Sue's Bike Blog

I get to ride my bicycle!

“Guess what?” I ask Ken. “What?” he says. “We get to ride our bicycles today!” He looks surprised, then plays along, blue eyes wide-open, then gets serious; “every day I get to ride is a blessing.” Ken is 76 years old. He lives in Arkansas in a Greyhound bus he restored.

It is truly amazing what our bodies can do. I can go to bed, like last night, barely functioning, then through some miracle heal up, through the night until I am happy to get up and ride again with renewed energy.

We ride uphill out of Metaline towards Newport, Washington. We get to ride 60 miles today along the Pend Oreille River. It is fairly flat, only 1200’ of elevation gain, but a headwind, gusting to 30 mph, is expected.

What amazes me, is every day on the road is different. It has its own character defined by sun or rain, the texture of the road: chip seal or smooth, the grade of the hills, the curves, the width of the shoulder, the amount of traffic: log trucks, chip trucks, dump trucks or RVs and of course the vegetation. Today we are in Ponderosa pine country.

My first stop is the town of Ione 7 miles from camp. Traci and I rode here in 2012 on the Northern Tier route. I went into the Food Court to stock up on cold juice and chips for the long day. It smelled like bacon! So I followed my nose to the deli counter and ordered a breakfast sandwich to go! Yes, I had just eaten, but I am sick of granola. The cook only had one speed. Slo-mo. It felt like lunch time by the time it was done. But yes, it was worth the wait.

A little bit past Ione, we cross a bridge over the river and head south on the quiet side away from the highway. It is beautiful and very windy and gusty. My front panniers are like a sail and my bike heels in the wind. But the wind does not really bother me, it varies with tree cover and open fields. I have ridden across Kansas twice and been nearly blown off the road in Montana.

My second stop is at the Panhandle Campground to stock up on cold water. Dan is there too and it is so pretty with tall green grasses and orange- barked Ponderosa pine that we want to stop and camp there.

I grind out the miles, while thinking about riding this in 2012. I remember Traci was in a hurry and I was grumpy and tired and did not want to ride so far. I was new at touring then and hadn’t quite figured out how to keep my head happily in the game.

We camp at the Old American RV Park in Newport. It is hot and windy. The traffic across the bridge to get is here is bad and the shoulder is lined with unridable storm drain grates and deep sand that grabs my tires. Traci and I stayed here in 2012 in a giant thunderstorm with so much rain we couldn’t get back to our tents from the club house.

I swim in the river to cool off before I shower. Tonight we eat out Mexican and have our awards ceremony. It is our last night together. The awards are funny and true. I get the bike mechanic assistance award – a crank puller – for working on Isabella’s brakes and shifting in Crawford Bay.

Everybody, but me thinks this was the hardest day yet. I don’t know where they rode, but it was a gentle, if windy, ride through the past and present for me, and like Ken, I am so grateful to be out here doing what I love in such beauty, peace and in the company of fellow travelers.

On saying goodbye…

I wake up to the clicking sound of tent poles being smartly folded. I peek out the rain fly. My neighbor is almost packed and ready to go. I stretch in my tent, put on my riding clothes and climb out of my tent. It is cold! I put on a blue coat, grab my blue cup and wander over to the cooking picnic table for hot coffee.

Today is our last day. We are riding 37 miles to Sandpoint to complete the Selkirk International Bike Route. I have been trying to stay on the ride and not think about what is next.

By now I am sick of our camp food. I force down some granola, yoghurt and a banana and make two sandwiches, one is PBJ of course and the other cheese with mustard. I hope I don’t have to eat them. I grab peanuts and mix them with M&Ms and take another Sweet and Salty bar to add to the collection.

The ride starts uphill of course! We get rerouted and have to backtrack because of flood damage. We end up riding Highway 2 into Sandpoint on a fast highway with lots of traffic, but a good shoulder. I take no pictures. We end up back at the hotel in Sandpoint where we left our vehicles. We are a bundle of activity unpacking gear, loading bicycles and panniers and using the hotel bathroom to slip into civilian clothes.

Riding the Sandpoint-Byway Trail to our hotel.

I like a good, goodbye. One that says yes, we were here, we shared some time, it was good, it was fun, it was hard, maybe we are friends and maybe not and that doesn’t really matter, but it was exhausting and invigorating and now our little piece of shared world and time is over. I stand in the emotion of goodbye. I have no choice. A few times my eyes well up with joy, relief, exhilaration and grief. I get a lump in my throat.

We make the rounds as we start to drive off and say “see you down the road”.

