August 7 (Salt Lake City to Ogden, UT, 44.35 miles) Salt Lake City - Kaysville - Ogden. In the morning Elizabeth offered to heat up some left over breakfast burritos to fuel me up before I went on my way. As we ate, I told her my plan which was contingent on repairing my bicycle. I was grateful for the food and bid her farewell thanking her for her hospitality.
This morning when I left I stopped by the Salt Lake shop again to see if they can determine what is wrong with my rear tire. The lady who worked on it for me consulted her fellow mechanics including an older guy who seemed to be there awhile and know what he's talking about. Yet again, they inspected the tire and tube and inner workings of the wheel thoroughly but couldn't find a thing. All they could do is change the tube even when I told them what the problem was. I was furious. I can change a tube until my hands turn blue - what I needed to know, and know now was why I keep getting flats. Without having success, I bought a few gels and patch kits and rode out of the city.
I rode by
the Mormon Temple, massive in scope, large and beautiful. Why can't a church that exonerates Jesus Christ the Messiah be this elaborate? That's right, the church is the people of God, believers, followers of Christ rather than a building. We don't need a building to show our love of God and what we can accomplish. We are the Church with Christ as the Head. Bingo.
As I locked my bike up outside a Ranchero Market, I went inside for a few minutes to see if there was anything that I couldn't live without. I almost purchased a few things, but in the end decided to leave. A few minutes later I came out and saw my frame pump missing. I was stunned and shocked. I quickly called the bike shop I had left to ask them if I had left it there. It wouldn't hurt. It was worth a try. I am usually very darn careful with stuff like this - and nothing has been stolen before except my last pump when my bike was parked at my home church last winter. I was angry, I was rattling the poles my bike was locked to. A fellow bicyclist was getting his bike ready to leave and looked over at me. I told him my pump was just stolen and he just shrugged and said yah, can't trust anybody here. This is Salt Lake City. Damn Mormons. Excuse my language, but I was furious. I was confused about what to do next. A bicycle traveler is one of the most vulnerable people out there. A bike pump is his lifeline. Without a pump, even with patches and tubes, it would be impossible to fix a flat. And my tires were already on the fritz. I had no choice but to continue on my path...and by that I meant the next bike path - for there were a lot of them. Great thing about this place - Salt Lake to Ogden, miles and miles of paths...
As I pedaled along, I was silent. My surroundings went on making noise, but my mind was silent. I heard God whisper, "Where are My praises?" It was hard - it was all I could do to silently utter, "You are LORD of Creation...LORD of my life..." my words trailed off. I pedaled to Ogden...or at least towards it. Surprise! My brand new tube is flat again! - about 15 miles from the city of Ogden. I just knew this was going to happen and yet, even though I have a new tube or two, I have no pump to pump it up with. This just sucks. I've come this far - after all I've been through, my pump is stolen. From now on, I will take more precautions about the security of my gear no matter the location...that is if I get out of this predicament. The good thing was, I was on a bike path in mid-day. There was bound to be other bicyclists in this area. And sure enough there was. A guy by the name of A.J. stopped. He was doing a bunch of intervals before he met his wife for dinner. He was decked out in spandex and racing gear. He sure seemed like he was the real deal - knew what he was talking about. Sure enough, he did. I told him my story and how the bike shops I've been to were helpless. He told me he does his own maintenance and is quite the mechanic himself when it comes to bicycles. With that, he quickly assisted me and took of my tire and instantly found the defect in my tire - something that the bike shops could not, or would not find. It was a part of the rim. Sometimes the inner rim has a slight poke through the tube, making each time you install a new one, an instant flat, or at least a small leak, as in this case. He told me to go to Kaysville, about 7 miles from here. They have the closest bike shop - Bountiful Bikes. Ask for Casey and tell him A.J. sent you. He's the mechanic. Ask him to put some velox rim tape, or something similar. I can't remember what type he asked for. Anyway, that's what I need, some new rim tape and I should be good to go.
At Bountiful Bikes, even though they were about to close, I fixed my tube, got some rim tape installed while I chatted with the employees who were impressed at my journey. I stocked up on some gel and tubes and was on my way - back on the bike path going north. The sky began to darken and I pedaled fast as I saw a storm brewing - dark clouds and the wind was picking up fast. I pulled into a Maverick gas station just before it began to dump buckets of water and howl with wind. I ate some food and waited, just staring out at the wet mess, hoping to God that it would pass quickly. I didn't have long to go until Ogden where a WS host was waiting. The temperatures were dropping and I took the opportunity to bundle up and pull on my wool buff over my head. People came and went through the store without even a glance at me shivering to the side. And when they did glance, they probably thought I was an idiot on a bicycle in this weather. One person did talk to me. All he said was that I must hate this weather considering what I'm doing - or something to that effect.
Enter Troy and Laurie - God sent me two more angels. They got out of their car and asked where I was headed and offered me there place to get dry before they take me to Ogden. This is what happened: They were at the Maverick and saw me miserable in the rain. They both felt they should help me out. They drove home and attached their bike rack and headed back hoping I was still there. When I was, they offered to take me and my bike to their place, a few miles away to get dry, shower, do laundry and wait out the storm. I obliged and was more than grateful for their kindness. After I showered and put a load of laundry in, they fed me and gave me a bunch of snacks for the road. Troy even gave me a CO2 pump and cartridges because my pump was stolen. He offered me some old bike gloves of his but they were too small. I had some good gloves anyhow. Troy was a bicyclist himself so he wanted to help me out as much as he could. On top of all that they gave me $25.00 cash for other emergencies to help out even though I told them I had enough money. They have young children, one of which I met, a daughter who Laurie had to pick up from dance practice or something. They are amazing people - so generous and hospitable. Although, they did tell me they were "unbelievers." I had mentioned that once my pump was stolen at church. They asked what religion I was and began to tell me that they were nonreligious but that's okay. They don't judge anyone and everyone believe something, religion is just not for them and it's okay if I'm a Christian, a follower of Christ. I thought about that later - how can someone so nice, so generous and compassionate not know Christ. After all, didn't God send them to my aid? They certainly were angels in disguise.
