Well, this is getting ridiculous. I knocked out another 1,482.5 miles in July. 1,357 of that was from the Any Road Tour. I rode in five states (Montana, Idaho, Washington, Oregon, and Virginia). There were five mountain passes too. My longest day was 94.5 miles over Washington and Rainy Passes then down hill for miles and miles and miles.
For the year I’ve ridden 7,736.5 miles. And my ass doesn’t hurt one bit.
Every bike tour has bad aspects to it. I was on the road for two months. And I am surprised how little went wrong.
Many towns out west offer free or low cost camping to bike tourists. Iroquois IL and St Helens OR were two towns that didn’t offer this anymore. (I could have caught the latter if I had read the addendum sheet from Adventure Cycling.) Winnett MT had camp grounds but they all seemed to be closed. (I camped illegally next to an RV.) And the Warmshowers place in the town of Lewistown MT looked like a dump. The volunteer at the town greeting center told me that I couldn’t camp in the park with in Kettle Falls WA. I called the police and they gave me permission.
Today was supposed to be a short day to Bremerton to catch the ferry to Seattle. I decided that in order to do all the things I wanted and needed to go in Portland I’d have to take a day out of the schedule. So Seattle got the heave ho.
The day began with a gentle ride off route to a cafe for breakfast. I ordered pancakes and eggs, expecting a modest meal. I got frisbee-sized pancakes. For the record, I could not eat it all.
I am learning that the Olympic Peninsula has some Olympic-sized hills for bike tourists. Fortunately the hills provided nice views of blue waters. Crossing over the Hood Canal Bridge was a good example.
Still no orcas to report, just a seal now and then.
This area has heavy traffic which is a bit of a shock after having the road nearly to myself for close to two thousand miles. I was grateful for the tailwind that made the riding easy if somewhat unpleasant.
Occasionally I was on a road that allowed my mind to drift and to imagine what it was like at the top of a peak covered in snow in July.
It was getting hot out so I took an hour break at a McDonalds in Silverdale. I chugged cold drinks and enjoyed the AC.
Next came Bremerton. There may be lovely neighborhoods in this town but I didn’t see them. I took a pass on getting a motel after 40+ miles and rode on. Riding by an aircraft carrier that was being demolished was pretty cool. These ships are LONG!
The road out of Bremerton was a four lane freak show. Cars were blowing by me and I was cowering in the far right of the debris strewn shoulder.
I took the quieter old route to Belfair, hoping to stay at the motel in town. Up and down for 13 miles to learn that there were no vacancies. My choices were (a) ride to a nearby campground and put up my tent in 90 degree heat, (b) turn around and ride back to Bremerton for a crappy chain motel, or (c) continue southward another 25 miles to Shelton which has three motels.
I chose (c) because moderation is not in my DNA.
After a few miles I decided to call a motel and make sure I could get a room. The Shelton Inn had a first floor room so I told them I’d be there in two hours.
I rode another half mike and turned off the main road onto East Trails Road. It had the steepest hill I’ve seen on the tour, even including Pennsylvania and the last 100 feet to Tim Jones’s house.
I pedaled for a minute before pulling into the mouth of a driveway. Holy crap! I caught my breath and tried to start again. It took me three tries to get sufficient momentum to get both feet on the pedals.
Once I got going I didn’t stop. I was weaving all over the road and my legs were burning but I wasn’t going to walk.
I was more concerned with time. If this hill were typical of the rest of the route to Shelton, I’d be lucky to get there in three hours.
I looked at the map and saw that I was riding next to a lake. Oh great, some level ground, right? Nope. The lake was down there and I was up here, riding up and down.
And now I had a headwind.
Bitch. Moan.
I endured and made it to Shelton in a little over two hours. It took me 30 minutes to find the motel because of a road closure. The Google tried to send me onto a path in the woods. I rode down a steep hill on a bike path only to find it continued through a gate as single track.