We formed a little community for 11 days. We never talk politics or a dozen other topics that could splinter us. Along the road we check in with each other; how you doing? We keep track of each other and worry about those missing. We focus on our shared goal, knowing that if one of us doesn’t make it, we all will be less for it. This is the world I want to live in.

Don’t follow “Joe”

Joe could be anyone. You know the type. Confident. Studies the map. Does their homework.

Joe is also a crutch, when I am too tired to study the route to the Great Northern Rail Trail to bring us out of Nelson. I trust Joe even while my intuition is gently nudging me saying, turn right out of the campground not left and that Joe knows nothing about topography.

My day-off, rest day, was busy. Lay out breakfast at 6:45 am. Do laundry. Find good coffee. Swelter in the heat. Eat a second breakfast. Walk along the waterfront park. Ride the wood trolley. Eat lunch. Walk back. Take a nap. Lube chain. Pump tires. Eat tuna hot dish with crumbled potato chip garnish. Swelter in the heat. Eat Southern Indian chicken dosai for dinner. Set alarm for 5:45 am. Attempt to read map. Give up. Sleep.

The beach at Nelson on the Kootenay River

Three of us follow Joe. The third turn on his route is one way the wrong way. Rather than stop and check the map for an alternate route. He confidently charges downhill and we follow. Downhill. Downhill. Downhill. At the light we ask Joe where are you going. Turn left he says. The ascent is virtually unridable. But, we follow anyway. 400’ in .7 miles. My legs are screaming.

We abandon Joe. Find a dead end road with a footpath to the trail. It takes two of us to push each of our bikes up the hill. My legs are spent. It has taken us 45 minutes to go less than a mile. I am angry. Scott is angry. Sharon is angry. We have a quick but definitive discussion about following our own intuition next time.

The gravel trail is beautiful and smooth until it isn’t. Our ride today is 59 miles and 2900’ of climbing to Metaline, Washington. It is hot again. I can’t drink enough water.

I abandon the trail after 18 miles when it becomes unridable and unsafe to ride on my 35 mm tires. I average 6.9 mph and I still have 41 miles to go.

At Salmo, I load up on water, Doritos, Coke with Coffee and cool off in the air conditioning of the Esso Gas Station.

It is hot. The climbs are steep. I see no other riders. I am losing it. I feel saddle sore. My hands hurt in any position. I am still pissed at Joe. Pissed at myself.

It feels like torture so I decide to play the Glad Game. Traci taught me this on one of our bike trips. I remember playing it on the way to Alaska, on a washboarded, muddy, rainy dirt road day.

I am glad there is no rain. I am glad I am riding my bicycle. I am glad I am in shape. I am glad I am strong. I am glad for the green larch trees, the yellow flowers in the ditch. The white daisies. The pine cones and the chickadee singing. I am glad there are no beer cans in the ditch and that is is sunny, not raining. I am glad I am on vacation. I am glad for smooth roads, white fog lines and no traffic. I am glad for water, the PBJ sandwich in my pannier. I am glad I am here. I am glad that my bike is working and that there is an Eagle above and sticks in the ditch and that I am glad for blue sky and green trees and mountains and glad for being glad and soon I will be at the border and I am glad the air is clean again. And glad to sit by the road and glad for grapefruit juice and peanuts and that my cheese sandwich has melted again. And soon I am at the border and glad they don’t hassle me and glad that their is cold water water to drink and that I can put my head under the faucet and drip cold water and put my salty helmet back on and take a deep breathe and then eat some more. And I really get glad when I see a Heritage Marker sign up ahead because I am glad for heritage and a sign that might be interesting and then I can stop and pretend to be interested, glad to be interested in the geologic history of the Selkirk Mountains. And, it works. Up rides Tom, Jean, Tall Ken and Dan. And they are glad for the Heritage Marker too and then we ride off to our campground at Metaline and we are so glad we fall onto the grass and drink water in the shade.

Heritage Marker with Hooknose Mountain in the distance

I can hardly stay awake for chili dinner, green salad and Carmel cake. Brushing my teeth takes too much energy. I can’t remember a time when I was this exhausted.

I am glad for my tiny tent. I am glad to lay down. I am glad to fall asleep within minutes.

Tuna Hot Dish!

The morning after! Food storage in the women’s bathroom.

I leave New Denver at 7 am. The smoke is moderate and it is kind of scenic in a sort of apocalyptic way. The first big climb is tough, but it is cool and there is little traffic. At the top Les, a local road rider who is doing laps up and down the mountain takes my photo at the top.