We talked more and more - mostly about my adventure and the reason behind it. They certainly thought I was an inspiration and were impressed at my endeavor. Why would I do such a thing? They had a hard time believing the reason was just for adventure or "
because it's there." Not just anyone does this thing. I told them of the warmshowers community and they thought that they ought to look into that. It would give them an opportunity to meet some travelers like me. I would've stayed the night, but I told them I had a host in Ogden. The only problem was, and the reason I stayed so late with them is that my host, or rather his roommate wouldn't be home until 10:00pm. He set me a text a little earlier saying he is finally home. My laundry finished and the nice couple drove me to Ogden.
Cordell, whose house was shared by several guys was a nice man with blond curly hair - reminded me of a surfer. Wished he was available more, but he had to sleep and rise early for work. He apologized for the absence of his roommate suddenly. He was the cyclist and would've loved to meet me. He gave me the five cent tour and left me to my own devices...aka, bed.
August 8 (Ogden to Malad City, Idaho, 86.05 miles) Ogden - Bringham City - Malad City, Idaho. I was praying that my tire was up to par this morning. Quickly I ate breakfast Cordell provided and headed out the door with him as he went to work. I checked my tire and swore under my breath because my tube was again flat. I changed my tube and used one of my CO2 cartridges for the first time. This was enough to get to a bike shop. But just like the others they could not find what was wrong - so I my journey continues...
At this point I was unsure of my route. I had changed it like 5 times already. I eventually decided to just head north and figure it out once I cross into Idaho. I had to head up there eventually. I rode through the congestion to Bringham City...almost to the border. I picked a spot across into Idaho to shoot for: Malad City. The problem was I wasn't sure of any camping or host opportunities. Neither did I know of a sure route west from there and how to avoid the interstate. All it seems like there was was Interstate and gravel roads through the desert.
In the evening I rode into Malad City, Idaho and walked around at night. I bought some snacks at a gas station until they kicked me out when they closed. I sat outside a Subway and wrote in my journal for awhile. There was a truck that would drive the main drag yipping and hollering constantly, screeching their tires. That was annoying. I didn't have anywhere to stay tonight and wasn't even sure where to go tomorrow. There was a town to the west that I was sure I could get to on paved roads, but that would have to wait. I found a city park with a small baseball diamond that I was going to sleep in, but as I pulled in, the automatic sprinklers kicked in and nearly soaked me. This whole town or even this whole area seemed to have automatic sprinklers. They aren't very compassionate. That's for sure. No one who saw me walking around with a loaded bicycle wanted to help out. I was alone and needed some rest. People are so at odds with travelers. I wish that wasn't the case. "There's no room for me in the Inn," as it were. I waited until midnight before I logged my day's miles and moved on. I found the way out of town and decided to begin my journey west seeing no plausible place to bed for the night in Malad City. I shook my dust off my shoes...and walked my bike up the hill in the dark and cold...
August 9 (Malad City to Hayburn RV Park, Burley, ID, 98.57 miles) Malad City - Snowville, UT - Malta - Burley, Idaho. In the wee hours of the morning I found myself walking my bike up a huge hill that seemed never to end. This lead to a summit out of town. In the night it was hard to make perspective out of anything. I was cold and tired - very tired. It was hard to keep my eyes open and to walk straight. I even laid my bike down and slept in the ditch a few times as I shivered. But still I couldn't get any sleep due to shivering and uncomfortability of ditches - also wondering what passing cars would've thought. I didn't really want people to stop wondering what I was up to. I was making progress slowly. Exhausted was I. It was a leery feeling making my way in the pitch darkness. A few moments I heard some wild animals and some such moments heard footsteps running towards me. I ran my bike as fast as I could - my heart beating so fast - there's more than one way to warm up haha. I shined my headlight right at a canine in the middle of the road. He stopped in his tracks before running off and giving me a freight.
The sun came up and the end of the hill approached - heading west to the small town of Holbrook. From there, Google would've taken me on gravel roads for 20-30 miles before I entered Malta. I started down the road before I turned around and rethought this - I would have NONE OF IT. I was sick of gravel, sick of rumble strips and sick of cattle guards. Damn you Google! I have lost my faith in you. In the end I chose to head for Snowville, Utah where I knew there was a truck stop. This was a little out of my way, but I believe from there I can ride on paved roads...I arrived in Snowville, restocked at the truck stop. From Snowville I took 30, then 42 and the road to Malta on the other side of I-84. Southern Idaho seems to be filled with nothing but freeways and gravel roads. This is a different desert, but it's still desert.
Along the way I got a rear flat and was forced to use my last CO2 cartridge. Now I'm officially out of CO2 and patches. I was at the mercy of strangers...I am 15 miles or so from Malta and it is flat - but I had nothing to do but walk. At long last comes a pick up truck with a guy who gave me a lift into Malta. It would've been a few hours before I reached it anyhow. That wasn't my ultimate destination, but that's all he could do for me. There is never a shortage of angels. Sometimes they are hard to find or come, but when you have faith, come they do. God never leaves His children alone to wither. In Malta, I needed to find air! I was trying this vending machine that wasn't working for me when an old an across the street yelled to me, "If that doesn't work, I've got some soda if you want." I couldn't really see him, but I walked across and gladly accepted his diet Pepsi and frozen water bottle! Thirst quenchers - nothing like them! And apparently, he has the only air in town. The town isn't that big, but I'm lucky he showed up when he did. I had one good tube left and changed it. I hope this helps.
