Day 58 – Wilderness Gateway Campground, ID to Lewiston, ID

July 27^th:

There were a lot of very comical things about this day, starting with our 3:00am wake-up.  We had just crossed into the Pacific Time Zone, and we were used to getting up at 4:00am.  Therefore, our leaders decided to have us wake up at 4:00am Mountain Time so we could get the show on the road faster.  This may have worked if it wasn’t so cloudy in the morning, but we were in the mountains so we should have known we’d start out with a lot of clouds and fog at that hour of the morning.  But there we were, up at a 3:00am, realizing it had rained all over anything we’d accidentally or purposefully left out of our tents that night.  We had tried SO HARD to be strategic about this morning.  We’d all put anything we needed to wear that day in our tents the night before.  Many of us slept in our bike jersey and shorts to make it an easier transition when we woke up.  Our duffles and backpacks were packed up in the van the night before so that we could skip that process.  So we were prepared for the most part, but we couldn’t help the fact that the morning was pitch black.  We did a lot of standing around and cursing our leaders for this idea that made us get out of bed an hour earlier than we needed to.  Honestly, though, any one of us could have spoken up against this idea, but we didn’t, so we are definitely to blame as well.  It was a slow morning of waiting for it to be bright enough to ride.  It rained quite a bit, too, so we waited on that as well.  The campsite had a shelter that we all sat around in until it was time to go.  Overall, camping before a 120 mile day is hard.

When it finally lightened up, it was pretty to see the clouds over the mountain tops.

We spent the morning biking along the same river that we biked alongside the day before.  I think it was the slow morning, but I had a really hard time staying awake.  Nearly falling asleep while riding a bicycle is scary stuff.

This is how I looked and felt:

After the first water stop, I was starting to feel a little more awake.  The morning continued on nicely along the river, and we even saw some wildlife… in the form of deer, BUT they were running across the wide river, so that was a cool sight I’d never seen before.

We finally made it to a town called Lowell where there was a café, and since we were the last team, others had already gotten coffee and warm breakfast and were about to head out on their way.

We met a Swedish man whose name I did not catch that was also biking across the country, but in the opposite direction.  In fact, he’d ridden across the U.S. a casual 7 times.  He claims it’s the most beautiful country in the world because there are so many different landscapes.  I trust him, too, because he has ridden all over Europe, too.  He’s planning on biking across the U.S., then heading to New Zealand by plane, then somewhere else, and then Canada to start biking to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil for the summer 2016 Olympics.  To top it all off, he’s run 143 marathons.  WHO IS THIS GUY??!!?  I’d say I aspire to be like him, but in actuality, I do not.

While the morning started out pretty well, the day took a turn for the worse when we got to the town of Kamiah, and really it just all went downhill after that (and not the GOOD kind of downhill).

Suddenly, highway 12, which we’d been riding on for two days now, turned into a nightmare.  The shoulder would disappear and then return for a bit before disappearing again, and we rode along a guard rail which kept cars from tumbling down the cliff into the wide river.  There were several semi-trucks, and an increasing number of log trucks carrying huge tree trunks.  We had to remain in a straight line, and the only words we could say to one another were the usual “car back!” or “semi-truck!” or “shoulder ending!” or “hole… gravel…” etc.  We couldn’t even talk because we’d have to yell against the increasingly brutal headwinds.  We decided that Idaho was really throwing it all at us today – headwinds, terrible shoulders for riding, cars and trucks consistently passing us… it wasn’t great.  We weren’t prepared for the next thing that’d be thrown at us around mile 92.

I looked to my right while we were riding and saw a goose flying at our level right next to us.  My initial reaction was to laugh and tell my team “you guys, look at the situation to our right…”  Everyone turned and saw the goose and, like me, they all thought it was funny.  Suddenly, though, it started diving in between us, cutting us off and sending us into the road.  This wasn’t safe because, as I’ve stated, it was a somewhat busy road.  Luckily, there weren’t any cars behind us during this time.  I have learned in my 25 years that in the fight or flight moment, I’m most certainly a “flighter.”  I sprinted onward thinking I wanted to no part of this situation as the geese grew more and more aggressive.  I got pretty far ahead and when I looked back, I saw Patrick squirting water from his water bottle at the goose and yelling “GET THE F*** OUT OF HERE!!!!!!” which honestly made me crack up.  I saw the goose fly back toward the river, which we’d been riding alongside all day.  I thought this meant we were in the clear, but I was greatly mistaken.  Upon turning back again, I saw the goose swooping back and heading my way.  I sprinted harder, but it easily caught up.  It was on my left at my eye line before I knew it.  I checked back quickly for any cars that might be behind me, and when I saw that there were none, I got into the road and sprinted harder.  Even though I had laughed at Patrick’s panicked scream at the goose just moments earlier, I, too, resorted to yelling this animal… choosing the same phrase, also.  I think got brave and took a swing at it with my arm, forgetting how short my arms actually are and coming nowhere near it.  This swing caused me to wobble my handlebars, but I stayed upright.  I had seen a parking lot to the left from about a mile away where the goose started chasing us, and I got into the turning lane as the goose continued to hover right next to my head.  It was opening its mouth as a sign of aggression, and I was officially in a state of panic.  I turned into the parking lot entirely too fast, running directly into gravel which caused me to fall and slide hard.  I got up immediately, locating the goose and keeping my bike between me and it.  My saving grace was Brett, who was driving the van that day and just happened to be driving back to check on the teams who hadn’t made it to the next water stop.  I got in the van and handed Brett my bike with full permission to use it to shoo the goose away.  My heart was pounding and I couldn’t stop breathing heavily.  The rest of my team rolled in as Brett was working to get the goose up the hill next to the parking lot.  When he thought he’d successfully scared it away, he started running back down the hill.  Unfortunately, the goose was running after him.  As he got back to work on shooing the goose away, since his first attempt was unsuccessful, he asked “do I have permission from the vegetarians to kick this goose?”  He was referring to Amanda and I.  Of course, I gave him full permission to do what he had to do, and although Amanda was slightly more hesitant, she agreed that something needed to be done to really get this goose away.  So Brett became my hero as he gave the goose a solid kick to the chest.  Look – I’m not into hurting animals, but we later learned that this same bird had aggressively attacked all the other groups ahead of us.  I was the only victim, but I guess it was bound to happen to someone.

I decided to van myself for the rest of the day, despite the fact that it would have been my longest ride ever and that would have been quite the accomplishment.  My heart took a long time to stop racing and I just thought it’d be better if I didn’t ride after that.  I got to the last water stop in the van with Brett and saw a leftover hard cider.  I immediately asked Martha (who was in the other van that day) “um, can I please have that?”  She said “absolutely.”  WHAT A DAY.