Today I did the climb up from Darby over the Chief Joseph Pass (7,241ft). It was over 3,000 ft, and compared to the McKenzie Pass, my first climb, it was a piece of cake. I was rather pleased and feel more confident about tackling the Hoosier Pass at 11,542 ft at the beginning of September.
On the way up I met up with a group of 4 people from Virginia, parents (about my age) their son and a friend. They were all very nice but I realised again why traveling on your own provides many more opportunities for meeting people. As a group, you are naturally more focusing on each other and, without any bad will, exclude others. Anyway, they are slower, so I won't see much of them.
For lunch I dropped into a rest area and saw that a rather unkempt man in his mid seventies had set up camp there. Talking to him it was immediately clear that he was from Wales. He was British but also had a Green Card. It was fascinating to hear how he got to the point of just bumming around American, and in in fact the world. It seemed that the only permanent job in his life he ever had was a 7-year stint of teaching at a US university some years ago. Whilst his life story was fascinating and the freedom of his current life style could be envied, he came across as lonely, no family and no achievements to be proud of. Interesting meeting with someone with very different expectations, aspirations and outcomes.
Tonight I am camping in Jackson. It's at 6,475 ft and, until I get to Pueblo, I will not go much below that hight. The population is 36 and looking both ways down the main street, and in fact between each of the houses, you can see right out into the prairie. However, it's got a primary school, so there must be young children in town and the surrounding area.
Yesterday's day off was perfectly timed to coincide with a lot of rain, brought on by Storm Hilary. I had never done Glamping, but it certainly made sitting out the rain more enjoyable. However, after 6 days of strenuous activity, it took a bit of time to adjust to do bugger all. I felt a bit ill but nothing that couldn't be cured by a tough climb the next day.
The day before I did my second longest cycle so far, coming over the Lola Pass. On the top I met a tough looking bunch of dirt bikers in full protective gear. We talked a bit and their commented about my climb to the top of the 5,200 ft pass was "Now THAT'S hardcore". This was almost as good a compliment as the "f*** me" I got when doing the two-day WHW mountain biking trip.
For the 40 miles from Lola to Hamilton I was on my first cycle path since coming to America. The Bitterroot valley in Montana seems to have a very active cycle community, hence the cycle path. I haven't seen so many recreation cyclists and shoppers on bikes since leaving Portland.
There would have been the Wiser River Trail, a 84 mile, former Pacific and Idaho railway line, starting in Wiser and ending near Newmeadows (https://weiserrivertrail.org). It seems an amazing initiative and I could have followed for 40 miles. However, I tried it for a mile or two but would have needed a mountain bike and it was too hot, with no air.
At the local supermarket in Darby I met Philip, stocking up. He was a retired English man from Birmingham, and living in California for over 20 years. He was doing the TA in about the same time frame as I, with his wife flying into Richmond on 15 October. We are likely to meet up at regular intervals. Both his wife (when she was younger) and two daughters had done the TA so he thought he would do it as well. We talked about how we each coped with the heat and, not like some others, he was cycling until 11 am and then booked into a motel with air-conditioning. Sensible man. I also asked him how he ended up in California: Because his wife is for there. Talking to another guy in a shop the other day, he had moved from Texas to Oregon and his cousin from Texas to Switzerland, all because of women. Interesting, there seems to be a bit of a pattern there which I can confirm from personal experience.
I also met a group of hikers on a 7-month trip from Mexico to Canada. Hikers not only look but also smell very different from cyclists. I suppose with doing only 15 to 20 miles a day, it will involve a lot of wild camping, which means damp tents, sleeping bags and clothes. Already from 8 feet away, no offense Sorsha, there is an unmistakable wet-dog smell about them. Due to traveling much faster, cyclists can afford to hop from campsite to campsite with showers and washing machines, and occasionally something a more luxurious. Hikers don't have that luxury. They are most of the time to far from civilization.
So far the only place I have seen political slogans has been in eastern Oregon, a blue state. Both Idaho and Montana are red states, but within each state there are also blue part, most likely in larger cities. However, people don't seem to have a need to push their views on others. Maybe a red minority is more likely to be defensive than a blue one.