I was in contact with Clint, the only WS host in Burley, Idaho. He was unavailable to host currently due to family issues, but he had asked me when I was getting to town. At that time I was about 15 or 20 miles away on Hwy 30 when I had to walk due to my millionth flat. I've lost count at this point! Believe it or not I've carried most of my old tubes with me as well as my two defective tires in my backpack just for the heck of it. Out of frustration I told Clint in a text that since I have to walk it would be about 1 in the morning before I arrived. A few minutes passed and I got a text from him saying he would come and get me. I told him of my location and kept walking west on 30. He saved my bacon big time! His first initial thought was just help me repair my bike and send me on my way since he brought some tools from home. However, in the end it so happened we both thought it better for him to take me into town. He drove me through Burley, to a well maintained RV Park to set up camp. After that, he bought me dinner at Jack-in-the-Box and we brought it back to the park where he took a look at my bike while I ate. I was famished and sleepy. He too could find nothing wrong with my rear tire. He changed it anyway and I was good. It didn't seem to be leaking. I would pray that it would hold through the night. At least my spirits were lifted. Clint also provided a spare tube, a couple spare CO2 cartridges and even an old bike pump that he had found in the street one day. But it works and I was so grateful for this act of generosity. Angels unawares. He wished me luck, made sure I had everything I needed and left.
I slept like a solid rock that night and didn't want to awake...
August 10 (Burley to Twin Falls, ID, 46.70 miles) Burley - Twin Falls. I stopped in at the bike shop in Burley but they found nothing wrong with my tire which didn't hold air through the night after all. No big surprise. He sold me the only tube he had in stock for my size. It was one pre-injected with the slime! I wanted to save it until I needed it. I've never used the slime before, so maybe this will be the answer for now. One can only hope and pray.
Today I experienced extreme wind. In mid-day, the sky was dark and the wind blew me clear off the road. I took shelter under a tree until the wind died down some. It was rough going. The thunder crashed and lightning flashed. The rain came, but it didn't pour which I was thankful for. But I did get wet.
I continued to have a slow leak and pumped it up every few miles, but I made it to Twin Falls in tact. Kathy, my WS host was a nice lady. I didn't get to meet her at first because her nephew greeted me to show me around. They run a little bike hostel for travelers and base jumpers passing through. There was one other guy there that seemed to be there for a few days and an older gentleman came with his dog. I ate, slept, showered in their outdoor facility and charged my phone while I organized my gear. I was putting it off, but since I had the time and means and safe place to do it, I decided to take a look at my tire. Perhaps, just maybe I would find the problem where the bike shops and mechanics could not. Often times they do rush jobs and don't pay attention to detail. I checked the tire several times, rubbing my fingers on the inside - and felt the inner rim of the wheel - found nothing. Then, by some chance I found, or rather felt something - a prick so tiny you could hardly notice - the pliers I borrowed from my host wouldn't even work to dislodge it out of the rubber. I marked it with a pen on both sides, the inner and outer so I could find it later. I'm not sure if this was the cause of the problem or not, but it was something and something was better than nothing - and that was good enough for me. Before I put my tire back on, I decided to replace the tube with the one pre-injected with the slime sealant for my long day tomorrow.
...It seems to be holding now - let's check and see for tomorrow...
I've been in contact with Viktor from Mountain Home the past few days and hoped to stay with him tomorrow night. I e-mailed him for his address but he never responded to me. As time passed, I would try to get in touch with him more but got nothing in return. I didn't have a phone number for him. I checked the warmshowers website to see if there was another way to get in touch but saw that I couldn't find his profile - his WS profile was deleted. Every trip comes with a WS disappointment. I am losing faith in the warmshowers community. I have had some amazing experiences with them, but some not so much - the ones that leave me hanging, traveling aimlessly in the desert. Warmshowers, Google maps, bike shops, mileage signs - have all let me down time and time again. Thank goodness I have my faith in God! He never forsakes me and always takes me in when I am cold and lonely. So, now it's time for Plan B I suppose. Plan B will be a mysterious adventure that only time will reveal...
August 11 (Twin Falls to Three Island Crossing State Park, Glenn's Ferry, ID, 73.47 miles) Twin Falls - Buhl - Bliss - King Hill - Glenn's Ferry, Three Island Crossing State Park. As I was about to roll my bike out the door of the hostel, I met Kathy my host and wanted to wish me good travels. She asked if I had breakfast and since I only had a mere poptart, she wanted to treat me to a real breakfast. She gave me directions to Norm's Cafe and told me to order whatever I like. They'd just put it on her tab. She's a regular there. Kathy would meet me there in a few minutes after she ran some errands. I had a big breakfast of eggs, sausage, toast and hash-browns! YUM. That was just what I needed to fuel me - just what a cyclist needs. I talked with Kathy for a minute before she met some friends at another table.
On I rode through Buhl and Bliss and the Idaho countryside weaving across and paralleling I-84. It's beautiful here, desert and hot, but still quite beautiful - not as beautiful as up north where there's more wilderness, but I'm having a good time at viewing the scenery and creation that I get to ride through. Around the King Hill area, I was again having bike trouble - not the rear mind you, but the front. I reached down and felt it was soft. This can't be - but it's about time I'd have trouble somewhere rather than the rear. The front tire has held since I patched it in Nevada. I pumped it up thinking it was just that slow leak. I found a sticker in it, pulled it out and walked, pushed and rode and pumped it up again through to just a few miles before Glenn's Ferry, Idaho. Right there on the side of the old highway, I spent the next 2 or 3 hours plucking out thorn after thorn all in my front tire/tube - GOATHEADS!! I've heard of these goatheads, heard stories, but I was under the impression they were found in the Southwest, not up north here. I was mistaken. I was wrong. Here is proof alright. I learned later that Glenn's Ferry is the Goathead Capitol of the World. Who knew? I thought they were a southern thing. We don't have them in Oregon, or at least that's my thought. I plucked out about 5 or 6 tonight and another 3 or 4 the next morning. Some were easy to find, but others were microscopic and I was unable to pull out with my hands alone. I used my brain and pulled out my nail clippers and used the pointy edge which worked wonders! This was hard work, but it had to be done. I even patched my tube about 8 or 9 times in different places. It looked like a porcupine had a go at it. But alas, no dice, and I ran out of patches.
Since Viktor was an ass and never did the considerate thing and got back to me, I was looking at two state parks near here. One near Bruneau Dunes looked cheaper, but since I couldn't ride at all and it was dark by now anyway I had to check out Three Island Crossing in Glenn's Ferry - $30 for Idaho residents and $33 for out of state residents. Crazy and stupid, I know! I shouldn't have to pay to sleep, to bed down for the night on a slab of grass or even gravel. And why do out of staters have to pay more? That's rubbish. When I rolled my bike into town I found the park a few miles away. It took me an hour or so to finally land there. It was dark and I couldn't see and I wandered the park a while with my headlamp. I went the wrong way and turned around. None of the signs or buildings were lit up. How was one to find the way? I found the campground eventually, it was down this long hill. The bugs were out but as long as I kept moving it eased their temptation to make a meal out of me. I set up camp around 11:00pm probably next to this RV who were asleep. There were tons and tons of little gnats and flies - got in my tent too - gross! As I went to sleep I pulled my hat and buff over my eyes and dug into my sleeping bag.
I noticed the next morning that I had accidentally left the door of the tent unzipped - oops. There were flies and tiny bugs flying about and dead in my tent. I shook it out was best I could. I wanted to leave early the next morning so no one would notice my presence. I'm waiving the stupid park fees! No need for me to pay for a few hours of a gnat-infested night's sleep. See you never Three River Crossing. Muahahaha...
August 12 (Glenn's Ferry to Nampa, ID, 114.03 miles) Glenn's Ferry - Mountain Home - Orchard - Boise - Nampa. I rose at the crack of dawn to
bug out of the park (no pun intended) as not to get noticed. I wheeled my bike up and out of Three River Crossing and back into the town of Glenn's Ferry just as the sun was coming up. I also had to fix my tire before I left town. I spread out on two tables by a gas station, took off my two tires to see what I could do to fix this. The gas station had air so I was in luck in that department. I tried patching my front tire as best as I could. It was difficult with all the goathead holes. I plucked a few more out and double checked and triple checked to absolutely make sure they were all out. It was tricky, but I think I finally got them all. Two guys came by to use one of the tables for a sign painting project...asked where I was headed. Wow, you've been a long way!
Back on the road again - - it ended up being easier to ride into Mountain Home where I knew there was a bike shop. This was the guy who told me that Glenn's Ferry was the Goathead Capitol of the World. He was surprised I only found 8 or 9 goatheads in my tire. He worked on and repaired my tire and sold me a thorn-resistant tube that would fit my tire along with a few patches. I attached the tube to my bike to use at a later date when it was absolutely necessary. There was a small bearded guy who greeted me at the entrance of the shop and went in with me. At first he seemed like he was homeless, but he knew the guy in the shop and was very interested in my adventure. He asked questions and talked up a storm. He was nice and interesting to talk to. When my bike was all set, it was closing in on noon and I still had a long haul ahead of me. My goal was Nampa, to stay at a friend's place. So after I found a bite to eat, I was on my way once more.
What happens next I do not wish to repeat. I blame Google personally. That, and the lack of sufficient roads. No matter how much I studied my maps or researched how to get to Nampa from here while avoiding the freeway, I could not find a way - I would have to go the gravel route. It wasn't all gravel. I did find a paved road out of Mountain Home and made it okay bypassing the town of Orchard. I had to find something that would help me. If only I could hop onto I-84 because that would lead me straight to Boise and Nampa. I tried and tried to find another way. Google took me on these back roads through the desert and I made it to Boise Station out in the middle of nowhere. This was a truck stop off of I-84 with gas and a store. From here I studied the map and the route out of here seemed paved so I began my route in the heat of the day. For about 10 miles or so I stayed on this paved road and was praying constantly that it would stay paved and I would be able to get closer to Nampa. However, God has a sense of humor and the road turned into gravel - deep, deep gravel. I walked and walked on this gravel for a long ways and was wondering how far I had come. Eyeing my route on Google maps, I turned off on a few roads. It came to the point where it was almost more feasible for me to turn around and forget this whole gravel ordeal. I was on the phone with my Dad and was surprised I had service all the way out here. Dad was at home looking at his own maps and saw exactly where I was. He had been my home navigator on my previous journeys. He sensed my frustration and wanted to help out as much as he could to get me out of there. I don't think that Google meant to take me here because I passed signs that read, "Entering Idaho Army National Guard Firing and Maneuver Area - Civilian
Vehicles Stay on Main Roads - Do Not Salvage - Do Not Pick Up Unexploded
Ammunition." This was some military zone and I did not belong here. I was a bit nervous too. We soon realized that my best option was to walk/ride/make my way back to the Boise Station and probably hop onto the interstate from there. That may be my best - my only option at this point. My hope was that a car or truck would pass and I could get a ride with them. There were a few that passed either way, but not many. I walked and walked and walked back - all I could do was move. Finally a truck stopped and I got a ride in the back of their truck. They were headed back to I-84 and that's where I wanted to go as well. I was burnt and wind-burnt. Temps reached up to 100 degrees today.
