Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial: Last Time on the Road (Missive 12)

NOTE:  This is the twelfth and final missive for Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial ride.  The eleventh missive can be found at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/04/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial-my.html .

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Slideshow

A slideshow of photos from Seattle, Chicago, and my Maine ride from Brunswick to home can be found at  https://photos.app.goo.gl/U1C3mTEAN3CB3XCa8 .

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Missive No. 12:  Last Time on the Road

I promised one more missive.  This is my homeward-bound missive, the epilogue for my TransAm summer.

Thanks to Xi and her rental car, I had my longest car ride of the year, 100 miles from Astoria to the Amtrak station in Portland, OR.  After goodbye hugs, I boarded a Cascades train for the three hour trip to Seattle.  There I checked in for two nights at the fanciest hotel I have seen all summer, a Hilton Fairview Inn that is immediately adjacent to the King Street train station.

Why the stop in Seattle?  My high school friend Michael Korolenko moved west years ago and teaches film studies at Bellevue College.  I took a bus out to his home in Issaquah, where we shared lunch and I got to view the pilot of his latest film project, Alternatives, on a full-size screen.  If you like alternative history fiction, this is for you.  Alternatives is making the rounds of the studios and streaming platforms and could be a full-fledged series in a year or so.

The Empire Builder train does not depart Seattle until late afternoon.  On Saturday -- yes, the 20th anniversary of 9/11 -- Kelly came to my hotel mid-morning and led me on a 17-mile bike tour of Seattle.  Kelly and I were roommates at the bike hostel in Saratoga, WY, in August.  Kelly was in the final days of a bike-packing tour from Seattle to visit friends in Colorado, whereas I still had a thousand plus miles to go. 

Kelly made my day on that Saturday in Seattle, taking me far from my hotel for the best waterfront views of the city and of the 1962 Space Needle that Kelly told me is more popularly called the Soup Noodle by the younger crowd.  We even watched salmon negotiate their way up a fish ladder.  For the first time in my life, I saw seals swimming in open water.

Finally aboard the Empire Builder, I watched the sunset over Puget Sound.  For two nights and a day, the Empire Builder paralleled much of my Northern Tier route from last year.  Often it was within eyesight of the very roads I rode on.  I felt I was watching last year's journey rewind before my eyes.

In Chicago I had enough time between trains to ride ten miles along the Lake Michigan shore.  The next morning I watched the sunrise over the Alleghenies and the mist rising over the tree-covered banks of the Youghiogheny River and then the Potomac.  After three months of riding to the West, I was back in the East.

John spent the day with me in DC as we took a long walk and shared dinner.  At 10pm it was time to board the overnight train to Boston. In the morning I rode the short distance to North Station.  A few hours later the Downeaster train crossed into my home state of Maine.  I spent the night in Brunswick and in the morning had a three-hour catch-up breakfast with my bike-packing friend Lily.  Those of you who have followed these missives from the beginning will recall that Lily surprised me with dinner at the hostel in the ghost town of Jeffrey City, WY, in what already is starting to feel like a different reality.

150+ miles separate my home in little Burlington from the Amtrak station in Brunswick.  Thus began the after-ride, my chance to say farewell to this spectacular TransAm summer.

The bicycle gods smiled and gave me warm weather under beautiful blue skies.  Day 1 took me a short 32 miles along the Kennebec River to a WS night in Gardiner.  Kevin, my host, is car-free and has completed more than half of a round-the-world journey in addition to having ridden the periphery of the lower 48 U.S. states.  We talked late into the evening about our lives and experiences on two wheels.

Day 2 took me to Northport and a night with my friend Ellen and her granddaughter Calliope.  I spent a night with Ellen as I began my journey in May.  When I reached Belfast, I felt the gravitational tug of home, the sense of being on familiar ground.

Day 3 took me up the Penobscot to a night at the Bangor home of my friends Greg and Mark.  Their welcoming home is always the first and last stop on my bicycle journeys. 

On Sunday I woke to Day 4, the final day of my after-ride, the end of my TransAm summer.  I continued north along the Penobscot.  When I reached Passadumkeag, I turned into the boat launch.  Two young women were sunning themselves at water's edge.  They did me the favor of taking the traditional front-wheel-in-the-water, end-of-journey photo.

From there I turned inland, away from the river for the final 15 miles to home.  As I approached Burlington, the words of the song Last Time on the Road kept repeating in my head:  "I'm feeling happy and I'm feeling sad; It's my last time on the road."

There is a last good hill as one approaches Burlington.  I climbed it easily, smiling inwardly at how hard that hill seemed to me in the spring.  I turned onto Main Street, passed the post office and general store, and at 5:45 turned into my own driveway.  I rounded the fir tree at the end of my driveway and came to a stop at my own front door.  I dismounted, lifted Woodswoman on to the porch, and sat quietly for an hour to watch the sun set behind the Norwegian pines that fill the front part of my 35 acres.  Four months and a week after I had rolled out of my driveway, I was home.  Now, as then, my eyes were misty with emotion.

I know from experience that much like Appalachian Trail through-hikers, bike-packers experience a reentry adjustment to normality at the end of their journeys.  Daily life can seem overwhelming in comparison to a life that, although physically challenging, is simplicity itself in its routine and in its quiet time for reflection without distraction.  Knowing this, I will be taking the coming days slowly.

Of my summer companions, Devin and Sarah reached Astoria in the third week of August.  Cathy and Richard reached the Pacific last Thursday and celebrated in a video set to the music from Chariots of Fire.  We all know that we completed a journey that gave us memories for a lifetime.

For anyone wondering, I rode a total of 4800 miles since leaving home in May.  I lost ten pounds while eating all the ice cream and drinking all the Mountain Dew I wanted.  That all-and-everything-you-want diet is one perk for pedaling a fully loaded bicycle across the US.  Alas, I know most of that weight comes back during long winters despite a more frugal diet.  I guess that means I should do another journey next summer?

I'll ruminate on that during the Maine winter.  All I can say is, stay tuned.  

I hope you have enjoyed following me on this journey.  I know I have enjoyed knowing you are there, reading my missives as I pedalled these 4800 miles. Thank you for being there.

With love at the end of this TransAm journey,

Robyn

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Daily Log 

 

Saturday, September 11, 2021 -- 22,413 km cum - 30 km/day

It may be the 20th anniversary of 9/11, but I just had a most wonderful last day on the West Coast.  Kelly, with whom I shared a room at the hostel in Saratoga, WY, is a native of Seattle.  She met me outside my hotel at 10 a.m. and took me on an 18-mile tour of the city.  Thanks to her -- much as to Jessica in Boston in May -- I got to experience far more of the city than just the few square blocks around my hotel.  I even got to see seals along the waterfront and salmon at a fish ladder.  The day was bright and sunny, unusual for Seattle.  I can't think of a better way to have spent the day.

I am at the King Street Amtrak station as I write.  In a few minutes I will board the Empire Builder to start the journey east.

Monday-Wednesday, September 13-15, 2021 -- 22,438 km cum - 25 km over 3 days

Between trains in Chicago, I had enough time to do a lovely 10-mile ride along the shore of Lake Michigan.  I spent Tuesday afternoon walking DC with John, who stayed with me until I boarded the overnight train to Boston just before 10 p.m.  On Wednesday I rode the short distance from South to North Station and then the equally short distance from the station to the Relax Inn in Brunswick, the same cheap motel I stayed at during my BAM ride in June 2020.

Thursday, September 16, 2021 -- 22,492 km cum - 54 km/day

[no log entry]

Friday, September 17, 2021 -- 22,573 km cum - 81 km/day

Maine's fickle weather has been showing its sweetest side these two days.  There is barely a cloud in the sky, and the temperature is warm but not hot.  The first hints of fall colors are beginning to show.  It doesn't get better than this.

After a three hour catch-up breakfast with Lily at the Brunswick Diner, I had an easy, pretty 34-mile ride along the Kennebec River to Gardiner.  Along the way I met and chatted with Wendy and [name?], two bike-packers from Buffalo, NY.

In Gardiner I had my last WS night of the summer with Kevin, a car-free cyclist who has ridden about 2/3 of the way around the world, not to mention the periphery of the US.  My two transcontinental trips pale by comparison.  We had dinner at the A1 Diner and stayed up late talking.  Only at bedtime did I realize he had given me his own bedroom for the night.  In the morning he cooked pancakes for breakfast.

