August 7, 2008
Day 87: KOA Campground (Near Winthrop, WA) to Eagles Nest RV Park (Near Concrete, WA)
111.98 Miles, 8:58:27 Ride Time, 12.47 Average Speed, 34.15 Maximum Speed
I was up at 4:30 for a trip to the bathroom, and, finding myself very thirsty from my pepperoni-laden pizza last night, drank a couple of Diet Cokes before returning to the tent. I lay there for a while, dozing and listening to the little radio, before getting up for good.
I was the first camper up and moving this morning as dawn broke. It had taken a few months, but I had finally, on the penultimate day of the trip, gotten slightly more efficient at the morning routine of getting everything loaded on the bike.
As I walked the bike to the campground office, a hot air balloon floated overhead, and, while I took a few pictures, the pilot called down "Get my good side!"
After the balloon slowly moved away, I sat for a while at a table outside the campground office, using the wireless internet, and watching the first few bleary-eyed campers emerge from the tents. The weather was perfect, and I was in the mood to ride today.
After stopping at the nearby Red Apple supermarket for my usual snacks, I rode 15 flat miles to Mazama ("Where the Methow Valley meets the North Cascades"), which consisted of a little store and a couple of ranches/inns. The store apparently catered to the kind of wealthy outdoorsy types who were willing to pay several dollars for a Clif Bar. Not my kind of place, obviously.
I did spend some money on a very good breakfast at the nearby Mazama Country Inn, though. This was a rather upscale place, and I was interested to see that the guest register contained the name "Bill Gates." My waitress said that he had been there at least once for a conference or something.
I dawdled over my $20 breakfast for quite a while, but eventually roused myself to tackle the last big climb - Washington Pass.
So far, none of the fabled passes in Washington (well, fabled among Northern Tier cycle tourists, anyway) had seemed very difficult to me. Imagine how surprised I was, then, to find that Washington Pass was perhaps the toughest climb of the entire trip. It was steep enough that, quickly abandoning any macho pretensions, I moved to the small chainring for the duration of what turned into a hot, several-hour grind.
I finally reached the top, and, after engaging in my usual solitary self-congratulatory antics, started down, only to almost immediately start climbing again. I had forgotten about little Rainy Pass, which resembles a small bump on the elevation profile on the Adventure Cycling map. Oh well.
It wasn't long before that was accomplished, though, and I prepared myself for what I hoped would be many miles of coasting. Unfortunately, the descent didn't seem as steep as the ascent, and I actually was required to pedal the bike. More alarmingly, I was quickly running out of water, despite multiple warnings (which I hadn't adequately heeded, apparently) about the lack of services on this stretch of the route.
Despite my attempts at conservation, all three of my bottles were soon empty. I rode past several ice-cold streams coming off the mountain, but was afraid to drink the water, having read somewhere of the possibility of contracting horrific, parasite-induced intestinal diseases. There were no houses, and few cars along this very deserted stretch. As I kept riding, I became increasingly addled (I later realized) from dehydration. At one point I glanced down at the bike computer to see that I was traveling at 7 mph, and dismounted to see if the brake pads were rubbing the wheels. I was so out of it that I didn't realize that my slowness was due to the dehydration.
I was feeling so bad I probably should have drank some of the water from a stream (I came as close as getting off the bike and standing within a few feet of one of the streams - it was incredibly cold - but decided instead to try to make it to campground that was listed on my map).
I was desperate by the time I reached a National Park Service campground, where after some initial frustration - was the water there potable or NOT? There was no sign - a friendly hiker let me fill my water bottles from his voluminous supply. I immediately felt much, much better, and, after resolving to never run out of water again, was on my way.
The water was enough to get me to the odd little "town" of Newhalem, where I arrived five minutes before the lone store closed at 5:00, and purchased an armful of pop, Gatorade, and huge, delicious cookies whose brandname I can't remember, and which, tragically, I could never find again.
Newhalem is a "company town", owned by the Seattle City Light utility company, and populated solely by employees who work at the surrounding hydroelectric power-generating stations on the nearby Skagit River. The town's small park, and the yards of all the nearly identical homes were surprisingly well-manicured. Except for the woman at the store, I didn't see a single person around. The place was so lonesome that I was a little creeped out, and I was soon on my way.
After days of riding through hot, super-arid Eastern Washington, it was a pleasure to ride through the lush, green landscape along the Skagit River. It was a flat, easy ride to Marblemount (pop. 251), where the campground outside of town was truly dire - an overgrown field containing a single rusty old RV. I decided to move on, after stopping for chocolate milk at a country store in Marblemount.
Several miles down the road I pulled in at what might be the oddest campground of the tour. Kitschy "Bunny Rabbit Crossing", "Please Feed the Bunnies", and similar signs abounded, and dozens (hundreds?) of the bizarrely tame "bunnies" were lying around everywhere, staring at me. I made a few sudden movements to see if they would startle, but no - the just stared blankly at me. It was kind of a creepy scene.
After finding the campground office, I waited for 20 minutes as the annoying dude there engaged in a long, obviously personal, telephone call, while ignoring me. When he finally turned his attention to me, he informed me that he "normally" charged $20 to camp. "Normally?" I was irritated by now, and having decided the shabby place was definitely worth no more than 10 bucks, left in a mild huff. As I road back to the highway, I threaded the bike beween groups of the oddly unafraid rabbits, who continued to stare impassively.
The sun was going down by now, but my map listed a state park nearby, so I was disappointed when I arrived there to find a "No Camping" sign at the entrance. What!? I decided to keep heading toward the charmingly named town of "Concrete", while looking for a stealth camping opportunity. Just as I was getting ready to stop for the day and hide my tent in one of the overgrown fields, I came upon the 1970's-era Eagles Nest Motel and RV Park. The extremely tired but nice lady there told me I could camp where I wanted for $10. At the completion of the transaction, she handed me a roll of toilet paper (!?) and gave me directions to the bathroom and shower, which apparently were located on the second floor of an adjacent, seemingly defunct restaurant.
After quickly setting up the tent in the near-darkness, I made my way to the old restaurant (complimentary toilet paper in hand), and climbed the outside stairs, where I was briefly surprised to find myself looking in at the startled occupants of an apartment:
"Uhhh... I'm looing for the bathroom?"
"Oh - just keep walking that way."
"OK - Thanks!"
The bathroom and shower were about what you would expect in such a place, but my previously high standards have plummeted to such an extent that I barely noticed the grunge.
It was now completely dark as I found my way back to the tent, where I had a few melted candy bars and soda pop for dinner, then lay down and quickly fell asleep, tired but satisfied after the day's unplanned century ride.
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Today's ride: 112 miles (180 km)
Total: 6,381 miles (10,269 km)
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