Pacific Coast: Day 1, Vancouver to Fan Campground via Carlton, 54 miles by Emily

July 11: Happy Birthday to me!  What I wanted more than anything was a trip to the ocean.   Thankfully, the Oregon Cyclists have a set of directions for three routes to the ocean, from Portland.   Really!  This meant we could ride our bikes out from home and go on an adventure.   After researching the routes, we decided to go out via the 3 Capes route (green below) and back via the Tillamook/Wilson River route (red below)   https://www.portlandoregon.gov/transportation/article/301633#route details

We got a late start, which ended up being okay once we got on the light rail at the airport and recognized how crowded it would be with our fully loaded bikes.   On our way to the light rail station, we took a side path because we took a wrong turn, and it was nice gravelly sandy dirt.   Suddenly, it turned to very loose, deep sand, and I went down hard.  This alleviated my fears about falling with my loaded bike, because my feet both instinctively came out of the pedals, and I wasn't hurt at all (the bruises emerged later).

The ride to Hillsborough took 1.5 hours.   I learned how to brace my bike by putting my feet next to the wheels like tire chucks.  Once in Hillsborough, we had to navigate through some traffic and city roads to get to our country road route.  One intersection stands out in my mind, and still makes me cringe when I think of it.  One of those "there but for the grace of god" moments when you realize you could have been really hurt, but are so grateful you weren't.  We came up to a light, where we needed to go straight.  We were in the right-turn lane, on the left side of it, waiting for the light to turn so we could go across.  The light in front of us turned green, and traffic coming from the left/west had stopped, Without thinking, we both popped into the intersection.  Before we had gone more than a bicycle length, we both realized we had made a serious mistake.  The traffic coming from the right/east had NOT stopped, and the car in the east-bound turn lane honked at us as we stopped in front of them.  We waved, said sorry, and waited until it was clear to finish crossing.  Phew!   That could have been so bad.   Note to self:   Green does not always mean go.  We are both used to the green arrow saying turn, and the green light saying go forward. Our brains had automatically taken the green light as a signal to MOVE. I still shake thinking about it.


Still carrying that unsettled, near-death feeling, we rolled to Carlton through farm lands, pastures, hay fields in various states of mowing, ornamental tree nurseries with rows of brilliantly colored foliage, and fruit farms.  The fruit farms were delightful with all of their strategies for keeping thieving birds at bay. There were the usual vast swaths of netting, and the whirligigs and streamers of reflective foil.  Our favorite was the tiny loudspeakers scattered throughout a field, emitting the cries of birds! There were screeches of hawks and other predators, and the warning cries of small birds.  I was looking in the sky for all of these birds but saw none.  I laughed, remembering the blue jay of my childhood that learned the red tailed hawk scream to scare away all the chickadees and juncos from the bird feeder...

Carlton was a cross-roads town, which we've learned is a good sign for cyclists wanting provisions. On my list from research was a bakery, a chocolate shop, and two grocery/deli stores.  The bakery was the standout. We got my birthday treat here: shortbread cookies (chai flavor and lavender flavor) and a chocolate filled croissant-type roll.  We checked out all the other options for lunch--Jay was set on tuna and avocado--we went back to the bakery because they made their own bread and the other stores were using regular sliced bread.    Oh my their veggie-hummus-pesto sandwich was fantastic, on these enormous slabs of bread.  

Next we needed to find ingredients for dinner tonight.   Jay: You can find those couscous packages pretty much anywhere.  Not in Carlton. Evidently they hadn't gotten the memo.  We did find a quinoa/rice pre-cooked meal packet that would be perfect with the dehydrated refried beans we had, so that's what we got.  Yay!  On our way!  Time is burning, and we have a huge hill looming before we get to camp. Not to mention our late start...     Oops   Jay has a flat (Flats:  Jay 3, Emily 1).  This flat was the same as the one I had in the Palouse: a  small metal wire curved perfectly to stick in a tire. My theory is that they are wires from the big semi-truck tires that blow out....  We go back to the bakery to fix the flat and have a beverage.     Okay, now on our way with a sense of urgency. It is now after 5 pm.