The descent is a blast! Thirty- three mph, then up again, sets the tone for the day. Soon the Friday summer traffic builds and I am hugging the fog line in the shoulder, when there is one, as log trucks, fuel trucks and grocery trucks speed by on the winding 2-lane road. Two log trucks refuse to give way, even though they have room, and pass me way, way too close! I give them a piece of my mind. The crazy lady in Lycra shorts shaking her fist. So scary. I fantasize about letting the air out of their tires. Jerks!

I sit on my saddle for 6 hours and 39 minutes with breaks only for water, electrolytes, snacks and the bushes. I am on a mission. It is hot, near 90 degrees, smokey and the traffic is noisy and constant. My feet hurt, my knees ache and I can’t find a comfortable position on the handle bars. The only relief is 5 miles on the gravel Slocan Valley Rail Trail.

I arrive in Nelson hot and spent. We are camping in the dusty city park all jammed together, on the side of a hill, under tall trees. Gary, my cooking partner is antsy to go shopping for dinner. He makes it to camp first everyday and usually tours the local museums, hikes to a cool park, checks out the grocery store and has had an amazing wildlife siting before most of us get to camp.

I set up my tent, eat more chips and drink lots of water as he reviews our shopping list. His sister lives in Minnesota and so we are apparently cooking tuna hot dish in her honor. No green jello though, he informs me. I am all in!

I toss everything from inside my 4 panniers into my tent. Then we head down hill to the Safeway shop. There are motorcycles roaring through town.

Three hundred and sixty seven dollars later we load up enough food for dinner and breakfast, for 14 people with revved up metabolisms, on our bikes and ride up hill back to camp.

We sort food on the table: tuna, noodles, cream of mushroom soup, cheese, onions celery, broccoli, bell peppers (yuck, I took one for the team on that) and some mild chilies – not a traditional hot dish addition. Then comes the pile for 4-bean salad; 4 cabbage salad kits and dessert, which is sugared waffles, fresh berries and 3 cans of real whip cream. Oh yes, and cheese and crackers and the always chips for appetizers.

Gary and I both drink giant fruit smoothies to keep us going!

We soon discover that the camp stoves are almost out of fuel. And, the rider who is usually the last into camp has the big pot for boiling noodles. Delay. The rider sent out to get fuel, can’t find any. Delay. So finally the group goes to the gas station to get unleaded gas for the stoves.

We are all tired and starving by the time we finally eat at 7:30 pm. Dinner is supposed to be ready at 6 pm. But, the hot dish is good, in that comfort food kind of way; plentiful and satisfying. Everyone covers their blueberries, strawberries and raspberries in puffy clouds of whip cream.

Dishes are next, then pack up the leftovers and breakfast food. There are skunks in camp so we store the food in the women’s bathroom. The men decided it would be safer there.

Finally, after 64 miles 4100’ of hot riding, grocery shopping, cooking, dishes and food storage logistics, I can finally take a shower!

I stagger to my tent, forgetting that the content of my panniers is spread all over the floor of my tiny tent. I refill my panniers, blow up my sleeping pad, un-stuff my sleeping bag and fluff my pillow. Then off to the shower. Ahhh…

It is 9:30 pm. It is too hot for my sleeping bag. I toss it to one side. I put in ear plugs and pull my eye mask over my eyes to blot out the deck lights by the office. Ahhh…

Then I remember, set the alarm clock, I have to make coffee and have it ready by 7 am. Darn. Okay, 6:15 am.

I expected a hard day. And, I got it. And, at some point, I wondered why I actually pay good money to do this.

But, I love being on the road with my strange tribe of fellow bicycle travelers. The sense that we are in this together; struggling up the same hills, sharing the curb in front of some dusty gas station eating BBQ potato chips and Klondike bars; drinking cokes and iced tea and later passing out from exhaustion in our tents at 8:30 pm. The camaraderie of the road, erases our many differences and brings us together for week or so, and it is a blast.

And, I am asleep in minutes.

Postcard from the Selkirk Mountains

Another perfect day of riding! Twenty miles of climbing (2424’) with 10 miles of downhill. I had a great swim in Lake Slocan and salmon Spanish rice and grilled veggies for dinner. For a moment, I felt like I was on some fancy bike tour, well except we are camping in the city park and my tent is set up on a rock garden under some spindly pine trees.

Smokey view of Slocan Lake in New Denver

I got to wear my rain gear!

Nothing says vacation like a ferry ride.

Wednesday we left Crawford Bay early to ride up and over a steep wake-me-up hill to catch the 9 am ferry from Kootenay Bay to Balfour across the Kootenay Lake.

The ferry is free and the crew very bike friendly. The crossing is 35 minutes; enough time for coffee and photos.

