Friday, May 28 It's rained every day. Sometimes a little, sometimes enough to put on raingear, and sometimes, like the entire day today, the kind of rain that requires everything: Goretex jacket, rain cover for the helmet, neoprene gloves, Goretex pants, neoprene covers for the shoes, warm clothing under it all. I was cold most of the day. It snowed, 1/2 inch accumuation - on the BIKE - for more than an hour getting over Sherman Pass. It was pretty, but snow is prettier when you're skiing. I was unprepared for what followed on the downhill ride. The other passes were exhilarating. This was frightening. The wind howled. The rain dumped in sheets. Hwy 20 ran like a creek. My hands got so cold that I couldn't feel the brake handles - so I stopped, on the 1 foot shoulder, put my hands with wet gloves down my pants for about 20 minutes waiting for some feeling, then waiting for them to warm. With a now wet crotch, I continued 30 more miles in pelting rain. Sometimes screaming, sometimes cursing, and in the end, laughing maniacally. Is this why I'm doing ths?
At the end of this grueling then harrowing day, I finally rolled into Kettle Falls. My momma never used the axom 'if you can't say something nice...". Armpit is much, much too nice a metaphor. Actually, no part of the body is so vile, unless it requires lots of antibiotics. There was one notable exception - the natural food store and deli. Desperate for hot food after six hours of rain, my heart sank when I discovered it was closed. After all, it was almost 6pm. Two locals told me 'go to Colville' - another 10 miles. So it was my first 60 mile day, just to get a hot meal that was not inside a dark-windowed bar with animal beer neon signs in every window and a kitchen whose sole fixture is a deep fryer filled with biodiesel reject. Did I mention that the local high school's sign is clearly courtesy of Pepsi?
The waitress in Colville said it has never been this cold or rained this much in May in memory. They've had 6 tornados this past year, and they're getting bigger. This was never tornado country. Oh, I'm sure this is yet another random anomaly.
I remember talking to Josef, who is almost done with his Virginia to Seattle ride, who said casually, "I don't like shifting". I was stunned. Isn't that like a racecar driver saying 'I don't like steering"?
At dinner I talked to Jack, a 54yo truck driver. He drives 10 hours per day. When I asked if he had his own rig, he explained that unless you had a fleet of trucks, you couldn't get good gas price contracts. With hauling prices as low as $1 per mile, diesel at $2.40, and a truck that gets 4-5 mpg, independents are getting squeezed. Imagine that.