This is a serous climb, up to 1800 feet with unfriendly grades.  Thankfully light traffic, because the shoulder was, well, the bushes!   Lots of time to think  My left knee started hurting.  I wondered why, and chalked it up to my ancient age of 50 (today!). then I remembered the sand incident from earlier, and that I landed on my left leg.   I looked down at a stop, and saw the red mark across my knee.  My workaround was to pedal standing up every once in a while to give my knee a break. I also concentrated on pedaling consistently round, instead of up and down. And making sure my leg wasn't angling in or out too much.  I just kept following Jay, who was plugging away in front of me, always the motivation.  :)

Motto:  Always Say Yes.    About halfway up the mountain, a couple came alongside us in a white suv, rolled own the passenger window, and a woman said they were a mile up the road and would be out on their porch if we wanted to stop and rest and refresh.  "Thanks!"  We said, and pedaled on. When we got to their house, they called out, "There they are!  Want to stop?"  Jay hollered out, "No thank you, we have a long way to go and the day is beginning to fade."  We both wanted to keep going, fearing losing our momentum.

About 1/10th of a mile down the road (we could still hear their dogs barking a couple turns back), Jay's tire went flat again (flats:  Jay 4, Emily 1).  We both said, "We should have stopped!"  Because we would be sitting fixing flats and drinking ice water with them!    So we agreed to adopt an always say yes attitude from that moment forward. Accept what is offered, be open to what the universe brings

While Jay fixed the flat, I repaired the tube from earlier in the day. This flat was due to a leaking repair, a repair that Jay had viewed skeptically to begin with...

 

The never-ending hill finally ended, sort of, and we saw this stunning reservoir lake at the top.  But we kept climbing, and even the down hills necessitated pedaling. Very strange. We entered forests, it got darker, and we were out of water.  

Finally our campground appeared on our left, and we explored with headlamps to find our site and set up camp while eating fragrant shortbread cookies. Jay makes a delicious bean/rice dish on his magic stove.  We were camped by a lovely little creek, surrounded by berries. 

 I washed shorts and socks for the next day, and looked forward to picking berries in the morning to go with our cereal

Palouse Day 5: Kamiak Butte to Pullman and then Home! 12 miles, by Emily

This day....  we expected to be home in the early afternoon.  We made it home just before dark.  Where did we go off track?  

"Clunk, clunk, clunk."  "What's that sound?"   "Let's stop at Les Schwab to get it checked out."  4 hours and many hundreds of dollars later, we were back on the road. ..

The day actually began at midnight, when I felt drops of water on my face.  Chuckling to myself (because I had asked Jay about the weather, and he'd said it was fine earlier and didn't think we needed to check it again.)  I woke him up, we put the rain flap on, and then it RAINED.  What a great tent we have.  Big Agnes is the bomb.  

We woke up early to get back to Pullman before the rush of traffic on 27. The cold and wet was so worth it, after we flew down the hill and began the palouse rollers:  a pair of deer sprang across the road and into the wheat, looking like rabbits jumping through grass Just delightful.

I was really dragging and not feeling strong. Looking back now, after being sick for a week, I know I was getting the cold that Jay had been getting over.  Thankfully, the road was gentle rollers the whole way, and traffic wasn't bad. The hills, cleaned of dust from the night's rain, were sparking in the sun.  When we arrived in Pullman, we discovered the trail that looped through town and around the big hill we had struggled up and over several times!  Yay. I was not looking forward to that hill again.   I lost Jay when we navigated around construction, but thanks to the map that our campground neighbor had given us, I successfully figured out where the campground was.  Hungry and thirsty, we loaded up and headed to a coffee shop I found nearby  Yum!!!!  Nice hippie flavored coffee spot with great baked goods. We both got these biscuits with cheese and veggies in them.  Delights of flaky goodness that washed down wonderfully with coffee.

On the road through bend, the construction caused a lot of headaches for anyone and everyone, especially those trying to direct traffic.  We unfortunately had to cross 95, the big road going through Pullman.  The sign holding people were apparently under strict orders to NOT stop any through traffic, under any circumstances. We watched the pair in front of us yell at each other and generally communicate ineffectively, keeping vehicles at the cross streets stopped.  We waited, and waited, and waited.  Even when through traffic was backed up, they would let semis and trucks move forward and sit IN the intersection, instead of stopping them before so cross traffic could jump across.  Eventually we made it through, and passed by WaWaWai Rd, where our adventure began just 5 days ago.  :)

As we re-travelled our journey, we enjoyed listening to our favorite news shows (Democracy Now and The Young Turks).  It was in Tri Cities area when the weird clunking sound came from the driver's side front tire.  I appreciated how the tire person showed us what was wrong (the wheel hub was worn out, and the tire wobbled back and forth despite the lug nuts being securely bolted!) and we learned it would be over 3 hours to get it fixed.

