First: a genuine thank you to everyone reading at least some of this blog. It’s been a joy to write. If you’d like to see more of some subjects and less of others, let me know.
I rode for three very hot but exquisite days in Idaho. Unfortunately, this section was cut short because of wildfires. On day one the evening in Council had a hazy quality. On the second day the sky became white and depthless. By noon on the third day, I climbed the grand White Bird pass and found the vast valley beneath completely obscured in smoke. I rode with a mask on. Visibility wasn’t terrible and I still enjoyed myself. The steep ochre mountains and later the endless wheat fields bordering the Nez Perce Reservation seemed ethereal in the muted light. During this stretch I read each day’s edition of the Lewiston, Idaho Tribune and learned that the wildfire season was exploding into maturity all around me — and about a month earlier than usual. Smoke from California and southern Oregon was streaming into western Idaho. Closer to me, though still about a hundred miles away, the Snake River Complex fires were devouring canyons and brushy hillsides. In Grangeville I came within 45 miles of the growing Dixie fire. And dry lightning storms were sparking literally dozens of small fires in Idaho and Montana each night. I was in a tinderbox.
On the fourth day I rode three miles from Kooskia on the much-anticipated Highway 12 and found that the river canyon was billowing smoke. I put my mask on and rode another mile in deepening smoke before I stopped and recognized that the canyon was probably on fire just up the road. I arranged myself strategically at the end of a long pull-off with a mask on and my bike in full view and stuck out my thumb. There I stood for an hour while ash rained down on me. No one would pick me up. Then a new F-350 pulled over.
This guy named Dave — bless his soul — let me throw my bike in the bed of his truck. Not five minutes down the road we saw the fire, an entire hillside across the river. Not in flames, but simply smoldering. Fire officials watched the smoke billow from various turnoffs. Within twenty minutes the air quality improved markedly.
Here I considered hopping out to ride the rest of the canyon. But, in a rare stroke of wisdom, I silently resolved to accept Dave’s offer to drop me off in Lolo, just ten miles from Missoula. Later, while I drank a draft Guinness at an air-conditioned bar in town, my dad and I watched the news report: more fires were popping up in the canyon near Lolo Pass, and the sheriff had issued evacuation orders. It’s possible they’ll close the road. It’s a sure fact that I would have been riding and camping in thick smoke for three days without Dave.
As he sped along the canyon he joked that his recent acts of kindness had refilled his karma. Not five minutes later we yelped: a deer had leaped into the road just before us. Dave hollered and jerked the wheel. The deer barely dodged what would have been a horribly gory death and loped to the other side of the road. Dave deftly corrected the speeding truck. We sat in silence, sweating.
Being barred from Highway 12 would have been a disaster. I’ve connected with my dad, Doug, and from here we will ride 450 miles together to Jackson, Wyoming. We planned this excursion more than a year ago. Because of the fires and some road work on the TransAm we’ll likely arrive there stoked but by the skin of our teeth. My dad flew in from his home in Holland and the airline almost lost his bike.
We’ve spent a few days here hanging out, drinking beer and getting his bike ready to roll. It’s looking good. And shout out to my cousin Eliot, who drove up from Bozeman to hang with us. It’s been really nice to get away from the usual conversations around bike touring — gear, your route, where you’re from — and chill with someone I’m close with. I’m about to leave this cafe to swim in a river all day and drink beer. The air quality is better today — a blessing.
Cycling info
This stretch is amazing, much more beautiful than I anticipated.
A PSA: Idaho is known for racism. I saw one non-white person in three days. The very first person I spoke with in the state suggested to me, unprompted, that black people shouldn’t have so many children. Being a person of color would likely be more of a challenge here than in the inner northwest. A kid my age working in Riggins told me that Idahoans often test outsider whites to gauge how racist they are. They’re cowards and they couch their abhorrent beliefs in euphemistic language, so my method was to pretend like I had no idea what they were talking about and force them to come out with whatever bullshit they had to say. I had to do this twice, and both times, the person quickly changed the subject. If you’re white and not racist scum, I’d recommend steering conversations away from politics. I have more thoughts on this after spending five weeks in small towns, but that’s for another time.
Another PSA: the West is on fire every year now. For all those east coasters out there: I’d recommend getting out of the mountain West as early in the summer as possible. Even my plan to escape the fires by late July has been proven inadequate.
