1976 was also the year of Bikecentennial, first an idea and then an organization encouraging bicyclists to ride across the US in that bicentennial year. Although I came to know a number of bicyclists who did take up the challenge, I was not one of them. I had an internship in Washington, DC, that summer, and my focus was already graduate school and beyond. I missed my chance, and then life happened.
Although I became a lifelong bicycle commuter racking up 5000-7000 miles/year, my bike-packing of necessity was short-duration and short-distance. I went through more bicycles than I can remember, riding some of them until the frames cracked.
By the early 2000s I was riding a Rivendell Atlantis that I took with me while posted overseas with the Department of State Foreign Service. I used it for commuting in Moscow, Bucharest, Tashkent, and Astana, and I went on longer trips as time allowed.
In 2010 I bought a second Rivendell Atlantis that I kept in the US to ride when on R&R or home leave. My freedom came with retirement last year, an event I celebrated by bike-packing from Washington, DC, to my retirement home in Maine. Bikecentennial the organization had become Adventure Cycling (AC), and I used AC maps to chart my course. The portion from Erie, PA, to Maine used AC's Northern Tier route. I describe that trip in Two Wheels Out of State. My two Rivendells finally met each other when I arrived home in Maine.
Last year's trip whetted my appetite for more. As 2020 dawned, I began planning a cross-country trip. Not wanting to repeat that portion of the Northern Tier I had ridden in 2019, I decided I would cross Quebec and Ontario, picking up AC's Erie Connector that would take me back into the US at Marine City, MI. From there I would cross Michigan's Lower Peninsular, pick up the Northern Lakes route, and eventually rejoin the Northern Tier in Minnesota. From there I would continue out to the Northern Tier's end point in Anacortes, WA.
As anyone reading this knows, the world as we knew it disappeared in early 2020. Covid came upon us with lock-downs, turmoil, and death. The Canadian border closed. Adventure Cycling itself urged its members to stay home this year.
Instead, I set out on May 31 to bike-pack around my home state of Maine. I reasoned I would never be more than a 2-3 day ride from home but could still do a trip that would take up to 4-6 weeks without ever crossing a state line. It seemed the best I could do under the circumstances.
That was the plan, but a strange thing happened when I reached Brunswick, ME. A breakfast conversation planted a seed in my head that took root. Several days later I abandoned the Maine ride. My daily log of that ride follows below together with the log of a very different ride that followed it. The long and short is that I dipped my front wheel into the waters of Puget Sound at Anacortes, WA, on August 25. In 2020 I got to do my bikecentennial at long last and after all.
Before I get to the log, I pause to make a dedication.
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Dedication
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Bike Around Maine (BAM)
Sunday, May 31, 2020 -- 7774km cumulative / 81km for the day
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Woodswoman II on the Banks of the Penobscot
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I am staying at the home of my friends Mark and Greg for this first night. They are away, but their door is always open to friends.
I had a long breakfast in Brunswick with ML, the only other solo bike-packing woman I know. We met last year on the Northern Tier in Vermont. She would still like to go cross-country this year and urged me not to give up on my own cross-country dream.
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| Height of Land, ME |
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| Setting out from Marine City, MI |
Sutter's Campground charges only $10/night for bicyclists. Wonderful!
This was an easier day as the legs get back in shape. I started with a $10 breakfast in Oyster Bay, took an afternoon break in the German town of Frankenmouth, and am now camped for the night at the state campground outside Bay City at the base of Lake Huron. I took a wrong turn somewhere in Bay City, and it was 8pm by the time I made it to the campground. I will have to wait until morning to see the lake. Sigh. My left ankle continues to ache as I pedal.
This is a hotel night in Clare, MI, given the forecast forovernight rain. The first half of the day was hard going into the wind. The second half was easier on the Pere Marquette rail-trail with trees acting as a wind screen.
Wind. I undersestimated the prevailing west wind. Hills are easier. One sees what one gets. A hill might be a tough climb, but it has a top. The wind is the gift that keeps giving. I admit to being quite worn out after just three days.
This was a lovely, good biking day as my body gets back in the mode. The countryside north of Clare reminds me of Maine with more forest than I've seen so far, low rolling hills, and much less wind.
I am camped tonight at a $15 primitive USFS site outside Luther at the Little Manistee River. My shower consisted of lying in the river with my bike clothes on. The cool water was delightfully refreshing at the end of a long day. I will be listening to the gurgle of the river as I sleep. Wonderful!
