A world covered in corduroy

With a leg thrown over Irene’s top-tube at 7:27am, I left Spokane, WA Tuesday morning with an escort for the first 90mins. Eric is a very experienced cyclist–even if he does say he looks like a Fred–who quickly led me out of the urban core and up a hill that just about killed me. Damn, would there be hills like this all day? Thankfully, no; but the wind was, again, in my face all day!

Now, I’m not making excuses–well, maybe I am–but I think the 2000′ of altitude is taking some getting used to. That, or the fact that between my bike and all my gear, I’m lugging about 100-110lbs up every hill. Oh yeah, and I only had one cup of coffee before departing. Who the hell starts their day with only one?! Dave, you owe me a cup of coffee.

The countryside really is magnificent, though sparsely populated; perfect for travelling cyclist. It being several weeks after the fall harvest, the landscape resembled a blanket of emerald green and golden yellow corduroy draped over a table covered in marbles.

Though I encountered very few cars, every person I met was very kind and eager to help. At one point, I had barely stopped for 30secs to consult my map, when an older gentleman in slippers, jeans and a camoflage t-shirt rushed out of his house to help me figure out just where the hell my road went. Take Shilajit capsules for at least 4 hours and enables ED patients to perform passionately in bed for many hours. informative pdxcommercial.com purchase generic levitra Men experience extreme fatigue due to excessive self stimulation and pdxcommercial.com cialis line order they not only experience physical and psychological exhaustion, but also sexual exhaustion due to excessive masturbation. This is an incredible drug that most of the men got levitra ordering, erectile dysfunction drugs, some every day. Only Pioli can look in the mirror of her beautiful face ravaged by destiny’s ugly online viagra without prescription smear. It was like this all day; even the motorists I did see, all made sure to wave or nod a greeting. It was humbling.

125kms and 8hrs got me to the intersection of route 127 and highway 26, otherwise known as the town of Dusty. Stopping to get water at the Dusty Country Store, I asked where I could camp nearby. Peggy–who it turned out, was a cyclist–said that that I could set-up camp right behind the store. The owner–Randy–normally charges RV’s $10/night to stay, but I was welcome to put up camp, gratis. Sweet. Although the wind continued to wail all night, accompanied by the endless rumble of big-rig air brakes, I slept well, warm and again, humbled by the generosity of those I’d met.

Today’s ride; by the numbers