No problem, we unloaded our bikes, grabbed things we wanted to do, and navigated to a park.  The short trip through a town clearly not designed for, nor used to, bikes was a bit rough.  Moments after we left Les Schwab, I almost crashed when my tired hit a piece of rebar laying parallel with the road. Earlier we had watched a truck hauling rebar pass, with the rebar slowly sliding off the back end. We had wondered if any would fall off, and now we knew the answer was yes! I skimmed along it like I was skating, and somehow managed to stay upright!  At the park, we found a shady tree and lay on a blanket I had brought (Jay: Aren't you smart to think of that!).  We played cribbage, drank a ton of water, and I worked on my bike journal while Jay napped.   3 hours later we picked up the van and continued on our way.   I got my wish, and we stopped at Cousins for dinner in the Dalles.     We split one of their fish and chips (easily one of the best I've had) and grabbed a cinnamon roll for the road.  their  cinnamon rolls have tons of layers of dough and cinnamon stuff, which is what makes them so so good.

As soon as we got home, we started planning for the next ride: a trip to the coast!!!!

Palouse Day 4: Robinson Park to Kamiak Butte, 34 Miles, by Emily

Jay taking a picture of me taking a picture of our bikes.  Green frog Cafe in Palouse

"Should we go the route in the guide book, or try the farm road route?"  I asked, looking at the maps.   We were considering taking a hypotenuse.  Moscow to Pullman to Palouse was a right angle of sorts, and this route recommended by Google connected Moscow to Palouse in a ragged hypotenuse.   "Sure, why not? What's the worse that can happen? We try it, it doesn't work, and we end up going around."  So we did.

Up, breakfast of cereal, gathering of damp things from the misty night. Will need to lay things out when we arrive in Kamiak this afternoon.  After we loaded up we headed out and back to Moscow.  I detoured us to the place where we repaired Jay's wheel, just in case the pump was laying there. It wasn't.  Back at the Co-op we had a lovely hot beverage, purchased supplies for dinner, and had some snacks.   Nice to soak up the scene and people a bit. 

The route we selected was right out of the co-op.  After riding for not more than a mile, we were deep in the rolling wheat fields.  It was stunning.  My phone was  holding the image of the map that would get us to where we wanted to go. Or so we hoped. We did not want to lose this only connection to our route, so my phone was off limits for anything else.   This is why I have no pictures of this beautiful scene. But Jay did, so once he posts his blog, check it out. Until then, I'll try to describe it, even though the absolute gorgeous beauty of the palouse hills on these roads can not be described.  They went on and on and on, in undulating layers of green-ness.    There was no ending to the layers.  Every once in a while there would be a farm house nestled in a cleft in the hills.

And then the road turned to gravel.  Well.  I hadn't thought about that.  We do have Rock and Road tour bikes, which are designed to handle anything you try to ride over. So we road on.  Searching for Ester Ranch Road (which intersected with Ester Rd later), we only found John Ruby Road.   Hmmm. We kept going for a mile, and decided that John Ruby Road must be miss-named Ester Ranch Rd on Google.  We turned around (there were some viciously barking dogs ahead, so it was good timing. On the way back, we passed a house with friendly, joyous dogs barking. They were happy, outside, living. Very cute.   

John Ruby Road intersected with Ester Rd eventually, and the gravel road wound on and on.  I now understand that riding on gravel takes a lot out of your body.  It's a whole body experience, and includes a lot of mental effort.  When cars passed, they sent up clouds of dust. One Rv passed, driving like a bat out of hell.   Absolutely insane on that road, really!   Some sections of the road had severe washboarding, from people driving too fast.  We had to be alert to watch out for the washboards because they were jackhammers on bikes!

After 7 miles (a total of 9 when you count our extra mile out and back to check for Ester Rd) we came to Hwy 95, which we needed to use for a few miles before turning on to Palouse Rd.  Once on Palouse Rd, we thought it was going to be difficult traffic, and there was no shoulder to speak of.  I stayed in back with my bright yellow safety vest, and dinged my bell when cars were coming so Jay knew.  This was very thrilling for me, to get to use my bell.   Jay says he thinks it's an ice cream truck every time he hears it.  

Celebrating our ride.