Not gonna happen. The hill I had come down was about 100 yards long but it was so steep I had no hope of riding up it from a dead stop.
Push!
The Google started going bonkers so I shut it off and found some detour signs to follow.
Most of the town including the hotel are the bottom of a bluff. One road, the closed one on my route, goes down the bluff to the east and another to the west. I went west and found the road was all torn up for repaving.
I took the lane and rode down the bumpy, curvy mess of a hill. As I passed a driveway I heard someone screaming “Get of the road, you fucking asshole!!!”
Welcome to Shelton.
I think I delayed his highness from getting on the highway with his shit box of a used pickup truck.
I had gone out of my way to avoid this construction zone. Perhaps he didn’t appreciate my efforts. So for the first time in over 3,900 miles, I extended the numb middle finger on my right hand high in the sky.
I thought I did pretty well going down the hill. I kept up with the car in front of me. Slipping past the line of cars at the red light at the bottom of the hill, I glided into downtown Shelton.
Then I heard Prince Charles, Duke of Shelton, come roaring by. For the record, it appears f-bombs from pick up truck drivers do not exhibit a Doppler effect.
I engaged him with mighty verbal gusto and more unidigital sign language. He roared away yelling out his window, rushing home to do some meth with his wife and watch some Fox News.
I was slightly embarrassed that this lusty exchange of profanity had occurred within ear and eye shot of the desk clerk at my hotel.
I made my apologies explaining how I held back for 3,900 miles. She gave me a coupon for a discount at the diner next door.
After washing up I walked to a Mexican restaurant up the street. My veggie enchiladas were muy bueno.
I went for a postprandial stroll in downtown Shelton. After 8 pm this place could be a good rsetting for a Walking Dead episode.
One shop keeper apparently agreed with me.
Miles today: 88.5
Tour miles: 3,965.5
Mrs. Rootchopper says that a good definition of amnesia is going through a second pregnancy. I have a definition of dementia. On September 8, I will ride the 50 States Ride in DC for the tenth time.
That’s right, 500 States!
Last year I rode with a fabulous group of friends who made me feel old and feeble. Of course, riding with pulmonary embolisms might have had something to do with that.
This year I hope to be healthier. And I want some good company again. Today I already registered myself and my friend Emilia, who will be joining me for the third time since 2014. (Emilia es muy loca.) So join us.
If you are a WABA member you’ve already received an email with registration details. If you’re not a WABA member, you can ride as a guest of a registered member. Or become a member and register.
In any case, I need someone to keep Emilia and me from riding off course – AGAIN!
And you won’t even have to tow me over Cathedral Heights because Emilia said she’d do that,
Also, I agree not to skip the 18 states that I’ve actually ridden in since last year’s ride. (I mean, I’ve really had my fill of Montana!)
So sign up. Then send me a message to let me know you’re joining the 500-States Posse!
In June I rode 29 of 30 days for a total of 2,260.5 miles all in The Mule, my Specialized Sequoia touring bike. My longest ride was 136 miles from Fargo to Gackle, North Dakota. And The Mule broke both the 47,000 and 48,000 mike marks.
In the first half of 2018 I rode 6,254 miles.
Last night I learned that Wibaux has its own microbrewery and it serves pizza. I walked into town to partake. The pizza was very small but delicious. I decided that in lieu of dessert I would have another beer. It was muy bueno.
So if you’re ever in Wibaux try the Pale Ale.
After a sumptuous breakfast of Froot Loops and toast I hit the road for the 30 mile ride to Glendive. The first 5.5 miles were on the interstate. It may sound odd but riding the interstate is actually enjoyable. You get a massive paved shoulder protected by rumble strips. And the grades are gentle. Sadly the interstates still get headwinds.
I left the interstate for 12.5 miles along Ranch Road. This road goes through massive cattle ranches. They don’t seem to have all that many cattle though, but the views ain’t bad.
