2017-2018 He Said, She Said: Two Wheels on the Same Bicycle: Okanogan day 2: Oroville to Beth Lake via Molson by Emily

July 21

40 Miles, 4,265' Climbing

We awoke to a cool, cool morning on the lake. No wind. We prepared hot cereal and coffee/tea for breakfast, and packed up while the sun was still beginning to peak over the hills to the east. Wanting to get an early start for the climbs ahead, we pushed off at the same time as the sun was clear from the mountains. The ridge we were climbing ran east/west slightly, but offered a lot of protection from the sun until about noon.

Our view from our camp site.

Packing up to head out!

Early morning on the lake.

After meandering through spread out farms on the flats, we began climbing about 4 miles into our day. For some reason, the knowledge that we had over 4,000 feet to climb, and the view of the elevation profile just did not match up with my expectations as we rode. More on this later! The road was basically deserted, and if vehicles came from behind we could hear them long before we could see them, thanks to the steep mountain which required vehicles (motorized or human powered) to be in their lowest gears.

After ten miles of endless climbs, we come to the top and it doesn't seem like there is anything ahead of us. We take our celebratory photos (cue the horses), have some snacks, and continue the slight downhill towards Molson road which would take us up to Molson, the Canadian border, and a fantastic ghost town/museum.

We think we've come to the top of our big climb. So we celebrate Jay's big birthday climb (day after his birthday).

Horses celebrating our accomplishment, hoping for some carrots.

Photo series of Jay flying by after we left the horses, and THOUGHT we were done with the first major climb...

Here comes Jay!

The climb up to Molson was pleasant with many gentle rollers after the initial incline. This side jaunt added about 600' of elevation to our day, and I definitely would not have wanted to miss it. We breezed through Molson and the ghost town in order to see the lakes north of town. They looked like scenes from a 1970s lake retreat advertisement. The grasses were all in bloom, this lovely reddish pink color. As we rode along the marshes, we startled many ducks and other water birds who flew quaking away.

Lakes up near Molson

Small vacation lake-side homes.

A brisk 5 miles along a hard gravel road took us to the closest point to Canada, the old town of Sidley. 150' away. We staged some "making a break for it" photos. The "border wall" consisted of three strands of barbed wire. It looked like it could keep cows where they needed to be, but that's about it. Canada from here was a beautiful grassy prairie, with rock outcroppings in the distance.

Closest our bikes got to Canada.

Wildflower at US/Canada border.

No border patrol here. Should we?

Jay's making a break for it! Canada here we come!

Looking into Canada's grassslands.

After our border fun, we returned to Molson town for lunch. First we stopped at the school house museum, which is a three story school frozen in time. The rooms are all set up as they were in the 1970s or so. In the gift shop there was a refreshment area where we got tea and a treat. I think mine was carrot cake. We toured the entire museum, talked to many seniors who actually attended the school. It is a definite stop if you are ever in the area. But it is only open from Memorial day to Labor Day, as it is staffed by volunteers.

From the school museum we rolled over to the ghost town museum where we sat and ate our actual lunch. We wandered the grounds afterwards, and marveled at the time capsule around us, from the days before cars ruled the world. The story of Molson is a great bit of fun. There ended up being two towns of Molson, with a great battle over who was actually the true town of Molson. When the original site of the town was bought by one person, the citizens moved next door to the new Molson. At one time, the town was a hub of activity, but now it is a sleepy, tiny place where very few people live.

Here is a great summary of the town's boom and bust history: http://www.ghosttownsusa.com/molson.htm One of the best stories is of the post office, which was a huge point of contention because where ever the post office was, that was the town. This only became an issue because the USPS refused to grant two postal offices because the towns were right next to each other.... And then they stole the bank back and forth from each other!

Molson Ghost Town.

The ride down from Molson, back to our route was free-wheeling-flying. Took ten minutes to descend the 5 miles of road. It was pretty much all down hill, but not steep. So no worry about riding brakes.

Jay flying down the road from Molson.

Brooks' Bend Wildlife Sanctuary, off to the right as we rode up the rest of the ridge... Had to take a picture of the Blue Heron sign!

Once we arrived back on the "main" road, we expected to continue cruising downhill. No. We had a bit of downhill, and then the climbing began again. It turned out the turn off for Molson was only halfway up the ridge! Thankfully, it wasn't too hot, and we had plenty of water. The other side of the ridge was pretty steep, and curvy. Jay got ahead of me, because he is much more comfortable going fast on his loaded touring bike. I'm more cautious, plus I don't have the hand strength to stop myself more quickly if something should arise. So I'm going along, and then I hear sirens behind me. I forgot to mention that there was no shoulder, or that the shoulder was thick gravel. So when the emergency vehicle came up behind me, I had to carefully slow down and ease off the road. They honked. When they passed, I discovered it was a border patrol vehicle.

Near the bottom of the mountain, another border patrol vehicle came screaming up behind me with sirens going. I again came to a stop and eased off the road so they could get to wherever they needed to be. Jay and I joked about what they possibly could be going after. We surmised it was probably people trying to escape the US into Canada! We rolled into a convenience store in the tiny town of Chesaw, and had a lovely talk with a woman who lived in the area. She had two dogs in her car who impatiently waited for the jerky treat she had for them. She mentioned that the primary concern at the border is drugs. The road north from Chesaw goes up to a border crossing, which is where those vehicles were headed.

Chesaw was in a river valley, and we got to weave our way along the river, around town. On the map, it is a hairpin turn. And Then the climbing began again. This hill was a shock because it was steep, but it was only about 600' of elevation, so not actually that bad. We were just weary! The other side of this mountain was a long, long slow descent along a water shed, which eventually became Beth Lake, our destination for the night. It was a fun cruise along the river and lakelets, with great pavement, beautiful trees on both sides, and no-brakes flying.

We rode many miles winding along this river, through the pines.

River leading to Beth Lake, taken from my bike. I was just randomly shooting pictures without looking (I was watching the road), and this one came out.

Finding a place to stay at Beth Lake took a while. The road through the campground was thick gravel, dry and dusty, and we toured the entire park trying to find the water spigot. We wanted to be as near the water as possible. Once that was found, we picked a space that had as flat a tent area as possible, and set up. We went to the lake for a dip, where we met our campsite neighbors who had a very yappy dog. The water was cool but not too cold. Felt so refreshing to rinse off the salt and road grime. An extremely healthy lake, with absolutely untold thousands of dragonflies, in many colors and sizes.

Though the sign reads "Lake Beth" maps call it "Beth Lake." we rode our bikes through the whole park, before finding our site, which was in the loop closest to the lake.

Back at our campsite we made dinner, lentils and ramen, with Jay's secreted brownie (from Molson school gift shop!) for desert... Afterward, bundled up against the mosquitoes, we walked back to the lake to play cribbage on a picnic table there, where we were buzzed by humming birds a number of times. I was wearing a red windbreaker to protect against mosquitos, so perhaps that was the attractant. And we played cribbage to the serenading (??) of loons. Never having really heard a loon before, we were both stunned. Sounded like an insane person screaming. The term Loony Bin makes a lot more sense now. Though I am not sure which was named first! Later in our trip, we would learn a lot more about loons, as they are a sign of how healthy a lake is.