As soon as we get off the ferry the rest of the 27 mile ride and 2590’ climb begins. It is tough. The shoulders are narrow and the hills short and steep. There are great views of the lake, but it isn’t safe to stop and take photos. I have lunch with Jean and Tom at Fletcher Falls. Soon we hear thunder crackling above the ridge. Then the rain starts.

Long story short, we wait over 2 hours for the rain and lightning to pass under the picnic table shelters of Fletchers Fries. Unfortunately the restaurant is closed on Wednesdays. Finally, we suit up in rain pants, rain jackets, rain booties and helmet covers and race into Kaslo. After lugging rain gear around for days and days it feels great, well sort of, to actually use it.

Kaslo is on the lake and there are two sailboats out in the brisk wind. An old stern-wheeler sits on shore a relic of another time. Many of the buildings are dated 1896. It is cute and historic and all of that, but I am more interested in the scenery and riding my bike.

I set up my tent in the municipal park, before the next rain showers move in. Two local softball teams play in the field next to us.

In the camp shelter we eat fancy grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and Saskatoon Berry pie for dessert. I fall asleep fast and hard.

Ambushed by mosquitos

I wake up to a little rain tapping on my tent. As I pack up my gear, I realize that the floor of my new, fancy tent leaked. I pack it up wet. It is too gray, cloudy and damp to dry before it is time to leave.

I choose the higher mile, lower elevation gravel route past Duck Lake as we start our 2 day ride up Lake Kootenay. The lake is 66 miles long and up to 500’ deep. To the west of the lake is the Selkirk Mountains and to the east the Purcell Mountains.

Just down the road from the RV Park we turn left, cross the railroad tracks, ride past a big sawmill and enter farm country again. This time it is vegetables and Saskatoon Berries, a type of serviceberry. I like the name and think of pie! Later down the road we see Ostriches in a field.

Soon we are riding along the edge of Duck Lake. It is cool, the gravel is compact with potholes filled with water. It is a pleasant flat ride.

At the “no thru road” sign, we turn right and keep going. Soon I am picking line through the bumpy washboarding. I weave from side to side trying to stay out of the jarring waves of ruts.

As the road ends, I push my bike up a single track hill through dense low vegetation. My bike and gear are about 75 pounds and it is hard work. One other rider is behind me and one far ahead.

Suddenly, I am ambushed by a swarm of ravenous mosquitos! They swirl around my head dive for my eyes, fly into my mouth and shriek high and loud in my ears.

I GO INSANE! I can’t swat mosquitos and hold my bike up at the same time. I try to sprint but run into barrier rocks that I can’t get my bike through. I take off a pannier and run right on to a live railroad track on a blind corner. I am swatting and running as the mosquitos swarm. I toss the pannier and run back. Meanwhile the rider behind me is shouting move your bike! She helps me lift my bike over and and I race up the trail the cloud of mosquitos still swirling and diving.

At the paved Highway 3A I realize I left my other pannier on the railroad tracks and I swat and dance and jump and twirl as I rub my now stinging arms and legs and race back to the railroad track. I am panting. Crazy! My arms on fire! I throw the pannier on, jump on my bike and sprint away. I look down and see a dozen mosquitos on my cycling shorts! I wipe them away and rub my arms and legs and neck and ears and face until they are clear. I am panting so hard I can hardly breathe. A mosquito is stuck in my throat and I take a long drink of water to clear it out.

I apologize profusely for blocking Isabella’s path. Sharon and Isabella just laugh at me! And say they wish that had a video of me!

Needless to say I slather myself in DEET as soon as I escape down the road. The rest of the ride along Kootenay Lake is hilly, smooth and the traffic is light.

In Crawford Bay we gather at a bakery and I eat a blueberry scone. We are staying in Chalets and tonight, rather than our tents. I lay all of my gear out on the picnic table and a string laundry line to dry my tent, sleeping bag and clean riding shorts, shirt and sleeves.

Later in the shower, I count over 40 bites! We eat cheeseburgers and French fries for dinner. I hear mice squeaking and scratching in the chalet walls all night.

It was a perfect day!

Gravel or Highway 95 is the choice today. Most of us pick gravel. The bonus is we get to bomb down the steep hill we rode up in the blistering heat on Sunday.

The air is chill at 7:30 am. The hill is exhilarating. The Monday morning commute is intense. But soon, we turn right on Pine Island Road, drop down a steep gravel road, cross the train tracks and ride out into the Kootenay Valley along the Kootenay River. The river is mirror calm reflecting every leaf of every tree: every blade of grass.

The valley is open and wide. I ride into the Kootenai National Wildlife Refuge; see an antelope running. It is quiet, calm and I am ecstatic! This is what I came for. A long ride down a huge valley, along a grand river.

