Day 44

Mileage: 112
Total mileage: 3886

I wanted to see if I could put in a solid mileage day today, despite the hills. My legs haven't failed me yet!

Ah! I slept incredibly well on my bed of pine needles last night. The cows were lowing all night long which was funny . I always see cows just in passing, so I usually think of them as quiet creatures. Nope! They can really belt it out if they want to. I wasn't bothered, I wanted to wake up and see the stars and I wasn't disappointed. The moon was so bright that I was casting a shadow on the ground at midnight, but when it went behind a cloud, the stars all came out to play for a few minutes. I'm glad I got to enjoy them last night because tonight it's cloudy, and I'm going to be in the bright part of the state starting tomorrow.

I woke up hungry as a result of not having dinner last night, so I was eager to get moving nice and early. I had 13 miles into Austin Junction and it included a 1200 foot, 4 mile climb. By the time I was on the other side, I was counting the mile markers to the junction. Finally I arrived at highway 26, turned right and rolled a few hundred yards down the road until I could see the sign for the cafe. It had a big sign that said 'Yes, we're open!' And underneath, 'huckleberry ice cream.' I've been wondering recently what would stop me faster, a sign that said 'stop Carl Buchholz' or one that said 'free ice cream.' I think the ice cream. Either way, I was excited and ready to chow through a massive breakfast. However, when I went up to the door, there was another sign on the door that said 'sorry, we're closed.' It was 8:30 and the cafe was supposed to open at 8, so I knocked on the door and peered inside. No one home. Eventually I realized I had to do the next 1000 foot climb and ride the 17 miles into Prairie City.

Turning the gastric juices back off was a challenge, as they were really getting revved up at the thought of pancakes, but I managed to quiet down the combustion system long enough to get into Prairie. There I rolled through town and found one breakfast cafe. Score! Nevermind, it was closed on Mondays.

There was no way I was riding another 20 miles into John Day without eating, but fortunately Prairie had a grocery store. I scarfed down a bunch of bananas, a bag of peanut butter MnM's and a box of ice cream bars just to hold me over. In John Day I finally got my breakfast, a little after noon and, well satisfied, continued on my ride after using the library for a little bit.

The afternoon was a gentle downhill ride, all the way down into Dayville. There were about a dozen miles where the wind got really really bad and I was afraid I would be riding those 40 miles for the rest of the day, but then I rode under a big storm front and the wind settled down. Again in Dayville the cafe was closed, so dinner was some odd food choices from the local grocery.

My last challenge was a 32 mile climb out of Dayville over Keye's pass. On the way, I got to go through the spooky canyon pictured into the John Day fossil beds. I even saw my favorite sign for a second time and stopped to get a picture. Last time it was on a downhill and I was too busy laughing to think about stopping to snap a photo.

After all the climbing and wind fighting I'd done already, I was a little bit worried that my legs wouldn't be able to hold out for the last climb. Fortunately, they exceeded my expectations and I wound up climbing for three continuous hours in total autopilot mode. At one point I felt like my legs were turning without exerting any force, but then my chain skipped a little and I felt just how hard I was torquing the drivetrain in that split second. Sadly, these legs haven't gotten all big and muscular, they're just capable of working hard all day long without ever getting tired, which I guess is sort of what I was looking for anyways.

The last few miles of my climb were completed in the semi darkness of the fading sunset, of which I included a few pictures. I couldn't help thinking for that whole last stretch across pastures into the rosy sunset, just how lucky I am to be able to see the country this way. I've almost started to take the experience for granted, but tonight, rolling across an isolated plateau through the sweet perfume of the plants, I couldn't help but remember how incredible this trip has been.

Tonight I'm staying in the playground area for the school in Mitchell (pop 80). I have no idea how a town this small can support a school, but I'm grateful it's here tonight. G'night!

Day 43

Mileage: 90
Total mileage: 3774

It seems the hills aren't going to stop for a while!