Another good biking day but longer than I expected. It seems I made a mistake in adding together the mileages from three AC maps on this day that brought me to the end of The Erie Connector -- to my mind The Weary Erie -- and the start of The Northern Lakes route. I have now ridden more than 300 miles, not quite 10% of my expected route.
Jeremy and his family at the site next to me invited me to join them for dinner. I took the risk and had a lovely evening.
I've decided to give Woodswoman II a day of rest tomorrow. I think we've both earned it.
I'm back in the saddle after a good day of rest, the best part of which was spent in the shade of a tree. There was one good climb after Arcadia, and I did end up pushing Woodswoman up the last little bit. The top rewarded with a breathtaking panoramic vista.
Today I met Dan, another long distance cyclist, and his sag-wagon wife Melody.
I am camped for free tonight at the D. H. Day NPS campground at an overflow spot reserved for cyclists. There are no showers. Instead, I waded into Lake Michigan with my biking clothes on and enjoyed allowing the surf to lap over me. The beach reminds me of Lake Issykul in Kyrgyzstan.
I wanted to stay at the state park campground in Traverse City, but it's still closed due to Covid. Instead, I am at a no-shower, no-bathroom basic campground in Acme. Still, at $5/night for cyclists, the price is right.I'm having trouble with middle-of-the-night insomnia. I had forgotten that I had the same problem last year. I think it is (extreme) exercise-induced.
On the road today I met Nate and Sanya, a young bike-packing couple on their way to Mackinac Island. We leapfrogged each other several times during the day.
I'm just back from a marvelous, refreshing swim in Lake Michigan at the Charlevoix beach. How wonderful it has been to have a bicycling day that got me to my destination early enough to do some fun exploring.
I've made it to Mackinaw City. To be precise, I've made it to the Wilderness State Park campground situated to the south of town. I made use of Michigan's do not refuse policy for the first time to get a spot at this full campground.
Mackinac Island is my Pittsburgh for this summer's journey, a destination beyond which I consider myself committed to the full trip. That is how I felt when I got to Pittsburgh on last year's Washington, DC, to Maine trip.
In the morning I hung around for a long breakfast and long goodbye in Charlevoix. What a wonderful town and what a wonderful family!I enjoyed beautiful vistas of Lake Michigan for much of today's ride. As in Charlevoix, I jumped into the lake for a delicious cool-down on this hot day.
This likely will be my shortest day, all of 22 miles, outside of an intentional rest day. It was necessitated by the need to take two ferries, the first to Mackinac Island and the second to St. Ignace. I have entered the tourist zone. I waited over an hour to get a table for a pancake breakfast in Mackinaw City. On Mackinac Island, the crowds were so dense that it was hard to move -- this in the middle of a pandemic. Only about half the people in those crowds were wearing masks.
It's July 4. I grieve for my country even as I live my bicycling dream from 1976.
100 miles, my first English century since Uzbekistan in 2008. Wow. Even I'm impressed with myself. With a full 45lb load, no less. US Route 2 may not be the most interesting of roads, but it is largely flat from St. Ignace to Manistique. Moreover, the wind was not a serious problem today. Still, wow. This is a record I will not try to break. After all, this is supposed to be a fun trip, not a record-setting grind.
I'm at Indian Lake State Park outside Manistique. Two young girls, Ali and Kinsey, befriended me as soon as I arrived. Both are adorable chatterboxes and a joy to be around at the end of a long day.
There is no running water at this campground. Once again my shower was a dip in the lake.
Gee, it was only a 60 mile ride today to Eskanaba, but it wore me out more than yesterday's century. Perhaps the century ride was making itself known today? A temperature above 30C (90F) didn't help, and neither did the headwind off Lake Michigan or heavy traffic on Route 2. My left ankle started to ache again after several days of respite. Sigh.
But I checked in a the Pioneer Motel just before a thunderstorm. I'm showered, fed, and now doing laundry. The day is ending well.
Good points of the day included a long morning goodbye with Ali and Kinsey and a chance meeting with another cyclist riding the Northern Lakes route in the reverse direction. A seagull provided the strangest moment of the day. As I walked to the laundromat on a quiet, empty street, the seagull seems to have decided I was invading its territory and dived at me twice, hitting me in the head firmly with a wing on the second dive. Not wanting to star in a remake of Hitchcock's The Birds, I'll return to the hotel by a different route.
