June 18, 2019
Day Nine: Juntura, Oregon to Emmett, Idaho
I was up before dawn this morning, ready to ride. I'd shaken off yesterday's lethargy. Maybe hanging out much of the day at the bustling Oasis Cafe, and eating more than usual, had energized me
Yesterday I'd seen an older man standing outside the room next to mine several times, smoking. He looked kinda like Santa Claus, if Santa Claus was a chain smoker who preferred wearing baggy shorts and no shirt.
This morning when I walked outside to check the temperature (chilly) he was already up, smoking. Yesterday we'd nodded at each other a few times, but this morning we had a conversation while I waited for enough light to ride.
The guy was 70, retired, but now working part-time as a flagger on a road crew ("Ya gotta stay busy!"). He had a booming voice, and I was concerned that he would wake up the other guests in the motel, so I kept my own voice lower than usual, in a failed attempt to get him to talk a little more quietly. He was extremely interested in the route I was taking today, and after I extricated myself from the conversation and went back inside my room under some pretense, he knocked on the door a few minutes later - he really, really wanted see my exact route. Once I showed it to him on my phone, he was satisfied that it was acceptable, although he disputed the names of one of the roads. He said he grew up in the area, and that's not what it was called.
By now it was light enough to ride, so I turned on my bright blinking red light and headed out. I wanted to make an early start because the first 30-some miles were through a winding, narrow canyon. I wanted to get that done before traffic picked up.
My plan to beat the traffic in the canyon was mostly successful. There were a few trucks, but they were no problem.
As I approached Harper, things opened up, and I saw a few ranches.
I was surprised to see an open business in tiny Harper. I stopped and walked into Coleman's Service, and talked for a while to Brian, the owner. The store was a bit of a jumble. Stacks of old newspapers, a few racks of snacks, a cooler for cold drinks. Brian told me that the store had been open for 88 years. He asked how old I was, then told me he was 58, and that he hoped to celebrate the store's 100th anniversary when he was 70. It sounded like he would be the last proprietor of the store, since no one else in his family was interested in it.
A few locals came in, one of whom told Brian about a car that had caught on fire a few miles down the highway the night before. A truck pulled up to the store. "Sheep", said Brian, who undoubtedly knew everything that occurred in a several-mile-radius of Harper. He told me that he was of Basque heritage, and that his people came to the area to work with the sheep. As the truck driver walked into the store, Brian said "And here's a Basque-O now!"
I walked outside to look around. I was checking out an old phone booth when Brian walked up. "It still works. Free for local calls." There was no cell signal in the area, so the phone booth apparently still got some use.
There was a framed Harper phone directory inside the booth. Based on the rustiness of the frame, I imagine it was decades old.
I finished my Grandma's Cookies and Diet Pepsi and rode away. Now that I was out of the canyon, the shoulder widened, just in time for an increase in traffic.
I passed the burned-out car I'd heard about at the store, but didn't get too close, since there was glass all over the place, presumably from the windshield exploding.
I climbed for a while, then descended into a broad valley with huge irrigated fields. I was surprised to see corn, and I think lettuce, growing in such a dry area.
At 50-something miles it was not even noon when I arrived in Vale, population 1,874. Vale was a busy, prosperous looking town. I liked the look of the place. There was even a painted bike lane through town.
I rode around town for a while, looked at several interesting murals, then had lunch at the Starlite Cafe. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich - Surprise! - but was initially presented with a ham and cheese sandwich instead, which I sent back. I'm going to stick with the vegetarian diet on this trip as long as I can, although I suspect at some point I'll probably cave in and eat a juicy cheeseburger, the only meat that I occasionally crave.
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I was happy to exit US-20 at Vale. I took a series of hot, empty, shade-less agricultural roads out of town, all the way to the next, much larger town, Ontario
At a sharp curve on one of these empty roads, I encountered a roadside memorial for a man named Eddie. I almost always stop and look at these memorials. Interestingly, there have been very, very few of these on my route in Oregon.
Someone had placed packages of Marshmallow Kabobs, a snack I'd never heard of, but which I imagine was Eddie's favorite, at his memorial.
A few miles later, I encountered several onions lying in the road. I very briefly considered taking one with me, but abandoned it after further consideration.
It took me a while to ride through the very busy border city of Ontario, Oregon, population 11,009. A lot of times I experience a nervous meltdown while trying to find a route through busy cities on bike tours. This time, though, I'm proud to say I maintained my composure.
It helped that John Egan, who created this coast-to-coast route for me, had provided useful, detailed instructions for getting through Ontario. At one point I was advised to ride a sidewalk through a park. The water in my bottles was by now almost undrinkably hot, so I stopped at a water fountain to fill up. A man sitting on a bench nearby was observing this process, and offered me a cold bottle of water. I was hesitant at first, since the guy didn't look well, and I didn't want to take the last of his water. He assured me that he had a lot. He told me that after having an ileostomy performed, he was a frequent victim of dehydration. "That's my second home now", he said, pointing to a hospital just outside the park. It sounds corny, but this reminded me that I really am fortunate to be healthy, and that I really need to stop complaining about minor inconveniences.
In a few miles I reached the busy crossing of the Snake River, where I was extremely relieved to find a separated pedestrian lane, and entered Idaho.
I stopped at a "Stinker" convenient store and chugged some Gatorade, then endured perhaps a half mile of ultra-busy traffic, during which I took the lane. Then 99% of the traffic evaporated as people turned onto US-95, leaving me on what was now an empty country road.
I followed a series of empty roads to the town of New Plymouth, population 1,538.
This seemed like a typical, small agricultural town, with one bizarre exception. On the town's main street, with the usual cafes, bars, antique/junk shops, there was an imposing, new-looking building that is apparently the headquarters for a somewhat well-known software company, "truckstop.com". Wild.
The next few hours frustratingly slow, because I had to frequently refer to my phone to follow the many turns that were designed to keep my on empty country roads (including some gravel), and off extremely busy and unpleasant Highway 52. I should have just written all those turns down on a piece of paper, a low-tech solution that would have been preferable in this case.
I finally got to Emmett, population 5,490. On my way to the Holiday Motel, I rode past the crazy-looking high school, a series of huge domes. (More information here: https://www.monolithic.org/featured/featured-schools/emmett-high-school-first-monolithic-dome-school-ten-years-later)
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I'd already called ahead to the Holiday Motel, where the lady greeted me with "You made it after all!" The old-style motor lodge was appealing, and the town had everything I need to resupply for the next several days of remote country, so I decided to take a rest/work/chore day tomorrow and prepare for the rest of Idaho.
Today's ride: 107 miles (172 km)
Total: 767 miles (1,234 km)
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