But lord, the cycling is great. You weave in and out of national forest lands in the high country and plunge deep into stunning river canyons. The seven-mile climb out of Hell’s Canyon is steep but became surprisingly forested. The town of Cambridge is pretty desolate but there are ample services. From here to New Meadows the road is narrow and much, much more busy with industrial and recreational traffic. I found out later that the gravel Weiser River Trail runs from Cambridge through Council and almost to New Meadows. I personally found the traffic wasn’t bad enough to warrant taking the slower, gravel option. I’m sure it’s beautiful and if you’re able to, this good be a great ride through what is otherwise a crowded ride through agricultural fields and about a dozen miles of a serene, forested river canyon. I stayed in Council at the RV Park hostel. It’s $25, which was painful, but the carpeted space was air-conditioned with WiFi, a kitchen and there were separate bunk rooms.
I spent the next night in Riggins. This town was a breath of fresh air. It bounds the mighty Salmon River and the Hell’s Canyon Recreation Area. People flock from all over the world to raft here. As such the town is a thriving little strip of cafes, good restaurants, cute motels, gas stations, bars and ice cream parlors. For the first time in weeks, perhaps, I saw and talked with people in their twenties. I’m told there’s ample camping on BLM Land on Salmon River Road just south of town. Cars, campers, RVs and trucks loaded with rafts pulled in and out of the road all day. I didn’t camp there because of the extreme heat that day and opted instead to camp at the Ranger Station just across the road. It’s a really big lot and was perfect for me: the canyon wall rose vertically and bathed the lot in shade hours before the other side of the road. I camped underneath a trio of apple trees inhabited by small but territorial birds. There was a portapotty, water and a nice bench with a hell of a view. I sat there eating apples for like four hours. The station was closed so I didn’t ask permission and only set my tent up at dusk. When I laid down the little field became chock-full of California quails and deer. There were also an unbelievable number of harvestmen, which I kind of like.
I rode the next day to Kooskia. This was one of my favorite days so far in 1,400 miles of riding. From Riggins, north, you ride 30 miles through the Salmon River Canyon. Traffic was light and the shoulder was wide. I can’t put into words how beautiful this was. I stopped to have a snack before White Bird at Skookumchuck campground. There’s an unblemished white sand beach here on the Salmon. This is the best swimming hole I’ve enjoyed yet. After town, White Bird pass is so freaking epic. You leave town and begin in a rolling valley filled with markers for the 1877 Nez Perce war with the U.S. imperialist dogs. The Old Highway 95 winds back and forth for thousands of miles, and what makes this pass so stunning is the lack of foliage here. Every turn is a broad vista, more scenic than the last. After Grangeville, the ride through the countryside to Kooskia was strange and included some of the steepest hills I’ve ridden yet. The ride down Lamb Grade road into Stites is absurdly steep. Take it slow. I almost hit a cow.
Kooskia a small, blue-collar logging town. People were really friendly with me here. The camping option in town is a free spot at the city park. The sprinklers run viciously all night so, for the love of god, camp underneath the pavilion if you stay here. I slept like shit because there was a guy pacing around and swearing who seemed potentially violent.
The best food and drinks I’ve had: The Ace Saloon is a biker bar in Council. Everyone was smoking there, even the bartender, which I thought was hilarious. They have PBRs on draft there for $2. I drank four of them and walked across the sun-baked road to the Seven Devils Cafe. It looks awful in there but the man in the back actually made a really, really good double cheeseburger. And in Whitebird I sat at Red’s River Cafe. It’s your average Sysco diner but I loved it because it was ridiculously cheap. I had two enormous pancakes and like six cups of coffee for $3. In Kooskia I sat with the old hats at Purdy’s Farm Table. The pancakes and coffee here were of a much higher caliber but slightly more expensive.
Encounters
I believe I’ve identified our man Nick. You may remember him from my last blog post (Baker City and central Oregon).
I just sat down at a cafe in Missoula and opened the local paper. Holy shit. There’s a photo of him on A9 riding into town, and I recognize his gear. If this is indeed the same Nick, his full name is Nick Novotny He’s a Marine veteran riding across the country to raise money for the Wounded Warrior Project, which provides mental and physical wellness services to vets, and the family of his friend Cpl. James Currie, who died last May. It appears that Currie’s drinking led to his tragic and premature death. Nick said in the article he wants to raise money and awareness about mental health programs.
It’s important work. If you’d like to donate to Nick’s cause, follow him on Instagram @billyocean and give money via is GoFundMe page.
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