I hit the road again after a day of rest in Eskanaba. I did as little as possible yesterday other than take a walk to the lakefront for a last look at Lake Michigan before my route turns west. Along the way I met and had a nice long chat with Judy who asked me about my travels.
Today's total was a measly 25 miles more or less, and not all of that was productive mileage along my route. Predicted morning showers turned into a persistent heavy, chilly rain. I stopped in Caspian in late morning to drink coffee and reassess. Already soaked through and through, I decided to cut the day short. I called all motels further along my route. None had vacancies, and the rain was now predicted to continue through the night. I abandoned all thoughts of going further. I found a motel in Iron City just north of Caspian. As if on purpose, the sun came out later. (As I write, however, it is again overcast.) I spent the afternoon giving Woodswoman II a thorough cleaning at a nearby car wash. The motel is on a lake, and I took a quick swim just before sunset. Oh well, tomorrow is another day.
This was another good cycling day, 83 miles in all. Along the way I had a nice rest break in Butternut, where I met Jim at the local bar where I stopped for a soda.
I am camped at a USFS campground near Clam Lake. The mosquitoes here are the worst I have experienced since camping in Novgorod in the Soviet Union in 1981. Big, vicious, and numerous are the applicable descriptors. They are so bad that I'm eating my evening sandwich with mosquito netting over my head. I lift the netting only long enough to take a bite or sip my drink. I'll take care in the tent to kill mosquitoes individually before I settle down for the night. It's the only way I will be able to sleep.
This has been a beautiful day that almost went wrong when I took a wrong turn in the morning. I was at least 10 miles off route when I realized my mistake. Fortunately, I saw two bicycle jerseys in the distance that were approaching. The jerseys belonged to Mary and Gerry Hansen, local WarmShowers hosts. They charted an entirely new route for me that went through a beautiful lake area and got me back on track without any appreciable increase in mileage.
I am camped tonight in the city park campground in Birchwood. It's a nice spot . . . with (needed!) showers and so far no onslaught of mosquitoes.
It has been a good but hot riding day from Birchwood to St. Croix Falls, some 75 miles in all. Minnesota is on the other side of the St. Croix River. I'll head that way on Wednesday.
I can also report that my left ankle no longer aches. On the day I entered Wisconsin, I took time to play with the saddle height and angle. That's all it took. I seem to have found the right combination. It's amazing how small adjustments like this that are of no concern for shorter local rides are a major factor when one is riding 60-80 miles nearly every day.
Along the way I passed through Sunrise, "the birthplace of Hollywood legend Richard Widmark." Just before Milaca I met Aimee and Juben who are dong the reverse of my trip. Bike-packers stand out to each other from a long way off, the loaded panniers and gear flashing out like a neon sign. Aimee and Juben set out from the Pacific five weeks ago.
My mileage today fell within a fraction of a km of yesterday's. The morning was cool and drizzly, the afternoon hot and humid. I crossed the Mississippi, although I must say that the river crossing in Minnesota does little to call to mind the mighty Mississippi that one thinks of further to the south. After that the route was along a good quality rail-trail. I am happy but also admit to being tired at the end of a long day. I am camped at a nice city campground in Sauk Centre where, wonder of wonders, there are free showers.
Hot, hot, hot! This was the hottest day yet, over 30C from start to finish. I was soaked in my own sweat and chugged water, Gatorade, and Mountain Dew all day long. It reminded me of my ride from Tashkent to Khujand in 2008.
The forecast is for severe storms overnight. I took the hint and checked in at the Super 8 in Fergus Falls. On to Fargo tomorrow!
Today's was an easier 65 mile ride into Fargo on a somewhat cooler day. It's a good thing I stayed at the Super 8 last night. The storms woke me even inside the motel. I would not have wanted to be in a tent.
I'm in North Dakota, another first in my life. I checked into the Radisson in the city center a little after 3pm. I showered . . . and then walked to the nearest laundromat. I will explore tomorrow. This is my splurge city, the emotional halfway point on this journey. I will have to check my numbers to see if it is also the physical halfway point.
It is pouring rain at the Little Yellowstone campground west of Ederlin, ND. Thankfully, I had enough time before the rain started to set up the tent in a picnic pavilion under a roof.
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| Downtown Fargo |
Today's ride was the easiest I have had on this trip and perhaps ever. North Dakota west of Fargo is so flat that it makes Michigan seem downright mountainous by comparison. Moreover, an unexpected tailwind pushed me along for the first several hours. My speed almost never dropped below 24km/hr and for long stretches reached 28-32km/hr. I sat bolt upright on Woodswoman II to catch the wind and use my body as a sail. If only it could always be like that.
