Post 3- Priest River to Glacier National Park

July 24, 2009
The ride out of Priest River was hilly but relatively smooth, I arrived in Sand Point before 9 am and ordered the lumberjack breakfast. Before the server had returned to ask me how it was, I had devoured my “large” meal (which was served on a square plate). Luckily, the meal came with coffee cake which I finished in about 30 seconds, washed down with two cups of coffee and a stick of butter. The next leg of my trip took me along the coast of lake Pend Oreille. I would never recommend anyone to ride their bike through here. I had people yell at me trying to get me to fall, cars honking, and on the two occasions that I did stop I got ridiculous questions like, “are you insane, are you nuts?” and “you need to get your head checked”. My impression of Idaho was a bunch of rude and impatient people.
I finally made through hell’s panhandle and into Montana, so I stopped at a bike shop in a tiny town that I don’t remember the name. They didn’t have any replacement spokes, which I still needed in case I broke some on the road. So I continued down the road but I took the alternate road which has less cars and should be a more scenic ride. Scenic is great unless it is 100 degrees outside and you still have many miles to get to the next town. After about ten miles the road turned into choppy gravel and dirt, they were improving it but all I got was issues with my brakes rubbing my wheel. I made it back to the real road and was very tired from my strenuous travels. I camped at bull lake that evening which was less than one hundred feet from my campground. While I was wading around in the water, I met Jerry who was camped next to me with his wife and friends. They were riding their Honda Goldwings and had ended up right next to me, so they gave me beer, cookies and advice. The two most important pieces of advice that I imparted upon me were, “whatever you do, don’t ever sell your bike” and “to find good, cheap food, stand outside of Walmart and wait for a fat lady to walk out then ask her where to eat”.
I needed to make to Libby the next day which wasn’t that far, so I left around 9 am and things went very smoothly. I met a Dutch couple who had been riding for about 9 months and as I left en route to Libby, I decided that I would just push on through without lunch and eat when I got into town. Unfortunately, at about 10 miles from town my bike wouldn’t roll very well anymore. I stopped at a scenic area, and took all of my gear off the bike. I messed around with the spokes trying to true the wheel just enough to get the bike rolling properly again. Thirty minutes later, I was satisfied with the bike and pushed through to Libby.
Libby is a smallish Montana logging town, and they have giant sculptures of eagles everywhere. I found the river about a quarter mile from the center of town and took the plunge once again, washing away the grime that on most days seemingly welds to your legs after about 50 miles of biking. I couldn’t find any knowledgeable fat ladies but I found a rather large man at a convenience store who promptly pointed me out to the towns’ only Mexican restaurant. He told me,”get the giant burrito, most people can’t finish it”. I took that as a personal challenge and I had it digesting within about five minutes’ time. My campsite was right in the center of town and cost me five dollars. The wonderful thing about this campsite was the fact that it was right behind the largest grocery store in town that had free internet access and free refills on my iced coffee. I don’t think I slept until about midnight.
The next day was absolutely wonderful as my ride took me along Lake Koocanusa for 60 miles into Eureka. Not to say that it wasn’t challenging; the entire ride is up and down large inclines. However, every time I went down one of the hills, the wind cooled my face and I made up for some lost ground. I couldn’t count the amount of bald eagles that rode high into the sky riding the thermals. The best part was the wide shoulders that made me feel secure. I made it into Eureka sometime during the two o’clock hour and promptly found the river in town; I was over heating a bit. I met Maricio and several other bicyclists who were touring with Cycle America. They invited me to stay at the local high school with their group of forty or so bikers. What good timing, I thought. I have to thank Greg who was the director of sorts, because he was so gracious letting me eat catered food with everyone for dinner and for breakfast. I took a shower with my flip-flops on and slept in the padded wrestling room.
I was well fed and on the road around 7 that morning and headed to Whitefish, when I realized that most of the drivers on the road were driving like maniacs. I stopped at Dickey lake for a some Scooby snacks; I was impressed with the greenish-blue colors of the lake in the early morning light. The shoulder continued to narrow until there was none, all the while the logging trucks zipping by at 70 miles per hour inches from my rear view mirror. I think that I literally saw my life flashing before my eyes when I heard sirens blaring behind me while summiting a steep hill, and before I knew it and ambulance was about fifty feet behind me. I basically threw myself into the gravel “shoulder” and in the last instant unclipped my foot from the pedal. I was still several miles from Whitefish, but continued on ever-so-wary of the crazies trying to run me off the road.
Finally, Whitefish! I arrived at high noon and I can’t say enough great things about this outdoorsy town. I had secured a couch to sleep on with Angie and Ian, but had time to kill before Ian was off of work. I went to the bike shop and the guy behind the counter drew me a nice bike map from town to Glacier Park. He told me where to get a pulled pork sandwich, and I walked over the viaduct to Babyback BBQ. I talked with Jazelle who took my order, and then she drew me a map of a nice swimming hole where I could avoid all of the annoying children at the City Beach Park. Every person I met in Whitefish seemed to have all the time in the world, and most of them drew maps for me. I meandered my way through town, got a cup of ice cream, some snacks and a bottle of vodka. Ian called and told me that he lived a stones’ throw away from the Beach Park, so I just went there instead the secret swimming hole. I found a shady spot to take a nap, got some ice from the concessions stand and filled my water bottle with vodka. I brought juggling balls with me on this trip and I enjoyed my half drunken attempt.
