Our apologies... we have fallen behind. It has been made clear to us that our friends and family ARE, in fact, reading our blogs. Requests for updates are coming in by telephone and internet...
But we haven't forgotten.
Briefly, In Boise. Have been here for three days and will be leaving on Wednesday. Decided to get a swank hotel at
themodernhotel.com for Tuesday night and celebrate Kiel's birthday by going to get down with
Michael Franti and Spearhead at the Boise Botanical gardens and old state penitentiary museum...But more of that later.
Day 9After our night in the lovely biker hostel we were off on a short journey to John Day, OR.
Kiel; as we laid to sleep on the church floor Em turned over to me and whispered "I'm kinda freaked out sleeping here." I think she's seen too many horror movies or something, but now I think about it... never mind. Before we headed out of town the next morning we stopped in at the local gas station to grub on some self-serve biscuits and gravy, get this, for $2.75! As I ate we sat and watched the local farmers come through and talk about their honey-do lists and the dogs and fishing. It was a hot 50 miles to John Day with a headwind that put those biscuits and gravy to work right away. We rode past the pasture lands and hid beneath the shade of shrub oaks, fixed a flat and finished our water before we hit the outskirts of Mount Vernon, 22 miles down the road.
It was 2pm and 90 degrees as we rolled into the town of maybe 200. We passed a young couple hitchhiking west. We pulled over and chatted with them a bit, the guy in his pendleton shirt from upstate new york and his lady heading to Portland to find work. Both couples, including us, had traveled exactly 22 miles that day so far, but when you are hitching you end up sitting and waiting for a ride, where we are making our own way all day. They got their 20 miles in 3 hours of waiting and 20 minutes of traveling, it took us 4 hours traveling but zero waiting, different strokes for different folks they say. When on my bike I don't have that guilty feeling when riding by one of those old seasoned and sizzled old grizzly travelers that have that pitiful disappointing look etched in the lines of their face, as if they have watched, with their innocent thumb stuck in the air, every automobile driver laughing and leaving them behind...as if life has been full of opportunities passing them by rather than the few that take them somewhere, anywhere.
In America camping is considered a healthy sport for Boy Scouts but a crime for mature men who have made it their vocation. -- Poverty is considered a virtue among monks of civilized nations -- in America you spend a night in the calaboose if you're caught short without your vagrancy change - Jack Kerouac
http://www.hermitary.com/lore/kerouac.html
On a bike we are self powered and mobile and self sufficient, (but I will add that I do feel a little undeserving hitching a ride with our bikes leaned on the tree next to us.) It's hard to ask for something and be turned down so much as a hitchhiker is, it is easy to feel disappointed in the lack of humanity of people with surely enough space for you. I feel for all who travel these roads. For those who sleep under the bridges and stars and in churches and stranger's homes. For all the stories we share there are an equal amount of doubt and fear, for all the beauty of the unknown is the fear of being lost in it. For all the people who deep down desire an experience in the unknown there is another who just wants a couch and t.v. for the night. I wanted to share this because the night we stayed in the church in Dayville I read back on some of the entries that travelers had written. One that touched me sincerely was by a young man who was just out of college heading towards the midwest from Portland on his first bicycle tour. He had stumbled upon the church much like we did and seemed awestruck and grateful. He expressed that the summer heat had been wearing him thin and he wasn't sure he would make the town before nightfall, he had a long way to go and couldn't imagine making it all the way back home. The church hostel gave him hope and for that he was recharged again. I read his short entry and felt it, and felt it for my lady and felt it for myself. It's totally beautiful, but it ain't easy.
We stopped off at the local diner called the Silver Spur in Mount Vernon to get out of the heat, get a bite and fill up our water bottles. The cafe's have become our watering holes while our ponies sit tied together outside. We ordered up some fries and rootbeers and talked with an ole timer next to us. He was saving a quarter of his hamburger for his little jack russell in the camper. He was on his way back to La Grande from spending a few weeks out traveling. When we inquired to what the occasion was he told us sadly it was for his wife, she passed last month. They apparently had a list of things they wanted to do together and when she left this world he told her he would do his best to mark them off the list. "She always loved shootin' firecrackers off at the holidays so I sprinkled some of her ashes in a few of those bottle rockets and lit her up, then watched her take off." We thought that was awesome. I walked out with him to his camper to meet his dog Charlie and look at his little Toyota camper. He mentioned he was from Nebraska, and said "you guys will have a beautiful trip. I always said (about Nebraska), it was a great place to be from." I gave him a wave as he left the gravel parking lot with Charlie in his lap.
John Day was an interesting little town. We had planned for a short day in order to pull ourselves back together -- so much organizing and re-supplying is going into this adventure. As resources are generally limited, when we know we are arriving in a town with potential (... to spend ... I guess) we plan for a longer stop-over. John Day was just that. We needed food, fuel for our stove, new tent stakes, MORE tubes for my tires ( I should be keeping a tally count ) and probably other odds and ends.
