When it rains, it pours.

After Mary got hit by a car we figured the worst was over, but nope. The guy who hit Mary gave us a ride back to Jackson, where he was camping. The population is 30 people, with no bike shops, but at least there were cabins for rent. We spent the night in one, where the same guy who hit Mary woke us up at midnight to see if we wanted to have some beers. It would have been nice if he were to offer us a ride to a bike shop, since we were planning on hitch hiking and he had a car. Instead, after we declined his invitation he said " don't worry, you should be fine hitch hiking here. I know in Oregon people carry knives, but we take care of each other here even if we accidentally hit you with our trucks."
For his sake, I'm hoping he was a little drunk.
We did end up meeting some great people headed to Butte, MT after three hours on the side of the road. They were a large family coming home from a camping trip. They loaded our bikes into their trailer, and we rode in a car into Butte with a man named Tom. He was very friendly, and we talked about Montana fishing and baby cows (his favorite). We ended up at his mothers house, where we waited for the others to meet us. An hour later someone came to the house to tell him the truck and trailer had rolled on the highway and were totaled. The driver had a broken leg, hip, and 4 ribs, and was being taken to the hospital. While the family met up outside, Mary and I sat on a couch inside wondering what we should do. Soon Tom's brother showed up with our stuff that he'd reloaded into his truck.
Tom gave us a ride to a sports store on his way to the hospital, where we unloaded our gear and learned that the store carried no bike parts. Then a hailstorm hit, and stores started closing because of flash flood warnings.
Our mom happens to have relatives in Butte, so she called her brother in law to see if he might be able to help. He told her that he fell down and broke his leg today and can't drive.
At this point we decided to drink some beer on the curb for a minute, then got a hotel. Apparently another bike store opens tomorrow, and we are hoping they have rims there. Well find out in the morning. It sounds like Tom's family is ok tonight. If all goes well we are planning on getting back on the road tomorrow. Tonight I'm planning on eating a bag of pretzels, taking some Benadryl and going to bed early in a queen sized bed.

Bad times

We are staying at Jackson hot springs tonight and hitchhiking a ride to dillon, the next city with a bike shop, in the morning. I got hit by a truck today and it broke my back tire rim and my guitar. I don't even have a scratch and don't know how that's possible. I have no idea how I got off my bike, but I was standing on the side of the road and it was wrecked in the middle of the road. The man who hit me gave me a ride back to pick up Beth, and then to Jackson where we are now. Beth told our mom and she is scared shitless. I don't blame her, and continuing on this trip feels very selfish but I've wanted to do this for so long now. From here on out I hope the trip gets smoother.

Friday the 13th

We made it to missoula Thursday morning after camping at lolo hot springs the night before. Missoula is an awesome town, like an unpretentious Seattle. With cowboys. We spent the afternoon in Missoula getting our bikes and my guitar fixed, and found a laundromat. Then I found a brewery with live folk music so we spent the rest of the night there. We were not sure where to camp, but needed showers so went to the riverfront. While we were in the river some couple came out of their apartment and glared at our bikes with their little schnauzer dog for a good ten minutes. So we packed up and rode a few miles upriver where there was a huge, beautiful park that we pitched our tent in. It was the perfect day. Until shit hit the fan at 4:00 am.
First there was a distant rattling sound, which I thought was a bum pushing a shopping cart. It made me nervous because that was the one thing people in Missoula told us to be careful of if we slept in the parks. (bums, not shopping carts). As the night went on it got louder and louder and I got more and more paranoid, breathing quietly and hoping Beth wouldn't fidget in her sleep. Finally she sat up and said 'hey, you hear that sound?'. I said 'yes, be quiet! It's the bums with their shopping carts!'
She looked at me like I was crazy and opened the tent to show me what it was. Sprinklers. We lie there half asleep trying to pretend they were not going to reach us until one blasted a foot from our tent. I grabbed the tent and rolled us upside down because I thought the floor of the tent might work as a waterproof shield, but no. So we spent the next 20 minutes frolicking through ice water in our faces as we bungeed everything on our bikes, then rode to a lit up pedestrian tunnel where we tried to sleep for another two minutes before deciding to get an early start.
We found a 24 hour laundromat online but when we got there it was closed, so we went to a 24 hour walmart to get food and change into dry clothes. Then Beth led us 15 miles down the wrong highway. That pissed me off, so I took over navigating and led us another 15 miles off route. After a few roadside fights we figured it out, and eventually got to hermiston, mt, where we finally found a laundromat to dry our tent and sleeping bags. We stayed the night in an older couples garage (they host cyclists and were very sweet) but when we went to pitch our tent found it had melted together. So now we are at a cafe waiting for big 5 to open so we can buy another tent. Then we are headed up another huge hill and into wisdom, Montana. We need to make good miles today.

Snakes and stuff

We woke up at a campground in Hells Canyon this morning. I found a praying mantis in my hair. The high around here is 106 degrees, so we got up at 5:30 because we had a 14 mile summit up to 4100 feet. It took four hours to pedal 14 miles with all our gear, and then it was rolling hills until Council Idaho, where we showered in the sprinklers at the high school and then came to Ace Saloon. You can drink and smoke inside here, and get drinks to go. It might not be good for the Bike trip, but it reminds me of the South and that's wonderful. I tried to bathe in a river on the way here, but people had cautioned us against it because it's rattlesnake territory. I got my clothes and body covered in soap, and got in up to my ankles. Mary was on her way in and saw a snake. (mary here: i tolded beth not to go in that river and was looking for a snake to prove her choice WRONG. I rode with no suds.)