At Angie and Ian’s house, I basically watched a ton of movies that I haven’t seen yet. It was nice to finally take a break from all the ass-numbing miles of riding. Ian had a couple of days off so we went up to Whitefish Mountain Resort, and took the chairlift to the top. We later met up with Angie and went to the farmers market, which happened to be going on the evening. There was a great bluegrass band playing, Jazelle was there selling feather earrings she makes, and I met up with my next host, Kevin. He gave me a key to his trailer which is parked on land that he owns right outside of Glacier National Park. I think that evening was when I fell in love with the town. I love the outdoors with a passion and Montana does have the best to offer. We returned to their home, and watched The Departed which oddly enough takes place in Boston, my Atlantic Coast destination. Ian and I went golfing the next day and I finally got a decent pair of sandals. I packed my things early that evening and rode the twenty miles to Kevin’s trailer which put me about 10 miles away from the entrance to Glacier Park.
I slept well in the tarp covered trailer which had candles for lighting and maps of the park and of Northwest Montana. It only took me about an hour to get to West Glacier and stock up on much needed items (including bananas, oatmeal and instant potatoes). The first campground as you enter the park is Apgar and I had RVs surrounding me as far as my eye could see. However, there was a spot left in the hiker/biker area and I took advantage of it; most of these sites are five dollars per night in the park. When I was finally ready to explore the park, I decided to take a free shuttle to Logan Pass. They started this service three years ago and it takes a lot of hikers up to otherwise hard-to-reach places; it also takes cars off the road. The drive is three hours or more round trip and luckily I was able to get the front seat of the shuttle and roll the window down for some great pictures. I later returned to my campsite and met Steve, who came to Glacier from Wisconsin to do some backpacking. Later came, Bratati who also took the train from Seattle on her own camping and hiking get-away.
I shared my next two days with these interesting people. Bratati is originally from India and we share similar philosophies on life, particularly that of living in the moment (one of the main reasons for my bike trip). I had a moment when I was on the road from Eureka to Whitefish, a fish jumped out of the water of a small stream that I was passing right when I rode by. It may be insignificant to some, but it brought a smile to my face. It was like I knew it was going to happen before it did, amazing. These are the kinds of moments that make life beautiful, so sharing them with Steve and Bratati was extremely satisfying. That night I learned some yoga, including Warrior 2 and a sequence that starts with downward dog, and continues into other poses. We drank some beer and wine, and I ate my four servings of potatoes that I bought earlier that day.
Steve and I decided that we would go on the Highline Trail which is 11 miles long and goes past the Garden Wall, however the thunder and lightning that morning was prohibitive and we hiked 3 miles down to Hidden Lake instead. By the time we reached the lake, the clouds had parted and the sun was shining again. On the way back up the trail, a family of marmots were busy eating ground cover and a several groups of goats were basking in the sun (some right in the middle of the trail). We took the shuttle back to Apgar and parted ways for the rest of the day. I rode my bike 8 miles to Lake Mcdonald Lodge, and the place was decorated like it was Christmas….in July?! This was another one of those moments that have made me smile, plus I took about seven cookies, spent some time writing, and rode me bicycle back to the campsite. I was asleep early that night as I was going to wake up early the nex day to ride up Logan pass at its’ 6600 feet.
I was on the road at 5:45 am and at about 8, I bumped into Lee whom I had met near Diablo Lake, before my trip on the Maggot Run. We planned to meet each other on the other side at St. Mary Campground, and then I kept on climbing up the Going to the Sun Road. On the way up, I caught up with two bikers that passed me earlier, Nana and Janet. These ladies had been riding from Anacortes and together we all made it to the top of Logan Pass. We took pictures at the top and went screaming down the other side at 30 mph. When we got to St. Mary Lodge, Nana bought us diet coke's and we went to the local cafe for burgers. Afterwards, I went back to the campground and just decided to set up my tent at the hiker/biker site.
A few minutes later, the Dutch couple, Stella and Joris whom I met near Bull Lake a week ago arrived and we got a better deal on the camping. We talked about their travels, and a little about what it is like to live in different places. They were surprised that I tend to tip about 20 percent when I eat out. I guess that the Dutch are more frugal than Americans, but it does allow them to travel on less. I went back to the cafe with them and bought another burger, this time only tipping 10 percent. Later, as I was preparing for bed, Lee's nieces came strolling by my campground and I walked with them back to their site. Lee has a beautiful extended family that lives in Whitefish, they were all so friendly (only because they gave me cookies). We made plans to leave together in the morning, as Lee and I were heading the same direction towards the East Coast.
As I was

