The Final Hurrah

Today's task:  shift ourselves from Lincoln, MT to Helena.  Easily enough done, save for that stubbornly large mountain in our way. We hit 800 (not 8000) miles on the trip today. Down there we used to was. Finally, a good reason for these shenanigans. Even slower than it looks. Appears she's headed for the Gulf, and I for the Pacific Coke and candybar stop 20 miles from Helena Coke & candybar scenery Fifty-eight we could have been on a cruise worrying about finishing off our cruise drinks package instead of our legs miles.    Just 2615 miles left to think of the cruise that could have been.

A darkness descended upon The Final Hurrah over the last several days on account of reasons:  scant intarwebz; scanter cell service; laundry; martinis. It's a close run contest, but mostly not martinis. On Memorial Day, Lewiston to Orofino:   Orofino Cemetery.  Suddenly got dusty. View from our hotel.  We watched a Bald Eagle snatch a fish from the river. Forty-three miles.   A mere, barely, 2928 left. When we checked into the Orofino hotel, Susan got a bad case of the squees over a fluffy piggy with a fairly convincing oinker . The next morning, we found it sitting on our table at breakfast.  One of the staff had bought it for Susan.   Then on to Three Rivers Resort , Outthere, ID. Fifty-four miles.   2874 remaining. On the 28th, a long, uphill, haul to Lochsa Lodge .  More scenery, nearly enough to fill our eyes to the bursting point. The lodge from our cabin.  Beat the thunderstorm by twenty minutes. Sixty-six miles up the Lolo Pass .  2808 ahead. May 29.  As it turned out, we g

Short-ish day along the Clearwater River.  Didn't want a long day before a long uphill day.  Only so much I can say about the beautiful scenery, so I'll let the pictures be the thousand words. Packing the gear explosion (Perhaps the first pano taken in a hotel room.  Click to embiggen.) Orofino cemetery.  Suddenly got dusty. View from our hotel.  Saw a bald eagle snag a fish yesterday. Forty-three more miles under the tires.   Will they make it 2,928 more?

Up until today, we had way too much to write about:  narrowly avoided failure, bad weather, more failure, more bad weather, and flailing. Yesterday, nothing happened . So, on with the usual assaults on the photographic and video arts. Mesmerizing waves in the Palouse .  Thankfully, the wind was behind us. Could be worse Ludicrous Speed (aka, special effects) Descending into Livingstone .  Hit 46.4 mph.  Could well be the record for The Final Hurrah. Sixty-nine blissful miles .  2971 remaining, not necessarily blissful.

Clearly, we have made an upgrade from Indian Food Truck in Biggs Junction, and Russ's Bar & Grill in Umatilla, complete with sticky floor, cracked vinyl seats and CD juke box.  (To be fair, neither was half bad.) Bougie Brekki e Not Section 8 Housing Approaching Walla Walla Aside from getting to Dayton, WA, today's chief task is to make up for the appalling lack of a suitable way of shoving air into an airless tire tube.  I set our route through  Walla Walla  to go by a bike shop. As we got to town center, road construction set us on a detour.   Unknown to us at the time,  around  the bike shop, because of course, duh.   (The  Garmin Edge 1040  is really an excellent piece of kit.  Full disclosure: other than our credit card having taken several Garmin hits over the years, we have no connection to Garmin.  The web interface for route planning is pretty good, although it routinely fails to tell me what I ought to be doing.  Like adding a marked waypoint at the bike shop'

After such a grueling day yesterday, we needed a break.  Fewer miles, and nicer weather. Between Umatilla and Cameo Cameo Mansion , that is.  A bougier place to stay. Feeding Us Feeding the Steeds Tomorrow and Beyond Today, near as makes no difference to 30 miles . 3098 to beyond.

The day started with intermittent rain, and howling wind up the Columbia gorge.  That kind of shove puts some real shade on Armstrong at his most roidy. It didn't take long for things to get pear shaped, in the form of a flat tire. I was prepared for that eventuality.  As if.  Along with bad fortune, though, came good.  In the face of all the odds, we stopped directly in front of the Waving Tree Winery's tasting room.  The proprietor, Tekashi, was there, and could not have possibly been more helpful. Which was good, because I was gooning it up by the numbers.  Because reasons, I comprehensively abused the CO2 inflator, which left us with a good tube in the wheel, but devoid of air. And the backup pump we bought, on enthusiastic recommendation, had all the capacity of an asthmatic sparrow.   By the way, we were doing all the work in his tasting room.   After diplomatically watching me let all the gas out of the cartridges without passing any of it into the tube, thereby further

 Short stage today, from White Salmon to Biggs Junction — forty miles. Thank goodness: the last twenty, and particularly the last four, were a particularly unpleasant combination of wind and cold rain, the latter of which has been more the rule than the exception since we started.  At least we had a strong tail wind until nearly the end, where a switch back down the bluff put is into the teeth of it.  Wet isn't great, losing touch with our hands?   Our son, Eric, became an Eagle Scout in Alaska.  His troop did expeditions there like the rest of Scouting dreams about.  Their motto?  Embrace the Suck. At the hotel in White Salmon, feeding the steeds: Susan did get a few pictures before the weather closed in: Sucktastickness is just around the bend Mt Hood is out there, somewhere Wine in the wild Thirty-nine more miles under the tires . 3216 to go.

How else to look at the fact we are in White Salmon, WA with everything going smoothly, instead of having the plan go all 'splodey at the outset ? Much better photo ops today. Columbia River, just east of Camas.  New Hampshire is out there somewhere We rode along Highway 14.  Terrain leaves few east west options, so we were forced to share the highway. Booking along the Columbia .  Twenty knots on the tail didn't hurt our feelings in the least. There are tunnels . Much steepness into White Salmon .  No way we are doing that without cheating. Fifty-three more miles behind us.   3,255 to go.

Wet and Cold, but at least downhill. Wet and Cold, but at least a wide shoulder. Not wet and cold, but we become the center divider for I-205. At the end of the day, en route to the seafood restaurant on the Camas, WA wharf to scarf without guilt: Vernonia to Camas, 65 miles , 3308 remaining.