This morning at the diner in Halfway, the waitress wasn't taking me seriously. She insisted that no one could want eight eggs AND a stack of pancakes. I assured her that I knew what I was ordering, and her repeated gesturing of the size of the pancakes wasn't dissuading me. I've had this same breakfast for the past 3 days in a row and not had any trouble finishing, so I included a picture. Doesn't look unreasonable, does it?!

I was glad that I fueled up, because the morning started with a punishing 1000 foot climb over into Richland. From there I dropped back into Hell's Canyon for the next 30 miles or so. I knew from the elevation profile on my maps that I was supposed to spend my morning almost exclusively climbing, so I was bewildered as I continued to descend gently in the canyon along the river. In fact, it started to become frustrating because the wind was blowing in my face and despite the gentle downhill slope I was making terrible time. After a few frustrated miles I pulled over and stared at the Powder River for a while which was flowing next to the highway. Oddly, it was flowing towards me, meaning I was going upstream. I looked back at the road and there was a really weird optical illusion, like when you look at that picture with the boxes coming out at you and suddenly they flip so that they're going back into the page. The gentle downhill slope had become an uphill slope! It was very strange. You'd think I'd be able to tell if a road was going downhill or up just by looking at it, but the lay of the land and apparently some expectation of going downhill was enough to fool my mind. Suddenly, even though I was going the exact same speed as before, I felt very satisfied with my pace and the frustration evaporated. 

As an aside, I think that this is where the frustration of the wind comes from. It's very mentally challenging when the look of the road in front of you doesn't match the speed you're traveling. 15 mph feels great on a gentle incline and it's absolutely terrible on a descent. Perhaps this is also why it helps so much to stare at the handlebars while climbing!

My morning ended with one last climb out of the dry and barren desert...

...and over the hill, down into the lush Baker City Valley.

As I sat down to lunch in Baker City I took my phone off airplane mode and got a text from a family friend back in Arizona, Kirk Hayes. It said something like, "You might soon be going through my hometown of Baker City." After a short conversation he told me that his parents were actually in town and gave me phone numbers and addresses in case I wanted to stay the night. I was hoping for some more mileage, but mentioned I might stop by to say hi.

After lunch, I was sitting on a bench in the city outside the (closed) bike shop, getting ready to text his family that I wouldn't be able to see them before I left, when a couple walked up and asked if I was "the young man with the bike." By sweet serendipity I had run into his parents on the street. I forgot to get their picture, but we chatted for a bit and they gave me valuable information on where I could find water this afternoon.

My goal for tonight was to get to Austin Junction, a total of 103 miles. Due to all my climbing and lollygagging in town, I figured I was going to run out of daylight. Out of Baker City I had a 25 mile slow ascent into three steep 1000 foot peaks in rapid succession. I started the first climb as the sun was going down, after chugging 2 full water bottles that I filled up at a convenient ranger station. I used the last of my phone battery to get two quick pictures.

Sadly, I should have saved some battery for when I got over the first peak. I'll have to describe the panorama instead. As I descended from the summit of Sumpter, there was a flaming crimson line settling over the mountains on my right. Circling around the perimeter of the sky was a delicate spread of light, feathery clouds dipped in a gentle peach glow from the setting sun. I could see the entire 10 mile length of the valley between my current descent and my next climb where the densely forested ridges faded down into soft mountain meadows with a bright blue river glimmering through the middle of them. Tiny black dots of cattle were spread across the landscape, enjoying the idyllic seclusion. While I rode through the valley and made a westward turn, the crimson line settled down into a gentle layering of red, orange, violet and finally grey, sitting on top of the mountains ahead of me. It bathed the whole landscape in that soft amber glow that can make almost any view look romantic.

I figured I had about 45 minutes of daylight to cross the valley and make the last climb before I'd do my descent into Austin Junction in the dark. As I was zipping along the valley floor, I started to wonder why I was bothering to zip by. There was nothing particularly special about Austin Junction, except a little country store where I might get electricity overnight. It seemed truly criminal to waste that kind of gorgeous scenery by riding through in a haze of exhaustion, so I pulled off the side of the highway as the sun finished sinking over the horizon. There's a nice little hill here, all covered in pine needles and overlooking the pastures below. I've laid out my groundcloth and sleeping bag and this is looking like a great place to spend the night. I'll get up a little earlier tomorrow to sneak those last 13 miles in before breakfast.