The road takes me through big fields and shady forests. There are wheat fields, yellow blooming rapeseed and tall, deep green hops. The sky is big and blue. The riding is easy, generally down hill and down river to British Columbia.

Several of us gather and ride in refreshing light rain to the Canadian Border and cross into Canada without a hitch.

In Creston, we complete our 46 mile ride. We camp at the Pair-a-dice RV Park and Campground. There is plenty of time to set up our tents and take showers before the wind suddenly picks up, lightning flashes, then crackles above us. Big raindrops, then torrential rain sends us racing to our tents for an hour of tent shaking wind and cool, cool air. There is nothing better then weathering a big storm in my tiny tent. I get chilly, toss my down sleeping bag over my legs, laugh then smile. What a difference a day makes!

Rolling!

It is brutally hot. I cross the bridge over the Kootenai River as I start the 4 mile climb out of Bonners Ferry. There isn’t a breath of air. The pavement radiates heat. It is steep, traffic-noisy, and the shoulder is littered with gravel and debris. I feel like I am suffocating.

I am climbing in my granny gear. I can’t take my hands off the handle bars, to grab my water bottle, without weaving perilously. I have 10 pounds over the front wheel in two panniers. I stop at a pull out. It is 94 degrees. I dump water from my water bottle on my head and arms, then take a long unsatisfying drink of warm water. Half-way.

The ride out of Sandpoint was unremarkable. I left at 7:30 am and the pavement was already hot. The route took us on side roads to keep us off Highway 95. At mile 6 we turned left on the highway and rode in the wide shoulder with the fast gotta-get-home-Sunday traffic. It was a noisy utility ride – point A to point B.

Twenty-one miles later we turn on Deep Creek Loop Road and ride into the one-store town of Naples, where we stop to eat under the shade of big tree behind the convenience store. I eat my PBJ sandwich on airy wheat bread with a side of raisins and cold water. The backroad to Bonners Ferry is quiet and green.

The final two miles out of the climb out of Bonners Ferry, are terrible. I want to stop again and again, but force myself to continue. Just to the next corner, I tell myself. Then, just make it to that sign. I will myself up and up as the sweat rolls down my temples. I am worried now. My vision starts to narrow and grow bright. Am I ok, I ask? I think so, I think so, I think so.

I remember a climb like this from 2016 on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. It was 95 degrees as I climbed a long steep highway out of Helena Montana. Not the most encouraging thing to thing remember! Then I remember the heat on my first ride across Kansas in 2013. It was 103 degrees and I bonked so hard I thought my ride was done. Okay, stop this train of thought right now. It is not helping!

Finally, I reach the summit. It is industrial and ugly. I turn left into the RV Park. Ride to the campsite and notice the tiny pine trees cast little shade. Thirty seven miles.

It is about 1 pm. I drink water, orange juice, root beer and more water. I eat BBQ potato chips and my now melted cheese sandwich. The only breeze is on the porch of the RV Office and store. They sell Hawaiian Shave Ice, but are closed on Sundays. As we sit there we take turns sharing stories: living in a bus, raising chickens and riding to Alaska. One of the men on the trip, Joe, rode to Alaska in 2014 when Traci and rode it. He was in the group behind that started behind us!

In the end, it is a long, long day. And, it doesn’t cool off until after sunset.

Sandpoint Warm Up!

I fall asleep near the beach. The shade under the big tree is coolish, the wind light, but it is still a hot, dry 87 degrees. Before I doze off I watch thunders clouds billow white then turn gray in the distance.

Mr. Green Jeans (MGJ ) lays next to me on the grass and I use a pannier for a pillow. It is the first time I have had nothing to do in weeks. Everything is crossed off my to-lists.

I am riding around Sandpoint to loosen up my legs and hit some favorite spots: Evan Brothers Coffee, Greasy Fingers Bike Shop and Joel’s Tacos.

Fourteen of us start riding at 8 am on Sunday. The forecast is 93 degrees. Smoke is moderate. We are from all over the country: New York, Arkansas, Georgia, Washington Oregon, Illinois, Colorado and Utah. There are ten men and four women.

My gear, along with the group gear – I am carrying the coveted French Press – weighs 40 pounds. MGJ is no longer nimble. Steering is best in a straight line, on a long road.

I am excited to get my tires on the road and do what I do best! Bonners Ferry is our first stop, 36 miles to the north we are camping in an RV park, which means a shower at the end of the day!

But, I am getting ahead of myself. For now, I am warming up my voice, to sing “on the road again, I can’t wait to get on the road again…” as I kick off and start my next adventure.