Week 4-What we Seem to Have in Common with Odysseus.

Okay, so maybe that is a gross exaggeration, but we have had our challenges and have not been defeated yet! Oakley, my 16-year-old son, and I have now completed 1,000 miles (out of about 4,200) of our bicycle tour across America. We started in Astoria, Oregon, and have now reached Missoula, Montana, where we will enjoy a much needed day off.

Every day we have encountered new and exciting adventures that have tested us in myriad ways and rewarded us with beautiful sights, interesting people, and growing strength. It has become a running joke between Oakley and me that we have not yet come upon a Cyclops or the Land of the Lotus Eaters, but we know they are out here and we won’t be surprised. They would fit right in.

We have averaged between 40 to 70 miles a day, depending primarily on vertical feet climbed and weather. We have encountered 100-degree-plus temperatures in the Idaho deserts that have stopped us in our tracks due to heat exhaustion, as well as cold, pouring rain and low cloud cover on mountain passes that have stopped us because of the low visibility…okay, and low morale.

We have developed a fear of trucks that is similar to that found in a predator/prey relationship. I have nothing against truckers, and I firmly believe that no one is really trying to kill us, but when we hear a trucker bearing down on us from behind, and I am screaming to Oaks to get out of the road, or to pedal harder to get to the safety of the other side of a tight spot, it feels very similar to what I imagine fleeing with young from a pterodactyl might feel like.

We have had our first crash, of which I have previously written and from which I am still healing. We have ridden 20 miles on a bike with four spokes missing (That was slow and wobbly.) We have eaten a great deal of peanut butter and tortillas (“peanut butter tacos”). We have been passed by 900 Corvettes on a winding mountain pass heading to a convention in Kentucky. We have camped for free in city parks under sprinklers that automatically turn on at 2:00 am. We have swum in three hot springs-fed swimming pools. And we have encountered endless incredible people and places.

One day this week, we spent the night in White Bird, Idaho, population 91. It was 99 degrees, and the next feature on our journey was a 4,500-foot desert pass. No thank you. We stumbled into a bar called the Silver Dollar Cafe to get a little sustenance, as it was the only establishment in town, and we needed our spirits lifted by something more than peanut butter.

As I opened the door to this tavern, five patrons turned in their seats and squinted at the light and heat coming in from behind us. It was dark and smoky and definitely not a family establishment. There Oakley and I stood in our tight biking shorts and neon yellow shirts and whistles (to warn against pterodactyls). There was a very pregnant pause.

“How old is that kid?” asked the tired-eyed bartender.

“16. We just want something to eat.”

“He can’t be in here.”

We turned to leave, shoulders slumped envisioning our unappealing peanut butter tacos and the hot night, feeling and looking bereft, when a question beckoned us back.

Haltingly, the bartender asked, “Do you like meat lovers pizza ?” Anybody who knows me knows that I am a die–hard vegetarian and have not eaten meat since I was 12. I have also raised my children as vegetarians. I hesitated. Oakley looked at me with a pleading expression.

“We do mom, just this once, we do.”

“Do you have plain cheese?” I stammered.

“What?” Asked the bartender. Oakley’s whole body begged. He is so skinny. We had been working so hard. It was so hot and our options seemed even more unpalatable.

“Yes, we do.”I responded. I could feel a jolt of electricity run through Oaks.

“We could hide you in the back room if you want, and I could heat you up a Tony’s Frozen Pizza in the toaster oven.”

“That would be great.” I responded. We dutifully followed that kind man to a storage room of sorts and waited quietly for 20 minutes. Glad just to be out of the sun.

When the pizza was ready the man brought it to us with a flourish. He had a pronounced limp and shaggy black hair that he swept to the side as he placed it on the small table before us. “I put some extra cheese on it for you since you didn’t seem big on the meat idea.”

We devoured it. Then we ordered another. He charged us 5 dollars a pizza. We were so content. (I picked off the sausages and pepperoni and give them to Oakley, though.)

Tonight as I lie in this cozy bed in the Shady Spruce Hostel, loving the crispness of the sheets, I am struck by the craziness of this adventure. All the unknowns, all the unpredictables, all the elements and characters of our saga which continually unfold as we bike along. What comes next? It will be something we never dreamed of, I am sure.

Oakley’s Perspective

It is week four and personally, I think we have completed the hardest of our trip. We have ridden over huge passes and gone over never ending hills. We have been camping in town parks under sprinklers that turn on in the middle of the night and drive you crazy .

A couple days ago we stayed in a little desert town called White Bird. It was the real Wild West. We got up early before the sun was up and set out to climb the deadly White Bird pass. It was 13 miles of straight up switch backs. I think we are getting pretty strong.

On the way up we saw coyotes and deer prowling the plains spread out below us. Once we got over the pass, the whole landscape changed from dry desert to farm lands. That seems to happen every time we cross a pass.

Yesterday, we had long and gradual climb up the Lolo pass to get to Missoula. On the way over we hit one thousand miles. We are making really good progress. In a week we will be in Yellowstone. I can’t believe we have finished 1\4 of this trip.