Day 54: Oxbow Dam, OR to Baker City, OR (71 Miles)

I hit a wall today. I had pushed my body so much the day prior, that my mind could not compensate for the anguish of today's ride. On the map, it looked like a feasible 70 miles up through Hell's Canyon and into a large valley next to the Elkhorn Mountains. Conversely, this was to be the most painful and dreadful section of the trip so far...

I woke up well before my alarm clock and got to work on repairing my tires. It appeared that the front tire had deflated entirely overnight, while the rear tire was still holding about 30 psi. Deciding to see how long I can last on the rear tire, I only took care of the front tire. I also attempted to true the rear rim, but I only saw minor improvements. After patching the front tube, I packed up myself and said goodbye to the Hell's Canyon Angels and got on the road by 8:00AM. The morning climb out of Oxbow was going along pretty well, until my stomach began to sound off rumbles of fury. I stopped for a granola bar, but found that this was not going to do the trick. I kept pressing on and debated taking a 2 mile detour to the town of Halfway, but decided to press on towards Richland.

Seperating my hungry stomach and a diner in Richland, was a beast of a hill. This 1,000 foot climb was rather steep and this is when I began to feel the ramifications of yesterday's ride finally catching up with me. My left knee was periodically jolting with pain and my stamina decreased rapidly. After taking a break and keeping my eyes open for rattlesnakes, I finally got over the summit and began the ride down to Richland. I knew I was in for a treat, when a horrible side wind pushed me several feet as I was riding down at speeds above 30mph. Sadly, the winds were coming from the direction I must next face, the West. As I hit flat land, the next mile to lunch was almost unbearable. The wind was thrown at me so fierce, I almost broke down into tears. Hell's Canyon is certainly living up to it's name.

Looking over the maps, I debated riding further to Baker City. There was nothing for the next 50 miles except the wind, heat, and rattlesnakes. This desert climate can certainly get to you, and it got to me today. I first got the idea of hitching a ride, but Richland took on the resemblance of a ghost town on a Sunday afternoon. About 10 miles out from town, I began to notice my rear tire was deflating rather quickly. I stopped, pumped it, and rode another mile to find it deflated completely. I tried replacing the inner-tube, and periodically "thumbed it" when trucks and SUV's drove by. After realizing that I didn't have the patience and energy to force the wheel off my rear rim, I broke down and started looking for a cab service. Much to my chagrin, the cab service in Baker City consisted of only one man with a broken down Ford Pinto, so I kept "thumbing it" until a nice elderly couple pulled up in a smaller sedan. I explained to them my situation, and they told me they were on their way back from church and will return with a pickup truck in another 20 minutes or so. Looking at my surroundings, this sounded like the best plan in the world!

The Sholds welcomed me into their home and fed me a delicious lunch. We sat at their table, telling stories of shared experiences from Honduras and life in general. It was really refreshing to see a family bring in a complete stranger and make him feel at home. I also played around with their Border Colley, who was bitten in the face twice by a rattle snake. The dog had the last laugh, though... having killed it as retribution. After playing with a puffy-faced dog (from the venom) and thanking them, Steven offered to drive me further to Baker City. Feeling I had no other options, I graciously accepted his offer. In return, I offered to pay for gas... saying "Hey, I've made it this far without gas!" Now most people will stop and say: "Hey! Isn't hitch-hiking considered cheating?" First off, I've made so many side-trips on this journey, that I'd have to hitch a lot longer than 30 miles to not make up the miles. Secondly, I'm not doing this trip for the "accomplishment factor" alone, (technically, I've ridden enough miles to be in the Pacific Ocean by now)... No, I'm riding for the adventure and for the kids of MdL. I could quit right now, without ever having seen the ocean and still walk away from this experience with a sense of fulfillment that I've never had before. The more I convince myself that this trip is about milestones and achievements, the more it will delude me from what this experience is really all about.

Day 53: Riggins, ID to Oxbow Dam, OR (127.5 Miles)

I forgot to mention a funny story from yesterday. I was riding through the various bends leading from the town of Kooskia and I began hearing the sounds of gunfire. As I turned one bend, I found a man firing a sniper rifle into a large embankment. I wanted to stop and take a picture, but then again... Who fires a sniper rifle at the earth on a Friday morning? Idaho provides a host of interesting sorts, including a drugged out individual who saluted me with a very passionate "Aye-aye captain!" I'm assuming he lives in a place much akin to this following Waco-esque homestead:

Idaho is beautiful, but I was getting quite antsy when straddling the border of Oregon for so long; therefore, I channeled my inner Kevin Costner from American Flyers and put in some solid mileage to make it to the Oregon border. On top of the miles, I also had about 4,000 feet of climbing to do throughout the day...

