Day One on the Road

The day in numbers

Combined weight of bike, bags, food, water, and gear: 115lbs 

Homes being moved by flatbed trailer: 5 

Liters of water consumed:10 

Deer resting permanently on the road: 6 

Historical markers stopped for: 4 

Start time: 9:40 am 

End time: 6:10 pm 

Miles biked: 78 

I departed from Silver Creek Convenience Store in Picabo, Idaho and pedaled a mile to Ganite Road where I stopped for some pre-ride stretching. I only mention this, because the first leg of my ride was largely uneventful. The bike road perfectly, the riding was a joy, and thick smoke limited the scenery. There was little to do, but listen to the sounds of the road and get lost in my thoughts. 

I've spent the majority of my life in Kansas, a place I would never have thought to describe as particularly dry. This summer, however, has been incredibly dry. A journey through Colorado offered a brief reprieve from the dry heat, but now I found myself surrounded by true desert. Aside from the occasional grouping of trees thriving near a spring or stream, everywhere you look there is desert vegetation clinging for life. This setting is that last place I would ever think to attempt growing crops, yet along the road, the vast desert is punctuated by large farms growing alfalfa (cow food) or barley (beer).My uncle had asked me to report back to him regarding the visibility along the road. He suspected that the haze, caused by numerous fires in the area, would dissipate by Fairfield. In fact, fires were burning as far west as Boise which was apparent by the lack of view from the road. 

I stopped in Fairfield to make a sandwich. I picked a spot next to an old wagon with a wooden man steering imitation oxen. Glad for the company, I surveyed the town around where I sat. A combination inn, restaurant, and saloon sat 50 yards away and seemed to be a local favorite for the lunch hour. I set to work on my lunch keeping an eye on folks all the while, because the look I got from them was invariably one reserved for the bizarre. The game became to see how long folks would stare at me before attempting a wave or showing any other sign of recognition. One man, who was using a riding mower for transportation, drove nearly 100 yards, eyes glued to me, before he finally responded to my wave and greeting. 

I think this experience brought the reality of my unique position into focus. I spent a good part of the afternoon with a smile on my face, thinking of how lucky I was to be here on the road with reaching my campsite as my big goal for the day. Being so single minded has become a rarity for me and does a fantastic job of sweeping away mental clutter. The afternoon also held several other highlights in store. After my first big climb I was rewarded with a two mile drop at a %6.00 grade. I'm glad that I'll never again see the pilots of those oncoming vehicles, because the expression on my face probably bordered on lunacy. Another high point was quality time spent reacquainting myself with Mr. Bowie and a few hits from The Doors. This excellent listening experience was followed by a couple of hours listening to, "The Price of Inequality" by Joseph E. Stiglitz. I'm not yet finished with it, but I already feel comfortable recommending the book to anybody who would like an in depth look at specials interests' influence on policy and the growing gap between the incredibly wealthy and the rest of us. 

As evening crept nearer I caught my first glimpse of the valley where I would stay for the evening. Though the area was breathtaking, so was the drop into the valley and thus my climb back to the highway in the morning. I dropped into an open-range cow pasture where the looks of the confounded cattle resembled those of the folks of Fairfield. I turned a bend and had my first view of an impressively deep canyon that stretched further than I could see in each direction. It was here that the drop grew increasingly steep and the paved road faded into dirt. The road then took to winding around the bends in the cliff side with an unguarded, precipitous drop on my left. After a sizable decent into the canyon, I biked across the top of a large dam which held back the water of Anderson Ranch Reservoir. 

I arrived at the base of a large draw only to find that the site I had selected had a "Day Use Only" sign on display. I looked at the draw, which was brimming with tall trees and featured a crystal clear stream, and decided I needed to bend the rules for the evening. I bushwhacked 20 or 30 yards into the woods and found a perfect spot for a kitchen and a great place for my hammock another 10 yards in. I found my second wind as I eagerly set myself to the evening's tasks. First on the agenda was the pumping/filtering of large quantities of water followed by the preparation of dinner and laundry. (A friend suggested that I throw my clothes from the day in a zip-lock with a little soap and water which worked perfectly.) Dinner consisted of half a box of pasta and a crown of broccoli covered in olive oil with sauteed garlic. Bread, that I had baked with Uncle Bill, served as a perfect tool to finish off the olive oil. After dinner I hung up my laundry and set up my hammock. The only two trees without vegetation between them sat on opposite sides of the babbling brook. It was in this way that I found myself transferred from the dry heat of the desert to the cool, moist air of the miniature valley with water flowing beneath and the stars above as I drifted off to sleep. 

For more pictures of the trip you can visit this link.