Today's 50-mile ride from Gardiner to Belfast was equally lovely.  I stopped along the way at St. George State Park for lunch.  As I write, I sit on a bench in front of the Visitor's Center by the waterfront as I wait for Ellen.  It has been four months and four days since we had dinner together here on May 13 at the start of my summer odyssey.  I feel myself entering into the gravitational radius of home.

Saturday, September 18, 2021 -- 22,653 km cum - 80 km/day

I am back in Bangor at Greg and Mark's after a lovely night with Ellen and her granddaughter Calliope.  One more day and I will be home.

The morning dawned with light drizzle.  I rode in a thick mist all the way to Searsport, but the sun came out by the time I crossed the Penobscot River and stopped to snack in Bucksport.  I arrived in Bangor around 3:30 p.m. and went to Shaw's to get a few groceries to carry home with me tomorrow.  I reached Greg and Mark's just minutes before it began to pour rain as the weather changed again.  The bicycling gods of weather have been smiling on me ever since I reached Brunswick.

Sunday, September 19, 2021 -- 22,730 km cum - 77 km/day

I rolled into my own driveway at 5:45 p.m., four months and one week after rolling out on May 12.  I was on the verge of tears then.  My eyes were moist again today.  I know now from my travels in 2019 and 2020 that re-entry at the end of long bicycle journeys is not simple.  The first days, even weeks, are disorienting, close to overwhelming as I cope with a sense of loss at the simple, albeit challenging, bike-packing life on the road.

I lingered in Bangor this morning, even attending the 10 a.m. service at the Hammond Street Congregational Church where Greg and Mark were married in 2013.  After a late breakfast at Bagel Central, I began pedalling north along the Penobscot on another gorgeous, sunny, near-fall day.  I stopped at Rose Bikes in Orono and left a handwritten note for Fiona and all.  When I reached the Passadumkeag boat launch, I asked two young women to snap a photo of me with Woodswoman's front wheel in the waters of the Penobscot.  As I rode the final miles to Burlington, I listened to  the song Last Time on the Road again and again.

At 6:15 p.m. I sat on my own porch and quietly watched the sunset through my norwegian pines.  My TransAm summer of 2021 has come to its end.  I am home.

Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial: My Oregon Trail (Missive 11)

NOTE:  This is the eleventh missive for Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial ride.  The tenth missive can be found at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/04/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial_18.html .  The twelfth and final missive is at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/04/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial-last.html .

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Slideshow

A slideshow of photos from Oregon can be found at https://photos.app.goo.gl/M5DHrrxNdEZzScCi8 .

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Missive No. 11:  My Oregon Trail

Part 1

The weather in Oregon has been cool, downright chilly on mornings when I have camped at the top of mountain passes.  The cold weather clothing that Ellen and Ron held and mailed to me when I got to Colorado has all been used.  Having my espresso maker for good hot coffee in the mornings has been a luxury worth the extra weight.   (Hey, it only weighs 15 oz. !)  My Whisperlite International stove that burns unleaded gas -- $0.41 on its last fill-up -- has been invaluable both mornings and evenings.

This is Part 1 of what will be a 2-part Oregon missive.  Like Virginia at the start of the TransAm and Washington at the end of the Northern Tier, it's a big State that merits at least two updates.  Like Washington, it is sharply divided by the Cascades between an arid east and a moist west.  I crossed McKenzie Pass and descended from the Cascades yesterday, a week after leaving Baker City.

I knew from last year's Northern Tier trip not to underestimate the mountains between the Rockies and the coast.  The passes in Oregon were not as difficult as those in Washington, but they were significant.  Six mountain passes stand between Baker City and Eugene.  Three of them came on the first day.  Thus all of my days except yesterday were low mileage days.  When I have a mountain pass to cross, I consider 40 miles more than acceptable.

My best camping experience of the week was at the USFS campground on Dixie Pass.  The location was peaceful and cool, and I had it to myself.  Well, actually I had to share it with yellow jackets that are all over eastern Oregon.  The yellow jackets at Dixie Pass swarmed all around me, the bike, and my camping gear.  Fortunately, they were not the stinging type.  They were more like endlessly curious cats.  Still, there were so many of them that I donned my mosquito netting.

I stayed at two hostels, first at the community church in Dayville and then at the Spoke'n Hostel in Mitchell.  The latter takes my prize as the best hostel of the summer.  It's run by Jalet and Pat, transplants to Oregon who bought the abandoned church in Mitchell and turned it into a hostel.  There's such an inviting, homey feeling to the hostel and to the town that it's hard to leave.  Joshua, a skateboarder turned cyclist, had already been there five days.  We shared life stories late into the evening and over breakfast.  He has a titanium rod in one of his legs from a skateboard accident five years ago that nearly took his leg and his life.  Now living at a much slower pace, he's happy to be alive and mobile despite chronic pain.  Mitchell exerted such an influence on him that he's considering moving there.

Other encounters this week included Kevin Patterson and his wife from New Zealand.  They are rock climbers who were staying at the campground under Smith Rock when I met them.  At the Lava Lake campground near the top of McKenzie Pass, I shared a camping spot with hikers Mark and Sally.  The Pacific Crest Trail passes nearby.

Journey's end is becoming tangible.  I felt it as I climbed McKenzie Pass, the final mountain pass of the summer.  The stars shone brilliantly that night over a landscape of lava fields that come from a volcanic eruption that happened within historical times.  As I descended yesterday and felt the climate change along with the vegetation, I knew the end is near.

Yesterday's ride was my longest since Kansas.  One of the biggest 2020 wildfires happened between McKenzie Bridge and Nimrod, and the burned-out consequences come right up to the edge of the road.  Thus it was that I pushed all the way to Eugene for an 80-mile day.

It feels strange to be in Eugene.  For those who know the story of my young Kazakhstani friend Sultana, this is where she was supposed to have gone to college in 2017.  I was supposed to have accompanied her and gotten her established in her dorm.  A triple visa denial dashed all those hopes and plans.  It feels strange that I should be passing through Eugene in light of that failure.

But let me end on an upbeat note.  This has been an incredible journey that still has a week to go.  My arrival date for Astoria, OR, is fixed for September 6.  Why?  Because my friend Xi is flying to Portland and renting a car to celebrate journey's end with me on the 6th.  I'll be slowing my pace in these final days so as not to arrive in Astoria before then.

Part 2

I have reached the Pacific Ocean.  I descended out of the final hills and dipped my hands into the waters of the Pacific at Neskowin Beach on September 2.  That night I camped at Cape Lookout and was lulled to sleep by the sound of the surf.  For the next three nights I camped at Nehalam Bay before rolling up to the Marine Museum in Astoria -- the official terminus of the TransAm -- on September 6.  My journey ended fittingly on Labor Day, three months to the day since I set out from Newport News on June 6.

This has been my personal Northwest Passage overland from the mid-Atlantic to the Pacific Northwest.  It was hard not to think of Lewis and Clark, whose route intersected the TransAm many times over the past month.  Riding a loaded touring bike across the continent gives one at least a glimmer of the hardships they faced.  Their journey ended at the mouth of the Columbia River not far from the present day location of Astoria.

Journey's end was on my mind all the final week.  I purposely slowed my pace to hang on a little longer, but with each day I felt the end approaching.

In Corvallis I had my final WarmShowers night with Sam and Beth Stern who treated me to a wonderful dinner and a bed so comfortable that it was hard to leave in the morning.  Sam has ridden the TransAm and has bike-packed extensively outside the US. Beth is an artist and quilter.  Both are retired from Oregon State University.  We had many stories to trade.

At Wilhamina I checked into the Wildwood Bunkhouse, conscious that this was my last hostel of the summer.  As I walked the streets of this self-styled Timbertown USA, I knew that I would make my final descent to sea level in the morning.

Camping at Nehalam Bay for three nights was not just a way to avoid the Labor Day weekend crowds in Astoria; it was a way to hang on to the camping experience for a few days more.

Xi flew in to Portland, rented a car, and joined me for two camping nights at Nehalam Bay.  On the 6th she stopped at strategic points to photograph me as I went by, and she used a drone to shoot action videos from above.  She was there at the finish line where I posed with my espresso maker that traveled with me and was well used all summer long.  (Alas, the TransAm ends on a riverwalk with no possibility of taking the traditional front wheel in the water photo.)  Then we checked into the best motel I have seen for many months, enjoyed good seafood and Pacific sunsets for two days, and explored the area.