In spite of steady climbing, I was keeping very good pace and made it to New Meadows for a quick lunch. At this time, I decided that I would only stop in Cambridge for dinner (my initially planned stopping point for the day) and keep riding over a 4,131 foot pass and back into Hell's Canyon. Luckily, the winds were weak enough for me to keep a good momentum and push through several challenging climbs.

I was extremely motivated to make it to Oregon, realizing that this was a very important benchmark. I couldn't wait to cross into my tenth and final state.... I kept repeating "Oregon, Oregon, Oregon," when I began to grow tired of cycling through narrow roads. In spite of it being a weekend, the traffic was very manageable and there were very few 18-wheelers on the road. Just adjacent to route 95 was the Weiser River Trail, an unpaved trail that use to be a railroad line. If I had thicker tires, I would have definitely taken advantage of this beautiful trail! Here's the trail's website: http://www.weiserrivertrail.org/.

I stopped in Council for a chocolate milk and a candy bar, then pushed on to Cambridge for dinner. I got into a conversation with the diner owner and she explained to me the details of the climb ahead. It sounded like it was going to be challenging, but I would be rewarded with the thrilling seven mile descent into Hell's Canyon (which would be my second ride back into the winding canyon). Excited to get into Oregon, I paid the bill and headed back into the afternoon heat.

After a slow crawl up to the pass, I was rewarded with a thrilling descent; however, I began to notice my front tire was losing air at a rapid pace. By the time I crossed the Brownlee Reservoir Dam and into Oregon, I noticed that not only my front wheel had a puncture, but my rear tire was bouncing. Expecting the worst, I found an air bubble between the tire and the tube. Having never seen this before, I was quite baffled. I removed the sharp rock that had caused the small puncture and the bubble dissipated. I pumped up both tires and rode another 20 miles up the canyon towards Oxbow. I found that the front tire's leak was far more serious, but my rear rim had become warped, or "not true." I was losing daylight, so I pumped up the front and made the final climb up to the Oxbow Dam camping area.

As I pulled in, I asked a drunk elderly couple where I could find water and they pointed me in the direction of the camping area. I rode to the nearest green patch and threw my bike against a tree, when a nice lady approached me with a drink. She then invited me over to meet her friends and then proceeded to feed me. These friendly families were from Portland, and were going to raft down the Snake River for the next week. We sat for a while and swapped some fun stories... it was a fantastic way to end a long grueling day. I thanked them for everything and proceeding to pitch my tent, take a shower, and fall asleep. I've decided to wait for tomorrow morning to deal with my tires. I'm only hoping that this is the most trouble Oregon throws my way... oh well, at least the people here are great!

Day 52: Kooskia, ID to Riggins, ID (77 Miles)

These odd time zone changes have been throwing my eternal alarm clock for a loop. I woke up way before Jon and spent the morning looking over my maps. I'm still needing to average about 70 miles a day to finish in Florence by August 31st, not bad considering I've had an accident in the Appalachians and fierce winds have been thrown my way. After crunching numbers and making cheap motel coffee, I said my goodbyes to Jon and hit the road. I'm glad I stopped in Kooskia, because the climb up to Grangeville would have been horrific in the afternoon heat.

I climbed about 3,000 feet and found myself eating a horrible breakfast at "Hillside Cafe." I could tell that the waitress really disliked her job and her bad mood was cast over the entire room. Negativity spreads like the H1N1 Virus through gringos in Cancun. I was actually glad to leave this place and get back into the heat. The ride over Old White Bird Hill was gradual enough and the trees provided some shade, which was greatly appreciated. I could tell from the livestock finding shade under trees and those lying close to the ground, it was going to be a scorcher.

A scorcher it surely was... it got up to a sultry 102 degrees and I was descending into the fittingly titled "Hell's Canyon." This canyon is deeply carved with steep walls lining the entire way. The canyon follows the Snake River, a popular rafting destination. The ride down into the canyon was the most thrilling experience of my life. The descent was a seven mile steep ride down a series of switchbacks carved on the side of a mountain. Again my hands were aching from breaking so much, but I didn't mind... the scenery was breathtaking and there was no traffic on Old Highway 95. I quickly reached the bottom and grabbed a quick snack from a general store in White Bird... Yellow Gatorade and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, part of this complete snack break.