This was a short mileage day by design. In ND my daily mileage will be dictated by where there is a place to stay as I travel through long, largely unpopulated stretches of farmland and prairie. Thus today's destination was Gackle. The next town with lodging of any kind would is another 38 miles down the road.
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| Lingering over morning coffee |
Then there were miles and miles of roadwork that covered my legs with oil and tar that I haven't been able to scrub off completely. Woodswoman looks no better. I took a rest break after the roadwork only to find, as I started off again, that I had a flat in my rear tire. That's my first flat in, I think, two years. More time went into patching the inner tube.
As I entered Gackle, I started looking for a convenience store. Everything seemed closed. I saw a couple out walking, and they confirmed that the town rolls up the sidewalk before sunset. Even the town bar had closed due to Covid exposure. Despair and hunger descended as my dilemma in the Adirondacks last year seemed to be repeating itself.
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| The Wetlands of North Dakota |
I took a snack break at a convenience store in Napoleon where Joyce, the woman on duty at the counter, gave me her own stool so I could sit while enjoying my egg salad sandwich and fries. This is good country with good people on a good day.
A short day by design as I rolled into Bismarck. I actually feel guilty about taking another rest day only four days after leaving Fargo, but oh well, this is going to be my last official city for some time. I keep reminding myself that in no way is this summer's journey a race. It's supposed to be fun.
Once again I am at a Radisson, but the $55/night pricetag should have told me that Bismarck is not Fargo. The city center feels dead, abandoned, a ghost of what may have been better times. Still, a day of rest will be to the good. The same goes for sampling a local craft beer.
The long flats with tailwind are over. It's not exactly hilly west of Bismarck, but the terrain is strongly undulating with an inexorable upward slant. Still, this was a good day.
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| Glenn Ullin Bike-Packing Collective |
I'm at the city campground in Glen Ullin, sharing an indoor pavilion with a group of five cyclists (four women and one man) who are going east. Later, another eastbound couple showed up. It's a veritable bike-packer convention, the largest group I've been with this year or last.
By design this was another short day to Dickinson, ND, and a cheap motel night. Thanks to the disciplined, early-start example of my companions from last night, I too got an early start at 8:30am. The first half of the day was easy, but the second half was hillier with a crosswind that was more headwind than tailwind. Still, I arrived in Dickinson by 1pm, helped in this early arrival by having crossed into the Mountain Time zone. With arrival in Dickinson, I completed Northern Tier Section 4. Three sections and some 1450 or so miles remain.
This was yet another short day by design so that I could visit at the Painted Canyon in Theodore Roosevelt National Park. And I did! I took time to hike down into the canyon and back up. For a North-easterner like me, the Badlands are breathtaking. The only thing I have experienced like it before was the Ustyurt Preserve that Marzhan and I visited in western Kazakhstan in 2017.
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I saw many prairie dogs today but so far no buffalo. The prairie dogs found me amusing. They seemed to be laughing at me as I passed them to the side of the highway on Woodswoman II. The riding is getting more challenging. The terrain continues to undulate with an upward trend, and the wind has turned firmly against me. Moreover, there is no shade to be found. Even with a temperature of 28-30C, riding under this sun is oppressive. I'm camped in the tourist town of Medora, where I made friends with my campground neighbors Harley, Dia, and their daughter Morgan. They are from Vermont and are car-camping to as many national parks as they can this summer.
At $45, I could not pass up a motel in Glendive.
This was a short day but a tough one in several ways. The road from Glendive to Circle seemed flat but was actually sloped upward for 75% of the way with me going only 18-20km/hr. Slow. What a contrast to yesterday.
Then there was the landscape, desolate and uninteresting, and also the heat. It was 90F before I finished despite an early start.
Finally and most worrisome, I now have a major technical issue. In the morning I realized my rear tire was soft. Not wanting to deal with it then, I just pumped it up. I had to pump it again at about the halfway point.
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| Shades of Psycho in Circle? |
The thorn, however, was not the real issue. The problem is that the tire is just worn out. I should have replaced it before I ever left Maine. I know better. The tire wall itself is beginning to separate, and that's how the thorn got through the usually impenetrable Panaracer Pasela tire. The timing could not be worse. I'm in the middle of nowhere in Montana.
