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....