Ending a transcontinental bicycle journey is a quiet affair.  There are no signs, nothing at all in Yorktown or Astoria to proclaim the end points of the most famous bicycle route in the US.  Only we cyclists know that this is where the TransAm begins and ends, but there is no reason for disappointment.  As any serious traveler knows, it's the journey itself, not its beginning and end, where meaning and purpose are to be found in the hills we climb, the people we meet, and the country we come to know just a bit better for crossing it at a pace that is more 19th century than 21st.  As I found last year on the Northern Tier, there is goodness and kindness to be found at every turn in our troubled, divided country.

If anyone was wondering about the technical details, I did not have even one flat tire in the nearly 4500 miles since setting out from home in Maine.  It pays to start an epic bicycle journey with new, high quality touring tires, Schwalbe in my case.  While camped at Nehalam Bay, I installed my fourth bike chain of the summer.  In Corvallis I replaced my front wheel when the rim of my existing wheel started giving signs that it was approaching its end of life.  This was, in fact, my only serious technical issue of the summer. The last thing I needed was for my front wheel to collapse under me in my final hundred miles.

No, this is not my last missive.  There is one more to come.  After all, I still have three days of riding ahead of me when I step down from the Amtrak Downeaster in Brunswick, ME, next week.  Stay tuned for that.

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Daily Log 

 

Saturday, August 21, 2021 -- 21,329 km cum - 93 km/day

A shorter day, Brownlee to Richland.  I am intentionally slowing the pace as I approach the final leg of this journey.  Crossed into Oregon, my final state.  Camped tonight at the county campground in Richland.

Sunday, August 22, 2021 -- 21,404 km cum - 75 km/day

Today's was a short 46-mile ride to Baker City, the end of AC TransAm Section 3.  I will take a rest day here tomorrow.  I'm sitting on a bench outside the hostel at what used to be the Churchill School.  I'm waiting for Brian, the contact, to give me the keypad code so I can get in.

Today's route took me through Hell's Canyon and Hole in the Wall.  That's the way one gets to Oregon.

Tuesday, August 24, 2021 -- 21,501 km cum - 97 km/day

A good 60-mile day from Baker City to the USFS campground at Dixie Pass.  Nice spot, and I have it to myself.  But there are yellow jackets everywhere,  They seem to have been everywhere all along my route today.  What is it with yellow jackets in this part of Oregon?  They are swarming and bothersome.  Will they go away as the sun goes down?  At least they are not stinging.  Rather, they seem curious, like cats.

Wednesday, August 25, 2021 -- 21,591 km cum - 90 km/day

A good, downhill 56-mile day from the Dixie Pass campground to the Community Church hostel in Dayville.

It was quite chilly this morning, in the upper 30s for sure.  Got my usual late start after a camping night, but now there is no longer any reason for hurry.  It's time to slow down as journey's end becomes tangible.

Thursday-Saturday, August 26-28, 2021

Thursday -- 21,655 km cum - 64 km/day

Friday -- 21,766 km cum - 111 km/day

Saturday -- 21,840 km cum - 74 km/day

With two big climbing days as bookends and an easier day in the middle, I've had little time to write these three days.

Thursday was Dayville to Mitchell over the Keyes Creek Summit.  Between an almost all-day uphill and a respectable headwind, this pass was harder than I expected.

The tough day was more than made up for, however, by the hostel in Mitchell and by Josh.  This was easily the nicest hostel I have stayed at, and it would be easy to stay here for days.  That is what happened with Josh, who had already been there five days.  He has quite a life story.  He barely survived a skateboard accident in 2016 and has a titanium rod in his left leg that he nearly lost.  We shared life stories over dinner and breakfast the next morning.

Ochoco Pass was easier with a long downhill afterward, hence a longer mileage day to Smith Rock State Park near Terrebonne.  Still, I arrived late and cooked dinner (separate cooking area!) in the dark.  I got a very late 11:30 a.m. start in the morning.  Over breakfast I met/talked with a rock climber from New Zealand.

On Friday I climbed McKenzie Pass, my final pass of the Cascades and of my TransAm summer.  I am camped at the top at the (free!) USFS Lava Camp Lake Campground.  To my surprise, the campground was full when I arrived.  I am sharing a spot with Mark and Susan from Salem, OR.  My shower was a dip in the lake.

Sunday, August 29, 2021 -- 21,974 km cum - 134 km/day

Wow, an 84-mile day.  I haven't gone more than 80 miles in a day since Kansas.  And today's long ride was entirely unplanned.  My intent had been to ride half that distance and do a WS camping night in Nimrod.  I began to doubt that plan after talking to others at the McKenzie Pass campground.  They told me the area after McKenzie Bridge until Nimrod is still devastated from one of last year's wildfires.  Moreover, on weekdays Rt. 126 through the area is subject to partial closures and is ruled by logging trucks as the cleanup from the fire continues.

After descending from McKenzie Pass, I could see that my camping companions from McKenzie Pass were right.  Moreover, Rt. 126 is a thankless road for a cyclist even on a Sunday.  The fire devastation is everywhere, and the smell of smoke lingers in the air a year later.

Thus I decided to push all the way to Eugene.  I rolled into the city as the sun was sinking below the horizon and checked in at the Campus Inn.  This was one time on this trip when a quiet, solitary cheap motel room felt just right.

Tuesday-Wednesday, August 31 - September 1, 2021 -- 21,127 km cum - 153 km over two days

Just a 45-mile ride from Eugene to Corvalis on Tuesday, but even though it was flat, the ride was not the easy jog I had expected.  Why?  Headwind, of course.

I went to the bike shop in Corvalis to have my front wheel checked.  For a number of days it has been catching when I brake.  I had presumed it needed to be trued, but I was wrong.  The rim had been worn thin in one place and was getting ready to fail!  I bought a new front wheel but kept my Phil Wood hub for re-use later.

On Tuesday night I stayed with WS hosts Sam and Beth Stern.  What a delightful couple, both retired from Oregon State University.  They treated me to a home-cooked meal and a private bedroom.  Sam has bike toured extensively internationally.

Got a good early start on Wednesday, for me a rarity.  The wind still blew, and there were a few hills.  Still, today was easier than yesterday.

I'm staying at the Bunk House Hostel in Willamina, possibly my last hostel of this TransAm journey.  I have less than 150 miles to Astoria and am already seeing road signs for the Oregon coast.  I expect the reality of journey's end will hit me when I first see the Pacific.  That could be tomorrow.

Thursday, September 2, 2021 -- 22,234 km cum - 107 km/day

A wonderful 66-mile day.  At 1:45 p.m. I dipped my hands in the Pacific at Neskowin Beach and celebrated with a chocolate malt.  I then continued up the gorgeous Oregon coast.  I am camped tonight at a hiker/biker site at Cape Lookout State Park and can both see and hear the Pacific surf from my tent.

Friday, September 3, 2021 -- 22,300 km cum - 66 km/day

This was a short day by design to the Nehalam Bay State Park near Manzanita.  This is it, my last campground in Oregon.  Astoria is just over 40 miles away.  I could be there tomorrow, but my hotel reservation isn't until Monday.  (After all, this is Labor Day weekend.)  Thus I am on hold here in Nehalam for three nights.  Xi is flying in from Las Vegas and will share the camping and Astoria experience with me.

My journey is coming to its end.  I still have not taken that in fully.

Monday, September 6, 2021 -- 22,383 km cum - 83 km/day

A lovely 50-mile day brought me to the end of this TransAm summer.  I reached the end at the Marine Museum in Astoria at 5 p.m.  As at the start in Yorktown and at the terminus of the Northern Tier in Anacortes, there is nothing to mark the journey's end.  I would say it's disappointing, but then I catch myself.  It's not the beginning or end that's significant but the journey itself, the experience of the road and the people we meet along the way.  **That** is what these summers are about.

The last days were all the more joyful because of Xi.  She arrived at the Nehalam campground on Saturday afternoon and camped with me for two nights.  Long beach walks and campground meals were the order of the day.

Xi shadowed me in her rental car today, stopping at strategic points to film me as I went by, sometimes by air using her drone.  We stopped for a good lunch in Cannon Beach.  I thought of Angie as we did.  I know she loves Cannon Beach.

Xi and I are checked in at the Astoria Riverwalk Inn for three nights of luxury.  On Thursday she will take me to the Amtrak station in Portland as my journey home to Maine -- with stops in Seattle, Chicago, and DC -- begins.

Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial: Northwest Passage (Missive 10)

NOTE:  This is the tenth missive for Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial ride.  The ninth missive can be found at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/04/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial.html .  The tenth missive is at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/04/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial-my.html.

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Slideshow

A slideshow of photos from Idaho can be found at https://photos.app.goo.gl/AHomZ37C3rmk9BT89 .

