Thursday, August 06, 2009

52: Part One: Felons Give the Best Directions
Part Two: Only Winning the Lottery Could Make this Day Better

Stoker's Log

Day Fifty-Two

8/6/09

From Jackson, WY

To Idaho Falls, ID

98.7 miles

11.9 avg mph

We didn't start our day with an expresso or a jackalope ride, but we did mail two pounds of excess baggage home and shop in Albertson's large and luxurious grocery store, so it was a good morning nonetheless. As I waited outside for Kyle to buy his yogurt, fruit, and donuts, a guy came up to me to talk about local bike routes and the riding he used back when he had his bike. Then Kyle traded off with me and got the rest of the story: turns out his bicycle was taken away from him by the police when he was picked up on outstanding warrants on his way to a case worker in Helena. When he found out about our journey, he suggested an alternate route along the Snake River. We called my mom to look it up on googlemaps -- I like to double-check directions from former felons, even if they're nice -- and it did actually look better, so we decided to take his advice. I also got breakfast, of course: I was looking at some impressive gourmet muffins until I realized that a giant loaf of fresh French bread cost the same price. One of the best parts of this trip is that I can eat half a loaf of bread for breakfast and not feel guilty...or even all that full.

For a path through the Rockies, our route had a blessed number of downhills and flats, which was fortunate since I felt run down all day. It was beautiful as well, even though we missed the bike path at the beginning.

Downhills or no, we were significantly tired and sundazed when we saw the sign for the Kahuna Lunch Counter, so we were excited about sitting down for an air-conditioned lunch. Unfortunately the only thing there was a bench, a bathroom, and an overlook, where we watched kayakers and rookie white water rafters for a few minutes before getting on our way again.

We eventually entered Idaho and had a lovely ride past a lake whose name I don't remember.

And then something incredibly depressing happened. I spotted what I thought was a dead fawn on the side of the road -- which would have been disheartening enough, even though we see a great deal of roadkill -- but as we rode by, it lifted up its head. I made Kyle circle back, which is when I saw that one of its front legs had been severed. It stared at me and shook weakly, its chest rising and falling sporadically with terrified, shallow breaths. I couldn't look away and I couldn't do anything to save it. We couldn't even end its pain, not when all we had was a pocket knife without the experience or the stomachs to really use it. The best we could do was get to town and find the number for the sheriff's department, who would send someone out to find it. My heart broke as we left, and the image of the shuddering fawn pushed us over the hills even faster than the storm building behind us could. In a cruel twist of fate, a Forestry Services truck passed us on the road but we couldn't get its attention, so we kept riding to town as quickly as we could as it started to rain.

After several wet and morose miles we reached The Dam Store. Yup.

We told the owner about the fawn and she called the sheriff's department and gave them the mile marker. We sat in the store for a while, drinking coffee, watching the rain, hoping that the fawn situation would end as best it could. I found temporary diversion is trying to photograph a hummingbird outside.

Then the rain finally broke and we got going again. We were really in need of a liberating downhill, but instead we crawled uphill for mile after barren mile. The only diversion was watching farmboys use four-wheelers to herd their cattle and horses.

Otherwise it was like Kansas on a slope. We eventually reached a rest stop, which as usual made us incredibly happy. Behind it was a scenic overlook with a spectacular view of the Snake River we'd been following all day but hadn't been able to see since we entered farm country.

When we headed inside, I started to worry that the building was haunted: a moaning and wailing started just outside the bathroom door. When I wandered outside again I saw why: a ridiculous wind had blown up out of nowhere. We hid back inside for a few minutes, but the surprise wind was apparently there to stay. We weren't too far from our destination, but making it there was no longer going to be easy.

We got back on the road with difficulty, and the wind cutting across it only got worse. Headwinds are exhausting, but crosswinds are downright dangerous. Kyle struggled to keep our behemoth bike on the road, and I had to time the strength of my pedaling based on whether we were riding straight, veering dangerously, or fighting to right the bike. A couple pulled over to offer us help, but they were driving a Subaru that would never fit our bike. "Thanks, but it's only wind; we'll be fine," we told them. And we were right...for about ten minutes.

The winds got even more intense, determined to drive us off the road. Kyle managed to save us from falling again and again, but then the shoulder turned into gravel and a gust of wind threw us into a skidding wipeout. We survived the fall with just light brushburns and a bloody lip, but it was the end of our riding for the day. Through the windblown dust we could see a gas station up ahead, so we decided to walk the bike the rest of the way and take shelter there. We made the difficult walk there only to realize that anywhere we tried to prop the bike it was bound to fall over. Fortunately, the owner of the Sinclair station let us keep it inside, and better yet, her cousin offered to go get his SUV, which was large enough to fit our bike and us, and drive us into town. Once again we were going to be saved by a compassionate stranger. I like Idahoians already (and I hope I'm calling them by the right name).

While we waited for him to return with the SUV, we decided to buy a lottery ticket. We went with Scrabble, one of our favorite games...

And we won $15! We spent some of the winnings on another ticket, but by that time our savior and his son had shown up with our ride to the city, so we packed up and headed into town as the sun set. We checked into the hotel, said goodnight to our heroes, grabbed dinner at Subway, and scratched off our second lottery ticket... to discover that we'd won another $10! Either Sinclair has an amazing collection of lottery tickets, or the universe decided to make up for our depressing and dangerous evening. Either way, we're definitely going to buy more tickets tomorrow when we ride back and forth to make up the miles. (Yes, we're still doing that.) Here's to a better tomorrow.

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