Ma and I had a fine pancake breakfast and then started splitting up stuff. This was mine, you take this, I could use that, and so on. She left me with a couple days worth of good too.
Teary-eyed, she watched me go. Don't know why it was so emotional- not like I hadn't already gone 2,500 before I met her... but once a mother, always a mother.
I was aiming for Republic. Not a big day, but I figured the first day with gear again I could take it easy. So I rode out and onto highway 20 again and started west.
I was in the middle of the Colville National Forest, the Kettle range. About two hours went by and I realized it hadn't done anything but uphill the entire time. Something must be up... Looked at the map again. I was in the right spot. Then I looked at the elevation profile, something I hadn't done yesterday.
Well that was why. Sherman pass. Maybe it was a blessing I only realized when I was already halfway up.
So I chugged and I chugged. Pouring sweat. Logging trucks ripped down the road next to me, but other than them, there was hardly any traffic.
The forest was gorgeous, no doubt. Took a rest at an old CCC camp. There was the remnants of a cabin and a sign that read "Little America." They had been working to build a dam on Sherman Creek to create a lake for a Campground they would build, but when 1942 came around, Lumber became much more important and they abandoned the camp. The dam was taken out in 2006. Sherman Creek looked happy to be flowing freely again.
I trudged some more and finally about 2:30 I made it to the top.
Not incredibly scenic but a relief nonetheless. This climb makes the Sun Road and Logan Pass feel like a walk in the park.
I had done 3800 vertical feet in just under 20 miles. And of course the elevation that had taken me four hours to go up took me only 40 minutes to go down. The thrill of flying down a mountain pass will never go away. The speed feels so well deserved. I did stop however to take some photos on the way down. There's so much more to look at when you're not staring at the pavement in front of you like while cranking uphill.
So I came to the bottom, bone-dry after having been completely soaked at the top. Hadn't been able to find water towards the top so when I saw a gas station just outside the town of Republic, I pulled over. There were two other bicycles loaded up outside the front door. I went in and got water from the bathroom, and found the other cyclists sitting in the conjoined Cafe. They were a South African couple, middle-aged, and had ridden all the way from Fort Lauderdale, Florida. They'd been on the road 11 weeks. We commiserated on the climb, and how unflinchingly steeping it been. They said they were headed for the fairgrounds tonight in Republic, so I said I might meet them there. I really didn't have any plans and figured there wasn't a whole lot in Republic for me, so when I saw the fairgrounds I rode in.
There was a big open Barn for the fair, and a rodeo stockade across the creek. The grassy lawn had some other trailers already there. I found a shady spot near the creek and investigated more. The bathhouse had showers. 25 cents for 3 minutes of warm water, but cold was free, so I washed myself and washed my clothes down by the creek.
Bathroom had some great body-affirming graffiti.
The South Africans pulled in and found a spot on the other side a little later. I waved.
Around when I was pulling my stove together, two hikers walked in with big backpacks. My hair was still wet from the shower and I was wearing nothing but my shorts, and I walked up to the younger man and said hey. He spoke with an Australian accent. They had hiked from Olympics and we're going all the way to Glacier. He looked tired and a little bewildered. I wasn't surprised, it was hot. So I let him be while they set up camp. Later, after I cooked myself dinner, I went over again. I was curious. They were the only long-distance hikers I had met so far. I walked over with my dinner pot in hand and said "mind if I chow here and ask you about your travels?" The woman obliged gladly, and offered me a swig of whiskey. Her name was Jeannie, a middle-aged woman who was the aunt of Toby, the guy I had spoken to before. It had been her idea to walk to her sister's wedding in Montana, and convinced her nephew to come along. They had really loved the Olympics and Cascades but had had to take a detour because of forest fires and all the smoke, which is how they ended up here. She had been an environmental lawyer for 30 years and we chatted for a while about that and what it's like to go on an adventure like this. She said something which I immediately agreed with, though I had never thought of it that way myself. She said, "People always say you're crazy when you want to do something like this, but what they don't realize is that they could too, they just can't get their mind around it. If you free your mind your ass will follow, ya know."
After I did dishes and left them, she brought over to me a packet of 'Nido', a Mexican powdered milk she believed to be superior to the average brand. I took it gladly.
Spend the evening listening to the creek beside my tent. Think I can make it to Okanagan tomorrow? We shall see.
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