Bikecentennial route.

Since high school, I had a dream to ride my bike -- to race, to tour, to enjoy the wind in my face, to wander the open road, to climb high and descend fast, to endure the elements on their own terms, to feel fit and alive! During my college years, I got that chance, and I latched onto the sport of cycling like a piranha to a wildebeest. Ah, but you say those two are from different continents? Well, then I'll just ride my bike across a continent!

My bike, designed for criterium racing by Geoffrey Butler, wasn't perfectly suited for long tours. Notice the tight clearance for the rear fender. However, with front panniers, Geoff carried the load quite nicely!

So I talked two buddies Alan and John into joining me the summer after graduating from Oregon State University. It proved difficult for any of us to find time for the entire 3 month journey across America, but we could at least do half of it. Over my senior year, I wrote away for the excellent route maps and guide books made by Bikecentennial. I bought rear panniers and made front panniers. I bought a camera and learned to use it. I dreamed of the upcoming trip, working the logistics, wondering if the miles per day was reasonable, wondering how many flat tires I'd get, wondering what tools to take, what clothes to bring, how cold it would be in the Rockies, and enjoying every minute of anticipation.

The bike was pretty heavily loaded. In racing configuation, it weighed about 22 lbs. But with the fenders, racks, panniers, heavier wheels and tires, camping gear, clothes, extra spokes and extra tire, water, and a day's worth of food it was about 75 lbs.

The Peoria General Store, a few miles SE of Corvallis Oregon. Most of the towns we visited were just like this. The small communities (population from 3 to several hundred) often had a general store and gas pump. The proprieters were always extremely friendly.

Oregon

McKenzie River and its covered bridge next to Hwy 126.

That first day we made it to Armatage State Park near Eugene. That evening, Alan's Optimus stove was stolen. Some start, eh? Well, after 32 miles we still felt good at any rate. The next morning we battled the last heavy traffic we'd see for several weeks getting to highway 126. En route we stopped at a store near the cutoff to McKenzie Pass. The store owner said the road was clear of snow, even if it was gated closed. Hmmm... should we risk crossing the Cascade Mountains over a closed road? It's a more scenic road, and if closed there would be no traffic. But we might have to negotiate some snow?

John feeling the effects of unaccustomed effort. Meanwhile, Steve's reaction is extreme hunger!

We decided to go for it. After all, we could always ride back down. Pitching our tents in a meadow, we were exhausted and hungry from the 72 mile ride.

By the next morning, we were greatly refreshed (albeit slightly bitten by no-see-ums). We rode up the extremely steep and winding Dead Horse Grade. There were only a couple minor snow patches on the road, and no traffic! Aha, this is working out fantastic!

No traffic over the Cascade Mountains!

Through a window in the Dee Wright observatory at McKenzie Pass, we could see one of the Three Sisters volcanos.

We enjoyed Proxy Falls en route. At the pass, the views are stupendous of the lava flows and distant volcanos. With the entire world to ourselves, we soaked up the ambiance. At a frigid pond, we soaked ourselves. Somehow, it was worth cleaning off the grime! The descent to the east side of the Cascades went quickly, although we had to be careful of the gravel when cornering.

Llama farm near Sisters, Oregon, with the Three Sisters and Broken Top in the background. Our favorite road sign!

Enjoying tailwinds, we rode to Sisters (for a 32 mile day). Everybody wore cowboy hats there. I wondered if there was a way to attach one to my bike helmet. That evening, our milk (but nothing else... strange...) was stolen from the picnic table.

We rode through Redmond and Prineville on nice, flat roads with little traffic. And had an outstanding A&W rootbeer. A little kid asked us about our bikes, and we told them they were worth over $4000! Sheesh, what liars we were.

We passed dirty Ochoco Lake and climbed upwards to Cougar Campground in the hot weather. It was a 66 mile day.

We left the Ochoco National Forest, going up hill for a short while, then a beautiful 2-mile descent. The thrill of downhill is swell! "Yee-haw!", we shouted in joyous glee. Boy, was it incredibly hot though. Mitchell is a fantastic town. The owner of the general store was super friendly, and very receptive to cyclists. We caught up with a woman, Sue, from Arcada CA. She was heading for Boston. She would fall behind a bit on the uphills. But man, could she fly on the descents. None of us could possibly coast at that incredible rate.

