The breakfast at the town cafe was absurdly huge; none of us could finish our meals. The town of White Bird, named after a chief who led a small band of Nez Perce to Canada after Chief Joseph surrendered, is filled with Trumpers. I suspect there is a serious distrust of Washington. I can‘t imagine why.
Our maps and apps all indicated that we’d be doing some serious climbing today. A very short climb out of White Bird put us on busy US 95 for the day.
We traveled up the Salmon River, which is a whitewater hot spot. Looking down on the rafters, we knew we were gaining elevation, but it barely felt like it.
The landscape changed every few miles which was a nice distraction from the heavy traffic to our immediate left. There were rounded green hills, craggy cliffs, mountain meadows, all carved down the middle by the twisting Salmon River.
We stopped at a farm stand for a break about half way. A cold sweet tea and a big cookie topped off my tank. The farther we rode the hotter it became. After weeks in the high mountains summer appears to have caught up with us.
We checked into a motel in New Meadows instead of camping in the town park. It’s Mark’s turn to sleep on the floor.
Miles today: 64.5 Tour miles: 2,593