Day 4: Okanogan County is Very Friendly
Descending on a bicycle is some great fun. If you lean forward far enough, you can’t really see your front wheel, so all you get is the road and the wind on your face. At 40 miles and hour it’s quite exhillerating. My bicycle developes a slight wobble when the bags are unballanced though, which can be pretty terrifying at high speeds. The descent from Lone Fir Campground was wobble free, and I was really flying down that hill.
I cruised down into a town called Mazama. Really there were only a handlful of shops, mostly catering to mountain bikers, and very few residents. They did have a nice bar though and I had my first real beer, a victory beer from a tap and everything, as reward for my efforts the day before. One thing is for sure, beer tastes better after long rides. It hits much harder as well.
After Mazama there was a lot more downhill, albeit more gradual grades, to Winthrop and eventually to Twisp where I stoppped for coffee at Blue Star Roasters. I felt I was going to need a bit of caffeine before the next pass, and I definitely needed water in the 80 degree heat.
With the coffee keeping me going Loup Loup pass ended up being a breeze. After that it was a brief downhill into Okanogan county, past apple orchards and farmland. I stopped in a bar called “The Club” where a lot of the local farmhands were gathering. While I was sitting on a bench outside the bar, post burger and beer, a few came up asking me where I was going, where I had come from etc. Most were pretty impressed with the distance and ambition which was a great confidence booster. They also gave me the skinny on a local park which had wifi and showers. I was stunned. There was a $5 fee which I gladly paid to help support such generous ammenities in a public park. A man did nearly walk into my tent at midnight though. “Holy shit what is that a tent!?” “Yea man, trying to sleep here”
Mileage: 66
Day 5: The Century
I woke up at 5:30 next to the river. Early enough to beat the farmers market (sorely missed having handlebar bag cherries) but not early enough to beat the sun. I set off at a good clip working my way up the Okanogan River to Omak and to Tonasket with a stiff headwind the entire way.
I was cursing the wind the entire way, daring it to challenge my noble century ride. I called the names of the wind to aide me to no avail. Boreas was being a real jerk that morning. My luck with the weather changed in Tonasket, and after a wonderful lunch consisting of an entire platter of vegetables, a bag of cherries and two apples, I tackled the first of the two passes of the day: Wauconda. There wasn’t a whole lot to look at other than ranch land and pine trees. The heat was pretty miserable too, but I had a ton of water and a handlebar bag full of cherries keeping me going.
After Wauconda there was a fitful descent into Republic, during which some nefarious insect flew up my shirt and stung me in the chest. It still iches now on day 7. With a little more anger for fuel I rode hard into town and plopped down at Java Junction for a capuccino and second-lunch.
Republic was full of interesting sounds. There was the standard noise of mountain roads – thrush calls, cars, crows, an eagle here or there – but in Republic there was an added flavor of gunshots and race car engines revving. It was like thunder and lightning in the tiny town and was very entertaining as I sat and took it all in, bathing in my own sweat.
I took a long rest in Republic. I needed it before Sherman Pass, the largest in the Cascades. Almost immediately after leaving town the hills started and they were relentless. The road climbed for 18 miles up the slopes of Sherman Peak and Columbia mountain. I drank almost a gallon of water getting my junk up the mountain and was still thirsty at the top. It’s amazing the kind of trance you go into after hours on a mountain road at 5mph, alone except for the birds and the diesel exhaust of an occasional truck. It’s meditative and clearing of the mind.
Mileage: 110
Day 6: “Rest” Day and the Kindness of Bacon
I camped that night by lake Roosevelt. The greeting party was a swarm of mosquitos the tenacity of which I have never seen before. There were so many in the air they made a audible hum, menacing in the background. Thank christ for DEET or I would have been drained by the bloodsuckers. The night was smooth though, and I slept well into the morning. Some generous neighbor campers gave me some firewood and a bottle of water. The pump was out of service and I was nearly dry from Sherman Pass. Thank you strangers. At the end of 110 miles these sorts of gestures are incredibly appreciated.
There was only a few miles to Kettle Falls but each stroke of the pedals was tremendous for my tired legs. I caved and bought a burrito in the town store, along with a rootbeer, three bannanas, a bag of chips and an apple.
I stocked up on food and hit the road again, pedalling slowly and enjoying the scenery. I had read on a brochure from Lake Roosevelt about the history of Kettle Falls. Before the dam there had been a series of falls where salmon were forced into a bottleneck, making easy pickings for the local Indian tribes. The place became a meeting ground and congregation point where each tribe stocked up on food and conversation for the year every summer. The falls are now deep underwater and the salmon are gone but hydroelectricity from the dam powers the surrounding towns and the water stored there irrigates cropland for miles around.
I met Amy on the road to Colville. She was stopped by a field having lunch when I rolled by. I slowed down even more and hoped she would catch me, which she eventually did. As it turned out we were headed to the same hostel outside of Colville. So we took up together, making our way over the rolling hills.
The hostel we landed at was nothing short of incredible. The Bacon Family, Shelley and Barry, kindly allow bicyclists the use of their secondary home on the edge of their property. We called ahead and they left the door unlocked for us. We parked our bikes, walked in and were greeted with four rooms, a kitchen, bathroom, laundry, family room… entire family home to ourselves. We made dinner and talked about the tour, read stories from the guest book, pinned our starting points and hometowns on the wall map. The Bacons have hosted many cyclist, maybe hundreds, and their guestbook is full of thankful notes. They do not charge for their service, and they are angels for a weary traveler. Amy and I cannot thank you enough for the gift you’ve given us and the cycling community.
Mileage: 26
Andrew Bondesson 