Post 2- Diablo Dam to Priest River

The following day Ian and I went swimming and diving in the lake which is a greenish-blue color. Apparently, this happens because the streams created by the melting ice wash ground down particles from rock and minerals into the lake; the so-called “glacial flour” is suspended in the water with the resulting color. who knew? Later, we raided the leftover lasagna, beets, pancakes and pie at the Evironmental Learning Center, then I did some juggling, hammock napping and an improv music session with Ian and his rommie, Nick. I enjoyed all of the people at B-12; they have hearts of gold. The next morning I went on a tour of the Diablo Power Station with Ian and all the kids. My name was Wendy on the tour because one of the ELC workers couldn’t make it.

Leaving took me much longer than I expected; when I finally had all my things together the clock was at 1 pm and the sun was angry. After hitching a ride back to Ross Lake and replacing two brake pads, I was on the road again. Words can’t do justice to the feeling you get when you get to the top of Rainy Pass, and then back down a hill 500 feet only to start up again to climb Washington Pass at its 5400 feet. The salvation is waiting at the top, where the North Cascade peaks are still snow capped and the air is refreshing. I should also mention the fifteen or more miles of downhill waiting on the East Side in to the "old west" town of Mazama.

I was supposed to stay at an outdoor community house in Mazama with a guy from Coucusurfing.com but he was out of town and the director thought that I would be a liability to the organization if I stayed on the property. Luckily, there was a rock climbing area called Fun Rocks about a half mile away where I was able to set my tent up. I gave some rock climbers a couple of beers and slept in relative comfort that night directly beneath one of the problems.

I left early that morning but the sun was already baking my face and legs, so when I got to Winthrop I had to stop for a rest. There was a farmers market setting up in the town park, so I had to check it out. I set my bike against a tree and tried to buy carrots from one of the vendors and unfortunately they have rules prohibiting selling anything before the official opening. Lucky for me, Amber (the girl working the booth) offered a place to sleep at the farm when I told her I was staying somewhere near Okanogen that night.

The ride over Loup Loup Pass from Winthrop was long, hot and horrible; I couldn’t wait to get into Okanogen town. When I finally came down the other side, I pulled into the first store and there were a couple of bikers wearing Canadian flags all over them. The Canadians! Bill and Linda were headed north that day, they shared their fresh cherries with me and we took a photo-op and off I was again.

The directions I followed to Filaree Farm sent me up a steep hill pass the courthouse in the middle of town. The owners' name is Watershine, she's a nice lady who figured out how to sell more varieties of garlic in the US than any other farm. A group of barefoot interns live in the midst of apple and pears trees in trailers, shacks and there is a spare tree house. Nobody wore shoes, I even took mine off after about ten minutes, It felt very natural to walk around the property that way. The farm makes most of its income selling seed garlic to other farmers, and most of the meals there consist of food from row crops grown organically on site. I had a great time talking with JC, Alex, Amber and Adrian; they showed me how they do things around the farm and I helped out with the irrigation pipes that night. I actually got to sleep in the tree house that night, it was a good thing because I watched thunderstorms rolling in over the countryside all night.

After pounding a couple cups of coffee and I was off to Tonasket where JC had made arrangements for me to stay with his Dutch friend Ton (pronounced Tone) at his Leaping Sheep Farm. I pulled weeds for about three hours in exchange for a wonderful home cooked meal that his wonderfully nice wife, Leah prepared (they just butchered the chicken the day before). When Ton and I were talking about city life versus farm life, he said something that I will always remember; he said, “people have forgotten to live by the rhythms of nature”. I have only now been living this way on my bike for about ten days but I know what he means.