Hopefully the logging trucks wake me up a few times as they go by tonight, I'm really hoping to enjoy the stars. G'night!

Day 42

Mileage: 107
Total mileage: 3684

How can Oregon be this freaking awesome? ! I'm not even in the good part yet!

Last night I went to the park in New Meadows to get some sleep. I eyed the verdant lawn suspiciously and eventually choose to crash on the concrete slab by the visitor information board. My decision paid off when the sprinklers came on halfway through the night and I was dry. I've also gotten pretty good at finding power outlets. Under the little pagoda where I was sleeping there was a light, which meant electricity. Sure enough, tucked up under the roof there was an outlet box which I was able to reach by climbing the side of the little structure. Electricity for another day!

Breakfast in Council was cheap again! 7.89 got me eight eggs, two huge pancakes and a biscuit with jelly. I love being out of tourist country. The roads are open and clear and I sometimes have the better part of an hour with the landscape all to myself in peace and quiet to just daydream and think while enjoying the scenery.

50 miles into my day I hit the little town of Cambridge. My maps indicated a bike shop but gave no address so I started looking around. What followed was the small town process of getting a bike fixed. I asked a random lady walking down the street if she knew where it was. She didn't, but remembered that there used to be something with bikes at the fabric shop. In the fabric shop the proprietor informed me that there used to be a bike shop sharing the building, but that the mechanic had moved it into his garage up the street at his house. At this point I was ready to quit because I just wanted to get my tires back to pressure and do some cleaning, but she insisted on calling Tom, the owner, and putting me on the phone. Tom was busy rafting the river but offered to cut his trip short and come back to town for me. When I informed him what I was looking for he told me he had a bike pump on his porch for general use and gave me directions to his house. I rode there and found the pump which didn't work. So I went and got ice cream from the grocery store instead.

30 miles up the road I descended 3000 feet down and across the snake river at the site of a small dam. I was cooking along through the arid landscape, minding my own business when suddenly I noticed I was riding past a 'Welcome to Oregon' sign. What!? I wasn't supposed to start a new state today, was I? Sure enough, I checked my maps and apparently there was a border crossing planned for this afternoon. And surprisingly, even though the landscape stayed rugged and dry like Idaho, my day changed significantly once I got into this new state.

I was riding along a river, not a mile into Oregon and realized with some incredulity that I'd somehow only had one meal so far
In the day. Breakfast had been late and lunch just hadn't happened after ice cream this afternoon. On cue I rode past some wild plum trees. These are, in fact, the same fruit which I was told were cherries at the ranger station the other day, but they taste more like apricots or plums, so I'm believing the wild plum angle. There were deep purple, soft pink, bright yellow and multicolored fruits, all on different trees. I had slightly more confidence since I'm still alive after the last time I ate these, but they were also a different color, so I was still cautious. I enjoyed what was hopefully a sublethal dose which worked itself out to be roughly as many plums as I could fit in my stomach. They were delicious! I wanted to chug a water bottle to fill, but my last leg of the day was going to be a 26 mile pull through an area called Hell's Canyon, which didn't sound like the kind of place you wanted to be without water in. Satisfied, I rode on past hundreds more trees, positively lining the road along the water, each with thousands of plums so ripe that the slightest touch would dislodge them.

Suddenly I was smacked in the face by a familiar scent. I couldn't quite place it, but it smelled unquestionably like Washington and childhood. I came around the next corner to find a whole thicket of blackberries growing wild along the cliff by the road!!! Once again I couldn't help but stop and I spent the next half hour reliving the years I spent as a kid in Seattle, picking the good blackberries from the thicket next to our house and leaving the unripe ones. I was wishing for the little wooden step stool that we used to use to get the higher berries because there were so many good ones just out of reach. I think I also may have solved a childhood mystery.

