Jun 18 - 24, Skykomish, WA to Missoula, MT

In the past eight days I have ridden 628 miles, an average of 78.5 miles a day. On the second day, I crossed the Cascade Mountains by Stevens Pass, which rises from an elevation of 785 feet to 4,160 feet in 12 miles. From there I descended for 17 miles into "Apple Valley USA". I crossed the Columbia River above Wenatchee, and spent the night at Lincoln Rocks State Park, which is beautiful and right on the East bank of the river.

The next day, I headed upriver to Orondo and Pine Canyon Pass. This is unmarked, but rises 2,000 in 6 miles, so it is like Stevens Pass's younger brother. It is the gateway to the Eastern Washington Plateau, an underpopulated desert of wheat fields. Because the weather from Seattle to the top of Stevens Pass had been rainy and cool, I went even further than I thought I could. Meeting the Tour Group then brought out the competitive streak in me, and I was determined to outdo them.

Even though my bike was fully loaded, and all they had to carry were their "snack packs" and gatorade mix, I was going to leave them in my dust. It took a few days of trying to cross the Wheat Desert, in 90 degree heat under a cloudless sky, for me to realize that every ride has its own pace. A pace that is dictated more by the weather and the distance between towns, than by your will.

The fact that my rear tire refused to maintain its structural integrity didn't help either. I'd have a flat, repair it, and then hear the awful sound of the patch coming loose. Or, I'd be putting the tire back on, and hear the even worse sound of a self-inflicted puncture from the tire iron. Then, while pumping up the re-repaired tire under the shadeless sky, I noticed that my tire had an embolism (or was it a hernia?) At any rate, there was a rip in the tire near the rim, and the just-inflated tube was bulging out. Too exhausted to take the wheel off again, I resorted to Duct Tape.

I was walking my bike, with its now defiantly flat rear wheel, the six miles to Airline Heights, when I met two bicyclists coming towards me. They had left from the coast of Maine on May 9th, and were only a few days from Seattle and the end of their trip. Since they fancied themselves as bike mechanics, I gratefully accepted their offer of a new tube and the switching around of my tires.

They lay their bikes down right their on the side of the road, and plunged into working on mine. This gave me a second wind, and I got out one of my inventions. This is a curved oval patch cut out of a soda bottle, that I've used in the past to cover holes in the tire itself. I cut one down, sanded the edges, and duct taped it inside the tire.

After handshakes and good wishes all around, they headed west, and I headed to Spokane. Once there, I consulted the phonebook and found an REI, where I bought two spare tubes and a new tire. Naturally, since I now have a spare tire, the original tire is on its best behavior, and has not acted up since.

I am writing this from "Liquid Planet", a really nice Cafe in Missoula. Have realized that this trip will be very different from the previous two. Partly it's because I'm less willing to deprive myself, but mostly it's because the West has changed. It's still beautiful out here, but it's being changed from a self-contained and self-sufficient area to a service economy. Like Maine, Cape Cod, and Berkshire County, to name a few examples close to home. And because the vacationers will pay, it feels as though every other person has their hand out.