Ton also had an intern, Miriam, who happened to be from Boston. We talked about traveling and life, and later that night I set my tent up in the middle of his row crops. I just so happened to set my tent up in taller grass, and all night long I could hear insects trying to chew their way into my tent from every angle.I was really tired though, so I decided that I wouldn’t let them drive me insane, and just went to sleep. I had another wonderful breakfast with farm fresh eggs, potatoes and coffee and I was on the road again.

This time I had to go over Wauconda pass after riding seven miles back into town. I don’t like the passes in this part of Washington, they seem to go on forever and ever. I was extremely parched when I arrived at the general store in Wauconda which doubled as the post office and café. The refills of coke were free! happy day! That was the only good thing about the ride that day.

I got into a mining town called Republic where they still mine for gold, and all the men in town look like they just came down from the mountain from months of prospecting (just joking). I stayed at the Fairgrounds under a horse barn that was still under construction. The old, bushy-haired camp host was drinking beer with his buddies when I pulled in and he said, " You can do whatever you want here, you could sleep under the covered bridge if you want". So I wondered around the grounds, made my ramen and tuna packets for dinner and played Led Zeppelin on my laptop. Just as soon as I had all my things in order the sky ripped open again and started pouring buckets. The thunder rolled across the hills in waves and lighting flashed every thirty seconds. I couldn’t be happier under my generous shelter; this was one of those moments that you realize that things just work out the way they were supposed to.

Just up the road, there was a café that had huge portions of eggs and potatoes and that seemed to fuel me all the way up Sherman Pass. This ride was supposed to be longest and hardest but all I did the whole time was focus on flexing my core like yoga instructors tell you. I was at the top quicker than all of the other passes and the ride down was very exhilarating. My next stop was in Colville, and as I rolled into town there was a sheriff that must have driven by at least three times (that’s just what they do in small towns).

I had made plans to stay with a hay farmer, Angie Barton; she picked me up in her Toyota at the farmers market. We went to the local micro brewery and had a couple of cold ones, I think that she must have known every person in the warehouse-turned-brewery. When we arrived at the farm, I couldn’t believe the amount of animals that surrounded the house and barns. It was like Charlotte’s Web, minus the talking animals. Angie and her husband Dennis have four children, including eighteen year old twins (Ellie and Claire) and two peacocks, and a tarantula. They have close to five hundred acres, part of which is on a hillside that has a lake hidden behind a rocky butte.

After I took millions of pictures of the animals, I milked a cow and goat; then they took me for a ride up to the butte to catch the sunset. Angie then caught two rattlesnakes with her bare hands, but the horses her girls were riding got spooked. This was the kind of crazy fun that doesn't exist in the city. I also thought that this part of Washington was all desert, and it was until Wauconda, but I was impressed with all the green hills and trees. I was also impressed with the way the Angie raises her children, they were all so happy, respectful and polite. Life slows down when you live on a farm. I was served lamb sausages, potatoes, and pancakes with huckleberries and apricot sauce for breakfast. I have not eaten this well since I was a young.

I was off to Ione around 9 am, and through the hills I went past Crystal Falls and through the nonexistent town of Tiger. When I chocked my wheels in Ione, the river by the city park beckoned me to dive on in. I ate BBQ burritos and a peach for lunch and proceeded to leave town, only in the wrong direction. I didn’t realize this for three miles, and I had to backtrack to get on track. The Pend Oreille River is wide, slow flowing and very flat the whole way South, except for the insane headwind the whole time. At about mile 60 for the day, I stopped at a campsite to dip my head in the river. I met a man named Mike who was with his family and they were all riding their bikes around camp. He gave me a ginger ale and I told him about my trip. He informed me that the road ahead was torn up, nasty and muddy for 6 miles, so I had no idea how I was going to make it through. The incredibly generous man gave me a ride in his truck down the road through the muck and let me off across the river from Usk. He and his family were the only people around for miles, and if I hadn’t talked to him then I would have been S.O.L.

I rode another 30 miles to a town called Priest River, bought a small bottle of scotch and slept at the campsite called “Mud Hole”. They had a bicycle site that only cost me three dollars and I built a fire, drank scotch, and ate couscous. Life on the road has its redeeming moments...

p.s. I have tons of pictures but I am having trouble uploading them, I will reformat them soon.