Palouse was a pretty little town at the intersection of two major arteries.  An artsy town with far more restaurants and art galleries than its population could support. Well located and a tourist destination. We ate lunch at the Green Frog Cafe. Tuna sandwich and a massive cookie we split.   Absolutely huge slabs of bread. I ate mine 'toast' like, which was easier to fit my mouth around. Jay attempted the sandwich as a sandwich, successfully, albeit with astonishment on my part!  

Bikes parked in front of Green frog

We didn't linger in Palouse, as we wanted time at Kamiak Butte to explore.  From the town of Palouse, it was 4 miles on Hwy 27 to the turn off for the park.  I continued the bell ringing, but this time, due to the number of vehicles, one ding for each vehicle.  

If I had known what lay ahead after we turned off from 27, I'm not sure I would have gone through with it.    I should have known when the bicycle directions on Google maps said "Walk your bike."  The highest point of the butte is 3,641 feet. The campground is 3,448 feet.  From the base of the road up to the campground is 800 feet of elevation in less than a mile.  There were sections that were over 15% gradient, which is painful even on a road bike.

Notice how close together those elevation marks are?

The campground was up on the butte.  Whoever designed this road took the most direct route, straight up the mountain.   I didn't make it far before getting off and pushing my bike the rest of the way.  I was afraid I'd get stalled and stuck and fall, not being able to get my feet out of the pedals.  but Jay, the rock star he is, he made it the whole way up.  I was so very impressed.  He powered through and road all the way.    

Camp sites

After finding a site and laying out all our damp things in the sun coming through the trees, we hiked up to the top of the butte to see the view.  I could really feel my legs. Not sure if it was the gravel riding, the pushing of my bike up the hill, or general weariness after 4 days on the bike, I was suddenly very tired.  But the climb was worth it.    Of course, the pictures don't do it justice. I loved the shot of yellow mustard peeking through the trees.  To explain how tired we were, the hike back down seemed much longer than the hike up! completely the opposite of how things normally are.

 

Back in camp, we devoured our meal of couscous and beans. Jay made enough that we couldn't finish it!  While it was cooking, Jay pulled out a foil wrapped bit of chocolate left from the night before. What a treasure!   I melted mine half on my tongue to savor it.  Perfect.

After talking about the next day, and our 12 mile ride into Pullman, we debated the wisdom of going early to beat traffic, or going later to make sure we were after the morning rush hour.  We decided to get up early, have coffee/tea, and ride in before the traffic got too bad. 

We were the only campers on the mountain that night. It seemed amazing to have it all to ourselves!

waiting for our meal at Green Frog.

Palouse Trip, Day 3: Pullman to Troy via Moscow, 38 miles, by Emily

We woke with the knowledge that today was an "easy" day, and we had no rush.  After the last two days, we were ready for an easy day.     (and somehow, I managed to take not a single photo today. So I scoured the web to find images to illustrate our journey).

It was "easy" because we woke up in the van well rested, and didn't have so much to do to get ready, like pack the tent.   As we ate breakfast (Jay enjoyed the second half of his chicken noodle soup from Thai place and I ate hot cereal), a visitor joined us.

"Oh, you think you're cute, eh?  Sitting up with your hands folded under your chin. I bet that works for you real well, showing your cute belly."   And then the rocks rained in the gray squirrel's direction, to convince her to beg elsewhere.  She learned the radius of the rocks, and skirted the area, keeping an ever watchful eye on any potential food.    Squirrel said, "See how cute I am as I eat nuts?  See how long it takes me to eat just one nut?  Oh do have pity on me and throw me something to eat instead of a rock!" We did not have pity, and eventually she moved on.

The night before, I had done laundry before bed.  Of course, none of it is dry, except my windbreaker. Jay didn't wash his shirt/windbreaker, because "it got rained on enough yesterday to count as a wash."  There is a dark sweat ring taking up the entire back of his shirt...

Chipman Palouse Trail

We got rolling.  What a delight to be cruising along a rail-trail for most of this ride.  A welcome break from the traffic and shoulder riding. We can ride beside each other and chat for  a  change.  The plan is to head to Moscow, stop at the food co-op and bike shop, then on to Troy Idaho before returning to Moscow to stay at the Robinson campground.

The Bill Chipman Palouse Trail, first leg of the day.

The trail....looking towards Moscow, Idaho.  Can you tell the mountains are closer?