When living in Arizona we had lots of ants in our yard. If you crushed one with your finger, it would let off a very particular and strangely familiar sweet smell. That small always reminded me of something that had nothing to do with ants and I never could figure out what it was. I think I eventually just assumed it was a perfume I had smelled somewhere. Today, while cramming berries into my mouth I suddenly got a burst of the flavor corresponding to that perfume! It jogged my memory and finally I remembered that peculiar taste that only comes with one in a hundred or so berries. I think, and I might be wrong, but I think that flavor comes from eating a blackberry with an ant on it. I'm not completely positive because I couldn't find any more ants to test my theory, but that's the working hypothesis right now.

Down the road, still in Hell's Canyon, bushes of elderberries started mixing themselves into the ever thickening collage of plums and berries. As I climbed a little out of the canyon I got to pass through a few little riverbeds which were evidently lined with wild mint in addition to all the wild apple trees. The sweet minty smell mixed with the blossomy apple scent and filled the cool river air with incredible fragrance. At one point, crossing over the top of a hill, I had a whole valley laid out in front of me, dense green foliage carpeting the bottom while the scrub covered walls rose high to either side. I stopped for a moment just to take in the sight and noticed a bald eagle flapping lazily across the landscape not 50 yards ahead of me. He coolly glanced over at me on his way past as if to say 'That's right, this is freaking 'Merica, son.'

So if this bountiful garden is the desolate wasteland part of Oregon, what do I have in store on the other side of the cascades?

Tonight I'm sleeping on a stage in the park of Halfway, Oregon. G'night!

Day 41

Mileage: 88
Total mileage: 3578

The rapidly changing landscape around here never ceases to amaze me.

Last night I went to sleep on the grass in the park. It never occurred to me that in this dry part of the country, grass shouldn't really be growing naturally. Sure enough, around 2a, I suddenly woke up to the feeling of a freezing jet of water being played across my body. Sure enough, the sprinklers had come on and they were generous with their soaking. You wouldn't believe how quickly I got up and ran with my sleeping bag outside the danger zone. My clothes which had been laid out on the picnic table to dry after last night's laundry were also soaked again and so it took a few trips to get all my stuff, by which point I was pretty wet as well. I moved across the park to a large area with wood chips and spent the next half hour trying to shake my quilt dry. The nice thing about down is that it's super warm and light. The bad part is that it's completely useless when it gets wet. I managed to get most of the moisture off it, enough to get me through the night reasonably warm. I felt my dreams of an early start slipping away though.

This morning I had to hang around until 11 o'clock to get the bag completely dry. I didn't want to pack it up with any moisture and run the risk of compressing the down permanently. As it is, I think my sacrifice of time was made worthwhile by getting it back to normal. To still get decent mileage for the day, my afternoon ran pretty low on social interaction and high on riding.

I got to start out by climbing the last few miles over white bird hill where I got a 10 mile descent down the other side into White Bird. I thought that I'd be returning to coniferous forest after my brief teleportation back into Appalachia, but Idaho had something else in mind. I descended down the switchbacks of the old highway, weaving back and forth down the steep hill on banked turns. It was hard to imagine that this drag used to be the main highway, but that's what I've been told. The locals call it rattlesnake road because of all its bends and turns. It was a fun, if trying, descent into what I can only describe as the Wild West. The road was hugged closely by hills covered in dead grass, broken only by the occasional scraggly tree where a small creek flowed down the terrain. I half expected to run over a rattlesnake or get jumped by bandits.

Neither of those things happened though, and I got into White Bird (population 40) where I stopped just long enough to get water. I walked into a bar where about 6 older guys and the bartender were all sitting at a table, watching a western. No one bothered breaking their gaze as I parked outside, walked through to the bathroom for water and walked out.

I got to keep riding through the same hot terrain for most of the rest of the afternoon, following the Salmon river up and up and up. The opposite of what I got to do with the Lochsa yesterday and the day before. I kept passing rafters going the other way down the river and soon got tired of whistling and waving at each group.

