July 10, 2023
The Binding Quality Of Waffles
Resting with Ilpacas. Oh, and some people too.
Waffles are the glue that bind us.
- Calvin Coolidge*
July 10-Rest Day with the Ilpacas.
I woke up this morning to my zero day with the knowledge that I had ridden my last miles, or kilometers, with August, Ellie and Bill. We agreed to meet at their cabin for waffles before they continued towards Antelope Wells, and I got to help Bill load more rocks into his trailer. My theory is that more weight balances the load, making it easier for August, and it'll enhance his calf size as well.
Meeting Rue and Lael, as well as their clients and Adam the Caterer, and the rest of the riders yesterday makes me a little verklempt that I'm stopping my ride, but the route will be here next year, and so will Llama Ranch.
I saw that Zack rolled in last night. He is a mileage monster, and does quite a bit of riding later in the day. He told me that's his favorite time to ride. I tend to fade in the afternoon and try to be done by then.
When we finished the delicious waffles, cooked by Ellie, I washed the dishes while they began packing their bikes. Others in camp were starting to move out. We said goodbye to Lael and Rue, and then the 2 guys from New Hampshire. And then the Kiwis moved out. As they turned onto the road, August saluted me with his favorite one-fingered gesture, meaning, I'm sure, that I am #1 in his book. The saddest thing was that I failed to get it on video. Dammit!
For the last few days I have been looking at options to leave the route and head back home. As I mentioned before, Jen's mom has been in poor health for some time and recently taken a turn for the worse, and since Helena is the closest and last city of any size for many miles, that's where I'll exit the route for this year.
I searched for one way rental cars from Helena, but they were slightly more expensive than a new Lockheed F-35 fighter jet, so I reserved a 10' Uhaul truck that I'll pick up in Helena and drop off in Stevensville, south of Missoula.
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1 year ago
And he says it's delicious!
I don't know. I just don't know.
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Zack and I ate lunch on the porch, and then he headed off down the road. Shortly after, several riders rolled in. Lisa and Sarah from Colorado, Nyko from Holland and a couple from Spokane.
We all talked about our experiences and ate dinner together (me: delicious canned chicken and mashed potatoes!) at the table outside my cabin. Lisa is a respiratory therapist, currently working in a regional role for a large system in Colorado. It is always interesting to meet other RTs and swap tales. Healthcare is a tough gig these days, and she's sticking it out for another year or 2 before she retires.
Nicco is a fearless young woman from Holland who is traveling northbound, and having a great time. She said she received a lot of probably well-meaning advice from people who probably haven't propelled themselves on foot any further than 10 feet in the past 20 years, telling her she couldn't do this trip alone as a female. But somehow, against all odds, she's done it! She decided to take a rest day tomorrow here, and will continue north.
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A thunderstorm rolled in around 4:30 pm, and then it was pleasant the rest of the evening. I busied myself packing and hanging out with the other riders. It was a good, relaxing way to observe the end of this year's tour.
Barbara and John (Llama Ranch owners) were walking around and I got to talk to them some more. They are incredibly, unusually generous, and I'm glad for the extra day at the here, which I hope they continue running for another 30 years. It's a highlight of this route, just as Spoken Hostel in Mitchell, Oregon is a highlight on the Transamerica route. Special places run by special people.
Speaking of llamas, I don't know if I mentioned this, but they used to have them, llamas, that is, but now they have ilpacas. The name Llama Ranch is a trail name given to them by a rider many years ago, and it stuck. And the ilpacas are standoffish, walking away from everyone except for Ellie, who was allowed to walk right up to them yesterday. She's an ilpaca whisperer. Won't she and August be surprised when I send them an ilpaca puppy for Bill's next birthday. It's a perfect gift for the discerning Kiwi.
So anyway, the group of 4; Lisa, Sarah and their friends from Spokane, which is supposedly pronounced Spō-Kan, but who knows, it sounds made up to me; are also leaving tomorrow morning. They'll stay on the route and cross two more passes, Mullan and Priest, while I plan to shortcut and take the highway to Helena. It'll be easy. Right? Most of my highway diversions have panned out just as I had hoped. Right?
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Coincidentally, just this morning I was deleting a bunch of old e-mails and I came across an exchange with a bunch of Hostile Actors. I didn't delete those e-mails, even they are two years old now. Instead, I re-read all of them. In one of them, you correctly attributed the phrase "welcome to the jungle" to the very same Calvin Coolidge. I can see that Calvin Coolidge is to you as Herbert Hoover is to me. More than once in my journals, I've mentioned how he presided over the greatest economic collapse in U.S. history. You might not know this, but in 1929, the esteemed President from the great state of Iowa rebutted Coolidge's claim.
"Waffles may be the glue that bind us, but pancakes are the roughage that UN-bind us. Plus, they taste better." -Herbert "Great Depression" Hoover
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