When we reached Boise Station I bought a frozen coffee drink to lift my spirits and probably got some brain freeze while drinking it. It tasted so good though! Now it was time for me to brave Interstate 84. I am always weary of biking on freeways because I can always feel the judgments of the auto traffic. Honks come out of nowhere and that raises my blood pressure. The debris and tire remnants on the shoulder are difficult to dodge. You must always be alert. The shoulder was wide enough, but I just plowed right along, watching the signage to Boise hoping at long last to survive this road and to get off it as soon as possible. I pedaled those perfect circles as fast as I could. They were truly perfect. I came to Boise and took the first exit I saw. I pulled to the side and referenced my map. At last, I could ride to Nampa without having to merge onto the freeway again! There were still some busy streets - I was in Boise after all. The sun began to go down over the horizon. I had ridden a long ways already but have also wasted several hours on the gravel route. With my directions to my friend Jamie's house, I raced against time and navigated the cities of Boise and Nampa and in between. The sun was darkened and red due to mounds of smoke in the area. I let Jamie know that I would be a little later than expected and sure enough I was. When I pulled into her driveway it was about 9 or 10:00pm. Jamie greeted me and introduced me to her cute roommate Christa who was also a school teacher. Their hospitality was really encouraging. Like everyone else, they were amazed at my journey and asked many questions. One of the most common was how many miles I ride in a day. The average is about 50-60 but it just so happened that today was my longest I have ever ridden in one day: 114 miles and that was 114 miles in 100 degree heat. Crazy? Maybe. Adventurous? Always.
August 13 (Nampa to Vale Trails RV Park, Vale, Oregon, 55.93 miles) Nampa - Caldwell - Parma - Nyssa, Oregon - Vale Trails RV Park. Jamie left me some granola cereal this morning. This was their first day of school so both Jamie and Christa had to leave early. I slept in after my long day previous. Jamie showed me how to lock the door and shut the garage after I took my bike out. It was good to eat cereal again. I had a few bowls full to give me energy. I rode out of Nampa and headed on some bike paths and busy streets as the congestion merged into Caldwell. From Caldwell, I took some back roads into the country, some rolling hills that seemed difficult - I think I was just tired of riding. These roads just seemed to go on forever. It didn't help that it was bloody hot. Soon I made the turn off that would lead me back to my home state. I couldn't believe it when I crossed the bridge and saw the sign that read, "Welcome to Oregon." I had done it. I rode my intended bicycle chain of a circle. Although, I'm not out of the woods yet as the next few days would prove. I'm back in Oregon and soon I would be back on Pacific Standard Time.
From Nyssa, right across the border, I set my sights on the town of Vale, the crossroads that would prove my undoing...one last obstacle before I arrive home. This area didn't have many camping opportunities and thus I was forced to make due with Vale Trails RV Park. The lady was very nice. She was expecting me as my Dad had inquired ahead for me. It was $20 a night and I was the only tent camper there. I had a wonderful lot of grass all to myself. There was a code to the shower house which I promptly used after I walked into town a ways to the market to buy some groceries for the next few days. Ah, Vale - it is time to rest my legs, knees, butt and spirit. Sleep, sleep, sleep - let me sleep and don't wake me - zzzzzzzzzzzzz.
August 14 (Vale to Ironside Fire Roadblock back to Willowcreek, 53.84 miles) Vale - Willowcreek - Jamieson - Brogan - Ironside Roadblock - back to Willowcreek. I left the Idaho desert only to enter the Oregon desert. There were two routes to travel on through Oregon heading West from Vale - Highway 26 towards John Day or Highway 20 towards Burns. Initially I had planned to ride on Hwy 20 towards Burns and then Bend. But after reviewing my options at Matthew's place in Provo, I decided that taking the high road up 26 would be the better way to go. Along that route there was more camping opportunities as well as a handful of WS hosts.
On Hwy 26, there wasn't a lot going on between Vale and Unity. There were the ranching communities of Willowcreek and Jamieson with no services. It wasn't until I came to Brogan where I found a small store. Here I rested and ate. There were some motorcyles that pulled in hoping to get some gas, but realized it was shut down. There was a sign that read where the next gas was - in Unity 40 miles away. The next thing I had to do was summit Brogan Hill. This was a long time coming because of the powerful wind. The wind blew across the Oregon desert with a fierce vengeance. I took turns walking and riding up this hill. The wind was treacherous. Even after the hill, on the flats I couldn't ride any faster than 6mph. It was brutal.
I saw some smoke in the distance and some cars heading in both directions. I've heard some rumors of wildfires in the area, but I didn't think for a moment that I wouldn't be able to get through. I kept plugging along because this was where I needed to travel. There was no turning back for me. After awhile I saw some cars that had already passed me come towards me. They had already begun to turn around. A few of them were kind enough to stop and tell me that I couldn't get through. You'd have to turn around. There was one cyclist who headed my direction who apparently got through just in the nick of time. I wished him luck and he did the same, hoping that I was able to pass through the fire. By this time I was in contact again with my Dad who was eager to help out. I was told that there is a roadblock in Ironside and that they aren't letting anyone through. I've already traveled 40 miles on this road. There was no turning back for me like the cars. This was my route and so help me - I'm going to get through! My Dad got on the phone to the Oregon Department of Transportation (ODOT) to find out what the story is. Evidently the lady he had talked to was very kind and polite. She wanted to help me out, a vulnerable cyclist. I was tempted to turn around seeing no other option if the road was blocked ahead. There were some fire fighters and ranchers at a rest stop about 10 miles from the roadblock that told me the same thing. My Dad called back and I told him my concerns but he told e to ride through to the roadblock. They would help me out. They are expecting me. So I ride...it took me quite some time because of the intense wind but I finally made it there.
