June 23, 2019
Day Fourteen: Clyde, Idaho to Dubois, Idaho
Last night a guy wearing a reflective vest approached me after I set up the tent. He was apparently a friend of the Amy family, and had either been enlisted, or more likely, had volunteered, to be in charge of where people parked their travel trailers, set up their tents, and other related matters. He of course quickly identified me as an interloper, so I had to spend a few minutes convincing him of my bona fides. After that he seemed to warm to me, and made sure I understood just how cold it would get here at night at 6,000 feet, providing a couple of cautionary tales of unprepared tent campers.
He should have told all this to the two dumb asses who had their tent set up next to mine. They were apparently not from the region, and began complaining of the cold before it was even dark. At 2:00 in the morning, hours after the wedding reception music had ended, I was awakened by them arguing. They apparently had tried to warm themselves by drinking even more of the alcohol that had earlier been flowing freely at the reception, and I had to listen to the incoherent recriminations about whose fault were the sleeping arrangements. One of them apparently decidedly to sleep in their vehicle, moved there, accidentally (?) blew the horn, and started the engine, while I worried, in my half-awake state, if the tailpipe was close enough to my tent give me carbon monoxide poisoning.
I slept a few hours, and then was awake at 5:00 for good. I quickly got everything packed up and on the bike. It was cold. As I was wheeling the bike to the road, a middle-aged guy, a member of the Amy family, walked over and asked if I wanted a cup of coffee, or anything else from the campground building. I didn't really want anything, but I was curious about what was in the building, so I went in and looked around. There were many, many empty beer and liquor bottles. I had apparently assumed incorrectly last night that this was a Mormon wedding. Or maybe these were Mormons who had been very, very naughty.
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It was an enjoyable, easy 30-mile ride to Howe, the scenery more of the pleasant ranch land I'd seen yesterday.
While I was stopped at the edge of a driveway looking at the map on my phone, a man emerged from the house and said hello. After a brief chat, he invited me to sit on his porch and talk a while, and I went over and sat down. His name was Rex, and he'd recently retired. He had some questions about the bike trip, expressed his demographic's usual interest in my bike tires, and offered to make me breakfast. This was tempting, but I said no thanks, because I didn't want this to turn into a lengthy encounter when I had at least fifty miles to ride. He took a phone call from his wife, and I got the impresion she was asking why he hadn't arrived at church yet. "I'm sitting here talking to this cross-country bicycler", he told her. I was happy to do my part in his church-avoidance, ha!
After I left I looked around tiny Howe for a few minutes, then called one of the two motels in Dubois. After last night, I needed to catch up on sleep, so a bed was essential tonight. The woman I talked to said she had a room she'd hold for me, and the price was extremely appealing - by far the lowest of this trip.
It was 52 nicely low-traffic miles to Dubois. The scenery was alright but nothing special today, so I decided to make a little game of how fast I could get there, setting a goal of 2:30, which I achieved.
Dubois was unfortunately a letdown. It was near an interstate exit, something which I somehow had not noticed when I'd looked at the map earlier, so there was the ultra-busy truck stop and then a quarter of a mile to a very rundown and shabby downtown. Worse, the motel, which was inconveniently on the other end of town, and whose low price should have aroused suspicion, was truly awful. Joy and I once stayed at a terrible old motel in Indiana called the "Shakamak Inn", and it has remained a private joke, and the benchmark of horrible lodging. When I called Joy later I told her the place I was staying tonight should be called the "Suckamak Inn." Or maybe the "Sadamak Inn." Actually, I felt a little sorry for the owner. When he showed me the room, he seemed embarrassed at the fact that he was even renting it in its condition. Without my asking, he sheepishly gave me a discount off the already low rate.
After cleaning up (the shower eventually emitted some hot water after several minutes), I moped for a while, fighting the Sunday Blues, then roused myself to walk to the truck stop where I ate a veggie pizza and Doritos, and observed the many weary travelers coming into the store from the interstate.
Back at the "Sadamak Inn" I went to bed before dark, as has become my habit. Considering how run down and broken everything else in the place was, the bed was surprisingly comfortable, and I quickly fell into a deep sleep.
Today's ride: 85 miles (137 km)
Total: 1,127 miles (1,814 km)
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