God bless Will at Rivendell Bicycles. He is express shipping a new tire from California to Glasgow, where I will stay with a WarmShower host two days from now. My fingers are crossed that the old tire will hold together the 100 miles from here to there.
Today's was a much prettier and easier ride from Circle to Wolf Point. Got an early 8am start to beat the heat. (I should start even earlier if possible.) I rolled into Wolf Pt. at 1pm after a 55 mile ride. At the halfway point I met Mark, a bike-packer on his way to Bar Harbor.
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| Community bike shop in Wolf Point |
I got drenched in quite a thunderstorm just ten miles out of Wolf Pt. . . . at 9am. I had thought eastern Montana would be semi-arid. Instead, so far it's been hot and humid with storms. It's like the mid-Atlantic minus hills and scenery. The landscape here is monotonous, desolate, almost depressing. This is my least favorite part ot the trip to date.
I'm starting to think of Montana as Jekyll and Hyde. I alternate between bad and good days. Today was a good one. It didn't start out that way. Getting ready to set out from Madelyn's, I discovered my front tire was soft. I found the leak and patched it, but I couldn't find the cause. By the time I reached the Glasgow McDonald's for an outdoor breakfast, it was soft again. This time I replaced the inner tube, in the process seeing that on the inside the tire was not in as good condition as I thought. I never should have left Maine with those tires.
But it wasn't over yet. I rolled forward noticing a 1-rpm kerplunk. I went on for 10 miles like that before stopping to take a real look. To my horror I saw that about 2" of the tire bead was off the rim. How the tire did not blow out during those 10 miles is beyond me. I deflated the tire, seated it properly, re-inflated, and continued on my way.
By now I was completely rattled. A few miles later I stopped at a roadside rest area and called Greg at the community bike shop back in Wolf Pt. He drove 125 miles from Wolf Pt. to Malta to bring me a new tire. Incredible. He is my guardian angel in Montana. It is kindness like this that gives me hope for the future in this nation of ours.
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| Time for ice cream in Hinsdale |
I'll stay in Malta tomorrow for a rest day. It's been an eventful week since my last rest in Bismarck.
What a Jekyll/Hyde day this has been. It started well enough with a tailwind stronger than any since I left Fargo. I reached Harlem, my original 50-mile goal for the day, before noon. (Along the way I met a dad and his two sons riding into my tailwind, their headwind, biking east to Maine.) It being so early, I decided to keep going.
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| Waiting out the storm in Zurich |
I continued on to Chinook. I had heard stories from other cyclists about 10+ miles of roadwork between Chinook and Havre. Some, I had heard, had thrown in the towel and accepted rides through the work zone. I soon had to do the same. Roadwork is an understatement for what lay beyond Chinook. It was 10+ miles of dirt road, mud, and deep potholes that reminded me of roads outside the capital in Kazakhstan. I found it impossible to ride on without risking damage to Woodswoman. I started walking. It wasn't long before a passing van slowed. The passenger window rolled down, and the father and son pair inside asked if I wanted help. I willingly agreed.
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| Woodswoman gets a lift |
What a day . . . a day saved by geophysicist Jack and his son Jake. Once again, Montana provided guardian angels to see me safely on my way.
This was a solid 60 mile day from Havre to Chester in the Sweet Grass Hills. The upward trend continued with no tailwind to propel me forward. Neither, however, did storms or roadwork obstruct my way. It was a good day.
I pulled into Chester at 3pm intent on camping. Alas, my one-woman campaign to support the Montana motel industry continues. When I went to the city park, I found locked toilets and no water. I called the office responsible for the park and learned that the town had locked the toilets and turned off the water because it does not have staff to sanitize under Covid conditions. The woman I spoke with said I could still camp there . . . without water and toilets. That was a deal breaker for me. I took a room at a motel in the center of town. I have now stayed at more motels in Montana than in all previous states combined.
At last I'm ready to leave behind Montana's Hi Line with its seemingly endless prairie. After a 70-mile ride from Chester, I have arrived in Cut Bank with signs informing me this is "Where the Rockies Meet the Prairie." I got an early start on this day that was more up than down with a wind that neither helped nor impeded. By afternoon, however, the heat was intense. How I look forward to seeing trees and shade again in the coming days.
I'm at the Super 8 in Cut Bank, thereby completing my unbroken string of motel nights on the Hi Line. I suspect (and hope!) this is my last motel night for some time.
My lower left cheek has been swollen and itchy since late yesterday. What could have bitten me? On a positive note, I have had no trouble with my left ankle since my saddle adjustments all the way back in Wisconsin.