After another 7 miles on the interstate I took an exit and turned left into Glendive. Had I known better I’d have taken a right to go to a restaurant to top off my fuel tank. Downtown Glendive was all but abandoned. I crossed an old railroad trestle, festooned with flags. It had been turned into a bike/ped bridge over the Little Yellowstone River. The park on the other side in West Glendive was having a show-off-your-old-car event.
Not seeing any 1991 Specialized Sequoias I moved on. I found a gas station and sat down to a fine repast of shrink wrapped sandwich, corn chips, and soda. While eating I read the diesel pump: 146 gallons. $452. I wonder if the vehicle had solid rocket boosters.
I made a decision to continue on another 48 miles to Circle. I knew there would be increasing headwinds and rain but the greater Glendive metropolitan area wasn’t floating my boat.
The next 21 miles were a gradual uphill, I went from about 2,100 feet to 2,700 feet. It was as slow going, about 9 mph.
In Lindsay the maps I have said there was a gas station convenience store. When I got there it was closed. It was a good thing I stopped in West Glendive.
The next 9.5 mikes were uphill, another 500 feet. Out here in the plains you can see weather from miles away. I could see that I was riding between two large storms. I could hear thunder. I ate a two-day old peach then u stopped to put on my rain jacket. Down came the rain. I didn’t mind since it kept me cool and took my mind off the increasing headwinds.
By the time I reached the peak, the rain had stopped and I was dry. The downhill to Circle would have been awesome but the wind spoiled the joy.
I was pretty happy to see the town of Circle. It has an old motel that has free WiFi and shag carpeting.
When I checked in I learned that Martin, the Swiss bike tourist I woke up in Gackle after my 136 mile romp from Fargo, was also staying here. We got together for dinner in town. I had pizza and beer. (I bought enough for breakfast.)
Martin is taking the Northern Tier route from here. I’m taking the more southerly Lewis and Clark Route.
There are no services between here and the next town called Jordan. It should be interesting.
As of today I am 4 days ahead of my planned itinerary. I expect to give at least one back to headwinds.
Also, in the next few days you may notice that the URL for this blog has become Rootchopper.com.
Finally: does anyone know what this is?
Miles today: 78
Miles so far: 2,473
I pretty much go to bed and wake up with the sun. Here is the sky last night just before sunset. Imagine cool breezes and you get the full effect. If you are standing by sideways that is.
After eating first breakfast of PB&J on tortillas, I left Alice’s Attic at 7 am, well before my host was up and about. It was great arrangement and Alice made me feel quite at home.
As I rode away I spotted some of her cattle lying in a field. When I mooed they all stood up and gave me the hairy eyeball as if to say “Can’t you see we’re sleeping?” Here they are last night checking me out.
The next 19 miles were a straight line through farms and fields to Bowlus. On the way I crossed the Mississippi for the last time. It’s a much prettier river up here.
In Bowlus I stopped for second breakfast at
Jordie’s Cafe. One of the cafe’s workers saw me pull up and said “Hi John.” I asked her how she knew who I was and she said she saw my picture on Alice’s webpage. (This was good to know since I don’t need any more worries about my fusiform gyrus.)
Oatmeal, hash browns, an English muffin, coffee, and OJ filled my tank and put a smile on my face.
In the park across the street I called Mrs. Rootchopper to check in on the home front. She’s consulting contractors to redo my man cave while I’m on the road.
The park was adjacent to the Lake Wobegone Trail which I promptly took toward Sauk (pronounced sock) Centre (spelled the British way).
I had a tailwind I stopped for a moment to spray bug repellent on my shirt. It seems the few black flies that are still around love the spot in my back between my shoulder blades. After that I flew down the recently repaved trail. It was about as nice a trail as you could want. It even featured Minnesota’s longest covered bridge.
Within a few miles the skies opened up and big cold rain drops started pelting me. I put up with it for a while then pulled over to put on my rain jacket. Three minutes later the rain stopped.