The trail is a glide.  Being a converted railroad grade, it is smooth and gentle, and everything seems to be slightly uphill or slightly downhill but always pretty easy.  The only drawback is the frequent crossroads which require stops on our part.  On either side we see rolling hills, these mostly covered in hay yet to be cut.

Occasionally we see cows and horses.  I talk to them.   "Hey horses, how you doing?"  Jay laughs. If I don't talk to them, Jay asks, "What did they say?"   And I laugh.

Our arrival in Moscow brought back memories of my search for a grad school before finding Boise.  Moscow was a university I visited, on a road trip with Pat.  It was an incredibly memorable trip, especially the Columbia River Gorge.   I recognized the sports field that I ran around during that visit.   My memories were interrupted with Jay pulling over and swinging off his bike.  Flat Tally: Jay 2, Emily 1.  We're starting to wonder about the tires we have, and if it's just our luck, or if they aren't so tough after all.  

As you may know, when you get a flat, it's important to find out what caused the flat. Sometimes, the culprit is still in the tire and will immediately puncture the next tube.  Like my last flat, it was a piece of wire that was stuck in the tire.  Jay wasn't having any luck finding the source in the tire, so I started looking at the tube (filling it with air and then turning it around and around, listening and feeling for leaking air.)  

"Check it out!  It's on the inside of the tube!"  I showed Jay how the tiny hole was in the underside, where the tube rests on the wheel, not on the side that meets the road.  He immediately found the place where the rubber protection band lining the inside of the wheel had shifted, exposing the end of a spoke, which poked the tube.  Jay put the tire/new tube/wheel back together, returning the dollar bill patch into the tire where the big gash from glass occurred yesterday. What a cool strategy. Former bike messengers have all these slick tricks from the trade.  

Next stop, Co-op.

You know you are in a college town when the bike racks are full....

The Moscow Co-op has the feel of the Arcata and Ukiah Co-ops, or Wildberries in Arcata.  Good smells, good food.  Real treat.   I immediately went to the baking area and found sourdough pesto rolls and cookies.  We grabbed some items for dinner (couscous) and a small amount of sugar, brewer's yeast, and dried milk.  While I was checking out, Jay headed to the bike store recommended by a passing cyclist.  Jay needed to get his headset tightened.

By the time I joined the bike shop, Jay was deep in conversation with a mechanic, with tools in hand. So I went outside, found a bench, and started catching up on my journal.  Within five minutes, I felt a sharp bite on my thigh.  I jumped up and looked down. Red mites were teeming over the bench, lured from their cracks in the wood slats by my warmth, no doubt.  Ouch!  mite bites really hurt.   I spent the remainder of my time standing and writing.

I quickly have learned that just having a touring bike loaded with gear is an open invitation to have people talk to you.   A couple walked by, maybe late 60's in age. the man stopped to talk, because he knows Bruce Gordon (person who made our bikes). We started exchanging pleasantries, and the woman kept walking, the way that someone who has lived with a friendly socializer for many years has learned to walk on and occupy themselves rather than watch the person talk to yet another stranger.

Jay emerged from the bike shop with his bike, and a new bike pump.   "I left the pump where we fixed my flat, so I got another.  It isn't great, but it will be a good mountain biking pump."  "Should we go back to look? It's only a couple miles back."  "No, it's done, let's go."     Just as we started to roll, a woman came up on a city cruiser bike and said she always looked for touring cyclists so she could offer them a shower. We talked for a bit, and then recommended she sign up with Warm Showers, which connects people with touring cyclists for that exact purpose.

Part 2 of trail, the Latah Trail, from Moscow to Troy.

This trail was similar to the first part, but the vegetation shifted from rolling hills to pine forests.     We enjoyed the magic of railroad grades as we climbed.  I kept asking if we were really going up.  A detail we discussed in Moscow was how the Filling Station (coffee/deli in Troy) closed at 3.   It was 1:30, so we had 90 minutes to get there. A questionable task.  I knew we had a 5 mile descent, so I was hoping that would help us arrive on time.  But when did the downhill start?



"Wheeeee!"   It started.  We were flying.   I yelled over my shoulder, "This looks like NO FUN coming back though!"    We reached maximum fun on the way down.  Troy was a picturesque valley town. an old logging town that still had a working mill.  It reminded me of small towns in Humboldt, before lumber mills went bust. We came down Main St, looking for the Filling Station.

And there it was, an old filling station converted to a caffeine station.



