Panacea

Three days in, I've arrived on schedule in Missoula, MT. My friend Josh surprised me by meeting me 30 miles out and gave me a draft all the way into town. Right now he's feeding me. (We finished our meal, platefuls of ravioli and asparagus, and then Josh indicated that, considering how much riding I was doing, he had planned for this to be just the first dinner. Sounds good to me.)

First day I rode 100 miles exactly from Pullman to somewhere between Kamiah and Kooskiah on the Clearwater River. 30 miles in, on the edge of the Snake Canyon, about to descend down US 195 into Lewsiton, I caught out of the corner of my eye a side road. I looked at my map. It's called Old Spiral Highway. I took it. From the first quarter mile, I dropped down onto the steep edge of the canyon and looked all the way down 2000 vertical feet to the town of Lewiston. I could see Old Spiral Highway switchbacking below me 200ft, 300ft, 500ft. It was a grand 10 mile descent past old battered farm houses clinging to the side of the gorge, and cows chewing the grass on the steep slopes. Not a single car passed me and I took the banked corners fast enough for the banking to matter. Just past Kamiah that night, I pulled off the road and found a hideaway spot to throw up my tent.

Second day I rode 69 miles, following the Lochsa River slowly upstream. Passed lots of classic western whitewater, huge amounts of water flushing through canyons, rapids that blended together into non-stop whitewater. Passed lots of kayakers. I was one of those on this very river with my Dad and Ron and Cy some 7 years ago. I'd drown in that whitewater now. My right achilles began to hurt this day, so I slowed down significantly, geared lower, tried to take it easy. As the sun was just about to dip below the ridge, I found a campsite on the opposite side of the river. To get to it, I got to push my bike across a hanging footbridge. Because I wanted a bath so badly, I stripped down right there, hoping no one would come by, and scrubbed in the freezing snow-melt of the Lochsa. No one came by accept a few cars on the road above, and they didn't know where to look. I don't think.

Today I rode 84 miles. I got an early start (so I was thinking.) I got up at 5am and after breakfast and breaking camp, finally got ready to step onto my bike a little before 7:30am. But then I decided to air up my rear tire. My hasty pump job punctured a hole in the tube right at the base of the valve stem. It took another 45min to get the wheel off, fixed, and back on. By 12:30 I had topped out on the mighty Lolo Pass (~5400ft) after about 4 miles of 6% grade. My achillles was still hurting me, but it cooled off a bit through the day. On the backside of Lolo pass, 10 or 15 miles into my descent, I ran into Josh, and we rode together into Missoula. By the time I met him, I was exhausted and getting into a foul mood. It's amazing what a riding companion does for ones mood.

My first lesson from the first three days is that when I'm putting in this many miles, food is the panacea. It solves everything. This is how it works:

"I'm tired."

"Eat your jerky."

"I'm cold."

"Eat your granola bar."

"I feel sad."

"Eat your oatmeal."

It has worked everytime so far.