Day 63

Felt lazy this morning. The smoke was yet thicker. I drew out the morning chores to see if it would dissipate. It did not. Packed up without a sense of urgency and made ready to tackle Loup Loup Pass; the third of the four and a half passes between me and the Pacific. (The half I shall explain later). 

Spacey looking dude with yellow teeth came up to me and asked for a light. I pulled out my lighter and gave it to him. "Finally!" he says, "somebody with some frickin sense around here!" I thought that was funny. He complimented my bike, said thanks, and then stumbled off.

As I was tying my shoes a truck pulled up behind me and turned off its engine. An older man with a white Bringham Young beard looked back. He asked me where I'd been and all the usual questions. He spoke quietly and I needed to approach the car to hear him over the passing traffic. I answered and asked him about the road to Loup Loup. He said he'd done it before, not in a while, but that the steepest part was at the very beginning going through the orchards, still far from the top. "It gets better," he said.

I rode through Okanagan and looked at the shops. Bike store was closed unfortunately. Didn't need anything particularly, anyway. It was next to the yoga studio. Seemed a little out of place, but I suppose I am approaching Western Washington. Town looked a little less thriving than Omak, but in this smoke anything could look unfriendly.

I hit the highway and began ascending out of the valley. Sunburnt grass and dotted sagebrush hills emerged out of the smoke like shipwrecks from the murky deep. Eventually I got into the orchards.

Those lonesome bangs ringing out around the fields and the underlying fizz of sprinklers was a familiar sound. I rested in the shade by a fence. Cars looked like science fiction machines as they flew past.

The slow march continued. Smokey was VERY HIGH today.

Just look at those paranoid eyes. He's supposed to be on duty... its okay Smokey, I forgive you. Ain't got nothing else to do up there, do ya?

Met a guy on his way down with an English accent, I think. "There's a big dip and then some construction." We talked, and he inspected my rig. He was very curious. Bid him farewell, and I went zooming downhill. The change in momentum instantly bettered my mood. I found myself laughing aloud, "Everyday is so good." Its amazing how surprises unfold on the road.

Up some more and into construction. They had to wait for me for a good while as I pedaled in my lowest gear through the one lane zone. A lady in a minivan waiting on the other side said through the open window, "Way to go, man."

Another break. Trees up here.

The mileage number almost felt like a joke.

Up up and up some more, the road flattened and I saw sign for a campground. I had intended to camp here but that was supposed to be after the pass. I guess that was it. Felt a little cheated without a sign or anything. Oh well.

Campground was out of the way, in the woods. Feels very isolated. No one here but the camp host. I found a spot. It was only 2pm, but I didn't really have it in me to go down again.

Realized the only cash I had was a $1 bill, and that damn $20 Canadian bill that's been lingering forever. I put the dollar in an envelope and the slipped it in the deposit box. Better than nothing, I guess.

I read my hammock as I waited for the day to pass. It held on for some reason, and passed very slowly. Utterly quiet out here. The far off wind through trees and buzzing of flies only. Big dinner put me right back in my hammock. I think I miss people. I think I miss home. Pitched my tent not for fear of rain, nor for bugs. It is a mental shelter. My safe haven.