We arrived at 2:55. The owner met us at the door (he was going out to tidy up the courtyard) and said, "We close at 3:00."    I said, "We know, we got here as fast as we could!"   "No problem!  Glad you're here."  They see a lot of cyclists, because the trip to Troy is a big favorite of local cyclists in Moscow and Pullman.  It was, however, rare for them to see fully loaded tourists, because it was off the beaten path. Troy wasn't on the way to anywhere else!

Those who worked behind the counter wore black pants, beige or gray shirts, black aprons, and old filling station style black hats.   If they had worn a red oil rag in their back pockets it would have completed the image.  I ordered a chai tea with ice, and a slice of their 3-way chocolate cake.  Jay got a lemonade and cookie.

Filling Station outfit.  

They let us stay inside, in the nice cool, while we ate and they put away and cleaned up.  After a while, we moved outside to play cribbage and watch the town.  Troy is a tourist town with lots of antique and gift stores, along with the taverns and hair salons that served the locals.   An old logger, back and legs twisted with old injuries, totterend across the road, leaving his dusty truck to enter the tavern.   Kids walked or rode bikes along the sidewalks, enjoying the first days of summer.    I thought of my home town of Trinidad. Everyone knows everyone.

On the way back, that Wheeeee hill was yet another deceptive railroad grade. I kept wondering if we were really going up.  This one was especially confusing due to how the trees grew and the way the path was built up on top of the grade, far above the actual forest floor.  It's hard to describe, but normally when you go up a hill, the trees are at an angle with the floor of the forest, showing the steepness.  Without the visual of the forest floor, the trees were perpendicular to the trail, or looked like it.  It was a visual illusion that made my mind think we were rolling along level ground. All I had to do was stop pedaling to know immediately that we were definitely going up.

Our next destination:   Robinson Park.  This was located 4 miles north east of Moscow.  We turned off of the trail and headed north on paved country roads.

Looking towards Robinson campground.

The place had at least four entrances. The first one was a day-use park.  We met a man who looked to be living out of his station wagon.  He approached Jay to ask if he would call the man's cell phone so he could find it. He had lost it in his car.  Jay did, he found it, and then they chatted for a bit.  He directed us further up the road to find the fee box, and from there we got directions to the hiker-biker camp.  There was no water spigot there.  So we traveled across a big field to the RV campground (5 spots). That was where the water spigot was, so we used an RV spot for our spot

Day use area.

Big field.  Looking across from where we stayed.

Our journey now over for the day, we enjoyed the trees, the sky, the breeze, the birds.  Dinner was couscous and refried beans, with brewer's yeast and Bragg's liquid.  And the cookie from the Co-op for desert.  After hanging laundry we played cribbage and relaxed.   Tomorrow was another low-stress day, headed to Kamiak Butte.   We planned to go through some backwoods to avoid hwy 95 (the road with the RVs, semis, and lots of cars).   Google maps recommends the route....

Palouse Trip, Day 2: Clarkston to Pullman 50 miles by Emily

View from halfway up Old Spiral Highway

Woke up early early early.   I asked that we try to get ready and out of there in 30 min. Jay thought 60 was more reasonable. He was right.    We rolled out of camp at 6:30 (I think?  Or was it 7?) and peddled to Hazel's Good Eats, a restaurant in Clarkston that was highly recommended for a fueling breakfast.

When we entered, I was overwhelmed by the decor, with each booth having it's own assortment of decorations.   Ours was a jungle, with stuffed animals peeking out everywhere, and fake vines and leaves hanging down.

Our booth had the big cats.

Inside of restaurant

The recommendation was well deserved. We each had a hearty breakfast, had some decent coffee, and the server asked if we would like our water bottles filled with ice and water. Awesome!!!!  (The server is worthy of a story all her own. She was a classic small-town character, 8 months pregnant with her second child and still working full time.)  My two bottles, Jay's two bottles, and his nalgeen bottle were wonderfully full and chilled as we loaded up and headed for the bridge where our Clarkston visit began yesterday.   Thankfully going this direction, there was  a separate bike/pedestrian section which was not nearly as debris laden, so we passed without getting flats.

Red Wolf Crossing bridge.    Right side is RV park we rested at.  Left side is Wawawai Rd coming in. And straight ahead is the Old Spiral Highway area....

The section of highway from the bridge to the base of Old Spiral Highway road had a narrow shoulder and fast traffic.   Though Jay had recommended a slow, steady pace for the 4 miles before we started climbing, we had no choice but to go as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Sign on hwy.

