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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.
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