When I arrived there was one ODOT employee with a truck blocking the road. He approached me, "Are you Penn?" Yes. He then said, "Hi, I'm supposed to help you out. I'm not sure how, but I'm supposed to help you." My thought was
great, that's not what I wanted to hear, but I was also afraid of this very thing. If there was a fire blocking the road I obviously can't ride through. A highway patrol officer came, stopped and then headed through to the fire. He then came back and realized the flames were too high - about 30 feet in some spots. It would singe your car if you drove through. I leaned my bike against the ODOT truck and sat on the ground.
What now? What was I to do? By now my Mom was praying and telling everyone she knew to pray that I make it past the wildfires. There were actually two or three big wildfires close by. Two were looking like they were going to join forces. They were so bad because of the wind...spreading like crazy. The ODOT employee came and went and stopped cars from approaching and talked with people here and there, got on the radio with his boss, etc.
I stayed there a good two, maybe three hours. A few times the ODOT guy would ask, "So, what's your plan? What do you want to do?" I was at a loss of words. He was supposed to help me. Not the other way around. I came here because he was told to help me. And now? This? I cycled almost 3,000 miles only to get stopped by a roadblock in my own state? I couldn't believe this. I was beyond frustrated. Eventually the boss came and was talking with the ODOT guy and their consensus was for me to turn around and head back. I had no other option. The way he worded it it sounded as though he would give me a ride back to Vale himself when someone came to relieve him. They just weren't sure when the road would reopen. It could be a few hours, but most likely it wouldn't be until tomorrow or later. They weren't even sure it would reopen tomorrow. He did tell me of a possible place I could camp a few miles back, but that was just a slight possibility - in a gravel lot. I wasn't thinking clearly now - God, can't you just snuff out the fire and cool the road?
I began to ride back and a few miles later I told Dad that I was on my way back. It was 50 miles back to Vale. And it was already late afternoon. I passed the guy in the little tractor again and Dad was on the phone with ODOT again. I guess I can add ODOT to the list of things I have lost faith in. Well, one thing I know, there is no shortage of angels God can send. A little while later, that angel came. His name was Mike. He rolled up in his pick-up with a go-cart in the back. He helped latch my bike to the go-kart and I hopped aboard. He was an older gentleman with a cowboy hat and probably about six shotguns in the cab. He was really nice but eccentric - in a good way though. We talked about my predicament and my trip, etc. He was one of the guys fighting this fire and they gave up for the day and will try again tomorrow. He lives just over here in the Willowcreek. His son and son-in-law live out here, got to meet them and they all probably thought I was crazy for riding all this way. Mike gave me some options. He could take me all the way back to Vale so I could bunk down and begin on Hwy 20. To me that was not an option. Or he has a bunkhouse at his place in Willowcreek and I could stay there and either ride the next day or he could give me a ride back up because I had already tackled Brogan Hill and would not like to do it again. I accepted that offer and he took me to his bunkhouse. It was a nice place with a shower, couches, beds, kitchen, a full bunkhouse. The next morning he had some work to do in the fields before he could take me back up. I was very grateful for the angel Mike and a chance to catch my breath and calm down from the anxiousness of the roadblock and wildfire. I will let tomorrow worry about itself...
August 15 (Willowcreek to Bike Inn @ Mt. Vernon, 72.40 miles) Willowcreek - Ironside - Unity - Prairie City - John Day - Mt. Vernon. Mike knew what he was talking about. He was fighting the fire all day and told me last night that he was 90% sure they would open the road today. But if the road was still closed, he would drive me straight through to the other side of the fire as he has a pass. I lucked out with Mike! This morning I woke early because I wasn't sure when Mike would be ready to drive me up 26. I ate, showered and waited and waited...I wandered outside and saw the smoke. I looked around but did not know when Mike was going to show up. I was getting a bit nervous when the hours slipped by. At last, Mike barged into the door at around 9, 9:30am and asked if I was ready. We loaded my bike which was all set to go and we drove to his house and picked up his nephew who was going to the fire with him.
I was beyond grateful for Mike and it was a pleasure to meet some of his family. I thanked the Lord for getting me through yet another obstacle. We drove straight past where the Ironside roadblock was stationed yesterday. The road looked open and the fire more under control. The point where Mike and his nephew dropped me off was the El Dorado Pass to help me get on my way. Oregon is crazy. You have to cross like 5 summits/ranges to reach the Valley. I one again thanked Mike for all he did and road the ten miles to Unity. As I rode through, I noticed there were fields full of tents where they were housing the firefighters and the road to Unity Lake State Park was closed still due to the fires. That was the place I would've stayed had it not been for the fires. I decided to press on.
When I came to Wallowa-Whitman National Forest a huge grin crossed my
face and I took in the smells with gusto. I was so happy to be in a
forest rather than a desert. It was a splendid transition. Blue Mt. Summit was next and then I came to Bates State Park which must be a new one. I didn't see it on my map as I passed the entrance road where I stopped at the Austin House Cafe and Country Store. As I entered Baker County I made sure to set my clocks backward one hour. It was nice to gain that extra hour - more daylight to ride in, although it was hard to tell with all the smoke. As I climbed Dixie Pass, the smoke surrounded me. I pulled off into the viewpoint at the top which had nothing to view because of the thick smoke. A guy there offered me a ride in his van down into Prairie City so I my lungs can take a break from the smoke. I thanked him kindly for the offer, but politely declined. I did fine on the uphill swing with the smoke and it was all downhill into Prairie City. On the way down I pulled my buff over my mouth to ease the smoke inhalation.