I stopped to take a picture of a water tower for some reason.
My next stop was Charlie’s Cafe in Freeport for lunch. Lunch was tasty so I had desert. It was awesome.
When I came out of the restaurant the sky had cleared. The sun was very strong and the humidity was through the roof.
I rode about ten more miles to Sauk Centre. It was only 2:30 but I decided to respect the heat and humidity as well as the forecast of overnight thunderstorms and grab a hotel room. This made it my shortest mileage day so far.
Today’s miles: 56
Tour miles to date: 1,798
A medical note or two:
For the last two weeks my right index finger has gone numb. I swear it’s not from chastising drivers.
Of greater concern is my left calf. It’s a little sore and swollen. This is where my deep vein thrombosis or DVT formed. (The DVT was the source of the blood clots that lodged in my lungs over the winter.) I need to elevate it overnight. If I need to I can always go to an ER and get an ultrasound.
On a cheerier note: I passed 5,000 miles for the year yesterday.
After a fine hotel breakfast or two at the Super 8 in Watseka (a surprisingly nice place, BTW) I asked the Google for directions to get me back on my route. The Google did an outstanding job directing me down perfect country roads with plenty of trees to shade me from the headwinds.
The headwinds today were about half as strong as yesterday and easily manageable. When I started riding it was 55 degrees. It warmed up to the high 70s with moderate humidity. Until mid afternoon there was literally not a cloud on the sky. Dang it was nice out.
The Google route was windy (as in not straight) but after days of riding a grid it was a welcome relief.
Many of the county roads are paved with chip seal. The road is coated with sticky tar and then gravel is put in top. I road a few miles on roads that had been recently renewed. It slowed me down but didn’t approach the level of unpleasantness that other bike tourists had warned me about.
The dandelions on the side of the road are enormous. I didn’t see any yellow just these big fluff balls.
Another item of note is the bird life. I spotted what looked like an osprey chowing down on some prey in a field near the road. Seeing me he took off and landed on a telephone pole about a quarter mile from his meal. After I passed he flew back to it.
And there is a small bird that looks to me like a sandpiper. It’s about the size of a cardinal. It gray-ish feathers on its wings and tail with a brown patch just above the tail. They only fly a few feet off the ground. After flying for 30 yards they land and run for a few feet before taking off again. They are entertaining to watch and I must have seen 100 of them today.I road past several wind farms today. It’s amazing what happens when you plant a turbine seed in a corn field. 
I once saw a turbine blade on display near the Energy Department. The thing looked to be as long as a football field. (How they drove into DC with it is beyond me.) Anyway, seeing these things from a distance is truly impressive but up close they are hypnotic. I nearly ran off the road I was so captivated by them.Another thing I noticed today is that the pool table is starting to have some gentle up slopes. I probably climbed 200 or 300 feet today, 30 feet here, 20 feet there. In Kempton I stopped for lunch at Tom’s. There is a mural that runs the length of the building. It’s a bit like to cover of Sgt. Pepper’s. I parked The Mule to the left of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Is she signing something?
In Odell I crossed Route 66. There is now a bicycle route that follows the route from Chicago to Los Angeles. As I was taking a picture of the sign a woman jumped out of her car to get a picture of her own. 
My plan had me stopping at Cornell Illinois but there were no campgrounds or hotels there. There was plenty of daylight left and I was feeling fine after 67 miles so I continued on to the City of Wenona. They let bike tourists camp in the city park. It’s a very nice set up and the shower was the best. My thanks to the Wenona police officer who directed me to the park (and checked up on me later) and to Sheila who showed me around and gave me the secret code to the shower room.
On days like this I have a hard time getting off the bike. I rode 92 miles. My total for the first two weeks of the tour is 1,030 miles.