At some point the river diverged from the road and I was left in some higher mountain valleys where they raise a lot of cattle. My the scenery does change quickly around here. So does the time zone. I'm completely confused as to which time zone I'm in because apparently it switched each time I crossed the Salmon river and I have no idea which side I'm on now. Oh well, I guess I'll just ride to Oregon and that'll solve it for me .

I took advantage of the Wi-Fi this morning while waiting for my bag to dry and downloaded a bunch of musicals. I found myself singing along quite often today and if you had driven past me you might have heard me rapping along to Alexander Hamilton or belting Defying Gravity at the top of my lungs on a conveniently placed downhill.

Tonight I'm sleeping in the park in New Meadows after a delicious half of a chicken at the local barbeque pit. I'll be checking carefully for sprinklers before sleep tonight. G'night!

Day 40

Mileage: 73
Total mileage: 3490

Felt like I was teleported back into Appalachia briefly today.

There was no rain last night, so I got to pack up all my gear dry and hit the road pretty early. It was cool to see the valley I had ridden in the night before, by the light of the rising sun instead of a setting one. Same exact view, totally different feel.

Along the road into Kooskia today I was doing a little climbing with my head down and noticed berries on the road. To be specific, they were cherries. Sure enough, there was a shrub with the most perfectly ripe cherries on it that I've ever seen, growing wild along the road. I had no clue if there was any danger in eating wild cherries, so I limited myself to only about ten...thousand. In truth I stuffed myself on them and then chugged a water bottle so I could fill it with berries for later as well.

In Kooskia I stopped for water at a little pet shop and spent way too long sitting on the floor, eating my cherries and playing with all the cute little kittens running around. They were super skittish, but as soon as my hand turned into a little spider running around, they couldn't help but chase it. Before I left, the shopkeeper gave me the most hilarious advice ever. I told him I was going down what's apparently a really steep descent into White Bird and he solemnly cautioned me that I should make sure to get my bike in first gear at the top of the hill, otherwise I'd burn up all my brakes.

What was funny wasn't the fact that bikes have a freewheel device in the rear cassette that allows the wheel to turn freely while not pedaling, thus making it irrelevant what gear I'm in going downhill. It's the image which is conjured to mind if you imagine that his advice actually applied. In cars, shifting into lower gear forces the engine to slow down on hills because the pistons can only compress the air in the cylinders so quickly; the motion of the engine becomes the brake. On my bike I am the engine. If I tried to go down a steep hill in first gear without a freewheel, my pedals would become a blender, moving at several hundred rpm. The notion that I could somehow gently dampen that maelstrom with my legs to reduce my coasting speed is absolutely ridiculous, hence the hilarity of his comment. Can you tell I dwealt on this for a good portion of the afternoon?

In Syringa, things started to feel like Appalachia again. I rode into a tiny town and had instructions to follow unmarked roads for unspecified distances, which left me staring at my maps for the first time on this side of the great plains. The other thing I noticed was the heat. Despite how far north I am, I'm back down around 1000 feet and while standing around to read my map my cleats started melting into the pavement. Eventually I found my road, named Lamb's Grade. It should have been called Lion's Grade because it was vicious. In a couple switchbacking miles I gained 1500 feet, cementing the impression of Kentucky firmly back into my mind. Every time I looked down to check what gear I was in, a few drops of sweat would drip from my beard onto my frame, a phenomenon I remember well. When I got to the top I wasn't even surprised to see bales of hay lined up in the fields. The endless fields of wheat were a bit of a surprise but at this point I felt like anything could happen and I would just take it.

In Grangeville I finally got Wi-Fi to post my last two entries. At the cafe where I was posting from I met a guy who rode in the original bikecentennial trip of 1976. He was visiting Missoula for the 40th anniversary bash this weekend and he informed me there was a concert in the park. I went to the concert tonight and enjoyed some country music (are you surprised either?) before getting a shower at the pool. On my way to the other city park (where they let cyclists camp) a lady who was selling raspberries at the concert gave me a couple pounds of them that she had left over! It's been a good day for berries. Showered, I'm back in my comfort zone with freshly laundered clothes drying on a covered picnic table and me lying on the grass tonight. Tomorrow I guess I get to go down that hill in whichever gear I dang well please. G'night!