Just outside of John Day I saw the source of the smoke coming up from the forest. The John Day Fire was pretty large and was just spreading from there. In John Day, Hwy 395 going South was closed. I stopped for a bite to eat and needed to find a place to stay soon as it was getting dark at this point. I was lucky to have bypassed all the roadblocks. If I had come through John Day a week later I think it would've been impassible. I had two options for lodging. I left John Day and passed Clyde Holliday State Park just two miles from Mt. Vernon. However, there was a WS host in Mt. Vernon that I really wanted to find. It was a Bike Inn for traveling cyclists. However, I did not have the address and the owners who ran it were out of town but left it open. I asked in a gas station and they knew exactly where it was. If it didn't work out I knew Clyde Holliday had a hiker/biker site. When I got to the bike inn, I didn't expect to see anyone else, but there were four other cyclists there from Holland who had just arrived before me. They were heading the opposite way towards Baker City and eventually towards Denver. I wished them luck and hoped they would be able to get through the fires safely. They were very kind and even made me some European coffee which was stronger than American coffee. The Bike Inn was a great idea. There were maps and resources of the area and about bicycling as well as a donation jar and instructions, a refrigerator with shared food and drink, a few beds, couches, etc. I would love to start something like that if and when I have the means to do so - in a shed or something like that. Well, after summiting all those passes, I'm pooped...
August 16 (Mt. Vernon to Ochoco Divide Campground, Ochoco National Forest, 80.57 miles) Mt. Vernon - Dayville - John Day Fossil Beds - Mitchell - Ochoco Divide Campground. Today was long and filled with more rolling hills and summits. About 15 miles I came to Dayville where there was a WS host at a church that I contacted a few days before but decided to find the Bike Inn instead in Mt. Vernon. So I pushed on through. Today's gem came in the form of the John Day Fossil Beds. There were two sections of the fossil beds and I loved cycling through the beautiful canyon although the road was a bit tricky to ride on with the traffic and narrow winding path. There wasn't much after the fossil beds but the town of Mitchell where I filled up with water so I don't have to ration it again.
Past Mitchell I stopped at the shoe tree and wondered just how many shoes remained on the limbs and who was the first to throw a shoe up there.
I'm making progress now - slowly but surly. The miles are passing by. I finally come to Ochoco National Forest (YAY more forest!) but it seemed as though half the forest had caught wind of the wildfires as it was all burnt. The sun was going down and I was just trying to plug away at this hill - up and up and up and up I climbed up into Ochoco National Forest. Near the summit I finally reached Ochoco Divide Campground, 80 miles from Mt. Vernon. I was exhausted and my legs were killing me. I pull in, ride past the host's site and take the loop around finding the most suitable campsite for me. I found one near the entrance, set up camp and peed behind a tree. It was a little hard getting to sleep because there were some teenagers making some racket. Plus, it was cold up here at about 6,000 feet. I laid on my pillow made of clothes and dreamed of a long downhill ride which was coming in the morning...
August 17 (Ochoco to Sisters, OR, 74.57 miles) Ochoco National Forest - Prineville - Redmond - Sisters. This morning was cold. I woke up and it was a bit chilly up here on the mountain. As I was gathering my stuff ready to skedaddle, the camp host finally found me. He walked up to me waving the registration form saying in his weasily voice, "13 dollars!" He was about 900 years old and there would soon be no camp host if you know what I mean! Anyway, he expected me to drop everything I was doing to pay him an outrageous sum for sleeping on hard ground. He told me he would wait there while I find my money. What bothered me most was his lack of interest in me or my journey. He was very unfriendly for a camp host. At the time of this writing he's probably dead, or died of unfriendliness. I think that's a thing. Anyhow, I paid and was on may. Good riddance.
Since I camped at the summit, I was in for a long downgrade on the other side. However, I was forced to stop every few minutes due to the freezing temperatures and windchill. It was bloody cold! Despite my warm clothes and gloves, it was too cold to keep my digits from getting numb. So it took me longer than expected on this hill. I came to a rest area on the way down just to rest and keep warm for a while. There were people sleeping in their cars and a guy came to clean up the bathrooms which were disgusting - trash everywhere!
Prineville arrives shortly after the long forest ride through the mountains. Again, it is nice to be on the other side and in civilization. For the next few days I had a few options. Initially I wanted to camp at Jack Creek and meet my Dad as per tradition. However, my nieces were visiting and he wasn't sure if he could make it. I searched for warm showers hosts in Prineville and Redmond. Bend would be out of my way so there would be no point in going all the way there although there are plenty of hosts in Bend. I wanted to cycle further than Prineville, so Redmond seemed like a plausible choice. There were only three or four hosts in Redmond and I contacted them all and waited for a reply. Then the thought came and I tried Sisters. It's only 15 or so miles from Redmond. I contacted the few hosts in Sisters and one of them got in touch. Another one did as well and one in Redmond. I had to turn them down because I can only stay at one hosts' house each night haha. So Sisters it was. In Redmond, I stopped off at McDonalds to take a load off and indulged in a vanilla ice cream cone and sweet tea. As I ate and vegged at the table outside in the heat, there were a bunch of kids, old and young running around and causing mischief. I just starred on in awe...ah, normal life...why can't I just ride forever? Perhaps soon...
I rode into Sisters, Oregon from the East - Finally, some familiar ground! I have always loved the town of Sisters. I enjoy the Western look of it and the peace and serenity it expounds. When I arrived I learned that my host Ben was in Bend doing some work. He would be back in Sisters in a couple hours. That gave me time to find the city park and eat some dinner while I caught up on my journal and thoughts. It is a pleasant feeling when you finally arrive at your destination in daylight no less! Nothing to do but relax! A man came and asked if he could join me at the table. He pulled off his shoes and socks to clean them out. He'd been up on the mountain for a week and was eager to get back home. Although he was too tired to drive the rest of the way yet. So he relaxed here a bit and was intrigued about my trip.