The rest of today's trip was hardly enjoyable. I had to ride on the broken shoulder of Highway 95 and dodge recreational vehicles and 18-wheelers, all the while wiping the stinging sweat from my eyes. Today was certainly the hottest day of my trip. Luckily, I had an extra stockpile of water and this kept me energized to reach my final destination of Riggins. Feeling frugal, I checked a local RV park and their costs for camping and showers were borderline absurd... so I rode down further to find another cheap motel. The more I sleep in these motel beds, the more cumbersome and unnecessary my camping gear becomes. Here's to hoping that Oregon is more camper-friendly than Idaho and Montana has been...

Before I crossed into Riggins, I went back into "Mountain Time," losing an hour. This route has put me in a strange time paradox. And, if I'm looking at my maps correctly, I'll cross back into Pacific Time Zone when I cross into Oregon.... strange.

I spent the good portion of tonight talking on the phone with my dad, who informed of some sad news that I'll address at the end of this entry, and with friends. The more I speak with these people, the more I long for the end of this journey. I'm sure this is an unhealthy desire and will only distract me from the beauty of these last few days. But it's true.. I long for returning to my apartment, to be with my dog, to work at a job I truly enjoy, and to be with people I truly love. If this trip has taught me anything, is that I have a great life to return to.

Lastly: I'm sorry to write that today the world has lost a very great man. George Mitchell passed away this afternoon amongst family and friends. Known for being the life of every party, his laughter could be heard for miles around and his enjoyment of life was truly palpable. He was the first person to ever give me a nickname that stuck, "Joe Cheeseburger Blake." I loved George, and my heart goes out to the Mitchell family. I'm sorry I could not be around during this difficult time... but please know that I'll be thinking and praying for you guys while I ride. God bless!

Day 51: Lolo Hot Springs, MT to Kooskia, ID (110 Miles)

Another cold night followed by another cold morning... it's time to say goodbye to Montana. I climbed over Lolo Pass and crossed into a new state and a new time zone. My introduction to Idaho was very enjoyable. I spent my first few miles riding down from Mount Fuji and into the Lochsa River Basin. This was a very scenic and quiet ride, fully accompanied with docile deer and warming sunshine. Before I knew it, I had already arrived to my morning breakfast stop, the Lochsa Lodge...

Pulling into the lodge, I spotted a cyclist loading up his bike. I approached him and Brendan introduced himself. It turns out that he's from Marshfield, MA and was riding with another neighbor. Jenna came out of the lodge and we all got to talking. Jenna and Brendan were riding in memory of their friend, and Jenna's fiancé, who was killed in a kayaking accident. They have a facebook page called "TOUR DE HUNTER" and a website as well. They're riding into Missoula and spending some time there, and will eventually end up in Massachusetts by late November. We chatted some more and eventually parted ways and I made my way towards eating a scrumptious breakfast. Idaho knows how to do breakfast and this french toast plate was, by far, the best morning meal I've had all trip.

Fully satisfied, I rode on with the Lochsa, enjoying the smells of fresh pine and the sounds of waterfalls. The temperature was increasing dramatically and I was prepared to face "near record high temperatures" later in the afternoon. I was feeling good and made it an effort to keep a good momentum until a lunch stop in Lowell, and this meant no stops for photos or pee.. the latter fact has been easier to do now that I've perfected my cycling-while-urinating technique (don't worry, I don't pee all over myself). This momentum was going well until a large 18-wheeler drove me off the road. Luckily, I fell onto some soft sand/gravel and was not seriously harmed. The trucker was not fully at fault... route 12 is much akin to a super model... very curvaceous, narrow, and features tiny shoulders. The trucker probably did not see me until it was too late and his exuberant horn usage was probably not malicious.

My momentum began to slow down when I hit road works in process for the next 26 miles. To make things easier, I met a new friend. Jon's from Bristol, UK and is riding from New York City to Seattle. Here's his travel blog. We spent the next 20 miles riding behind pilot cars and sharing stories. Jon and I then stopped in Lowell for food and milkshakes. I've found that these sugary treats are quite delicious and great for energy. I didn't realize it, but I had already ridden close to 80 miles by lunch time and we decided to call it a day in Kooskia, a town located in the Nez Perce reservation.