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Missive No. 10:  Northwest Passage

Idaho proved to be my North Dakota surprise of 2021.  When I rolled into Fargo in summer 2020, my expectations were shaped by the Coan brothers movie Fargo.  I expected a dark backwater but instead found Fargo to be a hip, fun small city complete with a Jewish delicatessen that could hold its own with Manhattan's best.  The planes of North Dakota reminded me of Kazakhstan with abundant wetlands and wildlife.

Idaho destroyed my preconceived notions in a similar way with the beauty of its rivers and canyons and the sense of history and destiny at every turn.  Moreover, climate change took a break and gave me a week that was cool, even cold at night.  At Brownlee Pass I camped at a USFS campground with the sound of a rolling brook to lull me to sleep followed by light rain that continued through the night.  I had to pack up a wet tent in the morning but did so without complaint.  The night had been too pleasant.

This is supposed to be my travel journal, but it was hard not to think of Afghanistan this week.  Even as detached as I am from the news when pedaling forward, there was no keeping out this news.  Moreover, Kabul fell on August 15, the day that my birth certificate and passport affirm as my birthday.

The 100+ km ride down from Lolo Pass along the Lochsa River commemorates the Lewis and Clark expedition to the Pacific and also the doomed struggle of the Nez Perce to live as a free people.  The roiling river and rugged mountains on both sides fit with those stories of struggle.

As I reflected on this beauty and our troubled history, my mind traveled back to 1981.  On my way back from the Soviet Union to The Netherlands, I drove and camped along the road from Belgrade to Sarajevo.  The rugged mountains and roiling streams bear an uncanny similarity to my route in Idaho.  The beauty of that drive hid the tensions underneath that were about to erupt in the war over Bosnia as Yugoslavia disintegrated.

Afghanistan was on my mind in 1981.  In Moscow I saw many signs of the 1980 Olympics that the US boycotted in protest over the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.  Misha, the Olympic mascot, was still in evidence on signs, tshirts, and shopping bags.

Fast forward to 1988.  The widow of the former Pulkovo Observatory director had invited me and a few other friends to dinner at her apartment outside Leningrad.  (She happened to be American, a child brought by her parents to the Soviet Union in the 1930s to build a Ford Motor plant and then marooned in the USSR after her parents disappeared into the GULag.)  We broke from our dinner conversation to gather in front of the television as Gorbachev announced the Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan.  That momentous announcement fit with the exhilaration of a Soviet Union that was pursuing glasnost' and perestroika.

In the 2005 Russian movie 9-aia rota" (9th Platoon), an officer-historian tells the draftees that never, never has a military force succeeded in conquering and holding Afghanistan.  That same message is delivered in a longer version in the book The Great Game about the competition between the British and Russian Empires for control of Central Asia.  That lesson never left my mind even as I, a mid-level FSO, participated in our 2008-10 U.S. push for Uzbekistan to support the Northern Distribution Network for transporting supplies to our troops in Afghanistan.  I later stood on the Tajik side of the Panzh River that separates Tajikistan from Afghanistan.  The river was so narrow that I could have thrown a stone to the opposite bank.  I continued to wonder what would become of our nation-building on the other side.

Ironically, the socialist government in Kabul survived the Soviet withdrawal by several years.  The government supported by the US lasted only days.  Which country had the longer lasting influence?

Those were the thoughts going through my mind as I pedaled along the Lochsa River last Tuesday.  The parallels between past and present reverberated in my mind as I watched the beauty of the river and mountains that tell of our own troubled history here at home.  I wondered about the fate of the Afghan women who had signed on to the board of directors of the Central Asia Women and Water Network that I helped launch in 2016-17. . . .

Idaho provided a quiet stage of imposing beauty for such contemplation.  E-deprivation also contributed.  I had almost no cell service or Internet access from the time I crossed Lolo Pass out of Montana until I reached the other side of Hell's Canyon in Oregon.

I am writing today from Baker City, OR, on  my off, rest day.  I'm at a very hip bicyclist hostel in an arts venue founded by an artist couple transplanted here from Manhattan.  They also happen to be bicycle tourists of long standing.

568 miles, less than 1000 km, stand between me and journey's end in Astoria, OR.  My young friends Devin and Sarah with whom I rode for a day in Kansas are way ahead of me and should arrive in Astoria today.  Cathy and Richard have resumed their ride after taking a break for the birth of their granddaughter.  At last report, they are in Colorado, soon to cross into Wyoming.

I should roll into Astoria on September 6 +/- a  couple of days.  I remember the high passes in the Cascades in Washington State last year and will approach the Oregon Cascades with humility.  After several weeks of consistent 60-70 mile days, I will lower my aim to 50 mile days to allow for the passes.  It's also an intentional effort to hold on and savor the bike-packing feelings as my journey's end begins to take form in the Pacific mists.

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Daily Log 

 

Monday, August 16, 2021 -- 20,795 km cum - 96 km/day

I'm in Idaho and Pacific Daylight Time after a good 60-mile day.  I even had time to visit the AC headquarters in the morning before leaving Missoula.  Climbing to Lolo Pass and the Idaho border was not as hard as I expected.  I'm camped tonight at the Powell USFS campground.

I talked to USFS fire fighters at the top of Lolo Pass.  One of them from Kansas gave me a brownie for my birthday.

Kabul fell yesterday.  What a sad day, what an avoidable tragedy.  I find my mind wandering back to memories of travels in the Soviet Union in the 1980s and later to standing on the Tajikistan-Afghanistan border in 2015.

Tuesday, August 17, 2021 -- 20,905 km cum - 110 km/day

This was a downhill day, I had thought I would go further than Lowell, ID, but cool weather and rain, at times cold, changed my mind.  The same applied to my campling plans.  Instead, I'm at the Three Rivers Resort, which at $69/night qualifies as a cheap motel.  There is no cell service, WiFi, or TV.  I love it.

The weather did not diminish the beauty of today's ride along the Lochsa River.  It was one of the most unexpectedly beautiful days of this trip with vistas that brought back memories of my 1981 driving/camping trip from Belgrade to Sarajevo.  It's hard to believe that my drive across Yugoslavia happened 40 years ago this month.  Today I felt echoes of that trip in an earlier time across a country that no longer exists as one nation.

Wednesday, August 18, 2021 -- 21,018 km cum - 113 km/day 

A very good 70-mile day with two ascents and then a spectacular descent from White Bird Hill into the town of White Bird where I'm camped at Veterans' Park.

I met four cyclists going W-E.  It's mainly because of them that I pushed for White Bird.  I had expected to stop in Grangeville, but the other cyclists told me how White Bird goes all out for cyclists.  They were right.  The park even has electrical outlets and WiFi.

Thursday, August 19, 2021 -- 21,125 km cum - 107 km/day

A good but long 66-mile day from White Bird to New Meadows.  I got a late 11 a.m. start because I decided to patronize the local White Bird cafe for breakfast.  The laid back service crossed the line into downright slow.

Most of today's ride was along the Salmon River.  It was another incredibly scenic day, but the traffic along US 95 rather spoiled what otherwise would have been a dramatic impression.

The ride was uphill after Rawlins.  I arrived in New Meadows at 6:30 p.m. and caved for a cheap motel.  It's possible to camp even when arriving late, but it's not enjoyable.

Friday, August 20, 2021 -- 21,236 km cum - 109 km/day

A wonderful cycling day except for the horrible US 95 from New Meadows to Cambridge.  The 20-mile climb uphill from there to the Brownlee USFS campground was much nicer.  It's a quiet, secluded campground.  My shower was a dip in the creek.

Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial: Montana Reprise (Missive 9)

NOTE:  This is the ninth missive for Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial ride.  The eighth missive can be found at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/04/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial-on.html.  The tenth missive is at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/04/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial_18.html.

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Slideshow

A slideshow of photos from Wyoming can be found at https://photos.app.goo.gl/YdXAEYof3LEWszvT7 . 

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Missive No. 9:  Montana Reprise

I am sitting on the porch of the Shady Spruce Hostel in Missoula, MT, on my day off.  Following a full week of camping and basic town hostels after leaving West Yellowstone, I needed a day off to do laundry and recharge batteries, not to mention give a nod to the day that, according to my passport, is my 67th birthday.

The Shady Spruce Hostel is one block from the headquarters of Adventure Cycling, the organization that maps our routes and that I remember from 1976 as Bikecentennial.  Alas, I arrived in Missoula on the weekend to find the office closed.  The best I could manage was a few photos on the outside.

