SUN LAKES - DRY FALLS STATE PARK, WASHINGTON: After Proof-Reading This Thing, I Can't Even Come Up With a Subtitle Weird Enough - The Dotted Lines Of The Inland Northwest

August 5, 2019

SUN LAKES - DRY FALLS STATE PARK, WASHINGTON: After Proof-Reading This Thing, I Can't Even Come Up With a Subtitle Weird Enough

It's possible I might be a little too easily impressed. I catch myself writing stuff like "Ooooo0h, those mountains were beautiful!" "This tree is excellent!" "That lake is spectacular!" "That squirrel was seriously squirrelly!" "This bag of Cheetoes is awesome!" You'd think everything I see or do or eat or ride past was made by the angels in heaven just for me.

I know it's true, and I seem to get especially carried away by outstanding scenery. I succumb to hyperbole. I start overusing exclamation marks. I lose all sense of verbal restraint. I can't discern the difference between "pretty nice" scenery and "unbelievably awesome" scenery. That's why I'm going to try a little experiment in low-key, emotionally measured presentation when I describe today's leg of my tour.

The day started with a minor ride away from the mildly interesting Grand Coulee Dam, under a few electrical wires. The towns of Coulee Dam, Grand Coulee, and Electric City appeared to be a little weather beaten and run down. Then I got my first glimpse of Banks Lake, which I suppose could be described as "okay" or "slightly pretty."

The next 25 miles along the slightly pretty Banks Lake was UNQUESTIONABLY THE BEST 25-MILE STRETCH OF BIKE RIDING I'VE HAD ON THIS TRIP, IF NOT OF MY ENTIRE LIFE. THIS IS TRULY WORLD CLASS CYCLING IN EVERY CONCEIVABLE WAY (except for the expansion cracks placed there by Satan to prevent cyclists from enjoying it TOO much) AND THE BEAUTY WAS UTTERLY MIND-BLOWING AT EVERY TURN. IT WAS A VERITABLE CHECKLIST OF PERFECTION.

YA GOT YER CANYONS, YER CLIFFS, YER LAKE, YER DESERTY PLANT LIFE, YER IDEAL WEATHER.

YA GOT YER BIG SHOULDERS, YER TWISTS AND TURNS, YER LOW TRAFFIC, YER RELATIVELY FLAT TERRAIN.

YA GOT YER WILD TURKEYS, YER QUAILS, YER MAGPIES, YER SEAGULLS, YER GEESE, AND-THRILL OF ALL THRILLS--YER PEREGRINE FREAKIN' FALCONS.

You've got to admit, I kept it pretty low-key, didn't I? And you will not find a single exclamation mark. And you're probably wondering why I wrote the last few paragraphs in the 2nd person using fractured grammar. So am I.

The thing is, everything I've seen on this trip is so unlike Minnesota. My state has its own charms, but they're much different than this. That's the real reason I go nuts when I travel. If I lived in eastern Washington I probably wouldn't even write about a bike trip here.

I'm going to take a break now and display a few too many pictures and captions. If you live in the Inland Northwest, feel free to scroll right on past them.

A few wires and the little towers that support them.

My cartoon alter-ego and I took a hike into the desert. The plant life here is otherworldly to a midwesterner.

Back on The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong, we explored this dirt road.

Except for the climb away from the Grand Coulee Dam, this was the only other ascent I remember all day.

This is the view from the top of that ascent. The thin ribbon of brown running through the sagebrush is the dirt road my team and I explored a little earlier.

The peregrine freakin' falcon lives somewhere up on this cliff. More on that next . . .

I'm not seriously ornithological or anything, so when I heard this bird screeching "REEEEE REEEEE REEEEE REEEEE REEEEE REEEEE REEEEE" at me from the side of a cliff, I didn't know what it was. But when it flew in my direction at freakin' falcon speed, with its wings in fighter jet position, I had a feeling it was a falcon. (I confirmed it later when I Googled the warning call of a peregrine falcon.) It circled around me at a safe distance, shrieking the whole time, and returned to the cliff in a flash. One would expect nothing less from the world's fastest flying bird. The freakin' falcon was sending a message to G-2 and me that we'd better not climb that sheer cliff to eat her babies. We heeded that message.

I've been harassed and chirped at by redwing blackbirds in Iowa, and screeched at by a nesting osprey in Montana, but this was a MILLION times more awesome! (There I go again.)

A personal note to Rand-McNally: Sirs, you have outdone yourselves. Your dotted line along Banks Lake is the most dottedliest of your dotted highways so far.

About one mile before Coulee City I started seeing and smelling the smoke again. I was tempted to check into the town's only motel instead of going where I really WANTED to go tonight.

Thank Allah, or Buddha, or Jesus, or The Dude of the Great Outdoors, or whomever, but I continued on to the Sun Lakes-Dry Falls State Park--AN AMAZING PLACE IN THE HEART OF COULEE COUNTRY!!!!!!

The visitor center had a much better than average museum. It's mostly about a geologist dude named J. Harlen Bretz who theorized that this weirdly eroded landscape was created by a massive glacial flood many thousands of years ago--a massive flood beyond imagination.

His geologist peers said, "Hey! Slow down, dude. No cataclysmic volume of water in earth's known history could have done this. Let's look at other less violent alternatives before accepting your hare-brained ideas."

The Bretz dude stuck to his convictions for 30 years, working continuously to prove his point. Finally, the proof appeared to be in the pudding and the other geology dudes were forced to admit, "Man, you've been right all along. You're a stud." And everybody was happy.

[That's not exactly how the visitor center told the story, but my version is more concise.]

This is the view from the Dry Falls Visitor Center.

I gazed upon the view pictured above for quite a long time, and now I have my own theory regarding how this awesome landscape came to be. I think I am now ready to go public with my theory. This is it: With their advanced intelligence and technological know-how, Martians colonized this area and used their huge cranes, dump trucks, and bulldozers to create that which we Earthlings now see.

From the visitor center I descended a couple hundred feet to the turn off for the campground, and then another couple hundred feet to the campground itself. It's 96-degrees as I write this in my notebook at my picnic table, but I have some shade and I have water. When I soak my shirt and bandana with the water and I sit in the shade, I am able to achieve a high state of coolness.

"Praying Mantis On Helmet" is the title of this piece. I have never seen a praying mantis before. I thought they were green.

I'm not saying I'm smarter than a state park ranger, but I DID win a few grade school spelling bees back in the day.

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Today's ride: 39 miles (63 km)
Total: 333 miles (536 km)

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Ron SuchanekI have decided to heretofore (whatever that means) write exclusively in the 2nd person using fractured grammar.

And I gotta get to that part of Washington and ride. It's only a few hours from me.
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2 years ago

Gregory GarceauTo Ron SuchanekYou won't regret it. That goes for both riding in central Washington AND writing like an uneducated dork.
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2 years ago