"It's not the destination that matters, it's the journey."
A pass a day: does it keep the doctor away? Maybe, but where's the dedicated masseur? Now that's a "medical" service I could really use. At least there are no more major passes until I get to Montana.
Adversity
has its advantages. I had such a miserable time climbing Rainy Pass and
Washington Pass for my first major climb of the trip that I compare everything
to that experience. If I don't get clobbered with rain and snow, and if
the grade is less than 10%, I consider it a successful day.
The most surprising thing was the change in terrain from the west side of the Loup Loup Pass to the east side. In a couple of miles, it seemed I left the Pacific rain forest and entered high dessert. At the time, I thought this would be the scenery for all the eastern part of Washington, but the rainfall pattern changes again in a another hundred miles or so.
After five miles of difficult climbing, the slope became a lot easier. I rarely had to use my lowest gear, and sometimes got up to 12 mph (20 km/hr) --- not bad for uphill! The whole climb would only have taken two hours except for George. George was a local out for a bike ride. He passed me on his expensive road bike like I was standing still. Unfortunately, he decided to stop and to tell me a thing or two or twenty: all the tours he had done with his wife in Europe, how I should get rid of half my gear [thank God he didn't know I had a laptop in there!!], and how I should really go another way. Over my objections, he felt he had to draw me a map of how HE would get to Sandpoint, Idaho, with a slight detour via Canada, but bypassing Sherman Pass.
The best thing about Loup Loup Pass was the 7-mile downhill on the other side. I don't think I ever slowed below 30 mph (48 km/hr). By the way, it's "loop loop" pass and not the more Continental "loo loo". Just thought you'd want to know.
I
think Wauconda Pass was even easier than Loup Loup, but it was the longest
mileage day of my trip so far: 73.9 miles (118.9 km). The crest of the
pass was at mile 60 out of Okanogan (rhymes with "noggin"). By the time I
got to Republic, I was very tired and very hungry and it was already 8:00 pm.
It hadn't helped that I didn't really get on the road until 11:00 am. This
seems to be a recurring pattern. I'm turning over a new leaf. Very
soon.
At one point, I was slowly grinding uphill and a guy who was securing the load in the back of his pickup truck waved me over. At first I thought he wanted some help, so in my best bicycle ambassador manner, I offer some. No, he and his wife both cycled and wanted to warn me about a dangerous part of the road coming up in a few miles.
I was supposed to look out for the overhanging rock. Apparently, truck drivers (big trucks, not pickups) know about it and swerve wide to avoid hitting it. It's right at a curve in the road where there is no road shoulder. I kept watching and watching for it. It was more like five miles --- a surprising mistake by a cyclist.
When
I finally got to it, the sun had just come out again and was hitting the
overhanging rock in a very appealing way. This was obviously meant to be a photo
op. I parked my bike and got out the camera, with the attractive
road picture you see on the left as the result. I suppose even a parked
bicycle could be seen as narrowing the roadway, but I was a happy photographer.
Unfortunately, a pickup truck came up from behind just as I was returning to the bike. The driver apparently had a scientific bent, because he clearly commented that he felt I belonged to the species F. Idiot, rather than the H. Sapiens I normally consider myself. But maybe he was right.
Today was the big day: the highest pass in the state of Washington. I lived in fear of this guy. But the reality didn't live up to the fear I had of it. I didn't take into account that this time, the starting elevation was already 2,300 ft, and I had 18 miles to get there. It could be worse. In fact, it was pretty tame.
Like many mornings thus far, I left Republic full of enthusiasm admiring the cloudless blue skies and warm glorious sunshine. I hit the road thinking this was indeed a fantasy come true. After a couple of hours, however, the clouds started rolling in and I got a my first taste of sprinkles. I pulled off the road, pulled out all the bright yellow pannier covers and fitted them to the panniers. I placed a protective cover over the leather saddle. I covered my fanny pack with a plastic bag from the Apple store; and finally, I donned a rain jacket and helmet cover. Let the rain fall, baby! I'm ready for anything.
Then the skies cleared and it was sunny again. I was getting overheated. Off came the rain jacket, off came the helmet cover. As I continued uphill, it gradually got cloudier and colder. When I finally reached the crest, I knew I needed a jacket to stay warm on the descent, so I put the jacket back on and started downhill gleefully.
Three minutes later it began pouring. Really pouring. I hadn't taken the time to put on rain pants, but at least I had the jacket on. My legs got wet; my shoes got wet; my head got wet through the holes in the helmet. I crouched down like a racer to preserve what body heat I could. So this is my dream vacation, I reflected. Wet, cold, cloudy, sunless.
But there is some justice in the world. Just as I was feeling quite sorry for myself, I rounded a curve and saw a brown bear cub frolicking in the rain. He jetted out into the road, and then ran back into the forest --- all too quick to photograph, but at least I had seen him with my own two eyes. And just in case Mama Bear was lurking somewhere in the bushes, I rang my bicycle bell as I rolled by, just so that they knew I meant business!
For more photos of the last few days, click here.