Day thirteen was a long pull-110 miles- that turned out to be no big deal at all. The route was relatively flat with about 2,000 feet of vertical that took us up to about 4,500' with assorted ups and downs along the way. We got an early start- breakfast was at 5:30 and load at 6:00, so by 6:01 the riders were peeling out onto the road. I rode with a large and now familiar group to start- the Miller Train, The Three D's, The Paine Train (Joel and Allison) Gary from Wisconsin and a few others.
Since the ride was flat and the wind at our backs, the mood was relaxed and chatty. Gary and I had fun talking about Wisconsin Fly fishing (he's from Madison). He had me gut laughing with his story about meeting his roommate. It seems that this guy is rather, shall we say subdued, and sells tractor parts for a living. Gary was struggling to draw out some conversation and after trying Wisconsin sports teams and numerous other subjects- all of which got monosyllabic responses, Gary asked about this fellow's hobbies. The fellow said no hobbies and then, half an hour later, came back and said yes, he did have one- it seems that he enjoyed picking up lost tools along the road side. Gary asked if he displayed them. No, I just keep them in a box in the garage, was the answer. Dee-lite-full.
I felt good on today's ride. Having been on the bike for 12 of the last 13 days and having ridden nearly a thousand miles since we started, on top of the 9,700 miles ridden since last June, I'm feeling pretty strong. Not really fast (gravity sees to that), but I feel like I can go all day. In fact today's ride is my 7th century (or very close to century) in the last two months. So, ride all day is what we did, arriving at our hotel at about 3:330PM. However, that included three sags, a prolonged ice cream break, one sightseeing detour, and a great lunch break. Someone said our average speed was around 16- not bad for this old man.
The route today took us through more irrigated crops, mostly potatoes and alphalfa, and ocassionally skirted the Snake River. The Snake River plays a major role in this part of Idaho as nothing, not even front yards, could exist without the blessings of the river. The fields contain a maze of irrigation ditches, some major in size- I'd guess 30-50 feet across, sometimes crossing roads, and others just enough to wet a single field. At times you ride along and see, hear and feel the massive quantities of water being run through the towering irrigation rigs and you wonder about the battles, physical and legal, that have been waged over water rights out here. I suspect that in years to come, as water comes to be in shorter supply, folks will want to revisit how and by whom the Snake and it's siblings are used.
As we pulled out of Burley, a real one horse town, we were soon on a "chip and seal" farm to market road, which is rough beyond description. By the first sag, one of the bolts holding my water bottle cages had disappeared and the other three were well on their way to wiggling themselves free. (Now you and I both know that these kinds of bolts, really they're just screws, would never stand a chance out here. Not like some big bolt off a big, dull green John Deere tractor- these are city bolts. Whatever were they thinking??) At mile 47, we finally got off the torture rack and jumped onto I-86 and the smoothest pavement we've ridden.
Our pace line tightened it's formation and we sailed about 8 miles in very short order, then returned to our two lane route, the wind still pushing us along on a mid 70 degree, cloudless, zero humidity day. And you did what?About the time we'd start to tell ourselves how great life was, we'd be reminded that in two days the party is scheduled to be over. We'll have to strap on our big-boy boots and report for work. Yes my children, the Rocky Mountains can see us. They are licking their lips and want us to know that they have a few fun days in store for us.
At mile 72 we barreled down the main drag of Aberdeen, ID and one by one, the peleton began to call out for ice cream. As luck would have it, we stumbled into one of those old fashioned main street drug stores, like the one that used to be in Victor, NY (you've all been there right?), that sold ice cream- most of us choosing the "Moose Tracks" in waffle cones. After about a thirty minute break, including a session explaining our trip to the owner, we again sped on down the road
in a well organized pace line. With Mariah (you'll recall that way out here they call the wind Mariah) flowing across our backsides, our posse began the hunt for lunch. (Ice cream, then lunch-it's legal when cycling). We finally solved the puzzle at mile 105 and stopped at a nifty little burger shack, where the locals gave us the kind of stares that are usually reserved for kids at the mall with multiple body piercings. But I must admit that 8 adults in garishly colored spandex, clicking and clacking in cycling shoes is a bit out of the ordinary in Idaho farm country.Following lunch, Derek and I felt our Mojo's rumbling and we broke from the group and laid rubber down the road like two pro fuel dragsters (poetic license taken here). My thought was that we'd scald the dog the remaining 5 miles into town. But along the way we spotted Darrell, a fellow rider, up ahead. Darrell is a neat guy, retired surgeon I believe, who always seems to be alone and struggling a bit. So we decided to see if Darrell wanted us to "pull" him in the remaining 3-4 miles. He thought that was a great idea and for the first time ever, he drafted a ride. He kept saying how great it was and thanked us repeatedly.
After a dandy catered dinner
(lasagna, Barbeque chicken cooked in a dutch oven) I retired to the lobby. I found Marianne and Michael there and I shared some of my music collection with them, introducing them to Mark Knopfler and David Gilmour. I crashed early and planned to sleep in as tomorrow's ride is a short one. Nighty night.