Surprisingly, I could have ridden for longer... but my new hungover friend was keen on sharing the expense of a cheap motel room. Feeling like 100+ miles was a long enough day, I gladly complied. We checked into a dive, showered, and quickly gravitated to the nearest cafe for more milkshakes. Jon commented on how it's a shame we had to ride in separate directions the next day (he's riding West into Washington and I'm riding South towards Oregon) and I agreed. Riding alone has very few benefits, and I'm very fortunate for the times I've shared the road amongst new friends. When riding with fellow cyclists, you develop a sense of camaraderie... a universal appreciation for a fellow adventurer and a comforting acknowledgement that you're not all alone out there on the road... they're a Godsend.

Day 50: Stevensville, MT to Lolo Hot Springs, MT (70.5 Miles)

I did not want to leave the hotel this morning. It was, by far, the most luxurious and comfortable room I've ever stayed in... and the price was a steal! I got up around 7:00AM and lounged around with breakfast and coffee. In terms of total distance, I didn't have a long day planned... but, the majority of the day would be spent climbing. The maps have you ride 15 miles off route and into Missoula, solely to visit the headquarters of Adventure Cycling Association, a non-profit cycling organization. I got onto the road around 8:30AM and the majority of the morning was spent on a pleasant bike trail that kept me away from the nasty four lane highway; however, I had to rejoin the highway to get into Missoula.

With the amount of debris (i.e. glass, shredded tires, metal shrapnel, etc.) on the small shoulder, I was genuinely surprised I never got a puncture. On the other hand, I almost urinated myself with a few close calls with semi trucks and dump trucks... It really reminded me of my prior highway predicament outside of Naples, Italy... only I could understand the obscenities being shouted at me.

Dear Adventure Cycling: Please raise some funds to create an easier/safer alternative route to get to your headquarters. The most unpleasant experience of my trip was riding to and from your location. This is a big no-no, guys.

I did make it into town and by the amount of hipsters giving me judgemental glances, I could tell I was in a college town. Missoula seemed like a cool enough place to waste some time, and that's exactly what I did. I stopped into the first bike shop I came across and replaced my rear breaks and had a technician look at my squeaky headset. I then rode towards the Holy Mecca of cycling, the Adventure Cycling Association headquarters...

At first glance, the headquarters looked exactly like a church. This, I found out later, is not far from the truth. The building used to be an old church and was renovated into an office/complex. Much akin to a church, they welcomed me in with great hospitality. I was treated to ice cream and "pop." A younger lady gave me the grand tour and I was almost overwhelmed with the amount of history that covered the walls of the building. I spent a lot of time just looking at photos and reading articles. The bike in the photo below took part in the 1976 ride and belonged to a cartographer (a guy who works on maps).

I also found a wall of 2009 cyclists. Most were taking part in smaller tours (like Seattle to Denver, or Missoula to Chicago, etc.), but there were a lot of Trans-Am riders that I recognized. I later had my photo taken and took my humble place amongst these amazing people...

Realizing I could have spent all day here, I decided to finish my Dr. Pepper and hit the road. On my way out I met Dale, a Seattle native riding to Florida. Dale was riding an old Schwinn Varsity and is lugging all of his stuff in a dog trailer. Dale's adventure can be followed from the following website: http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/rideout. I spent some more time hanging out with Dale and then heard my watch ringing off it's noon o'clock alarm, thus I had say my goodbyes and began riding out of town...

I stopped for a burrito, which subsequently gave me stomach problems for the rest of the day. I was unpleasantly surprised to find that the temperature had increased dramatically and was in stark contrast of the last few days. I took off any unnecessary layers and slowly rode towards my final destination, Lolo Hot Springs, which was located right near the Idaho border. I decided not to ride any further than that, mainly due to a 66 mile stretch past the border that featured nothing more than trees and assorted wildlife. The afternoon ride was slow and painful. My left leg has been acting up more and I definitely felt it during the climb up from Lolo. Pain aside, it was a beautiful route that brought me through a narrow valley with river streams on each side. I'm sure this area had inspired a local author, David James Duncan, in writing novels such as The River Why and The Brothers K. I'm currently sitting in a bar, snacking on an appetizer and debating my options for the night... it seems they're not many. Hmmm... should I get stung with exorbitant prices from one lodging place or bike across the street and get ripped off by them? Hmmm...

