WILBUR, WASHINGTON: Smoke Gets In My Eyes. And Nose. And Lungs.

August 3, 2019

It was another short day, and I'm going to justify it with another one of my flimsy excuses. I blame the forest fire. It already has an official name--"The Williams Flats Fire"--and it is far from being under control. And remember that cool lightning and thunder storm that I enjoyed from my tent two nights ago? That storm was responsible for starting the Williams Flats Fire.

I don't think I'm in danger of a wildfire sweeping me across the road in a raging fury or anything like that, but the smoke has settled into the Columbia River valley and it smells like 50 cigar smokers sitting around a big, bad campfire.

A gray haze is blurring everything in the distance this morning and that includes the sun. It is truly eerie.

I started my bike ride with a climb away from the rivers. It wasn't a horrible climb but it did require some hard breathing. It was like doing a couple thousand knee bends next to the smoker you might use to slow-cook a brisket.

That isn't fog obscuring the mountains, folks.

This deer had an unnatural lack of fear, but still, I enjoyed the few seconds of eye-to-eye contact

After the initial climb, most of the next 20 miles were fairly smoke-free and the riding was pleasant. Well, the climb out of the Hawk Creek valley took me over an hour and that wasn't very pleasant but, hey, that's the kind of unexpected challenge that makes bike touring fun.

I set the timer and staged this picture of me riding up the Hawk Creek Hill.

Presumably, these are the dried out bones of a cycle tourist who only made it 3/4 of the way to the top. Rest in peace, compadre.

Unlike that poor soul, I made to the top because I'm a Tough Guy and I have The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong's gears working in tandem with my legs.

At the top I was not prepared for the incredibly abrupt change in the landscape. Suddenly, and I mean SUDDENLY, the mountains and pine trees became rolling hills of golden grain.

The wheat fields are beautiful in their own way, but look at the smoky haze on the horizon.

I raced toward the small town of Wilbur and found myself in the direct path of the drifting smoke. I developed a cough. I decided I wasn't going a mile further and got a motel room. The Grand Coulee Dam will wait for me until tomorrow.

Wait, there's one more story. At the outskirts of Wilbur I heard a motorcycle slowing way down right behind me. I looked over my shoulder and heard the motorcyclist shout "ON YOUR LEFT!"

"THANK YOU," I yelled back, laughing.

Wilbur the Pig, of children's story book fame, greets visitors as they enter the town of Wilbur.

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Today's ride: 34 miles (55 km)
Total: 270 miles (435 km)

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