I tried to wash the soap off but saw another snake in the water. I ended up pedaling the last 23 miles covered in soap. I feel pretty clean now, and would almost feel like a functioning member of society if I wasn't currently wearing a silk nighty under a large tee shirt, since my other clothes are all dirty. (Mary here again: I'm wearing a windbreaker with no shirt. Or bra.)

All jokes aside, it's been 7 days since we left and I am so grateful for this trip. To have a close sister and friend willing and excited to do it with me and to be able to see bighorn sheep, running cows, changes in terrain and kind people. The Ranger at our sight last night told me that a family came through on their bikes last year. There were six children, aged 2 to 12. Everything they owned was on their bikes, and they went the same route as us. The mother pulled the 2 year old up the 14 mile hill in a trailer on her bike, and the other children rode. They went hundreds of miles and were eventually taken in by a small town in Idaho and now live there. While I was pedaling for 5 hours in 100 degrees I started thinking about that. I think living in a big city has caused me to become a little cynical, or depressed. It's just wonderful to see that people are still generous, unconventional circumstances work out and most hearteningly, America is still beautiful. There have been days when we've ran out of water and came upon remote stores closing in five minutes, or like tonight, when the Bartender told us we could pitch our tent and camp in the Beer Garden. (mary here again: and turned up the jutebox when he saw me looking at it. Then loaded 10 free credits. Now 5 biker men are listening to full blast faith hill and Melissa ethridge.)

We've ran into people who educated us on our immediate routes just by chance, and told us about wildlife and other precautions. Each day has felt like forever, and the best kind of forever.
Right now, I just feel grateful. And alive. And it's nice to know, if you're willing to walk around half naked, shower in sprinklers, trust people and carry everything you own on you, that shit might still be free.

Hills and valleys

It's been a week now. Tonight we are sleeping at a beautiful park on the snake river in Idaho.
These few days have been all hills and valleys, so riding is either 4 miles per hour or 30 miles per hour. This morning had a 2,000 ft climb and I wanted to die. Those 6 miles took 90 minutes. But as soon as we reach the summit, I forget how it felt. Then there is a 5 mile downhill and a cold river, and by the end of the day I feel great. Tomorrow morning is 4,000 ft. (i lied when I said the Rockies were 4,000, they are 11,500).
People are so different in these small towns. So many nice old men in overalls who talk forever. Stores that look like garages and diners that look like livingrooms.
Having left home is starting to sink in and that is sad. Owning nothing feels good, but the people I might not see again go through my mind and it doesn't seem fair. There are so many of us people, everywhere, most of us good. So why can't we all know each other always? I think next I will build a longhouse like the Indians did, with room for 40. And then fill it.
Beth swore she saw a hyena yesterday, and heard rattlesnakes all day. It was a cayote and grasshoppers. I think she secretly wants to die from wildlife.

Cabbage hill

We had a few days of easy riding because of the tailwinds, and made up for it yesterday. The first ten miles we rode up Cabbage Hill, and got to a final elevation of 4100 ft. before descending into la grande. Mary bent her rim and I fell on some gravel, and we found one store along the way. It was closing, and accepting cash only. We had run out of water and were resorting to our last beers we found in our panniers. I found five dollars on me, and we were able to get some water and peanuts to last the second half of the ride. I was afraid of wildlife leaving for the trip, and so far we haven't gotten eaten by bears even a little bit. We did bike alongside some cattle in the road, and maybe I am a wimp, but it made me nervous. Especially the Bulls. We ended up sleeping behind an apartment complex. I am surprised that this stealth camping has worked so well so far. I keep expecting to get kicked out in the middle of the night. Today is another hot and beautiful day. The views along the route are amazing. It is wonderful to watch the terrain slowly changing. Today we are riding from la grande into baker city. We met a biker that said we should watch out for Rattlesnakes throughout Idaho. He said not to sleep next to the skin of the tent, and we should be fine. We're hoping he was a little crazy. I am excited to bike into another time zone.
- Beth

Ohh snap

Made it to pendleton at 4:45 today. We went 83 miles yesterday, and 75 today. That would be enough to make me feel more confident if it were not for the tailwind. There's been miles at a time where I did not have to pedal. I suppose Oregon is as ready to get rid of us as I am of it. Washington was home, Oregon is Oregon, but past that is an adventure.

A friend we just met at the brewery I'm writing from has just let me know that the only way out of here in the morning is a 7 mile summit of cabbage hill. The top of cabbage hill is 2,000 ft and we are at about 450ft right now. The highest point on the transamerica trail is in the rockies at 4,000 ft. That means we do half the Rockies in the morning. We were planning on an easy day into la grande to watch the fireworks. Now I can hear our new friend talking to his cyclist buddy in the next room about us, and his buddy's advice was to shoot our veins full of something before we attempt cabbage hill. Lord help me. I think it's time for another round.