Picture Gorge

We rode through Dayville to Mt Vernon. At one stop during the very hot day, John bought a half gallon of orange juice. He drank the whole thing! I was astounded. How could anyone drink that much? But it looked awfully good. So I bought one too, and surprised myself -- downing the whole thing in one long, drawn out swig. After 86 up and down hot miles, the showers were an incredible luxury. There were about 6 cyclists there, heading in various directions.

While we skinny dipped in the creek, our bikes enjoyed the view.

We left the luxury of showers on June 13, and rode through John Day, Prairie City, and steep Dixie Pass. Then through Bates where the Bikecentennial route had two choices. Either continue on pavement towards Baker, or take a detour along a gravel road to a ghost town. Duh! Obvious choice! We took the gravel road. But that was a mistake -- they were regrading the road. The equipment and soft surface was difficult. John and Alan each had flat tires. In fact, John had a bunch of punctures from wheeling his bike to the side of the road, right through some thorny low brush! We road through Whitney, a ghost town, to Sumpter. Sumpter at one time was population 3500. Now, only 130 diehards remained. We stayed right in the old fairgrounds amongst old railroad cars and the dance stage. 66 miles.

It was a short 30 mile trip battling headwinds to Baker, where we stayed at the YMCA for $1.50. Showers again! And incredible food at the Blue and White Cafe. We had three cheap meals there. Quantity and quality, and we needed both. The cathedral is quite an impressive building in Baker.

We met Sam at the YMCA, who was riding to South Carolina. With Sue, we now were a group of 5. We rode through Richland and Halfway, and across Brownlee Dam on the Snake River. A new state -- Idaho! 81 miles in variable winds.

A large group of riders converge at the Cambridge, Idaho general store.

Idaho

So far, the weather was not bad, except for the heat. But today, all that changed. It started raining at 2 am, and didn't let up all day. We only rode 37 miles. Wetter'n an otter, we bailed into motel cabins 8 miles before Riggins. The headwinds were fierce for a while. All we can hope is the rain will stop!

In the motel, I put my wet cycling shorts on the heater. The others warned me that they'd melt. Nah! I'll be fine! They all took off to get some food. In the mean time, the shorts melted. Yikes, the smell was pretty strong. But my stubborness was stronger, and I hid the shorts at the bottom of my panniers the rest of the trip. Unlike the others, fortunately I had a second pair.

We left Pinehurst and rode through drizzle through Riggins, Lucille, and White Bird. It was an ardous climb with nice views to the White Bird summit on the extremely winding hilly road. Then a blast zooming downhill to Grangeville. We stayed at the edge of town in a park. 61 miles.

Cooling off near Jerry Johnson Hotsprings.

We travelled down to Kooskia via Lowell. The Idaho mountains reminded me of the Cascades. 82 miles, cloudy with light/variable winds.

On June 20 we rode past a bridge to Jerry Johnson Hotsprings. Hmmm... better check it out. So we rode up the trail about a mile, ditched the bikes, and walked to the springs. Ah... we soaked in them for quite a while, then alternated between the hotsprings and cold creek. Clothing was optional -- well, non-existent. We continued over Lolo Pass to Missoula, Montana. Another state! There were very few stores this long 88 mile day. With less services, we would have to plan our days a bit more carefully.

Montana

The next day we rode through Corvallis, MT. Interesting to see that unusual name again so soon. Alan was feeling a bit sick and having some trouble riding. We weren't sure how many miles we could do. We camped in Darby at the city park (Tin Cup Road), which was a crummy place. 67 miles in patchy warm weather with tailwinds.

On Saturday we left Darby and rode very slowly to Sula. Now I was having problems. The gas pains were tremendous. Alan was worse though. At one point, we both sat at the side of the road, doubled over. Alan realized he couldn't ride, and stuck out his thumb. Soon, a pickup stopped. He hopped in the back with his bike, and begged me to get in also. Stubborn, I would not accept a ride. I felt really badly for Alan though. Clearly, he was in lots of pain. Somehow I struggled up the hill over the Continental Divide. We camped at May Creek Campground. Clear skies and tailwind, 40 miles.

