Washington

Lewiston Id to Kahlotus, WA (90 mi.)
Lewiston Id is just across the Snake River from Clarkston, Washington.

Snake River, coming out of Clarkston



My first time ever in this state was on a blue-sky-high-in-the-low-80's day. From outside of Clarkston on, the ride was through sparsely populated areas: after the climb of several miles out of the Snake Valley, high plains, mostly of sage brush but some wheat and cattle areas.

I had supper in Starbuck, pop. 130. The owner-cook-server was sitting on her front porch waiting for customers when I biked up. She and her husband have had the cafe for 21 years. She gave me a book on the history of the town to look at as I had fresh salad, a ham-and-cheese sandwich, and a real-deal strawberry milkshake. Starbuck too had once been a booming railroad town; like others it was named after a rail official. This official was one who donated a bell for the town's church.

I thought of camping at a state park twenty miles or so after Starbuck but after one of the steepest climbs yet (the less traveled a road, the steeper the grades) and more up and down, I decided against it when I saw the gravel road that would take me to it dropping out of sight. I continued on until a T where I would have to go east to go west or south to go north. I decided on the latter.



By the time I got to Kahlotus, pop. 200, the full moon was up.  I waved at guy on an ATV as I passed. I then heard his motor notch up and come in my direction. It sounded like we were going about the same speed although his motor was laboring. He yelled, "Wait up!" I braked. "Where are you going?" I gave my standard summary. "Where are you staying?" Then my standard vague answer. "Want to stay at our place?" Uh, well, wow, sure, thanks!

His wife watched us come up the gravel road past a couple of other houses and a trailor or so to their hilltop house. She was holding a beer for him and would soon go in, after asking what I would like, to get a glass of ice water for me. An already open sliding glass door led into the unfinished basement, plenty cluttered but nothing, Lonnie told me, compared to the mess it was in when they bought it. One room had a mattress in it and there was a full bath. Sarah brought down a towel, soap, and shampoo. We went upstairs. Their 6, 8 and 10-year olds were watching "Family Guy." They glanced towards Lonnie and me as we entered, then turned back to motionless, unsmiling stares at the television until I greeted them. They all then turned and smiled and, at my request, introduced themselves. A bit later, as they neared the end of their goodnight hugs for their parents, I asked for mine and they each gave me a sweet, accepting one. A line of conversation could not extend very far with Lonnie; I'm guessing  he would score very high on a test for ADD. Maybe an after-effect of his fifteen years of bull riding, similar to boxer's dementia, or something going back further that encouraged his taking up bull riding. While warning me about cougars in the area, he also told me of seeing his father aiming a pistol at his face. I think the idea was a cougar had attacked him and his father was considering shooting at the cougar. Maybe. Or was his father like a cougar--no telling when he might go after you or what damage he might inflict? Sarah would watch Lonnie as she listened to him, watched him as he went to the computer to locate a town, jumped up to open the living room window, went back to the computer for a few seconds, then back to the window. We looked at various routes through Washington for a few minutes with commentary about their nature staying at a pretty general level. That was fine. I excused myself to go down and sleep....and slept well.

Kahlotus to Wenatchee (131 miles)
This was the trip's most miles in one day:  from the west's sage brush of the dry high desert to the central, irrigated orchards at around sea level. I had had no conception of the hundreds of square miles of orchards--apple, apricot, cherry--and how tightly together their trees could grow.  Also many vineyards.

One of the thinner orchards, but I liked its setting

Wenatchee to Goldbar (94 miles)
Up to Stevens Pass of the Cascade Mountains, starting out bright and warm:

Cloudier, nearing the top:

Just as I reached the top, Ruka called and I chatted. I was light-hearted and perhaps light-headed at finishing this gradual, thirty-mile climb from Leavenworth, a city which requires all its buildings to be in Bavarian style.

That the sun was setting did not concern me. I looked forward to the long coast down.

But soon after starting, the cold evening air was made colder from the wind of the fast descent down the steep grade and the moisture of the clouds combined with that of my shirt which I should have changed after the climb. I was soon shivering and stopped to put on my windbreaker, but this was not enough. I slowed way down but the shivering increased and my arms started shaking. Near the end of the steepest part of the descent, I turned onto a narrow, wooded road, changed my shirt, added a sweatshirt, wrapped myself in the sleeping bag, and jumped and strode around until warm again. Back on the bike, I could pedal for longer stretches, which helped to stay warm enough in the mist and, later, rain.

It had been dark for some time before I reached the first settlement. Yellow security tape was around the row of four buildings on one side of the main street; the other side of the street was torn up. On to the next town: Goldbar, 20 miles away, in the rain. The bike held up well.

Gold Bay to Mt. Vernon (65 mi.)
I slept in until about 9:30. Soon after leaving the motel, I rode under a service station overhang to put on my rain jacket. While doing so, I heard a loud bang from nearby.  I would soon see the two cars involved in a accident that would bring four ambulances. I wondered about the relationship of the space between the service station and the accident scene and where I would have been if I had not stopped to put on the jacket.

A couple hours in the rain later, I came to this chapel with a sign inviting passers-by to "Pause and Pray".

Three pairs of one-person seats in the shape of traditional pews on the inside

The rain stopped about the time I arrived in Snohomish where Marlo had mailed my passport that I would need for Canada. I picked up the passport, had lunch in a grocery deli just a few buildings away from the post office and rode on in a gray but relatively dry afternoon.

Mt. Vernon to Surrey, British Colombia: 60 milesI finally had breakfast at a Denny's in Washington State, in honor of Sherman Alexi's Smoke Signals. If you don't yet know that movie, watch it before the week is over! You might also want to check out his his collection of short stories The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven and his later work.

Morning scene: hope 

Bellingham: first and about my only glimpse of  a Pacific Ocean bay
on the way to BC. (There was a route up that is closer to the water but I, um,

missed it.)  So, still further to go on the western route.