Awhile later I got a call from Ben and he said he'd be home shortly and gave me directions to his house. I rode about a mile out of town to his house and waited for him to arrive. He has a really nice place here...very spacious. It seems as though he lives alone, but I did not ask. He put me up in a guest room but I still had to use my pad and bag. He gave me some gatorade and I told him where I'd been riding. Ben asked me, "So, you've been on the road what? about 3 months or so?" I told him it's only been about 1.5 months. His eyebrows shot up, "Wow, you've been truckin'!" I guess so. I haven't stopped long enough to realize how fast and long I've been traveling. If I were to do this trip over, I would take my time and create more rest days. But I had a deadline which blows. One day I will go for a ride out my door with no deadline!
I slept hard that night and dreamed of what's next. I had initially planned to be back in Salem town on the 21st just in time for the spreading of the ashes of my good friend Jason. However, after secretly talking with my Dad, I planned to surprise my sister and nieces and arrive a few days earlier because they would leave before the 21st to head back to Washington. Rather going the north route on 22 to Jack Creek and Detroit Lake like I had done previously, I headed the way I have never been - on Hwy 20 to Cascadia State Park which I knew had a hiker/biker site. Adventure still awaits...for places I have not been...yet.
August 18 (Sisters to Cascadia State Park, 63.05 miles) Sisters - Santiam Pass - Cascadia State Park. Either way I went, I would still have to climb Santiam Pass which I have done many times before but is never easy. I've done it so many times leaving Sisters, that I don't really think twice about it. It really isn't that tough. It's just long and once the summit is in sight, you release a sigh of relief. And of course on the other side is a long downhill. I recognized the Mount Washington viewpoint on the left halfway up the pass and greeted some travelers. I pressed on up and took a look at Three-Fingered Jack and the Three Sisters. Ah, I love this country! At last, the summit which was only about 4800 feet. On my long descent, I counted upwards of 30, 35 riders ascending Santiam Pass. None of them were carrying any luggage so I was wondering if it was a group ride or some organized club ride. I waved as I sped down the mountain careful as to avoid the shoulder drains!
At last, the turn off. North was Hwy 22 and West Hwy 20. I took Hwy 20 towards Sweet Home. I entered Willamette National Forest once again after leaving it 1.5 months ago. Ah, the smell of pine! I came to another summit: Tombstone Summit and pass a few forest service campgrounds. After the summit which I never did see a sign for, I kept going up and up and up...and saw three huge yellow signs. The first read, "First Warning. 11 Miles. 6% Downgrade. Ahead." The second was a second warning and the third a final warning for an 11 mile, 6% downgrade. I was half-relieved when I saw the final warning because I would soon go down. However, I was also a little bit skeptical. In all my travels I had never once experienced this long and steep of a hill before - and in my own backyard! Come on! Well, sure enough - it was a long, long, long downhill - winding through the forest. Luckily there wasn't a ton of traffic, but there was some. A few times I almost lost control of my bike and it was difficult to ride when the road became rough and through the construction zones. But time went fast and soon I was down and off the hill. I soon came to Cascadia State Park, checked in and set up camp where I met some campers that were amazed at how far I had rode. This is really a nice park. I made a good choice. Dad, Mom and my sister and nieces were camping on Hwy 22 near Mill City and my plan was to surprise them tomorrow when we would all be home. I couldn't believe this was my last night in my tent on this grand adventure - I had made it home, well, almost...time to eat, veg, clean up, and reminisce about what I've gone through - oh and sleep too!
August 19 (Cascadia to Salem, OR, 70.65 miles) Cascadia - Sweet Home - Lebanon - Scio - Stayton - Aumsville - Salem, Oregon. Here it is. My last day out on the road. Day #50. It is fitting that I end my bicycle journey on this day making it an even fifty! I rolled out of Cascadia State Park and back onto the highway pointing towards home. Soon I arrived at Foster Lake - a beautiful large lake with fantastic views. I stopped in Sweet Home for some drinks and met a guy at the gas station who asked me where I'm headed. I told him I was headed to Salem. "Oh, you're at the end of your trip!" Welcome home!
I made my way along the rolling hills through Lebanon and on the back country roads through Scio and on to Stayton next to Hwy 22. Some of the roads were narrow and automobiles inconsiderate, but I'm almost home so I paid them no mind. It would just look bad if I had died a few miles from my doorstep. I came such a long way and knew of my soon return that each little hill seemed like a mountain. Mentally, it was a long ride. I was afraid if I merged onto Hwy 22, my family's car would drive by and notice me. So I decided to try to go the back way past a golf course and make my way to Aumsville. I got a text from Dad telling me they were home. From Aumsville it was about ten miles to home. When I rode into Salem, my hometown, it felt as though I was arriving in New York City considering the better half of the last month and half I've been in the desert and riding through canyons. This was a populated place - seems to get more populated by the day.
I found Dairy Queen when I got to Salem and had my traditional homecoming blizzard! It tasted so good as that cold sweet cream slid down my throat. I got a smaller one because I was in a hurry to get home and surprise my family. When I finished I promptly mounted my bicycle and rode home.
I pulled into my driveway where my Dad was looking for me and I came around back to surprise my nieces. They were ecstatic to see their Uncle! The first thing on my agenda: shower, then laundry, then hugs!
After traversing many deserts and canyons through Oregon, California, Nevada, Arizona, Utah, Colorado and Idaho I made it. Through countless flats and punctures, through thunderstorms and scorching heat, through mountains and valleys, through cities and ghost towns, through setbacks and buses, through wanderings and yearnings, through aches and pains and sore knees, back, heels, butt, through dizziness and strong quads, through rumble strips and cattle guards, through gravel roads and Interstates, through the kindness of strangers and the honks and shouts of strangers, through misfortune and God's ever-watching angels, through adventure...and misadventure...through these deserts and canyons, I rode home.
Total Days: 50
Total Mileage: 3,079.46
Total Cost: $1,087.29 (including $266.68 of bike repairs and bus fares)
...Until the Next Adventure...
Where to Next? I wonder. See you down the road...
