instead thrived on tourism. During the winter this is one of the best places for snow-mobiling and bathing in sulfur springs. This is a place I will be coming back to!