I can't say it was an easy 60 mile day. In fact, it was my hardest cycling day yet. It wasn't the elevation gain on the climb to Marias Pass. Rather, it was the strong, very strong heawind. I had to get off Woodswoman II several times and walk even on flat terrain. The wind was that strong.
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| Definitely cooler on the Continental Divide! |
I've made it to Glacier National Park (GNP), my hoped-for prize gem for this trip. I can't say that getting here was easy. It decidedly was not. The trip to West Glacier from Marias Pass was almost entirely downhill, steeply so for the first 15+ miles. The previous day's headwind continued, however, and had grown even stronger after overnight storms. I had to pedal to go downhill as the wind tried to blow me back up and over the Continental Divide. I shudder to think what the day would have been like if there had been significant uphill.
Today's motorized traffic on US 2 was one for the record books that made even this effective cycling League (of American Bicyclists) Certified Instructor uneasy. There is little real shoulder on this portion of US 2, and the speed limit is 70mph. I was in the traffic lane for much of the distance with RVs and trucks screaming past me, frequently veering into the oncoming traffic lane to pass rather than slowing until it was safe. Blaring horns were the order of the day. I held the handlebars in a death grip and have bruises on the palms of my hands to prove it. I was worn out by the time I reached West Glacier after all of a 50 mile, largely downhill ride.
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Along the way I had a respite at the Itzhak Walton Inn in Essex. How lovely it was to sit in this historic inn and enjoy crab cakes and a bowl of clam chowder before heading out again onto a road ruled this day by RVs.
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| Bike-packer camping at Fish Creek |
I didn't expect to, but I made it all the way up the Road to the Sun to Logan Pass! At over 6200 feet, it's the highest I have ever climbed on a bicycle.
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| Sunrise over Lake McDonald at Apgar Junction |
This is a night when I know I will sleep soundly with memories of a day that will last a lifetime. How glad I am that Lily talked me into doing the cross-country trip when we had that breakfast in Brunswick, ME, two months ago!
This was a short day by design, not even 40 miles, to Whitefish. I will be spending the night at The Bicyclist's Retreat recommended to me by my new Brazilian environmentalist friend Leandro. After four nights of primitive camping, I very much need a clean-up night to shower and do laundry. In short, I need to feel human again!
I detected something not quite right, something loose in the front of Woodswoman II. I thought it might be the headset, but I couldn't be sure. I stopped at Glacier Cyclery in Whitefish. It turned out that my sealed, supposedly indestructible Phil Wood hum had lost some of its bearings. How that could have happened is beyond me. Fortunately, the mechanics at Glacier Cyclery were able to fix it for me on the spot.
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| With Leandro at the Whitefish Bicycle Retreat |
Another cheap motel is tonight's lodging in Eureka. Looking ahead, I believe the next two nights will be primitive camping.
I spent much of the evening buying my Amtrak tickets for the trip back east. The end isn't tomorrow, but is appearing on the horizon.
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| On the road by Lake Koocanusa |
Worst of all, I got a flat in my brand new rear tire. I patched the inner tube but could not find what had caused the flat. Sure enough, the tire was flat again after only 2-3 miles. This time I found the culprit, a small piece of wire that I removed with my eyebrow tweezers. I hate Continental tires. They are too expensive and prone to flats. I have never had good luck with them. I wish Will at Rivendell had been able to send something other than Continental.
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| Aria outside Glenda's bus |
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| Overflow camping again! |
I am checked into the Days Inn in Ponderay for two nights. Saturday will be a rest day as I note one of the two days I consider to be birthdays. Northern Tier Section 2 is complete. Just one section and about 460 miles remain.
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| Lake Pend Oreille |
I returned to the road today. Some 70+ miles took me across the state line into Washington and onward to a USFS campground in Panhandle Park on the Pend Oreille River. This was my last day of respite, my last day without significant climbs. Tomorrow I hit the hills again . . . this time the Cascades.
The first warm-up hill is behind me on this 60 mile day, but the real story is the heat. It was the hottest day yet on this trip, and by 3pm I understood there was no way I would be camping. I found a cheap motel in Colville, WA. As I rolled into town, a bank sign trumpeted 103F. I believe it. I've already made a motel reservation for tomorrow in Republic.
Tomorrow will be my the hardest biking day yet: Sherman Pass with a 4000 foot elevation gain over 24 miles. Yikes!