Post 1- Seattle to Ross Lake

July 10, 2009
My trip started out in Seattle on Tuesday ther 7th of July; I had spent most of the day sweeping and mopping my basement apartment , getting the rest of my backpacking gear at Second Ascent in Ballard, and storing the last items in the shed for the summer. I finally got on my bike and rode down to the train station to try to catch the 6:40 pm train to Mt. Vernon. Luckily I arrived about 20 minutes before the boarding call and I bought my ticket. I arrived in Mt. Vernon around 8pm, repacked my bike and it started to rain, but there really was no turning back.
I rode about 15 miles to Anacortes and after initially getting lost, finally found Washington Park 3 miles outside of town. I set up my tent and slept in relative comfort even though my spirits were slightly dampened. In the morning downpour, I hightailed it over to the bike shop only to find that it was closed, so I pedaled over to Penguin Coffee to get my Americano fix and wait for the bike shop to open. When it finally did, I spent close to three hours buying and installing all the rest of the gear that I needed (most importantly the rain booties for my bike shoes, and rearview mirror). I was finally ready they told me to go to the marina where I could dip the rear wheel of my Kona in the water.
It was about 2 pm when I left town, and my situation was improving by the minute. The ride was mostly uneventful until some older lady stopped her pickup in the middle of the highway to see if I was alright; I had laid my bike down to go filter some water out of the Skagit. I got to Concrete and decided to push on through to Rockport, where I found an amazing campsite at Steelhead Park. The ride was about 65 miles through farmland and rolling hills along the meandering Skagit, really quite beautiful. I met Bill and Linda, a Canadian couple in their late 50’s who had only just started touring about ten years ago but have been all over the world since. I learned some important things from them about the bike touring lifestyle so the next morning I went over to the Post Office in town and sent home about 3 ½ lbs. of clothes and other items that I didn’t need.
I was on the road a little after 9:30 am and caught up to the Canadians in Newhalem, which has a great history from the construction of Diablo Dam. Apparently, the last real store for about 70 miles was in this town, so I bought some Reisling and stuck it in my bottle holder. The ride was mostly uphill from there until I made it to the sleepy ghost town of Diablo, where I was supposed to stay with a friend of a friend. She couldn’t host me that night because she had to work, so I thought that I would just push on ahead to Ross Dam where my friend Ian was working and living. I made the mistake of not writing his emailed directions down before leaving Seattle, so I went by memory because there was no internet or phone connection for miles around me. The directions were something like, “walk across Ross Dam, even though it kind of looks illegal and then take a right until you get to building H”. I rode seven miles up a steep grade to the Ross Lake trailhead and then down about a mile trail from highway 20. This task is no problem if you don’t have a bike with fifty pounds of gear on it! The other problem was that once I got across the dam, there is another longer trail that leads to Ross Lake Resort. I thought to myself, “this won’t take me that long”, so I just kept moving. Bad decision; this trail was about a foot wide and switch-backed up the hillside. Nevertheless, I somehow made it to the resort with my dignity still intact and explained myself to the staff. They said, “there is no Ian working with us, he must be working at the Environmental Learning Center down at Diablo Dam”. I was shocked and in disbelief, three hours earlier I was at Diablo Dam .
Before I could say much else, one of the staff said, “You can get a ride on the trash boat that is going down to Diablo right now! Go get your bike and bring it to the dock before they leave”. So I gathered my bike, loaded it on the resort boat, and we went across the lake to the waiting truck that had the trash boat hooked up to it already. The driver told me that If I had gotten there literally two minutes later, I would have missed “the maggot run” that they only do once a week on Thursdays. We drove down to the bottom of Ross Dam in the diesel pickup with his dog Lady, unloaded the boat and headed down the Eastern arm of Diablo Lake.
A euphoric feeling washed over me as I was sitting cross legged on the front of the tiny boat gliding through the lake with towering cliffs rising on either side. When I took my bike off the boat I rode over to the ELC; I met one of the workers, Sarah just outside. I quickly told her of my ordeal and that I was looking for Ian. She said that if I wanted to stay, dinner was being served in fifteen minutes. I just about cried with happiness for my recent turn of luck, and ate the best five dollar salmon dinner I have ever had.
It turns out that the chef, Betsy is a roommate of Ian’s and I got a ride from her over to the house. When Ian got home, I pulled out the wine that had made and interesting journey around Diablo Lake and back and enjoyed a wonderful evening of drinking and second dinner. I had traveled over a hundred miles in two days and the journey already proved to be a wild, crazy adventure. In my 28 years on this planet, I have always believed that everything will work out for me…. and it always has…