Aerial View of Old Spiral Highway.  Seven and a half miles, climbing 1,781 feet.

And then the climb.   Things can become larger than life when everyone you talk to asks if you are going "up the Spiral Highway." And then they shake their heads with a hint of pity when you say yes.  Yikes!  I thought of the old roads in Humboldt County that were so steep my un-laden Trek struggled.  But I calmed myself, reminded myself that we got through Hells Canyon yesterday, so we could do this.

View, looking toward Clarkston.

As soon as we started, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. This was going to be fine. Yes, we were settled down into our easiest 3 gears, and it was going to be a long hour to get to the top, but it wasn't overfacing or overwhelming. My bike and my legs and lungs could do this.   It was also blessedly overcast (Jay had mentioned earlier that a thunderstorm had been predicted, then cancelled.   More on that later.....hint hint).

View, looking towards the Snake River and where we camped at the state park.

The road reminded me of the Tour of the Unknown Coast, especially the Panther Gap section going up the mountain before dropping into Mattole Valley. All the switchbacks.  Except these switchbacks were very well banked, unlike the Mattole road.  Some of the switchbacks on Old Spiral were so deeply banked that the road-to-wheel angle was close to 45 degrees, with us at the "top" side of the bank!

A stock photo of the switchbacks.  

The views as we climbed were spectacular.  Arriving at the top felt like a significant accomplishment. We took the obligatory photos with the elevation sign, and then pushed on to Hwy 95.  (Jay has the pictures, so check out his post...)

At pullout a few switchbacks below the top.

Jay rocking his cool shirt. Literally and figuratively cool.  

The section we entered was being re-surfaced, so it had gravel that was being packed into oil.  There were two lanes going each direction, but the road work had cut it to one lane each way, and the "shoulder" was a bath of gravel in various depths and firmness.  How Wonderful!    Jay got a head start, and with the noise of our wheels on the gravel and the cars whizzing past, we couldn't communicate.  In my mirror, I watched as an rv, drunk on speed, came up on me, careened past me and made a bee-line for Jay, who was going around a ridge of gravel in what should have been the bike lane.  I yelled, "Jay, Move Over!!!"    I don't think he heard me. I cringed as I watched the RV close in on him, (This is my lane, and I have the right of way, and I need to drive at top speed, even though the road is covered with gravel and there is a bike up ahead!) and just as it drew up to his bike, it veered sharply to the left in between two cones, and then veered sharply back. Luckily, Jay had reached the end of the gravel ridge, and had moved over just in time, too.   Never occurred to the driver to slow down, I guess.

A stock photo of work being done on this stretch of road.....

Soon after, the road opened up to two lanes again, and we had some relief for the remaining mile before we turned off onto HWY 195, which led us back into the Palouse hills on the way to Pullman.  Before we reached the turn off, I was thinking back longingly to the scored loneliness of Wawawa rd along the snake River.    Kind of.

Hwy 195 (we were going north) and the nice wide shoulder.

HWY 195 wasn't a low-traffic road, and the traffic included a lot of RVs and Semis. But we had good shoulder and good visibility.   About those Palouse hills.    These perfectly rounded hills were all cultivated with wheat and the occasional cover crop of mustard in full bloom or another nitrogen fixing plant.   The hills were perfectly plowed, planted, and harvested in narrow, evenly spaced rows that followed the contours of the land, like magic.  The machines go one way on one pass, and then the opposite way on the next pass, so the texture of the land or plants looks like velvet that has been stroked in different directions so the pile lays differently.  Jay nailed it when he said the hills looked like they were covered in corduroy.   Below are different stock photos of the Palouse in different shades.




Some hills looked like green or brown or tan-palette-ed Jupiters with mono-chromatic bands of color. It was a perfect study for a Van-Gogh-style painter or a pastoral landscape artist.    It was simultaneously very fake, the mono-culture, and very beautiful, the way the crops are sown all over the hills. Land has to be a very steep slope for it to not be planted.  And the furrow lines follow the curve of the land perfectly.

We imagined farm kids, learning to drive tractors, pushing the envelope and trying to go on slopes that were a smidgen too steep, and tipping the tractor.... and losing their tractor privileges for a few years, never to live it down....