The day was tough indeed. The climb that began after I crossed the Columbia River started well enough. For long stretches I was maintaining 16km/hr. The final 8km to the pass at 5575' were a different matter. The steady but gradual climb turned into something much steeper after I had already expended most of my climbing energy. I ended up pushing Woodswoman II up much of those 8km. An intermittent drizzle mocked my hubris in having thought Sherman would be nothing after I had climbed Logan in GNP.
The downhill ride was a welcome breeze. I stopped at one view spot not far from the top, but otherwise I kept going. I didn't encounter an uphill until just before Republic, where I'm now checked into my cheap motel for the night. I'll likely continue with the motels as long as the heat and mountain passes continue. Three high passes stand between me and Puget Sound.
This has been a long, tough, grueling, sweltering day. It got off on the wrong foot when I took the wrong road out of Republic. I didn't realize my mistake at first, so focused as I was on getting up a series of hills. It was only when the road leveled out that I realized something wasn't right. There was no traffic. The road surface didn't seem to be that of a state road, and my shadow was pointing the wrong way. I was going more north than west. The one driver I tried to flag down just waved and kept going. I had to grimace and resort to Google Maps and GPS to figure out where I had gone wrong. Fortunately, I was able to chart a path back to SR 20 that added only 5 miles to my day.
Back on SR 20, I began the climb to Wauconda Pass. The climb proved much easier than Sherman Pass, but I was already running late and not in the best mood. Still, I reached the pass before noon. Unlike Sherman, there isn't much to see from Wauconda Pass. I kept going another five miles to Wauconda village, where I ate lunch sitting where the pumps used to be at an abandoned gas station.
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| Arid view from Tonasket |
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| A bicycle wind vane! |
I rolled into Omak with 70+ miles showing on the odometer. When I checked in at the Rodeway Inn, I asked for two nights instead of one. Omak is not the place I would have chosen for a rest stop, but my body made the choice for me. It was clear I need a full day off.
205 miles and two mountain passes remain before my journey's end in Anacortes, WA. So close but yet so far.
This was a much, much better day, I needed the rest in Omak. Other than getting food (and a milkshake!), I spent all my time in the motel room with the air conditioner turned up high. Much of the time I lay in bed with either music or news playing softly in the background. In the evening I turned up the volume to listen and watch Joe Biden's acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention. It was the strong, inspiring speech we need for these troubled times.
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| Coastal Cascades in the distance |
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| Whitney |
160 miles and one pass to go.
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| View from Lone Pine Campground |
I'm camped next to camp hosts Peggy and John at an unofficial overflow site. How is it that I always end up at the most popular locations and weekends? I spent a pleasant evening chatting with Peggy and John. It turns out they are transplants to Washington who moved out here several decades ago from New York. We have many overlapping memories of the New York City area. They were incredulous when I told them the Tappan Zee Bridge had been demolished to make way for a replacement.
As I climbed today and as I now drift off to sleep, I'm listening again and again to Lord of the Mountain Roads (Господин горных дорог) by Natalya O'Shea and the Russian group Мельница (Windmill). It is the perfect accompaniment to this last leg of my mountain journey.
Today brought back memories of my descent from Marias Pass with traffic that was bad and downright scary. On the way down from Rainy Pass, SR 20 was closed at one point due to an accident. Traffic was backed up for 3+ miles with motorists sitting in their lawn chairs on the shoulder. The police allowed me to walk through the accident scene and continue. A motorcyclist had been killed by an RV, not the type of accident to increase my confidence as a bicyclist. It seems the motorcyclist had been going too fast on the descent, lost control, and crossed into the oncoming lane to collide with the oncoming RV. I learned also that a van had flipped over on this portion of SR 20 yesterday, again shutting down the road for hours. It is beyond my comprehension why narrow mountain roads such as SR 20 in the western states have speed limits of 60mph and sometimes higher. In my opinion as a cyclist and an easterner, the speed limits on these roads should be 25-30mph with traffic calming measures. After all, the speed limit on Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park is 25mph.
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| Washington Pass |
With my last mountain pass behind me, my climbing days are over.
Two months to the day after I left Marine City, MI, my journey is drawing to a close. I am at Rosar State Park near Hamilton, WA, after an easy 45 mile day.
To my own surprise, this will be my last camping night. I had thought I would camp in Anacortes, but it seems none of the campgrounds there have showers or laundry, both of which I need after four camping nights, three of them primitive with bathing limited to wipes and a wet cloth. As problematic as camping can be, I enjoy it after a fashion. It's where I meet the most interesting people and have the most memorable experiences. I am nostalgic and even a bit sad that this part of the journey is ending.