We had a leisurely day riding mostly flat roads, except for a downhill at the beginning of the day. We passed by the sad but interesting Big Hole Battleground. Our campsite was behind the Jackson Hot Springs Lodge. What a strange town! There was no cold water in the whole place. We swam in the pool, continuously supplied with flowing warm water. To drink, you had to put ice cubes in the cup. The showers were just a bit too warm. Meanwhile, my gas problems were improving. We went at a pace reasonable for Alan for the 34 miles in hot, sunny tailwinds.

On Monday we rode up over two easy passes, then along the rolling hills of semi-arid country to Dillon. Continuing through Twin Bridges, which was infested with mosquitos, we rode to Sheratan. We camped behind the church. Although it was clear and windy most of the day, we experienced our first of many thunderstorm showers on the 86 mile day.

We had a long talk with these two kids in Robber's Roost. The boy was a smaller duplicate of his father!

We left the church in Sheraton, and ate breakfast in a cafe. Then we rode through Robber's Roost, then Nevada City (tourist trap ghost town), and Virginia City (another ghost town, not as bad). Also rode through Ennis, Cameron, and stayed at the West Fork campground 34 miles later. A real veteran camper was quite proud of his interesting van and showed us every feature. His wife wanted to know if we had to shift to lower gears for the downhills, just like they did. Nope, I explained. Wind resistance is a bigger factor for a lightweight bike. All we have to do is sit up. 68 miles under hot, clear skies with tailwinds.

Wyoming

Steve drove us all around the park. We enjoyed the hydrothermal activity (bunch of old geezers... er... geysers). We camped in the park and enjoyed a campfire for the first time on the trip.

We took our second day off the bikes for the trip. Steve drove us all around the great park. In the end, we saved 80 miles of riding in the crowded park (watch out for those mirrors on the "runamuck" RVs!). We stayed in a National Forest campground between Yellowstone and Teton National Park. 0 miles, hot and clear.

Jackson Lake and the Grand Teton range Cliffs near Towgwotee Pass

Steve M. took off for his job in Idaho, and we hopped back on our bikes. Riding towards the Tetons, the traffic was horrible. The bugs were terrible. And I lost the rack to my handlebar bag. What a day, eh? However, the Tetons are stunning mountains. It's mostly a one-view place, which is easy to see from many vantages. The mountains ride out of nowhere high above Jackson Lake. Spectacular. We turned off towards Towgotee Pass (9658'). En route was my favorite picture of the trip of some cliffs. (It doesn't seem to scan well, but trust me -- the slide is better.) We stayed at Falls National Forest campground. The national bird of the rockies, huge mosquitos, pestered us unmercifully. I had to walk while eating, a hassle but it seemed to work. 56 miles in clear weather.

Saturday June 30 brought some fierce tailwinds, sidewinds, and headwinds. For a while, we made incredibly time. We rode through Dubois where our half-full peanut butter jar was blown over by the wind! We continued to a yukky KOA campground just outside of Ft Washakil. Windy, hot, partly cloudy, 87 miles.

Sunday was another day of tailwinds, headwinds and sidewinds. Alan still was having lots of problems with his intestinal ailment. It had been going on for two weeks. He finally decided to throw in the towel, hang up his bicycle, and took a bus home from Lander. John and I felt pretty badly for him. The trip was so unpleasant for him, yet we felt fine. We offered to ride slower, to carry some gear, or wait a few days. But Alan's mind was set. He made the right decision. It took him months to get over what turned out to be giardia.

John and I rode in hellacious headwinds after leaving Alan. It was a mighty struggle. We drafted each other, in our lowest two gears on level ground. These gears were designed for riding the 7% grades uphill with a heavy load! Just holding a balance was tough at these frustrating speeds. We staggered into Jeffrey City. This uranium mining town was entirely built of prefab buildings. Even the Catholic Church was a quonset hut! How anyone could live here long term was beyond me. There was nothing to attract. Except perhaps the City Pool, where we went swimming.