At last, we arrived at Uniontown.  Now there was a lot of pressure on this town, from the write-up in the tour book we used as a guide. This was a "Must Stop."  Well.  We stopped.  We expected to eat here, and water up, and rest a while.  We wheeled down a pretty deserted main street, with NO open stores. Most were permanently closed, and the one that was still open--Sage Baking Co--has the most interesting hours. Closed Monday which was today.  Okay, next stop, Holzer Park next to main street.  

The community center, where Jay got water.

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 Jay checked the water faucet. Dry.  We watched someone stop their car to use the public restroom.  Locked.   Well, this was not what we expected. We've got another 20 miles to go to Pullman.  Jay took the water bottles to an office that was open (we saw several people go in and out) to fill up, and I got things organized at the picnic table we picked.  When he got back, we made hot cereal using his completely amazing little stove. The magic simplicity of it awes me.

Tired Jay drinking well-earned water after eating, but before we moved to Memorial park

This is what a tired and happy cyclist looks like.

While Jay finished cooking, I explored the Uniontown web page to look for other parks. There was one a few blocks east, Memorial Park.     I took a trip to see what it was like, and discovered it had working bathrooms, working potable water faucets, and covered picnic areas.   I returned, triumphant, and after we ate we loaded up and moved our mid-day camp.

Stock photo of Memorial Park.  We rested in the shelter to the left of the young girl.

It was now the height of the heat of day, and we were fairly worn out from our morning climb (slow going, but boy we burned some calories!).  So we took a nap in Memorial Park.  When we awoke, the barometer has shifted.  Now there was a cool wind blowing everything about, and the skies had that tone of darkness to them that signaled impending storm.  Jay checked the satellite map, and saw that the on again/off again prediction of a storm was back on.   So we hustled.  Below are some stock photos of the Palouse area, in storms. The darkness of the sky, against the green of the hills was striking, like in these pictures.



Didn't take long for the storm to arrive with ominous darkness to the south-west, and then the lightening and thunder began to explore the skies.  We considered the dangers of riding metal bikes on relatively flat land with lightening around.  I picked up my pace without realizing it, and Jay commented, "It is no use trying to out-run the storm, if you are trying...."  About 7 miles out from Uniontown, we pulled into a parking area in front of a farm house to check the weather map and fuel up. We decided to keep going.

Stock photo of storm on the Palouse.

A quarter mile down the road, Jay stopped and recommended we turn around. He shouted this, because now the wind was so strong it snatched our voices away.   The wind was behind us, and he realized it was pushing us up the hill because we were going far faster than we had any reason to be, with our heavy bikes.  We turned around and attempted to quickly return to that farm house. Phew!   Loaded bikes offer up much more surface area to wind!   (more stock photos below. Jay got the good pictures)



In the shelter of the porch, we watched the wind dance through the wheat, watched the rain torrent down, and shuddered at the lightening coursing through the skies. At one point, the empty flag pole bracket near my head sizzled and cracked with a jolt.   Yes, there was electricity in the air.  Jay watched the satellite image, and saw the storm was passing, but another storm cell seemed to be coming behind it.  Should we head out and try to beat it?

 It looked like things were starting to mellow out. Then the home owner arrived, and invited us in.   She went in through the garage, and on her way to the door, she picked up her husband, who was not nearly as welcoming.  His words were, I believe, "It looks like it's easing off, you can head out now."  So we did.  The wind had subsided and the rain was just spitting now.  The 12 miles to Pullman were drenching, only because the passing cars and semis kept putting water into the air.

One car, being so polite, moved over, but their wheel hit a hole in the road, and sent a rocket of water my direction, soaking my face!  We channeled our inner Dory again.... Just keep spinning, just keep spinning.  At last, Pullman arrived.  We entered from the south end of town, and decided to stop at the first promising looking restaurant.   Suddenly, there appeared a Thai restaurant!.

Phikuns Thai Cuisine, Pullman WA

Ah, sweet!  Jay ordered chicken noodle soup to keep healing the cough he was still struggling with.  I ordered golden tofu with wide noodles, vegetable, and peanut sauce (continuing my quest to find a peanut sauce out there as good as mine.  Still looking).  The portions were so large, Jay took home half of his soup in his Nalagene bottle for breakfast.

Check out the size of that bowl of soup!

Hot Tea is good.

After filling our bellies, we made our way back to the van and bedded down for the night.  How wonderful to crawl into the van and get warm and cozy after the cold of the afternoon rain.  Tomorrow's ride out to Troy is an easy one, with no need for early rise. We agreed to just sleep.

Oh, and our panniers ARE water proof.