I'm done! I arrived in Anacortes a bit after 3pm and made my way to the ferry terminal, the end of the Northern Tier. I found a foot path down to the water and asked a may sitting on a log with a book to take the requisite photo with Woodswoman II's front wheel dipped in the water. 5490km (3411 miles) after leaving Marine City on June 24, I am done.
The reality has yet to sink in. I'm too tired for that. For this evening I am happy just to be in my motel, all showered, fresh, and ready to eat dinner. I am done.
This was my fun ride day of taking Woodswoman II sans weight by ferry to Lopez Island. I thought I was just going for a ferry trip and a short ride, but I ended up riding 40+ miles. It felt so good to ride with no weight that I just kept going. It was as though I had sprouted wings.
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| On Lopez Island |
This was another short day by design to Fort Ebey State Park on Whidbey Island. I could have gone further to Ft. Casey Park, but it is fully reserved with no indication of walk-in hiker-biker sites. I undoubtedly could have talked my way in there as I have done other times on this trip, but tonight I wanted certainty . . . and solitude as journey draws to a close.
This is it, my bonus one night of camping. I am soaking it into my memory so that it doesn't fade. It is the last night Woodswoman II will lean against a picnic table as I set up camp for the night.
Now my trip is truly at its end. I rolled Woodswoman II into the Travelodge near the Amtrak station in Everett sometime after 3pm. It's over, and already I am finding that disorientation and loss are mixing with the joy of fulfilling a life dream.
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| Sunset from Fort Ebey |
My last day riding down Whidbey Island to the ferry was pleasant with rolling hills. I rode in an air of unreality, not really believing this was the final ride of the trip. At the ferry terminal in Clinton, I met three local cyclists who told me how to ride the final miles from Mukilteo to Everett, and they rode with me at the start to make sure I was going the right way.
By way of update, my total distance since Marine City is now 5688km, some 3534 miles.
Today -- I'm writing on Sunday -- I will attempt to navigate local buses to see my high school friend Mike Korolenko in Issaquah. It's been seven years since we last saw each other in NYC in 2013.
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| Woodswoman waits for Wheels Up! |
Sunday was relaxing, even fun as I did navigate the buses through Seattle to spend a few hours with MK. It was good to see him again after a lapse of seven years.
Today as I wait to board the Empire Builder, I recall another train journey. It was three years ago today that I yelled Diplomat! and pushed through closing doors at a run with Sultana to board the Astana-Aktau train in Kazakhstan. It was our last journey together. Who knows when I will be able to return there? With borders closed most everywhere to Americans, I fear it will be a long time. . . .
Friday, September 18, 2020 -- 14,612km cum / 253km since Everett, WA / 6919km for the summer
Epilog. I am in Bangor, ME, after a 50 mile ride from home. Why am I here? Answer: eye doctor appointment. Why am I here by bicycle? Answer: Why not? It's only 50 miles, a short distance in the context of my summer biking days. Add to that some nostalgia and even withdrawal as I return to normality, whatever that is in this day of age. Biking to Bangor and staying at a cheap motel is my way of holding on to this very special summer.
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| Glen Ullin reunion in Acadia National Park |
Tomorrow I leave Woodswoman II at Rose Bicycles in Orono. She deserves a rest and gentle care after a summer of hard but beautiful riding. We will see together what the next year brings.
Sounds like a great trip. If you ever find yourself in or around East Dixfield please look us up.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely! I'll put East Dixfield on my map for next year.
DeleteWhat an amazing adventure, Robyn.
ReplyDeleteI haven't been on a bicycle since before my double hip surgery in July 2011, 4 months and a wee bit more before I came out in late November 2011 to begin my transition. Even after all this time I still have lost muscle strength in my legs and balance has been mucho problematic but improving at a snail's pace through Silver Sneakers classes via Zoom five days a week since last fall 2020.
Anyhoo, if you ever decide to bike through the Great Southwest and come near Santa Fe, New Mexico, look me up!
Love Deanna
Oh gee, Deanna, I'm so sorry that I'm only now seeing your comment over a half year after you wrote it! (I do wish blogger had a better way of notifying that there are comments to review.) I'm glad to know you are well; it's been a long time since we've been in touch. I will keep you in mind if I get to NM. For this summer, my eyes are looking north . . . to Alaska :) .
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