Day 39

LMileage: 101
Total mileage: 3417

Quiet, serene, beautiful, downhill Idaho.

This morning I woke up around 8 to the sound of other people packing up their gear into panniers. I laughed a little to myself, knowing how long that takes, and went back to sleep for another 45 minutes. Without even realising it, I've got my packing up and moving out routine down to about 6 minutes. Watching the extended process of the fully loaded cyclists made me really grateful for my backpack setup. I wanted to go to breakfast with these guys so I took a nice hot shower while they finished getting their stuff together, realizing with surprise that I hadn't had a proper shower in 6 days.

After we all ate our breakfast crowded around a tiny table in a little cafe we went outside and ran into Allana! She was riding home from the dentist, saw some loaded bikes outside and figured it was us. She ended up riding the 13 miles back into Lolo with us, just for fun. From there everyone was splintering into different directions and we said our goodbyes as I turned off to climb Lolo pass.

Within an hour of making that turn, I was back in pine forests making my way up the gentle grade toward the pass. These Rocky mountain climbs are so much more moderate and gradual than the hills out east, to the point where climbing can be really relaxing and fun. For about two and a half hours I ascended through the wildflowers and conifers to the top of Lolo pass where I entered Idaho!

Since coming into Idaho, the road has been a very gradual downhill grade for over 60 miles now. You've got to love a state where you can ride the whole afternoon and not have to go up at all yet. I've been following the gentle slope of the Lochsa river through narrow valleys, one after another. What this place lacks in epic sweeping views, it makes up for in smells and sounds. The peaceful rumble of the river and the chirping birds, coupled with the heady scent of pine makes for pleasant riding that makes the hours quickly slip away.

In the late afternoon, I rode by a bridge that promised hot springs, only a mile and a half of hiking away. With no real destination in mind for tonight, I decided to take a couple of hours to explore, and boy am I glad I did! The trail followed a creek back until it dissolved into a boulder field with water flowing laterally down the hillside between the rocks to meet the river. In places, there were small pools where the water was collected. I tried my foot in one and sure enough, it was hot!

About that time, an Australian shepherd ran up to me and started begging for attention. As I reached down to pet him, I looked around and noticed that the pools weren't empty. I had the choice between finding my own pool, joining a couple of girls in a large pool fairly close or hanging out with some naked men spread across the other pools. I opted for clothing and to meet the girls, whom the dog belonged to.

Enter the sisters Ashley, Shelby, Paige and their honorary sister Brandy. They're from Missoula (further confirming my impression that Montana has the prettiest girls in the country) where Ashley and Brandy are nurses while Paige and Shelby were just home for the summer from college where they both play basketball. It was hilarious and fun hanging out around siblings again. Ashley and I apparently wandered into medical territory with our conversation, prompting both Paige and Shelby to dramatically feign sleep and start snoring. What sisterly love! We enjoyed the springs for a while and then we hiked back out to the road, trying ineffectively to keep their dog out of the mud as we went.

Back at the road the generosity didn't stop. Without my asking, they topped off my water bottles and Ashley even gave me a pair of beers for camp tonight. It's hard to believe how lucky I keep getting as far as meeting people. Running into these ladies was hands down the highlight of my day!

When I got back on the bike, the sun was starting to set over the mountains. I was able to put 30 more miles on before it was too dark to continue and I had to pull over. I found a little turnoff and followed it a few hundred yards to a small clearing, pitching my tarp between a couple of trees with the last of the light as insurance against rain. Under the stars in the clearing I laid out my bedroll and lay down. 'Dinner' was a 3000 calorie snack of cookies from a convenience store up the road, washed down with Ashley's beer. It's cold out, but my legs are toasty warm inside the sleeping bag and my arms are begging to follow suit, so I'm going to turn in for the night. The stars are beautiful once again and I'm looking forward to falling asleep with this view. G'night!

Day 38

Mileage: 51
Total mileage: 3316

Today I got sucked into the beautiful vortex of kindness that is Missoula!

