Day 76: Taking Timber Mountain by Strategy

The motel room I am staying in reminds me of some 'rented room' in a Hemingway story. Spartan. Simple. Depressing. But not quite dingy or in disrepair. I like it actually. I am watching Reno 911, I always forget how funny of a show it is until I sit down to watch it. Today was a good day.

Wake Up. Shower. Robyn cooks another brilliant breakfast. We leave at 9:30am. Drive to the HWY 20/31 intersection. I say Goodbye to Robyn. Climb 1500 feet over a semi-mountain (Timber Mtn.), and then descend 2000 feet until Kettle Falls. Not a single drop of rain. It's just cold enough to be slightly uncomfortable, but not bad. It's just simply a great day. I'm trying to remember some of the pertinent details. OK... Here we go.

Driving out of Sandpoint is both awesome and frustrating. Seeing the miles fly by at such a pace is thrilling. We cover half a day's ride in a half hour. But I know that when I start riding again, I'll get my payback when every mile feels so much longer than it might have before this car trip. That being said The more I think about it, the happier I am about hitching this ride. Robyn has been a wonderful host, and I really can't say enough how awesome she is.
I start the ascent right away, and its slow going. It occurs to me that so much of our perception of the terrain is influenced by our expectations. If this climb had been a surprise to me, I would be absolutely miserable, but having been warned of it... I'm really OK with it. It's actually kind of fun. I think I like climbing mountains. I hate climbing hills. I want a payoff, a great view, a great sustained downhill, a sense of accomplishment for my efforts. Not just repetitive up and down without a sense of overcoming something large. Just mindless repetition in the landscape like a cancer.

At one point in the climb, I stumble upon a pack of free range cows. One in particular looks pissed at me for having the audacity to ride past him/her. Huffs and puffs. All ten of them stare, but this one is agitated and annoyed. It's like out of a David Lynch film. Really off-putting. I pass within 5 feet of it. Glad to not be trampled. I'd hate to think of my friends laughing at the idea of me being trampled to death by cows. They would though. They aren't very good friends.

After 4.5 miles, it flattens out and I begin the downhill. There will be a few more sustained uphill sections in the day, but most of the hard work is done. I think about the volcanoes in Hawaii that you can ride into and down. I would like to do that. It's on this downhill section that I feel the 'drag' of having been in a car. Miles go by much slower than I would like them to. Frustrating. No more car rides unless necessary.
I stop at The Coleville McDonalds. A few miles down the road I find a Taco Bell. Dang. Would have much preferred that. I start to think about the notion that local restaurants are inherently of a higher quality than chain restaurants. That notion has such a hegemonic stranglehold on society. I reject that idea. Local Food is usually just greasy diner fare; every bit as unhealthy, 'unfresh', and unappetizing as corporate food. Those rare places that actually prepare healthier, fresh food cost an arm and a leg. At least if I get sick at McTacoKing, I know they have a corporate policy of doing whatever it takes to satisfy their customer. I'll admit that you have to eat locally in order to find those few rare gems that prepare quality food and I like the idea of supporting small businesses but I'm just sick of the smug condescension directed towards our corporate food providers. My name is Steve, I like fast food and I'm not completely ashamed of it.

The last 8 miles or so into Kettle Falls is gorgeous. HWY 395 isn't that bad. It has a nice shoulder. I stay on this road instead of going onto the quieter back roads. I pull into town. It is small. Cute. Local Theatre. Exclusively Local Businesses. The local market is playing The Magnetic Fields: 'Fido, Your Leash is Too Long'. I am surprised. Rural town market with overtly gay indie rock on the stereo.

1551 people... and acording to this artist's rendering, all of them are white.

Not much chance for surivival if the Neon Bible...

In real life, this bear would not be spreading information about fire prevention awareness, but rather running around at 40mph mauling everything in sight... Probably without pants.

As I finish typing this entry, a History Channel special on The history of drugs is on the Television. They have re-enactments that are just terrible. A 70's/80's couple doing cocaine. He is dressed like Don Johnson, and she like a fourth Pointer Sister. New Wave Rock posters on the wall. Pink lighting. Just silly. I can't wait until the 90's are re-enacted on TV shows, and I can see my recent past caricaturized on TV.

OK... I probably should have written more about cycling and less about other stuff... but I guess when you have a great day of riding, there aren't as many stories to tell. It really was a great day.

Tomorrow I climb up Sherman Pass, which might be the hardest day of riding of the entire trip. It's a 4000 foot climb over 27 miles of uphill. I'm a little nervous. 50% chance of rain. Let's hope the quarter lands faces up.