Day 49: Wisdom, MT to Stevensville, MT (94 Miles)

Last night was a pretty low-key affair. I got some dinner at Diane's restaurant, played with some local dogs and went back to the cabin to pop in a VHS tape. After some debate, I finally decided on the 1983 film entitled "The Big Chill." What? A movie with Jeff Goldblum AND William Hurt? Sold! All in all, it was a solid film that portrayed a pretty realistic depiction of friends and it made me long for the days of hanging out with the old "gang." It's a shame that distance and time can seperate people like Alex Limage, Jonathan Youngman, and Greg Lanham from my life. I love these guys and it pains me to think that I'll only be able to spend short vacations with them. Oh well, it can only make me appreciate those in my currently in my life all the more greater.

I got on the road around 7:30AM, but had to swing by the restaurant to drop off the keys to Diane. She persuaded me to eat, like any good mother would do... mainly because there wasn't any other stops for the next 40 miles or so. After quickly eating a breakfast sandwich, I said goodbye to Wisdom and hello to Chief Joseph Pass, the last time (I think) I will pass over the Continental Divide. The pass was at 7,241 feet, but had a nice 3,000 foot descent into a valley. The climb up to the pass was gradual enough to convince me to muscle up the entire way. I reached the top without a need for a break and quickly rode down to the other side. The descent had a quick stop and turn onto Highway 93. As I was turning right, I did a double-look and noticed a "Welcome to Idaho" sign about 50 yards off to the left. I hadn't realized that today's trip would bring me so close to the border. Not feeling like backtracking, I'll save my crossing over into Idaho for tomorrow...

The ride down to Sula was thrilling and semi-dangerous. There were several switchbacks, with fallen rocks on the shoulders and I'd have to decrease speed drastically to avoid them. On my way down, I saw a mother mountain lion and her two cubs running across the road and quickly disappearing behind a guardrail. Sadly, I was too mezmerized and had too much momentum to stop and get my camera out... which is a common theme. These photographs are only poorly timed glimpses of the beauty that surrounds me. They fail at portraying the sense of scale and majesty of mountains, valleys, and forests. They capture smiles, but not the voice or soul of that person. It's quite the fool's errand to fully illustrate this experience via photographic evidence, so I hope that my words can somehow help fill this gap.

I spent the majority of the afternoon riding at high speeds, in spite of a slight headwind. I felt energized enough to challenge myself and push my muscles to their quasi-maximum potential. I also only stopped in a few towns for a chocolate milk and snack. Before I knew it, I was already close to my final destination at 3:00PM. I had made good time. But then it hit me, I had completely forgotten a good portion of the last three hours. I had been focusing so much on pushing myself, that I had forgotten to stop and appreciate the beautiful Bitterroot Valley I had ridden through. It's strange how single-track a mind can be...

I arrived into Stevensville at 3:30 and was told to check out the Stevensville Historic Hotel. A local lady with a tie-dye shirt said they had special deals for cyclists and that sounded mighty-fine to me. I found the restored building and walked into the lobby. By the look of things, I instantly thought this place was above my pay grade. Fortunately, it wasn't... I got a room, with a huge bed, and an amazing bath tub with jacuzzi jets! I think I'm gonna soak in this thing for a long time and relax in the bathrobe they supplied (I've never worn a bathrobe before... it's like a comfortable hospital gound, but I have to remember the opening is in the front this time!)

Day 48: Dillon, MT to Wisdom, MT (66.5 Miles)

So much for that epic 160 mile day I had planned. For some odd reason, I thought I could wake up early enough and have enough energy to conquer three passes and make it into Stevensville by sundown. This, obviously, has not come to fruition. For one, I did not go to bed at a proper time. I hung out with the motel clerk, Cassie, last evening and got into bed around midnight. Therefore, I rolled out of bed at 7:30AM and took full advantage of the continental breakfast. After such a lackadaisical morning, I already resigned myself to a more moderate goal for the day. Looking over the maps, it looked like the town of Wisdom was the only logical stopping point, leaving another 90 miles or so to go for the following day. I had no idea why I thought I could conquer three mountain passes and pull in that many miles. Maybe I've grown too confident?