The local chamber of commerce was a successful stop for us in John Day -- we got some help from a local woman, Deedee. She pointed us in the direction of all of the important places, camping at the fairgrounds (although she did try to send us to a lake that was something like 26 miles off of our course... 26 miles each way...) and internet at the local library among other things. Then she stuck around after work while we uploaded blog pictures for our previous posts. There was an adjoining bicycle shop called the strawberry mountain co-op run by a man who "comes and goes" according to Deedee. I needed tubes and Deedee offered to show us in his little shop and pick out what we needed. I found the sizes but no prices, so I left her with $12 for the pair which should be plenty. She had no idea and said she would pay the difference if we were short. Apparently the guy doesn't take any money from the repairs he does on people's bikes, just has them pay for parts... seems to be nice people along this road huh?
The fairgrounds turned out to be a perfect camping spot. There were only two tent set-ups including ours and the showers were warm, clean and free. This was also the first time that we arrived at camp early enough to enjoy a semi-leisurely night. We made friends with the other camper, Joe a wilderness fire fighter. He had clearly marked out a territory in the fairgrounds and had been living there for the past two months working on the fire crew(he had a small castle made of tarps, tent, coolers, and chairs). He was a friendly young guy that seemed to genuinely enjoy some company.
Kiel; he told us stories of some of the other crazy folks who had stayed at the fairgrounds with him, including the infamous world record hula hooper guy who traveled with the county fair circuit. We asked Joe if he ever saw him hula hooping in the park, and Joe kinda got a baffled look on his face and said;
"no, now that you mention it I never did, but he was always doing really interesting things with his free time, like that one time he brought back to camp one of those friggin' camo-hunter's bows he bought over at the local St. Vincent Depauls with a whole quiver of arrows. I saw him dragging over one of those big hay barrels you see over there with that bow strapped to his back wearing his clown looking hoola hoopie outfit, total unique sight, anyway we had a blast drinking whiskey and shooting targets that afternoon." He added one more little anecdote about his hula friend's dog who had been watching all the feral cats tramping around for a week or so before they saw him dragging one out of the bushes and into the shade of one of those trees lining the river; "you ever watched a dog eat a cat?" He added a disgusted face as he said simply "it's disgusting." We could only offer some tobacco and some story but he seemed more than content sitting with us under our little cottonwood campsite as we inspired each other with stories of our continual wild and scenic travels.
"The stories keep rolling in faster than we can roll along. Can't keep up anyway."
Day 9 : Dayville to John Day, OR approximately 38 miles (ahh... rest day)
Day 10I guess part of the reason we had chosen to stay over in John Day was in preparation for the following day; which appeared to be a BIG day for us still-newbies. Our biking map warned us of 3 passes in the following 50 or so miles... we knew that we needed to wake up early for a day like that. I was feeling nervous about the upcoming hills. The map clearly states the elevation at: Dixie Pass at 5,279 feet, and the following 2 summits at 4,506 and 5,109.
We packed up and disappeared from camp a little after daybreak while our friend Joe had yet to peek his head out from his tent. The morning biking went by quickly. The first hill appeared off in the distance almost immediately but it didn't seem as intimidating in person as it did on paper. Soon enough we were pedaling steadily upward. Kiel and I have different hill-climbing methods; I'm more likely to power-through the climb whereas Kiel rolls slowly and smoothly while singing a tune (only when he stops singing do I believe that he is feeling a wee-bit tired). We stopped at a viewpoint to pose a few pictures and ended up chatting with a fed-ex delivery man, Glen, about our journey. He was especially excited about Kiel's butt-bearing pose on the edge of a rocky outlook (we have some pretty stellar tan lines to show off).
Kiel: This was a situation where I did not have to persuade Emily into participating, although she wanted to stay behind the camera, then Glen walked over from the truck and in the conversation about our trip he added; "Yeah, I especially liked that picture that you guys took over on the rock, although I thought it would be better if you were both in it, but I guess I felt it would been a little uncomfortable if I walked over and proposed that, but
it would have been better." I completely agreed, wink wink.
Speaking for myself making it up Dixie Pass was super satisfying. I didn't feel exhausted, instead I felt invigorated... and hungry. We had a quick lunch at the top of the pass then cruised down the hill for awhile. The next two passes came and went quickly. I had not believed that we would be able to do all three in one day. But as slick as the hills came and went by it was clear that Kiel and I were finally beginning to feel in our bodies like 'tourers'.
We ended the day near Unity, OR in another State Park. Our car-less campsite attracted a bit of attention with fellow campers as well as the park hosts. It probably didn't take more than 30 minutes to get our story out to the entire park... of course I have Kiel on my team to spread the news. He warned me that past girlfriends have referred to him as a walking billboard, I'm not in total dis-agreement. Soon after our arrival another young biker appeared, Cooper, who was westward bound (Boise, ID to Olympia, WA). We offered up a corner of our campsite to him then headed over to a sit around the campfire with Craig and Stacy from Tennessee who had been driving their camper following the Lewis and Clark trail and on their way back home. Kiel, around the evening campfire, in his oh-so sure attitude kept calling Craig "Carrie" and before he was corrected and I spent the first 20 minutes or so believing that Stacy's name was Carrie because of Kiel... eventually we got their names right. Kiel defended himself (pathetic but inventive that boy!) that he is a visual learner and when he and Craig exchanged names,in his mind (weary from the day I assume)he saw K-R-A-G and then somehow turned that into KARY. After Craig heard that, to my surprise he told us that Krag is actually the origin name of Kraig, meaning "rock" (is this really interesting enough to add to the blog? comments are welcome... ) Anyway, three bikers and two road warriors sat around the campfire having a good laugh. Craig and Stacy were kind and friendly fire hosts; making sure we were all comfortable and even sharing some Jack Daniels and Wine with us to keep our internal fire's stoked as well. When it was time (which is like 9 pm for us bike tourers) we all crawled into our temporary houses for a good sleep.
Day 10 : John Day to Unity Lake State Park, Approximately 50 miles
Day 11We woke to a brisk morning. This was the first morning that I had to add gloves to my morning-wear and double layer my clothing. I regretted agreeing to an early morning departure; my sleeping bag was looking mighty fine. But there being 3 of us bikers trying to break camp made it an exciting morning. Kiel and I made some of our signature oatmeal (most of you probably don't realize how good we are at making morning oatmeal) and even shared a bit with our new friend. Cooper hooked Kiel and I up with a few Boise, ID contacts... our first state border crossing was not so far in the distance. And before we had time to get really cold we were on the road in the morning sun, which had just peaked over a hill into our valley. Cooper road with us for three miles (the junction for our east vs. west journeys) and we went our separate ways.
Soon enough we had 70 miles of hot highway in our future. I am not a fan of direct sun and unbearable (seemingly) heat. Moments after the morning sun had come up I was wishing the sun back under and cursing that we had not left a few hours earlier. Shade only came rarely; we had one section in 30 or more miles without a tree or building to sit by. This was the first time that I felt like our journey was truly a crazy idea. The desert is harsh and our water is limited. Ultimately we were fine, and we knew we would be, but I wouldn't do those miles again (Kiel assures me that there are more shadeless miles to come).
Brogan, OR was a much anticipated stop. Not for any other reason other than that there just HAD to be SOME shade. And there was. Brogan wasn't much more than a speck on the map but it did have the only thing that I wanted, a tree. A great big tree... I'm not sure if it was an oak or a maple or even an evergreen... it didn't matter other than it provided a us with a small cool grassy area to rest. We supported the owner of the tree (as all things in nature are owned by someone, right?) by purchasing food and drinks to supplement our lunch meal. We lavished in our break and even played a bit with a young girl (3 years old??) Leah and a couple of black kittens. Leah's grandmother told me as we said our goodbyes that Leah had REALLY enjoyed our attention and refused to eat lunch unless she could take it outside to eat with us. We left feeling revived. We left the fine people of Brogan to their herds and rattlesnake hunting.
Our destination for the night was Vale, OR. Our last overnight in Oregon before heading into Idaho. Cooper told us the only place to camp in town was the town park and we would have to stop in at the local police station to okay our stay. We debated our options and 'splurged' on a cheap motel ($30 a night didn't seem like a whole lot to ask in comparison to our state park stays for $17).
This day was probably the hardest day for me as of yet... between the heat and my knee -- which was acting up again... I had few pleasant thoughts about this section of the road. In reflection though I do remember feeling grateful for Kiel's pulled together and supportive nature during this section. It's good to have a partner for the road; especially one that can muster up the strength to offer love amidst discomfort... and to a complaining/unhappy/over-heated woman.
Kiel; If the reader hasn't noticed, I am reading what Em has written and filling in with my limited perspective, this is a moment that I want to embrace, for the sake of the story and for the sake of this adventure, for without her it wouldn't be. It feels really good to have each others love and support on this road. All the good people we meet are a part of this story, our story on this journey. It's hard to be loving in times of fear or uncertainty, and in this life their seems to be alot of that. Plans are only momentary comfort when nothing on a bike tour is a constant, where the weather can turn grey or our muscles start to ache or when that hill doesn't show up on the map we have to still show up, there are no breaks. I imagine it easier if we weren't also lovers as well, why do we take everything so personal? For all the time together we haven't had much loving time with one another...it's good to be friends but it's different ya know? She's on my mind throughout the day, I'm watching for her down the hills and she waits for me at the top of the hills we got a good thing going, workin' at it every day. And what a good way to do it!
Day 11 : Unity Lake State Park to Vale, OR... too much heat to count miles... or about 75 miles...
Alex, or Jr. I like to call him left the key for us and some amazing food cooking in the oven awaiting our arrival. He and his super hero pound pooch salty dog came home shortly after we got there, in time to share a home cooked meal. I would love to tell lengthy stories of our conversations with Alex about Idaho, student abroad programs, mushroom hunting, music, living on a winery, librarianism, etc. but we are short on time here. I will say though, that he took care of us like a good relative would, and he ahd a sweet steam room in his shower. 
He stuck around with us to go to the Michael Franti show last night. We had a blast and got a blast of good positive inspiration. The last song of the night he brought up all the kids in the audience to help him sing a song (which my mom loves the most because my little nephew Fin grooves to it!) called I love you, we got a decent pic luckily. 