In the evening, we pitched our tent in the city park. John's mountaineering tent was well suited for the high winds. Putting the door into the wind, the tent blew up like a balloon and didn't flap at all. Next to us, a man put up a 9x12 foot canvas tent. The winds blew it down and bent the poles! Another better tent was also blown down. Ah, mother nature with her mighty fury... but we were snug and comfortable in our shelter. 68 miles.

We rode out of yukky Jeffrey City to Muddy Gap. The winds blasted sideways (scary) and frontways hard all day. I was expecting mail in Rawlins general delivery, so I rode the hardest ride of my life for 30 miles against the headwinds. No race, no competitive fun ride with my racing buddies, no hill climb can match the furious pace I set on that day. My goal: the postoffice before quittin' time. I got there with 5 minutes to spare! Aha! I hurried up to the post office window and asked for my mail, triumphant in the achievement! But... (sniff) no mail for me in general delivery... I didn't receive the mail for several months, when they finally returned it to sender. It took John quite a while to catch up. We camped in Sinclair. 73 miles, warm.

On Tuesday, the winds changed! Yee-haw! I've never had so much fun on a bike. We blasted down the road at an incredible clip. My gears were not high enough and I was spun out. So I sat up and tried to act like a sail. The roads were nearly empty of traffic. Hmmm, here is my chance to do something I tried several times, but couldn't succeed. I stood up on the pedals, dropped my shorts, and tried to pee. Man, it was hard to relax. But with the tailwind, I had time to let it happen without losing momentum. After what seemed like 5 minutes -- success! Just like the European racers I admired, I finally achieved one of my life's biggest goals: peeing while riding!

We had to buy lots of food in case on July 4 the stores are closed. Our panniers stuffed to the gills, we stayed at 6 Mile Gap NF campground. It began to rain that evening. 85 east miles, cloudy.

Colorado

Leaving Kremmling, we rode through the modern ski town of Dillon to Breckinridge. Along the route were numerous piles of gravel from the gold miners of yore. We stayed in Galbraith's Fireside Inn, a skier's place where cyclists stay in summer. An easy day for us seasoned cyclists in good weather. 53 miles.

I ate 10 pancakes the next morning at the Fireside Inn. This would be the last Continental Divide crossing (our 7th) of the trip. I was fit and really wanted to ride up the last hill as hard as possible. Hoosier Pass is higher than the tallest point in Oregon, Mt Hood. This meant a lot to me. It's the highest point on the Bikecentennial route, and the figurative high point of my trip. I rode my heart out up the steep curves, leaving John behind to enjoy it in his own style. The air got thin but my desire overcame any lack of oxygen. Finally I topped out at the pass, 11,542' above sea level. I left the bike near the sign and walked up in the forest above the pass and sat down. Suddenly, realizing that my beloved college days were over, the dream trip was nearly over, I'd be getting married in two weeks, and working for the rest of my life, I was completely overwhelmed with emotion. I only hoped that John was moseying up the hill. Fortunately, it took him 30 minutes to top out. By that time I was somewhat in control. We took the obligatory photo at the pass, and continued.

The ride down was the longest downhill I've ever done. 20 miles of continuous, pleasant descending without needing to brake was superb. I struggled with the life changes coming soon, but managed to enjoy the ride. At Fairplay we deviated from the Trans-America Trail and rode US 295 to Denver. It was a scary ride in heavy traffic. Once an 18 wheeler passed incredibly close. I couldn't wait to get beyond this tough section. The entire route from Oregon only had a little traffic in Missoula and bad traffic in the National Parks. This was a bit of a shock. We stayed in a city park just out of town on Florida Avenue. Thunderstorms, cool, 101 miles (my first "century").

I said my goodbyes to Alan. He wanted to continue riding, and did so for a week or two further east. My plane ticket was for a week from today, but I figured I ought to fly to San Francisco early due to a wedding in only two weeks. En route to the airport, I got my first flat in 1890 miles! Running over a piece of glass, it sliced the tire. The route was quite pleasant; Denver looked like a nice town. Switching my ticket to exactly a week earlier, I took the same flight and went on to work for PG&E and live the typical American lifestyle. However, it never felt quite right. This trip affected me forever. The affect was profound and deep and permanent.

John and Steve on the last day of the trip.