Five Weeks

I have now been on the road for five weeks. It's hard to believe it's been so long, and so short a time. So much has happened, so many miles have been covered. And I'm almost at the end. There's a little over 200 miles to go. It's been a wild ride. And I keep reminding myself it's not yet over. A lot can happen in 200 miles.

I was fed a nice breakfast of eggs, home picked raspberries, homemade strawberry jam, and peanut butter on toast. ...I realize I mention the food I'm provided ad nauseam here, but one has to understand the significance of that food, that fuel, to the bicycling vagabond. When someone takes the time to make me a nice breakfast to start my day, it means everything. I was even given a cheese and spinach sandwich in a zip lock to take with me for lunch, and told I could drop by any time I was in the area. I love the people I meet on this trip.

I said farewell then to the nice little artsy town of Walla Walla and set forth on highway 12 headed west once again. It wasn't a stunningly eventful day, but it was a gorgeous ride. I saw canyons, a marshy wildlife preserve full of various birds, watched a train run beside the sizeable Wallula Lake, and rode along a really nice bike trail along the Columbia River. I even briefly, coincidentally, entered a bike race, in that their route and mine coincided for a short time. It was a good 60some mile day, easy going, more downhill than not.

One problem with Oregon and Washington opposed to Nebraska, Wyoming, South Dakota or Idaho, is that the highways are highly trafficked with few out of the way places to pull off out of the way and pee. If anyone had some notion that I've come all these miles without peeing on the side of the road, please allow me to disillusion you now. Of course, in exchange, in Washington and Oregon there's been a greater prevalence of small towns with gas stations to use. I follow a strict rule though, that I have to buy at least some token item at a convenience store if I use their bathroom.

I came into Pasco for just this purpose. I came into a bakery (it was closer than the gas station), asked to use the bathroom before buying, talked a little to the owner on the way, and came back to find cookies sitting on the store counter. The owner said they were mine, and absolutely declined to let me pay, saying I needed the energy being such a crazy bicyclist to go so far on a mountain bike. When I asked if I could buy a drink, he even threw in a free soda too. So, if you're ever in Pasco, give Castilleja Bakery your business, because the owner is a great guy.

After biking my way along the beautiful bike trail along the Columbia, I came to my home for the night. My host showed me around, handed me a beer, and left me to take my shower while he ran to the store. I love the openness and trust most hosts show. They really open up their house to you, mean it when they say to make yourself at home. After getting back, he took me on a short tour of the town. The Federal government did nuclear testing here for the Manhattan Project, bought and built the town as a bedroom community for its workers, built the first plutonium production reactor, and produced the plutonium used for Fatman here. The town seems to bear the history with pride I guess, calling the high school team the Bombers and giving out Fatman styled trophies. Maybe that's necessary to lift up that involvement as not to sink under the weight of it. I don't know.

There's what promises to be some very good vegetarian chilli, cornbread, and homemade wine, as well as some recorded World Cup, awaiting me. So I had best enjoy that, and then prepare for bed. There's a big 80 mile day to Yakima uphill looming tomorrow.