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.

Loup Loup Pass (4,020 feet / 1,225 m)

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.

 

Wauconda Pass (4,310 feet / 1314 m)

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.

 

Sherman Pass (5,575 feet / 1,699 m)

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.