It has been a good week of cycling even if the western forest fires have made themselves increasingly felt.  Smoke is noticeably in the air, in places dimming the afternoon sun to give a light quality reminiscent of the minutes before totality in a total solar eclipse.  The mountain views are muted, at times obscured.  All sunsets are red.  Riding from Wisdom to Hamilton on Friday, I passed through the area where the Angle Fire has at times burned right up to the road.  The evidence of fire is there to be seen and smelled.

Montana is the first state on this year's journey that was also part of my Northern Tier route last year.  Montana is such a big state, however, that this reprise did not feel like a repeat.  My route north from Yellowstone to Missoula felt very different from last year's crossing of the Hi-Line and then of Glacier and points further west.

This week I passed through the touristy ghost towns of Virginia City and Nevada City, but then I found the real deal at Bannack, a true ghost town, Montana's first capital, that is preserved as a state park.  I camped there for the night and walked the silent streets as the reddening rays of the setting sun played on the hills and deepened the sense of history.  It was also the night of the Perseid meteor shower.  I woke myself at 4 a.m. to stand watch as five meteors crossed my field of view in ten minutes.

There were echoes of Lewis and Clark everywhere with markers describing the passage of the Corps of Discovery through this region in 1805-06.  I understand I will see still more as I cross into Idaho.

Of the campgrounds and hostels where I stayed this week, the most unusual was the county fairgrounds in Hamilton.  I camped right next to the horses and the main event grandstand.  My shower came courtesy of an outdoor hose.  (At Bannack, a creek flowing through the campground provided a similar service.)

My one moment of terror during the week came at the visitors' center at Lake Hebron, aka Earthquake Lake, the site of a major earthquake in 1958.  I had taken my photos and read all the historical signs.  Before continuing on, I took my AC map into my hands to look ahead for the next landmark along the route.  As I tried to fold the map, a strong wind whipped it out of my hands.  I dove and grabbed for the map twice only to have the wind blow it further out of reach.  Another strong guest took it over the railing and halfway down a rocky embankment to the road below.

Without my AC map, I am blind and clueless as to my route.  I cried out as loudly as I could, "Help!"

Five guys with motorcycles came to my rescue.  Four of them stayed with me at the railing while their friend rode his motorcycle down to the road below.  The guys on top kept throwing small stones at the map to dislodge it from a bush where it had become stuck.  When the map finally got about 3/4 of the way down to the road, the fifth motorcyclist scrambled up the rocks and grabbed it.  I was so, so relieved that I hugged all five of them.  I just regret that in my relief I failed to take a photo.

Another person who got a hug from me this week was the proprietor of the General Store in Wisdom.  When he saw the amount of food, water, and ice I planned to carry to the American Legion campground and hostel, he told me to forget it.  He delivered it all to me just minutes after I reached the hostel.  (BTW, my shower that night came courtesy of a hand pump and my cooking pot.)

Before I forget, Richard in West Yellowstone delighted me with his bike-packing stories.  His bicycle is, in essence, his primary residence on a journey that has crisscrossed most of the US.  We had a wonderful time conversing as we listened to his musician friend Billy entertain us and the Sunday evening tourists a week ago.

I have only one negative thing to say about this part of Montana, and it concerns the drivers.  I've had more blaring horns and shouts of "Get off the road!" here than anywhere else.  This being the official TransAm route, in places signed as USBR 76 with Share the Road signs, it could be that familiarity with bike-packing tourists breeds contempt.  All one can do is ignore the shouts and horns, be calm, and pedal on.

That's my Montana reprise story for 2021.  My journey is now more than 3/4 done with less than 1000 miles to go, but there are many more hills to climb before I reach journey's end in Astoria, OR.  The adventure continues tomorrow as I cross Lolo Pass into Idaho and the Pacific Time zone.

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Daily Log 

 

Monday, August 9, 2021 -- 20,251 km cum - 125 km/day

I'm camped tonight at a private campground in Ennis.

This should have been a relatively easy downward sloping day from West Yellowstone to Ennis, but it had its drama.  First, the wind was against me all along the shore of the Earthquake Lake.  What should have been an easy ride was a slog.

Second, I stopped at the Earthquake Visitors' Center some 30 miles into the ride.  After taking photos and reading the historical displays, I started to open my AC map to look at the rest of the day's route.  As I did, the wind whipped the map away from me.  I ran after the map but could not grab it before it went sailing over a railing and partway down a steep embankment.  I called out, "Help!"  

Four motorcyclists came to my rescue.  Three stayed with me at the railing while the fourth got on his motorcycle and went to the bottom of the embankment.  We at the top threw stones at the map until it dislodged from some rocks where it had become stuck.  When it fell far enough down the slope, the motorcyclist at the bottom scrambled up and retrieved it.  I don't know what I would have done without the help of these four young men on their motorcycles.  Without my AC map, I'm blind.  I'll be more careful with it from now on.

I met Richard on my day off in West Yellowstone.  He's a bike-packer who, in essence, lives on his bike and never stops travelling.  He introduced me to his musician friend Billy whose wife owns a small shop in West Yellowstone.  Richard and I sat and talked for a long time while listening as Billy played outside his wife's shop as customers and tourists passed by.

Tuesday, August 10, 2021 -- 20,324 km cum - 73 km/day

A short day by design from Ennis to Twin Bridges.  I climbed in the morning and then scooted downhill to Virginia City.  I spent some time in this restored gold rush city and enjoyed ice cream.

An anonymous someone paid for my breakfast this morning at Yesteryear's Cafe in Ennis.  Tonight I'm staying at the Twin Cities bike hostel.  Seems I will have it to myself.  No one else has rolled in so far.

I haven't heard from John in 24 hours.  That's not like him.  I'm a bit worried.

Wednesday, August 11, 2021 -- 20,414 km cum - 90 km/day

Turns out John put his phone in airplane mode and forgot about it.  That's all.  Crisis averted.

This was a good 56-mile day to the campground at Bannack State Park.  The afternoon was uphill over Badger Pass fighting a headwind all the way.  I admit to walking the final 2 km to the top.

Primitive camping is the watchword of the day.  Perseid meteors tonight.  Will I wake myself up to see them?

Thursday, August 12, 2021 -- 20,495 km cum - 81 km/day

This was a good 50 mile day from Bannack State Park to Wisdom.  I'm indoor camped at the American Legion campground/hostel.  I just took a shower at the hand pump using my pot to dump water over myself.

Yesterday evening I took a walk through the ghost town of Bannack near sunset.  It was the perfect time to get a sense of what life might have been like here 150 years ago in the Old West.  Unlike touristed Virginia City, Bannack is a true ghost town, a time capsule from the past.

I rose at 4:30 a.m. for the Perseids and saw 5 meteors in about 10 minutes.  Not bad for just standing and looking up.

Three was lots of smoke today from the several fires in the area, and the smoke likely will be worse tomorrow as I ride through the area of the Trail Creek Fire.

Friday, August 13, 2021 -- 20,620 km cum - 125 km/day

August 13 proved to be a good 77-mile day from Wisdom to the fairgrounds in Hamilton where I'm primitive camped for the night.  I hadn't intended to go this far, but after climbing through the fire zone in the morning, I was on a downhill run for the rest of the day.  Even a headwind didn't slow me much.  I lost over 3500 feet in altitude and felt hot for the first time since Pueblo.  I just took a cold shower with an outside hose, and my view is of the fairground horses on the other side of the fence.  The sunset this evening -- in spite of the fires or perhaps because of them -- is a magnificent red.

On to Missoula tomorrow!

Saturday, August 14, 2021 -- 20,699 km cum - 79 km/day

Today's was an easy 4-hour, 49-mile ride from Hamilton to Missoula even with a rest stop in Lolo.  Alas, the Adventure Cycling headquarters is closed for the weekend.  Aaron, passing by, took a few photos of me in front.  I bought a souvenir jersey at the Bike Hangar and then checked in at the Spruce Street Hostel and took a good shower.  I'm now doing laundry at the nearest laundromat.  It's hard to believe that it's already 7:30 p.m. given that I arrived at 2 p.m.

I checked my maps.  I have 987 miles to go to Astoria.  That's 20 days of riding at 50 miles/day.  It seems I may finish this journey after all.  That's saying something given how I almost abandoned right at the start after experiencing heat exhaustion on the ride from Williamsburg to Richmond.

Tomorrow, August 15, rings in my 67th year if my birth certificate is to be believed.  That's as good a reason as any for a day off in Missoula.  Last year I was in Sandpoint, ID, for my 66th.

Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial: On Wyoming Shoulders (Missive 8)

NOTE:  This is the eighth missive for Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial ride.  The seventh missive can be found at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/03/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial_26.html .  The ninth missive is at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/04/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial.html .

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Slideshow

A slideshow of photos from Wyoming can be found at https://photos.app.goo.gl/chRPiiwbGnAP884u9 . 

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Missive No. 8:  On Wyoming Shoulders

You were perhaps expecting a missive title extolling the Tetons, Yellowstone, buttes, and geysers?  Instead, I offer the shoulders of Wyoming's roads and highways as one of the wonders of the state.

Until now I had known only one state with shoulders that are consistent and wide.  That's Maryland, my home state for 25 years.  Maryland roads are a pleasure for cyclists.  Almost all roads have shoulders, and most of them are wide.  Cross the Potomac into Virginia, and there are none.  Maine is inconsistent on shoulder policy.  Some roads have them; most do not.  In my U.S. travels I have found Maryland to be unique.  Shoulders in most states either do not exist at all, are rendered unusable by rumble strips, or are too narrow for a cyclist to use safely.

Enter Wyoming.  As different as Maryland and Wyoming are in their politics, they have reached the same policy on shoulders.  In short, Wyoming roads are heaven for a cyclist.

Those wide shoulders allow a cyclist to relax and enjoy the views.  Southern Wyoming through Rawlins to Jeffrey City remind me of western Kazakhstan.  Both are arid with unusual geological formations.  As one continues north, the mountains come into view.  (Alas, the smoke from fires further west creates a haze that dims the view.)  Beyond Dubois one climbs the Togwotee Pass, which at 9658 feet is the second highest point on the TransAm.  Trees and green views return.  Nights and mornings are cold with temperatures dipping to 2-3C (upper 30s F).  I appreciated the cool weather clothes that Ellen and Ron held and mailed to me in Pueblo.

Finally one enters the Grand Tetons National Park.  The Tetons provide the most dramatic mountain views I have yet seen, more impressive even than the mountains of Kyrgyzstan.  Then there is Yellowstone with its geysers, canyons, and buffalo.  From my 3-4 days crossing the two parks, I know I want to return.  Yellowstone in particular requires more than just a few days to appreciate.

I'm happy that after a motel rest day in Rawlins, I camped or stayed in hostels for an entire week.  Finally I feel justified in having lugged my camping and cooking gear over the Blue Ridge, Appalachians, and Ozarks.  That includes my stovetop espresso maker.  (Hey, it weighs only 15 oz.!)

As usual, meeting new and old friends was just as exciting as the scenery and the challenges of bike-packing.  Alas, my Foreign Service friend Cheryl and I did not manage to meet up despite our best efforts as she supports her daughter and son-in-law on their Great Divide bike-packing journey, but my friend Lily from Maine wowed me by meeting me at the hostel in the ghost town of Jeffrey City.  She even brought me dinner.  Lily is trying to buy a motel in Wyoming and was an hour or so away from Jeffrey City when I got there.  I just had to take photos of me, Lily, and her dog Mickey next to her car with a Maine license plate in the middle of nowhere in a Wyoming ghost town.

As to that one-time church that is now a hostel in Jeffrey City, the walls are covered with bicycle graffiti and art.  When I found that someone from Maine had been there a few days before me, I added my own next to his.

In Lander I spent the night with Mike and Danine.  I had met Mike in Virginia in the early days of my trip just as he was coming to the end of his W-E trip.  He extended the invitation to me right then and there.

I shared the church hostel in Dubois with two backpackers and one bike-packer.  The highlight of that night came on the dancefloor as I went square dancing for the first time since I was 12.  The dance was happening at the barbecue restaurant where I shared a table with a couple and their friend.  After Frank danced with his wife, he grabbed my arm and said, "Now it's your turn!"  It was one of the most fun evenings of my trip.

As I entered the Grand Tetons NP, I got into conversation with Judy and her husband Frank (?) who gave me fruit and some salt tablets.  Frank, it turned out, had been with the ExIm Bank, and I related my experience as Econ Officer in Tashkent.

At the campground in Grant Village in Yellowstone, I met Estefania and also Joy and her husband.  It all started when a car pulled up to my hiker/biker site.  Joy, the driver, asked if I was Estefania.  Joy and her husband are WS hosts from MI who are working at Yellowstone for the summer, and Estefania had written to them that she would be arriving that evening.

An hour or so later when it was already getting dark, I saw a bicycle light coming up the road.  I called out, "Estefania?"  She stopped, surprised, and I told her that Joy had been looking for her.  I had just finished cooking dinner and invited her to share it.  Good thing we did.  Just as we were finishing, the sky opened up on us.  We threw the leftover food and stove into the bear locker and ourselves into our respective tent and bivvy.

The storms continued through the night.  Estefania is a medical student with a deadline and opted to push on when the rain began to let up late morning.  I, with no deadline -- the joys of retirement -- called it a day and remained in Grant Village.  Joy and her husband took me on a short hike through one of the geyser fields and then invited me to their RV for dinner.

My final day in Yellowstone took me to Old Faithful and the historic inn next to it.  I admit to a child's thrill at watching Old Faithful erupt.  I recalled watching the Ken Burns series on the national parks when I was posted to Tashkent in 2008-10, filled then with the hope and wish that one day I would visit our parks.  On this year's trip and last year's, that wish is coming true. 

Today is my rest and laundry day at a cheap motel outside the park in West Yellowstone.  (Cheap in West Yellowstone means nearly $200/night, on the level of Ocean City, MD, and similar resort towns.)  I have just over 1300 miles to go before reaching my end point in Oregon.  One sign of the approaching end is that people who ask where I am going actually know where Florence and Astoria, OR, are.

That's my story from Wyoming shoulders with journey's end no longer far over the horizon.

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Daily Log 

 

Thursday, July 29, 2021 -- 19,444 km cum - 113 km/day

An excellent 70 mile day from Walden, CO, to Saratoga, WY.  I had breakfast in Walden together with Blaise before we headed our separate ways.  Tim caught up with me in Riverside, WY, where we both stopped for snack breaks.  Tim decided to go on with me the additional 18 miles to Saratoga.  We are at the Episcopal church together with Jason and Kelly.  I showered at Ho Bo Hot Springs and had dinner at The Fireeater, where it turned out that my waitress is Ukrainian.  A good day.

I will have to start early tomorrow.  Rain is in the forecast for the afternoon.

Friday, July 30, 2021 -- 19,516 km cum - 72 km/day

By design today's was a short 45-mile ride from Saratoga to Rawlins and a rest day.  Even so, I was pretty amazed to roll into Rawlins before noon after a four hour ride that included a rest stop in Wolcott.  The ride from Saratoga to Wolcott was scenic and easy with a tailwind on a road with little traffic.  I was going 32 km/hour for long stretches with little effort.  The section from Wolcott to Rawlins was harder with the wind against me.  The portion from Wolcott to Sinclair was on I-80, but half of that was on the closed dead lane.  It was particularly nice to ride on this newly paved half of the Interstate and have it entirely to myself.  This was one of those rare instances in which road maintenance works to the advantage of cyclists.

Rest day has arrived!

Saturday, August 1, 2021 -- 19,632 km cum - 116 km/day

I think this was the best riding day yet, over 70 miles in only six hours from Rawlins to the ghost town of Jeffrey City.  The roads were wonderful on easy terrain with a breeze that was more a tailwind than a crosswind.  The landscape was reminiscent of the ND Badlands last year, marred only by haze from the fires further west.

Best of all, my bike-packing friend Lily from Maine came down to meet me in Jeffrey City.  She is in WY and SD in search of a motel to buy, and she drove all the way from Thermopolis.  I don't have words for my joy in seeing a familiar face so from home.  It was Lily who together with Ellen saw me off from the Brunswick Amtrak station on May 14.  Lily even brought dinner with her from Thermopolis.

I'm at the church-hostel for the night.  The walls are covered with wonderful bicycle grafiti.  I'm no artist, but I'll have to add something.

My rest day in Rawlins was a good one.  I went to the Lions' Club pancake breakfast and then went to the parade opening the Carbon County Fair.  After this I wrote my latest missive and postcards while sitting on a bench on Front Street.  I finished the day with a tour of the Wyoming Frontier Prison.  All I can say about that is freaky!  I'm glad I didn't have nightmares afterward.