May was my first month in 2018 with over 1,000 miles. I rode 1,250 miles, 696 during the last 10 days on my bike tour. My longest ride was 79 miles from Hancock to Frostburg Maryland. I’m a bit surprised that I didn’t break 80 miles all month.
I rode in six states and DC.
For the year I’ve ridden 3,993.5 miles. Despite the tour, The Mule has less mileage (889) than either Little Nellie (973) or my Cross Check (1,850).
June’s gonna be a beast.
After a leisurely breakfast I packed my bike and nearly crippled it by getting the rear wheel all messed up with my cargo net. Ten minutes of cussing later, I base farewell to Mrs. Rootchopper and ride off to points north and west.
About five miles into the ride it occurred to me that I had failed to pack and important doodad, my Fiber Fix spoke. It’s a Kevlar cord that can replace a broken spoke, no tools required. So if I break a spoke I’m screwed. Yeah well….
I also forgot to pack a master link for my chain. This makes putting a broken chain together much easier. (Not that I’ve ever done it.)
I suppose I can stop at a bike shop and pick at least one of these items up.
The first 31 miles were a combination of my old bike commute and the old Vasa ride route to Potomac Maryland. A tailwind made the ride up the Mount Vernon Trail to DC a piece of cake.
I made my way along the river and under the Whitehurst Freeway. I passed a restaurant named Mate Sushi and thought of my Argentinian friend who is nuts about both mate and sushi. I carried on to the Capital Crescent Trail and ever so briefly on the C&O Canal towpath. As expected it was quite muddy. I thought about riding it but then decided to climb up to MacArthur Boulevard and use the roads.
I was dreading this short steep climb but it wasn’t so bad. My granny gear got its first of many uses today.
The rest of the ride to The kayakers put in near Old Anglers Inn was routine. I’ve done this ride scores of times.
I took a potty break. The restrooms have a covered sidewalk in front. When I came out, The Mule was dry as rain started to fall. Then skies opened up. I pulled out my bag of trail mix and munched a few handfuls. I can wait…..
The rain abated and I started the mile long climb to the top of Great Falls Park. Granny helped. The rains returned. My rain jacket and the physical effort were keeping me warm if not completely dry.
A left on River Road brought me to miles of big rolling hills. Big gear. Granny gear. Repeat.
I turned into Partnership Road and things got all kinds of farmy. Moo. Grain. Mud.
At Poolesville I stopped for lunch in the Watershed Cafe. I had a “veggie” sandwich (it had cheese in it) and some panther piss. ‘Twas yummy.
I asked the Google to plot a course for Frederick Maryland and so it did. The Google is good like that.
More farms and a few cute towns. I counted three purple houses. What’s up with that? Somehow the ride seemed downhill for miles and miles. And the route cleverly avoided Sugarloaf Mountain. My knees and back were pleased.
Now it was just a race against the rain. The skies grew darker as I rolled through funky Buckeystown.
Pedal, pedal.
I rode past English Muffin Road where Bimbo’s Bakery (I am not making this up) makes the nooks and crannies. I’d actually been to this area on a business trip a year or two ago.
I started seeking hotels but continued on playing chicken with the approaching storm. As raindrops started falling an Econolodge appeared.
As I rolled my bike into my room thunder roared from the dark clouds above. Timing is everything.
So I’m content with shelter, TV (I hope they have the Nats game), WiFi, and a Sheetz next door for fine dining.
68 miles down. 3,900 or so to go.
One life, some bicycles. A million possibilities, zero clue!
Information and news from David Goodrich, author of A Hole in the Wind.
Coast-to-coast US bike tour
Exploring Nevada's backroads by bicycle
Just another manifestation of my obsession with riding
Around Eire on Frida, Bike Friday
Follow my Journey!
just a girl on a mission to pet every puppy in the world. #stillatourist
Two travelers on two tires
The Weston Front - the destination of a road less travelled...
One step, then one step more
Riding the South Coast of Massachusetts and Rhode Island
Welcome To My Adventures
A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel 