I Didn't Know That Was So Much Fun

I had a few encounters with road bikers in high school when I worked at a small breakfast restaurant. Occasionally people would come in with funny outfits and shoes that appeared to be pretty good at scuffing up the floor. Another time we had some preseason football training that involved throwing a big tire from the discus cage. There happened to be several hundred people on a bike tour that were camping on the school grounds. Someone had noticed the discuss cage was a good place to dry clothes and put their bike shorts on there inside out. The inside out part was a bummer. The shorts had an enormous skid mark on them. Bike touring. Weird.

But eventually the idea of riding a bike a long ways started sounding pretty good. While on the Dirty Devil adventure Justin started describing his dream of biking from Salt Lake City to Seattle. Turns out he planned to leave the same weekend the semester ended and didn't mind if I joined him for the first few days. So I went too and had way more fun than I expected. And I was expecting to have a lot of fun.

Here is a view of the approximate route:

It is kind of fun revisiting trips on Google Earth.

On Friday Justin biked about 100 miles from Salt Lake City across the salt flats on Highway 80. Katie, Julia, and I met him at a rest stop on the flats that night (down by the G in Great). The girls put together a great dinner as we watched the sun go down.

Salt flat sunset. Photo by Justin's camera timer.

Thankfully we have some friends who have done quite a bit of bike touring. John had graciously loaned to me some road-ish tires for the trip. I thought that mountain bike tires would be fine. Not so. These tires ended up being trip-savers. He also let me borrow a handle bar bag that came in handy more times than I could count. Justin let me borrow some panniers and I was set. After I got all this useful stuff attached to my bike, we rolled along in the dark for about a half hour from the rest stop to our first camp site along an access road a few miles down the highway. Everything seemed to be in order. Slept under the stars with Julia. It was great.

The next morning we pre-hydrated, hugged our wives, and headed north across the desert. We had a lot of water along. I had close to 1.5 gallons. I remembered vaguely that one of the PhD students I once shared an office with had earned his masters degree looking at groundwater in the area we were passing through but I never contacted him. Turns out he knew exactly were the best tasting springs were along the first 50 miles of our route through the desert. Probably will ask him for those coordinates next time I head out there.

Onward along the Pilot Range. Not too much shade on this
part of the trip.

Taking a rest below the Pilot Range along
the Great Salt Lake Desert.

Justin had a pretty cool set up. He'd keep a solar powered charger on his rack all day and charged his iPhone at night. We had google maps to show us where to go. Having someone else navigate was pretty relaxing, kind of. I had to try hard not to ask questions at every intersection about where we were and where we were going. In general, all I had to do was keep up with him. This also proved difficult and I appreciated his patience on both accounts.

Trying to keep up. Photo by Justin.

We would take breaks every hour or two. But as we were sitting there inevitably we would think of something that needed taking care of. Eventually I got things organized on the bike in a way that allowed for fewer restless rest breaks.

Gettin' after it climbing out of the Great Salt Lake Desert.

We went through water pretty quickly. Thankfully the temperatures were in the high 60's low 70's. Not bad. Around 6 PM it was time to take an extended break. We finally got ourselves out of the sun behind some rabbit-infested hay bales south of Grouse Creek, UT and made dinner.

Shade. Shade is good. Photo by Justin's camera timer.

So Grouse Creek was an interesting experience. It's a little town in a little valley up in the middle of nowhere in the northwest corner of Utah. We were counting on a gas station or something similar to grab some water. We settled for a hydrant at a DOT station. There was nothing else going on.

We didn't see anyone among the 30 or 40 houses in the town on a beautiful Saturday night, save a fellow get in his car in a driveway and drive off. There were swings squeaking in the breeze, but we never actually saw children. There were several goats that chased us approximately 2.5 miles out of town. That was weird. One eventually clipped its collar to a fence and I had to free him. They ran themselves out of breath and were wheezing and coughing and trying to get at our snacks when we stopped.

Go away goats.

I said go away! Photo by Justin.

A truck pulled up at an intersection just outside of town and we asked for directions. These guys weren't from Grouse Creek though. We should have taken photos of the hombres in there. They were cowboys to be sure, jus' gettin' back from brandin' south a' Oakley. Each one of them was complete with a filthy cowboy hat, chaw, spectacles, and a fu manchu. They distracted the goats and we went a mile up the road and made camp about 15 miles from the UT-ID border. We ate a lot of food.

That evening there appeared to be a controlled burn going on and the surrounding hills were flickering. It was pretty neat. Rain was starting to roll in so we used a tent. Only night I didn't sleep under the stars.

The next morning we started up towards a pass and the ID-UT border. The pain of bike touring is worth mentioning here. Getting on and off doesn't feel very good. But it goes away after being in the saddle for 2-3 minutes! That's not to bad. Get on, keep going.

So we stayed in the saddle and kept going. During a rest break as we wandered out of the mountains towards Oakley we got the rundown from a couple of ranchers on what is required to raise cattle on the range. The seed of a bull with good genes is apparently not cheap. Lots of interesting folks between Wendover, NV and the Utah-Idaho border.

There are also a lot of cattle being ranged along this stretch. Apparently when a cow is scared by something near the road it simultaneously begins to run and poop, leaving a line of feces stretching between 2 and 16 feet across the road. I came flying around a corner on a downhill and hit one of these lines. It splashed on my face. That was not awesome. But coming down off the pass was a joy anyway.

Heading down towards ID.

We hit pavement just outside of Oakley. My goodness that was pleasant. The route we chose to take from Wendover, NV to that point was about 98% gravel. This made for some pretty quiet places with good scenery but it was awfully bouncy. Unfortunately every single store in Oakley was closed. Bummer. I forget what food I was craving, probably chicken tenders. But we would have to wait until Twin Falls. We made a large lunch with some more Ramen and whatever else was available and headed off through the potato farms.

The barn in the background was a nice shady rest spot.

Forty or so miles of fields and cows later we were in Twin Falls and excited about eating food. We ended up in a Mexican restaurant for rice, beans, and chimichangas.

Forgot locks. The steeds followed us wherever we went. 

Around 8 PM we headed to a grocery store to load up for the next day. We pressed on into the night out of Twin Falls towards Balance Rock so we could sleep under the stars in the quiet of some semi-wilderness. It was May 5 and we passed several bon fires along the way celebrating Cinco de Drinko. At one of these gatherings there was a particularly happy sounding group 40 or so yards off the road. I waved and yelled, "Cinco de Mayo!" and received a series of happy hoots and whistles in response. That was fun. We found a gravel pit out towards a different type of desert and fell asleep under the stars.

That rock is balancing right up there.

Airing my dirty laundry in the morning.

A healthy breakfast on day 3. Fruit even.

The first two days of the trip were a raging success. Mile after mile of beauty through the salt flats, up to the mountains of southern Idaho, through the potato farms, and back into relative wilderness. After 100 miles or so of gravel and washboard nothing had broken. The borrowed tires were working perfectly on both pavement and gravel. What a life.

Day three was going to be a bit of a mystery. Instead of heading north towards Boise, Justin wanted to cut across some relatively uninhabited areas in western Idaho and eastern Oregon to take as direct a route to Bend, OR as possible. This pointed us at a place called Bruneau, ID where another friend named John, who recently relocated to Boise from Salt Lake City, would meet us for the evening. We had found a route that appeared as though it would work. We would cut across some desert-looking terrain in more or less a straight line to where John would meet us and show us some hot springs along the Bruneau River. Because the nature of the roads was a big unknown, we had planned accordingly and the milage on this day to the hot springs was more conservative than the previous two days. Most of the planning for this section involved looking at satellite photos and saying, "Yeah, that should work."

So we set off onto the gravel and headed west. We bounced for a while and slowly ticked away the miles. Lots of gravel. This type of gravel was especially challenging. In some places the road was covered in rocks the size of golf balls. This went on for close to 20 miles and was pretty tiring. Thankfully we had a tailwind coming from the east.

This type of gravel is not ideal. Photo by Justin.

Then we climbed a hill and suddenly we were on dried clay that was smoother than pavement. That coupled with the tailwind got me excited so I recorded the event using my camera.

Justin: "Livin' it up while we can! Tides are about to turn..."

Me: "We'll see what this one...What do we got? SanOH $#!%!!!!!"

Didn't even get a bruise. Felt pretty silly though. Sand in the camera was not helpful. It died.

After this we came to a few intersections and after each one the road we were following got smaller and smaller. Eventually we were bouncing along a rutted two track. And then we ran into a fence with a sign from the U.S. government saying something to the effect of "Don't you dare hop this fence. We are blowing things up." At this point I was pretty tired. We pondered hopping the fence but then with the help of Justin's phone we decided to head south and hopefully go around the bombing range. That worked pretty good and only added a couple of miles to the day, though they were slow miles.