Last night, after I typed my blog post, I went to a McDonald's to grab Wi-Fi and publish it around 10pm. As I was sitting there, waiting for it to upload, a guy in his mid twenties came up and asked if I needed a place to stay for the night. I replied that I hadn't find one yet and he invited me to go camping up in the mountains with a bunch of his buddies. I had nothing better to do so I readily obliged. We waited for a little bit while a bunch of people assembled in the parking lot and then cruised off about 7 miles outside of town into the mountains. They brought a bunch of pallets so we broke them up, had a campfire, enjoyed some beer and just generally had a great time. When we were all going to sleep, the sky was clear, so I elected to camp out under the magnificent stars that I could see through a gap in the trees. If it rained, I was ready to jump into the back seat of one of the cars, but the rain never came.

As a result, this morning started understandably late. I woke up around 8 while the others were still sleeping. I was stuck at the campsite until the others woke up, so I passed the next two hours playing with the chipmunks. They were fairly skittish at first, but I finally got them to the point where they were eating chip crumbs out of my hand. One particularly fat one was a big fan of my skittles and he was willing to stick his body halfway into the bag to get them.

Around 10, the guy with the truck woke up and we drove my bike back into Hamilton. From there I got to ride 40 miles of bike trail (!) through the Bitterroot valley into Lolo. Out of Lolo, the trail went into Missoula, but it was a 10 mile spur, I would have to ride back again to continue the route into Idaho. The big draw of Missoula was the Adventure Cycling Association and the potential to pick up a package at the post office. Since it's officially part of the route, I decided to go visit, with the firm expectation to get in and get out quickly.

At the ACA headquarters the whole plan broke down. When I walked in I was greeted enthusiastically by the staff. They took a Polaroid picture of me, had me sign my name and stuck it up on the wall with all the other cyclists. I guess they scan them as well so it's probably on their website too. One of the rituals there is to weigh your bike, but since my bike is empty, I got my pack weighed instead. 13 pounds, 15 ounces fully loaded. From that point, everyone I got introduced to on the tour of the building was informed by my guide that I was only carrying 14 pounds. I met the founder of the organization, Greg Siples and he ended up taking me out back to shoot a picture of me and my bag for their magazine.

The fun didn't stop there! While I was sitting in the cyclist lounge eating their free ice cream and reading their huge book about the TransAm, three cyclists that I had met in Jackson came in, Christina, Lael and Timothy. When I had talked to them there, they had just said that they were riding from Bozeman to Missoula, nothing more. What Lael neglected to mention was that she was in fact the legendary Lael, women's record holder for the great divide trail and this year's winner of the trans American bike race which I followed closely. (Absolutely insane, no woman has ever finished close to the top before and she WON). I totally fanboyed out when I learned who she was and got to talk to her for a while. She was super nice and in the end she took a picture with me.

The whole experience from tour to ice cream, photo shoot and meeting Lael Wilcox took a couple hours and by then a storm had rolled into Missoula. It was early evening and I could theoretically have kept going, but the folks at HQ told me about a free hostel in town where I could meet some other cyclists and stay the night. I've got a bit of time to play with, and quite honestly I'm eager to extend the trip by a little, so I opted to stay.

I showed up to Bruce's place (the hostel) which turned out to be his huge house with a bunch of folks living in it. The door was open which pretty much set the tone for my stay. Go in, go out, use the kitchen, take a shower, literally make yourself at home. I met a couple of other guys there, three of them going on the trail the other direction. One of them knew a girl in town and said we were invited over to go cook dinner. So the three of us hopped on our bikes, rode over to meet Allana at her house and then went to the grocery story for spaghetti supplies. When we came back we cooked an incredible meal of garlic bread, salad with strawberries and almonds and spaghetti. Towards the end of dinner two girls who were doing their own tour across Idaho and knew some of the guys stopped by. It was a big party and we sat, chatted and ate for a long time before we all ended up getting on bikes and riding convoy style back to the first house for the night.

It's a crowded living room floor here but I'm extremely glad I ended up sticking around and hanging out with these guys. I wonder what tomorrow will hold. G'night!