I initially thought the town of Dillon was rather small and depressing; conversely, I had only stopped just on the outskirts of the town and realized I missed out on the "heart" of the town completely. "Oh well," I thought and I kept on riding. There's not much thinking going on when cycling. I saw this trip as an opportunity to think, but most of my philosophizing occurs when I'm off my bike. I mostly just sing songs in my head or just repeat "wow" when looking at beautiful vistas. For a Monday, the traffic was very light... though I believe this is because I'm riding through very rural areas. The majority of the day was spent riding through Badger and Big Hole passes, with not much in between. I stopped a few times to chew on some old beef jerky and I found a pack of brown sugar and cinnamon Pop-Tarts, which gave me way too much excitement over such a sugary treat...

In contradiction to the local weatherman proclaiming "warmer weather," it was still a chilly day. I sporadically took off clothing during climbs and quickly donned them again on top of breezy mountain passes. I strolled into Jackson, home to more natural hot springs, and found another rider. For the life of me, I can't remember her name.. but we spent an enjoyable lunch together. She was riding from Wisdom and thinking of calling it a day in Jackson. She had originally planned on riding cross-country; however, she's run into so many "side-adventures," (such as boating down Snake River with complete strangers in Idaho) that she's altered her plan to end the trip in Denver, CO. Eager for more company, she begged me to stay in Jackson for the night.. but I had to keep riding and ride I did.

Facing the wind again, I rode on towards Wisdom. This latter section of my trip went by fairly easy and uneventful, with the glaring exception of some insect stinging my neck.. which friggen hurt, man! I arrived into town some time after 4:00PM. I was told by locals that it had gotten down to 29 degrees last night. Realizing that my single season tent would fail miserably at protecting me from these frigid conditions, I began my search for a roof to put over my head...

As it turns out, an Adventure Cycling group of cyclists were staying in town for the night and they had booked all the motel rooms available. A lady then told me to head over to Big Hole Restaurant and talk with Diane, the owner. I met Diane, a lady with an infectious smile, and she threw me the keys to her cabin. Expecting another place to sleep not unlike Guffy, CO... I found really nice lodging and for a cheap price too! - This is a good thing, if this cold weather keeps up, I'll be lucky to have enough cash to buy my bus ticket to Portland!

Now, if you'll excuse me.. I'm gonna go play with some puppy-wuppies!!!

Day 47: Ennis, MT to Dillon, MT (76 Miles)

I woke up this morning to find a chilly 35 degrees of frigid temperature outside the door. I wasn't prepared to encounter such coldness, so I decided to wait until 9:30AM to leave. I met a local guy last night at Subway and we talked it up a bit about how some drivers can be really rude to cyclists around here. I told him I've yet to run into any of these encounters... it seems I spoke too soon. I had about seven notable "rough encounters" with other automobiles. Most of them consist of laying on their horns and giving me only inches of clearance... and each time there was no shoulder and no oncoming traffic. I try my best at not being visibly angry, to not even give them the pleasure. But it does put me in a funk. I become perplexed with how and why anyone would do something like that? Such blatant disregard for human life... and for what? A laugh? It's not like I'm making some political statement they can disagree with... or that I'm inconveniencing them in any way... then what is it? Sadly, I think human nature is open to inexplicable crudeness to the other for no just reason... not race, not ideologies... just "because."

This morning was spent climbing over 3,000 feet from Ennis to Virginia City. The climb was long, but not very difficult. I was proud to note that I didn't have to switch into "granny gear" and I never stood up the entire ascent. I also limited myself to one picture/water break, and that was only a minute. I can't wait to get back to my little 25 mile loop through Quincy and see how well I manage. I also can't wait to get back into running. I feel like I've built enough stamina to overcome the "hump" of getting back into the hobby (I often become extremely discouraged when barely surviving a three mile jog) and now it seems all I need is some new running shoes (May, if you're reading this.. maybe we could go shopping for some when I get back?).

I rode down a thrilling and very fuh-fuh-fuh-freezing 7% grade descent into Virginia City, a cool little tourist town that was once a mining village. I stopped into a small diner for breakfast and had a long conversation with the owner. She was very supportive of what I was doing and told me that she had MS, and that a few riders came through and it touched her greatly. I also interacted with an interesting fellow who is a self-described retired cowboy, tourism guide, and aspiring television narrator. He told me he has "work" on PBS and is working on getting some work with the History Channel. We then talked about inflection, tone of voice, and accents. I wish I could've talked for longer, but I had miles to bike. Today's riding wasn't very thrilling, besides the aforementioned "rough encounters" I had with a few cars. It mostly consisted of riding through a large valley and, yes, against the wind. To make things more tolerable, today's wind only ranged from 5 to 10 mph and for that I was thankful.