But soon we found ourselves on a main road with relatively pleasant gravel. And we were going downhill with a tail wind. And then we were whipping downhill on pavement at 30 mph. And just like that we were at the Bruneau River where we planned to meet John with 30 minutes to spare. Just like many of the places we had been before, it was quiet and pleasant. We stretched out and listened to the wind.

John and his wife are extraordinarily generous. When he arrived he had a cooler filled to the brim with ice and 10 different types of drinks. It was awesome. We followed him up to a place he had camped before (the little spur to the far west on the map) and headed to the hot spring. The hot spring was on the edge of the Bruneau River and we hopped back and forth between the two. After the soak John made us a pile of rice and sausage that hit the spot. It was a most pleasant evening. From above the river we watched thunderstorms roll across the plains. Also we heard and saw several jets above the area we had been warned not enter. They would dive and pull up. Then a flash would appear on the ground followed a few seconds later by a profound series of thuds. They weren't kidding about staying out of the fenced off area.

I had arranged to meet a shuttle at 9 AM the next morning in Mountain Home, ID. During dinner I realized that I would need to leave around 3 AM to get there on time. That didn't sound like any fun. John offered to give me a ride but I was pretty sure I'd look back and think, "Why didn't I just bike to Mountain Home?" So I decided to take off around 9 PM and get myself to Mountain Home sooner rather than later. I said goodbye to two very generous and fun-loving friends and headed out.

It's interesting what my mind did when I was alone in the dark. A couple of animals really startled me. I saw raccoons, deer, and what looked to be a possum. Also I made out the remains of a dog/wolf along the side of the road. No mountain cougars though. I started seeing animals everywhere. I tried to calm myself down but it seemed as though just before I convinced myself something wasn't an animal it would prove itself to be an active creature of the night. At one point I saw two things reflecting my headlamp back at me at the same level. "Relax, those are just the reflectors on a wagon or somethHO GEEZ THOSE ARE DEER." But nothing jumped out and tried to eat me.

Since high school, something has shifted in the way I think about biking. I had two climbs between the Bruneau River and Mountain Home, about 400 and 600 vertical feet, respectively. My bike was loaded with gear and I was exhausted from a day of biking that included about 60 miles of gravel. The most dreaded climb I could think of in Leelanau County is about 250 vertical feet. Instead of wondering why folks dress so funny for a bike ride I was enjoying the challenges and looking forward to more. Growing up is odd.

I pounded out the last few miles along the Idaho plains and crashed on the porch of a church at 3 AM. Slept like a baby too. During the previous day of bouncing along gravel roads, a hole had been worn in my inflatable sleeping pad. When my alarm went off I realized the pad was completely flat and I was sleeping on concrete. It hadn't been an issue. I met the shuttle and headed back to Salt Lake City. It was strange being in motion without having to move.

The trip fundamentally changed the way I view biking. I got dropped off in downtown Salt Lake City and couldn't work out a ride for the last 4.5 miles home. Then I thought, "What am I waiting here for? Who cares about getting up the Wasatch Fault. I can bike home. It's all pavement. All hills are easy on pavement." And then I biked home. I was about as tired as I have ever been. I biked about 280 miles in three days and had 3 hours of sleep the night before. But biking on pavement isn't a problem. Just have to keep going. I would have waited for a ride before the trip, but not so anymore. Pavement? No problem. What liberty for adventure! I feel free as a bird! However, I do not plan to hang my soiled chamois in public after a long day of biking. In fact, I am going to avoid soiling them in the first place.

I didn't have keys so I stretched out in the grass and waited for Julia to roll up after saving the world of physical therapy at her internship. It was a pleasant time. Even more pleasant was when she got home. I was glad to see her.

On a side note, Justin continued to kill it for 3 more weeks. Fifteen hundred miles. A couple of days after I headed home he rattled off a 140-mile day and eventually got to Seattle about 2 weeks ahead of schedule. I thought I would help out by letting him draft along windy stretches but I don't remember actually pulling for more than 6 or 8 miles. Along the way he went kite surfing on the Hood River for a few days, among other things. Holy wah. He knows how to get after it.

Summary of first bike tour:

Losses:

• Camera

Victories:

• Outside all day for 3 days (save two trips indoors to buy food)
• Exhausted camping at the end of each day.
• Hours upon hours of laughing with Justin.
• No sunburn.
• Made it to the shuttle on time.
• Plenty of pain and fatigue but not even a hint misery. Not one bit.