Monday-Tuesday, August 2-3, 2021

-- Monday:  19,732 km cum - 100 km/day (to Lander)

-- Tuesday:  19,857 km cum - 125 km/day (to Dubois)

These were good 62 and 78-mile days.  I spent Monday night with Mike Lowhan -- whom I met as a W-E cyclist in Virginia -- and his wife Danine.  I took them out to dinner -- the least I could do -- and then had a luxurious, restful night in their guest bedroom.

Before going to Mike and Danine's house, I spent a good couple of hours at the bike shop in Lander.  I replaced the chain and bought a new helmet.  (A part of the tensioning harness in the old helmet had broken.)  I enjoyed talking with Jen and mechanic Frank while downing a free ice cream and beer in that order.

I got going at 7:30 a.m. after coffee with Mike and started a long uphill day.  Tonight I'm at the Episcopal church hostel in Dubois together with two backpackers -- one of them a solo woman from Japan -- and Luke, another E-W TransAm cyclist.

Tomorrow the climb gets steeper over the Togwotee Pass.

PS -- I unexpectedly ended up at a square dance when looking for dinner.  I hooked up there with a group at a shared table and had a wonderful time dancing with Frank.  When I returned to the hostel, everyone was jealous.

Wednesday, August 4, 2021 -- 19,968 km cum - 111 km/day

I'm in Grand Teton National Park!  A dream from watching the Ken Burns National Park documentary over a decade ago is coming true.  Tonight I'm camped at Cotter Bay Village on Jackson Lake.  The air is hazy from the fires further west, but the mountains are still immense and impressive.  I hope to see more in the morning.

I was at the top of Togwotee Pass by 1 p.m. and did not need to dismount at any point.  The traffic here was much less intimidating than on the way up to Hoosier Pass.  I had several nice conversations along the way, especially with Frank and Judy when I first entered Grand Teton NP.  They live in Oregon, but Frank used to work for ExIm Bank.  I shared with him a few of my stories from my two years as economic officer at the Embassy in Uzbekistan.

Thursday, August 5, 2021 -- 20,039 km cum - 71 km/day

A lovely short day by design from Cotter Bay to Grant Village in Yellowstone.  Yes, I'm in Yellowstone!  Gorgeous views all along the way during today's ride.  I actually like the road in Yellowstone because it has no shoulder at all.  Lane positioning and lane control are the rule of the day.  That's how I like it.  There is no muddled confusion about whether a cyclist should be on a sub-standard shoulder.  The travel lane is the only place to be.

I stayed at Cotter Bay late to do a short day hike.  The Tetons are the most spectacular mountains I have ever seen.  The views are incredible.

I cooked dinner at my campsite this evening and actually have someone to share it with.  Stefania from Mexico just rode in and is setting up camp next to me as it starts to rain.  This evening I also met Joy, a WS host from Michigan who is working at Yellowstone this summer together with her husband.

Saturday, August 7, 2021 -- 20,126 km cum - 87 km/day

It stormed all night at Grant Village and on into the morning.  One look at the sky was enough for me to call it a day before the day had even started.  I returned to the check-in booth and paid for another night at Grant Village.  (Stefania, who has a deadline to get back to medical school, rode out in the rain in the late morning.)  In the afternoon I went on a short day hike with Joy and her husband, after which they had me over for dinner.

Today I got a really late start, almost noon.  Everything was still soaking wet from yesterday's rains, and it took forever to dry out my tent and gear even with the sun.  Despite the late start, the ride was a good one.  I got to see Old Faithful and two buffalo in the wild.  At the same time, I feel a twinge of sadness.  There is so much of Yellowstone to see, and I just experienced a sliver as I rode through.  Perhaps one day I should return like Joy and her husband to work as part of the summer staff?

I'm checked in for tonight and tomorrow night at Al's Westward Ho Motel in West Yellowstone.  It's a cheap motel at $190/night.  For West Yellowstone, that's cheap.  Ouch.

I crossed into Montana just outside Yellowstone.  For the first time on this trip, I'm in a state I was in last year on the Northern Tier.

Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial: Rocky Mountain High (Missive 7)

NOTE:  This is the seventh missive for Robyn's 2021 TransAm Bikecentennial ride.  The sixth missive can be found at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/03/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial.html . The eighth missive is at https://attitude-maneuver.blogspot.com/2022/04/robyns-2021-transam-bikecentennial-on.html .  

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Slideshow

A slideshow of photos from Colorado can be found at https://photos.app.goo.gl/d9PXchTT4rMUoiu39 . 

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Missive No. 7:  Rocky Mountain High

I found myself humming and singing that classic John Denver song much of last week.  Well, to be precise, I hummed and sang when not huffing and puffing uphill.

The climbing started as soon as I finished my last day off in Pueblo, CO, where I got to see my nephew and his two children.  (They live in Colorado Springs.)  The uphill from Pueblo to Canon City was mild, but already the weather was changing with altitude.  Although storms greeted me as I reached Canon City, I could sense the air was drier.  As the rain continued, I spent the night in the dormitory of what used to be a private school on the grounds of a now defunct Benedictine abbey.  A number of summer interns with the Bureau of Land Management were staying there as well, and I ended up as part of their cookout and conversation late into the evening.

I got an early start the next morning for what I knew would be all-day climb to Guffey with more storms predicted for the afternoon.  I had called ahead to the hostel to make sure I could stay for the night, but I was nevertheless surprised when, with about six miles to go, a vehicle going the other way slowed down.  The woman at the wheel was Cindy.  Bill, who has managed the hostel since 1976, feared I would get caught in the storms and had sent Cindy to intercept me.

The hostel in Guffey is unforgettable.  Primitive with no running water, it was also one of the most enjoyable places I have stayed on this trip.  The bunkhouse is the old assayer's office from gold rush days.  It brought back good memories of Potomac Appalachian Trail Club (PATC) cabins I have rented through the years.  Bill's garage is not so much a garage as a museum timepiece that combines a Colorado past with a more recent 1960s summer of love.  The same could be said of the entire small town.  The mayor of Guffey is a cat.  I'm not kidding.

The next day's riding from Guffee was to die for, one gorgeous alpine meadow or mountain view after another, a true Rocky Mountain high.  I arrived in Fairplay just as the town festival in honor of Prunes the Donkey was ending.

I knew the ride from Fairplay through Alma to Breckinridge would be one of the most difficult yet.  The route passes over the Continental Divide at Hoosier Pass, which at 11,500 (~3700 meters) is higher than I had ever been.  I was not disappointed as to difficulty, but the issue was not so much the steep grade as it was the heavy, 65mph traffic on a two lane road with no shoulder.  Going uphill at best at 5-6mph, I soon decided I would be better off pushing Woodswoman uphill at 3-4mph on the dirt track beside the road.  This Effective Cyclist who says she's ready to ride on any road finally threw in the towel.  I kept thinking how in eastern states this mountain road would have had a speed limit of 35mph with occasional speed humps.  Coming down the other side of the pass to Breckinridge was quite another matter.  Going 25mph or more, I fully took the lane, stopping from time to time to let my rims cool.

Breckinridge is a ski resort town that is just as popular in the summer as in winter.  Although beautiful, it has resort prices and was therefore just a lunch stop.  I continued on to a USFS campground on Dillon Reservoir just beyond Frisco for a primitive camping night.

Beyond Silverthorne the views change from alpine to arid as one loses altitude, but scenic views return beyond Hot Sulphur Springs.  The route here passes through two national forests and a second crossing of the Continental Divide at Willow Creek Pass on a road with little traffic.  A major fire happened here last October, and the evidence is still everywhere to be seen.  A fire must have been in progress somewhere nearby as I rode through, as I watched helicopters carrying water bladders cross the ridge and return with their bladders empty.

I spent my last night in Colorado camped at the city park in Walden together with Blaise and Tom.  Blaise is riding the TransAm W-E, and Tom is riding his own route.  The next morning I crossed into Wyoming for the first time in my life and spent the night at the St. Barnabas Episcopal Church in Saratoga.  I am writing this on my rest day in Rawlins, WY, where I just went to a Lions Club pancake breakfast and watched the parade opening the Carbon County fair.  I've earned a day of rest.

And now for some news about my occasional bicycling companions.  Cathy and Richard took a break for the birth of their granddaughter but are preparing to resume their trip from where they left off in Kansas.  Devin and Sarah are about three days ahead of me now (youth!) but keep sending me intelligence on what to expect further down the road.  Amanda and her brother Addison are even further ahead than that.

