I'm in Idaho! (where cyclists can legally treat stop signs as yield signs)

Today's ride was a gift after the last three days experiences. But first, I should cover my night in Pomeroy. Once the sun goes down, and things cool, it's hard to imagine why it seemed so hellish before. I was just beat, so I walked the length of the town to the Sagebrush Grill. Excellent bacon cheeseburger, which my body so craved. And another phenomenon which I have noticed sometimes occurs in small towns, order a glass of red wine, and it's not only cold, it's filled almost to the rim! This was heaven. I staggered back in the dark, and lay down on the bed. Though the place wasn't air-conditioned, it was only a little warm, or, my body is still radiating heat from the day, but Leann (owner of the B&B) said I could sleep with the door open to the outside and no one would bother me so I left it ajar, and could hear the crickets and neighborhood voices outside. You ever have that kind of tired where when you lie down, your body just hurts? I remember just sinking back onto the bed... a little while later, I was with people at work, and Tim was making fun of the way my whiskers had grown in all white (just shaved them off by the way), and later on, I was in a cabin and it was snowy outside. We were tossing little treats to the dogs romping outside in the snow. Then after some blurriness, I was sitting at a table with Virginia, trying to explain why the wine was so, so good, and my glass was broken but I was picking up the broken bottom part and getting the last drops out. Then I woke up and had absolutely no idea where I was. It came back gradually... I'm on a long bike ride. I'm asleep in someone's basement in a small town. Oh yeah, that's it. This was my first sound sleep of the trip, and maybe even for a while before that. I still had another hour before my alarm, so I relished it.

With forecasts of 100+ degrees in Lewiston, my plan was just to make it to Clarkston, only 29 miles away, and take a rest day while it's super hot. And, I wanted to arrive at my destination before the heat did (see? I'm learning) so I headed out of my room close to 6:00 am, and rolled down to Donna's Cafe for breakfast. I know, I was just at a B&B, but I didn't want to make my host get up that insanely early. It was the least I could do for the great night of sleep. Two old(er than me) guys at the next table asked me about my ride, and assured me that I shouldn't have too much trouble making it up and over Alpowa Pass.

About a mile and a half out of town, a brisk headwind set in. Not sure where it came from but it was steady and strong. I had to shift down even though I was only going up about 2-3%, and I was starting to wonder if this was all part of a series of signs trying to tell me something. "Don't leave Washington on your bike! Go back!! Whoo, scary..." I tried to stop thinking of how many miles left and when will I get there, and just more of "where am I right now." Sure, headwind was slowing me down, but it felt good on my face, and the countryside was beautiful. Some things I learn so slowly in life that I wonder really, maybe I am a slow person. I was probably in my forties before I realized Lewiston and Clarkston, two towns right across the river from each other, sound ominously close to the names Lewis and Clark. Well, now I'm riding roughly alongside the Lewis and Clark Trail, and every few miles I come across viewpoints with stories of their journeys just over two hundred years ago. This is like riding through a living museum. And I realize, I'm having fun. Headwind, schmeadwind. The climb up to Alpowa is gradual, never more than 5%, and soon I reach the top, about nine miles out of Pomeroy. And there are restrooms. Can it get any better? Well, yes.

After Alpowa, you start downhill, and it's about eleven miles of uninterrupted descent. I hardly had to move the pedals. At this rate, I was going to get to Clarkston about two hours earlier than I had conservatively guessed when I planned my departure. Now, I know this will sound like Homer Simpson complaining the turkey's a little dry, but once you finally get to level ground, the shoulder surface becomes pretty bumpy. However, since I was so far ahead of schedule, I started just slowing down, and then the bumps were not so bad.

Rolling into Clarkston, where my librarian resource assistant had helped me set up reservations at the Best Western (pricy but I just had to get out of the heat) I see a huge billboard for Econolodge, with rooms starting at 34.95 a night. I'm wondering: what's wrong with this place that the room costs a third of what Best Western is charging? The sign says free wi-fi and pool. What's the catch? No air-conditioning? No TV? Dry turkey? I have plenty of time on my hands so I call the number on the billboard, and ask to be sure the price is 34.95 and is there air conditioning? The Indian accented man tells me... something, but with all the traffic noise I can't be sure what. "You come down here and we will honor that price." So, I head on down the road, cross a bridge, and wow, I'm in Idaho! Last time I rode over the border of Washington into Idaho, I was with my son (who wishes not to be named on line, so I will use the code name Theo) when we rode from Spokane to Coeur d'Alene. But I digress. I walk up to the Econolodge lobby desk and ask, just to make sure, do the rooms have air-conditioning? He shakes his head. "No sir, rooms have no air-conditioning. No TV, no bed, no bathtub." I decide I like him, he's funny. So now I am taking a rest day off in Lewiston. The forecast says maybe things will ease off the hundred-ish highs in a day or two, so I will rest, recover, and go float in the pool. There's a tiny sporting goods store across the street, maybe I can also replenish my white gas supply for the stove.