I stopped again in Twin Bridges for a taco salad. The service here was slow and I was antsy to get back on the road. The last 25 miles or so were the most challenging. The wind became more consistent and resistant. I rode up to a scenic overlook area and the couple there said they had met me at Old Faithful. It clicked and we had a "small world" moment. They told me I must've been "hauling it" to make it here, and I assured them I've certainly been trying.

I rode into Dillon at 4:30PM, feeling rather tired. I couldn't find any place for WiFi.. so I'm here at McDonald's, getting nickel'd and dime'd with their charging for internet, sauce packets, etc. First they indoctrinate you to obesity at a young age with their "Happy" Meals and then they have the gull to charge you for internet! Damn you, Ronald.

There's a small cineplex in town that's playing Michael Mann's "Public Enemies." I might see this film, despite mixed reviews, and call it an early night. I'd love to put in a long day tomorrow, God willing, and make it into Stevensville; however, two passes and the wind may have something to say about that. Wish me luck!

Day 46: West Yellowstone, MT to Ennis, MT (74 Miles)

I got a late start this morning. I looked over the elevation chart and was relieved to find that today's ride was going to be non-taxing on my body. There was a gradual decline of 2,000 feet down to Ennis, my final destination. In theory, this would be an almost effortless day of cycling. This, obviously, turned out not to be... but I'll get to that later. I spent the majority of the morning updating the last of the blogs and eating "complimentary" breakfast foods. I finally got out of the room by 10:00AM and was on the road shortly thereafter. The ride out of West Yellowstone was nice enough, albeit colder than I expected from a mid-August day. The highs never got over 60 today, therefore I was bundled up pretty well. About 10 miles into my journey, I noticed an absurd amount of Montana highway patrol cars driving by at high speeds. I then spotted a collection of people waiting on the side of the highway. I stopped and asked a few guys what was going down. They informed me that President Obama's secret service/motorcade was coming through. It was only minutes when the fast moving black SUVs filled with bald guys with glasses came rolling through. They drove in an interesting/impressive zig-zag formation. I was only able to snap this uninteresting photo:

After the motorcade passed through, I chatted with the guys and they believed Obama was being flown into the local airport by helicopter and these cars just obtained his entourage. They then joked about the overt amount of police in the area and commented that they should be "back east, robbing every bank they could find." I wished them luck and turned left onto route 287. It was then I faced a headwind that would stay with me to the final destination of the day. My plan for a leisurely ride went out the window in that very moment.

I rode against the wind and stopped at RV park store for a Heath bar and some potato chips. Today was going to be another snacking day, with no planned stops for lunch or dinner. I then continued on up the Madison River and rode over the Hebgen Dam. Riding down into the Missouri Flats, I was hit with winds that almost sent me off my bike.

The feeling of having to push yourself down a hill is the worst feeling a cyclist could ever have... well, I guess saddle sores are worse. Anyways, I kept pushing and found a rest stop to give my legs a break. I sat down at a picnic table next to two motorcyclists, a father and son from Utah, and began chatting with them about the wind. They explained that the wind even pushes them around, especially when riding by trucks. We talked for a while and decided to get back on the road again and back into the wind.

My last stopping point was going to be the small town of Cameron, which turned out not to be a town at all... just a post office and a closed restaurant. About five miles out from the town, I began noticing dark and ominous clouds coming over the mountains to the West. It was only moments later when it began to rain, then hail. These hail pieces were only the size of small pebbles, but man-oh-man... did they hurt. It was like being pelted by paint balls, except very cold paint balls. The hailstorm only lasted about 10 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I spent the whole time slowly riding with my head titled down at the road. The hail really stung my face, especially my nose... so it was not easy riding. The hail then turned back into cold rain and I pressed on to my final destination.

Ennis is a nice little town at the base of a 3,000 foot climb I must face in the morning. I could have rode over this and ended the day in Virginia City, but the wind definitely changed my mind on this. The scenery today was not any less spectacular than prior days; however, my appreciation for these settings was dwindled due to the abysmal elements I had to face. I think I've been spoiled by the near-perfect weather I've had during this trip. Sure, the wind has not been friendly... but I couldn't complain about anything else. If I had to ride in the rain for the rest of the trip, I'd say it would be fair enough. Alright, the Subway dude just gave me a look that said: "Dude, this not a library and/or Internet Cafe," so I should go! Peace, peace, and chain grease.