In addition to Blaise and Tom, this week I met Cristina and Anya, a mother-daughter pair who are riding W-E.  Along the road from Guffey I met Monte Lowrence, author of Wide Hips, Narrow Shoulders about his bike-packing journey through all 48 lower U.S. states.  Later, during a snack break, I met a 71-year-old cyclist who has bike-packed in Africa and all the way to the southern tip of South America.  (Ron and Ellen:  Made me think of you.)  My travels along the TransAm and the Northern Tier are tame by comparison.

How much of the TransAm still lies ahead of me?  I haven't totalled things up officially, but I think I have about 1700 miles to go.

That's my news for this missive.  It has been a wonderful week of riding through gorgeous country with kind, helpful people.  The heat and humidity of Kansas are but a memory, and Wyoming now beckons me onward.

And if anyone reading this does not know that John Denver song, here you go:  https://youtu.be/eOB4VdlkzO4

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Daily Log 

 

Monday, June 19, 2021 -- 18,668 km cum - 174 km/day

106 miles from Scott City, KS, to Eads, CO.  I'm in Colorado and the Mountain Time zone.  Moreover, in Eads there is a sign proclaiming the mid-point of the TransAm.  I am officially halfway between Yortown, VA, and Astoria, OR.

I hadn't intended to go so far or so long today.  I had expected to go only 78 miles to Sheridan Lakes, KS.  What happened was Devin Leadbetter and his friend Sarah.  They caught up with me when I stopped to talk with an eastbound cyclist near Leoti.  Like Amanda and her brother whom I met in Missouri, they are on a tight schedule to complete the TransAm before the end of August.  As young people, they have school and work commitments.  They had also left from Scott City this morning and were intent on a long day.  They inspired me to push on.  We cycled together most of the day and are together for a motel night in Eads where there is, finally, good beer.  We just had a good evening together at the motel lounge and snack bar.

Overall, this was a long but wonderful record-setting day!

Tuesday, July 20, 2021 -- 18,772 km cum - 104 km/day

A good 65 mile ride from Eads to Ordway, but I miss Sarah and Devin.  We had breakfast together, but then they were off, intent on making it all the way to Pueblo.  After yesterday, my goal for today was more modest.

I am camped tonight at the city park in Ordway.  Conditions are primitive -- i.e., port-a-potty and cold water from a spigot.  Tomorrow I will go in the opposite direction and choose luxury in Pueblo.

Wednesday, July 21, 2021 -- 18,857 km cum - 85 km/day

I'm in Pueblo after an easy 53 mile ride from Ordway.  Today's highlight was a stop in Olney Springs where I met the mayor and a local artist, one of them Arapaho and the other Iroquois, transplants to here from Ohio and Pennsylvania.  I was quite impressed by the artist.

I arrived in Pueblo by 1:30 p.m.  I stopped first at the local bike shop to give Woodswoman a quick go-over before I go further.  All, thankfully, is in order.  Janet fixed the weird way in which the bike shop in Maryland installed the rear fender.

I also went to the post office.  The box of supplies from Ellen and Ron was waiting for me.

I checked in at the Marriott and am now at an Irish pub.  36 hours of luxury and bliss!

Friday, July 23, 2021 -- 18,940 km cum - 83 km/day

Just a 52 mile day, but this was my first climbing day since Missouri.  The 30+ miles from Pueblo to Wetmore were largely uphill.  I experienced again the optical illusion I remember from last year.  At times I wonder why I am going so slowly on what seems to be flat or downhill terrain when, in fact, I am on an uphill incline.

I drank most of my water and Gatorade by the time I reached Wetmore.  With no convenience store in town, I stopped at the post office for water.  Fortunately the route was largely downhill after that from Wetmore to Florence.

It started to shower while I was at the convenience store in Florence.  I abandoned camping thoughts and am instead at what was once the Holy Cross Academy in Canon City.  It feels right to be here.  It used to be a Benedictine Abbey and private school.  I'm in a dorm room for $40.  That's pricey compared with most hostels, but oh well.  I'm out of the rain.

There are a number of young interns from the Bureau of Land Management who are staying here also.  I had a good time in the evening talking about Russian history and nuclear issues with Joshua and David.

All-in-all, this was a good day!

Saturday, July 24, 2021 -- 18,985 km cum - 45 km/day

This was an unexpectedly short, 28-mile day.  It should have been 34-35 miles, but Bill, who runs the bike hostel in Guffey, was worried I would be caught in storms and sent out his friend Cindy to intercept me when I was still 6-7 miles from town.  I wasn't going to say no to these good people who had gone out of their way in their concern for me.  (FWIW, I think I would have made it under my own power before any rain started.)

I will admit it was quite a climbing day.  Canon City is at about 5500 feet.  Guffey is at 8500.

The hostel and Bill himself are the epitome of hippie eclectic.  No showers or running water here.  Guffey itself was once a gold town.  The hostel is in what had been the assayer's office at one time.  The mayor is a cat!  (I'm not kidding!)

Sunday, July 25, 2021 -- 19,061 km cum - 76 km/day

A wonderful day.  Slept beautifully in the bunkhouse at the Guffey hostel and was up at 5:00 a.m.  Made coffee on my camp stove and had a breakfast of cereal, fruit, and hard boiled eggs.

I rode out of Guffey at about 8:30 a.m.  There was still some climbing to do to reach Current Creek Pass, but it was nothing like yesterday.  From there the ride was more down than up all the way to Hartsel with gorgeous alpine views all along the way.  Some six miles from Hartsel I met Monte Lawrence from Fairplay who bike-packed through all 50 U.S. states.  (NOTE:  Later read his book Wide Hips and Narrow Shoulders about his experiences.)

Took a snack break in Hartsel and then continued on to Fairplay.  That part of today's ride was not nearly as pleasant.  The traffic is heavier on a 65 mph road with no shoulder, just the conditions that cyclists love.

I arrived in Fairplay at about 2:30 p.m. and checked into the Western Inn, the town's cheap motel at $120/night.

I walked around town in the later afternoon while talking with John by phone.  Fairplay is largely a touristy restoration of a western town, but it has character.  This weekend was the annual Burro Days celebration of Prunes the Burro, the town legend.

On to Hoosier Pass tomorrow!

Monday, July 26, 2021 -- 19,123 km cum - 62 km/Days

This was a short 39-mile day by design because of Hoosier Pass, but it was still longer than the 22 miles recommended by the TransAm handlebar guide.  I **did** push Woodswoman 4 miles on the climb up to Hoosier Pass, but I have no regrets.  The issue was not the grade.  Rather, riding 4-5 miles/hour in a traffic lane with heavy 65-70 mph trucks and RVs is more than even this committed effective cyclist is willing to endure.  Better to walk along the edge or on the dirt shoulder at 3-4 mph and enjoy the spectacular views.

Coming down the other side wasn't as bad on the brakes and rims as I had expected.  I stopped and rested only 3-4 times.  I was in Breckenridge by 12:30 p.m. and decided I could go further.

I am camped tonight at the Hawthorne USFS campground near Silverthorne.  It's a primitive campground, but the price was right at $13.  This is a resort/tourist area, and even the cheap motels are over $100/night.  I'll alternate every few days so that I can do laundry and become human.

All in all, this was a very good day!

Tuesday, July 27, 2021 -- 19,220 km cum - 105 km/day

As usual, I got a late post-camping-night start, but nevertheless this was a good 65-mile day to the Canyon Motel in Hot Sulphur Springs.  Along the way I met Chris and Anya, a mother-daughter pair who are riding the TransAm W-E.  Later, in Heney, I shared a snack break with Tim, a 70+ year old cyclist who is improvising his own route.  Like Ron Enders, he seems to have bike-packed everywhere, including in Africa and all the way to the tip of South America.  Makes me feel like a rank beginner.

The terrain has changed from the Alpine of the past few days to more arid with sparse vegetation.  Still, the views are beautiful.

Wednesday, July 28, 2021 -- 19,331 km cum - 103 km/day

A good 60+ mile day up and over Willow Creek Pass.  At 9600 feet, it was a much easier climb than Hoosier because it was on a road with little traffic.  Wonderful!  And then it was largely downhill the rest of the day.

Much of the morning's ride was in Arapaho National Forest, which experienced one of the big western fires last October.  The hills are covered with burned tree skeletons.  I think there must have been fire activity somewhere even today, as I watched a helicopter carry a water bladder over a ridge several times and return with it empty.

I am camped tonight at the city park in Waldon.  Tim, a TransAm sectional rider, and Blaze, a W-E rider, are camped here also.  For $5 I had a nice shower at the city pool.

A good day!  Wyoming tomorrow :) .