I took my time in Republic this morning, finishing the previous day’s blog post, squaring away my rental application and ordering an Amtrak ticket from Sandpoint to Everett on Saturday. It’s truly amazing what a person can do on a cellphone. There’s no better time to travel (minus the Pandemic, of course).
After purchasing groceries, I started cycling (11:30 AM). It took five hours of consistent pedaling to reach the top of Sherman Pass. There was beauty all around.
Grassland, pine and rock faces combine in pleasing patterns. Small creeks chuckle as you roll by.
For several stretches, hitchhiking mosquitoes stopped for a ride and a meal. Some met their maker. Others left a red calling card.
I stopped numerous times to consume calories. Long stretches of cycling demand that a rider pay attention to blood sugar levels. Error on the side of more fuel.
The downhill to Kettle Falls was, again, something to remember. This was the last major pass that I would be coasting down. I was conscious to soak up the feeling. I’m certain that it meant more having climbed the other side. The downhill balances the day - the agony, the ecstasy.
My map showed a campsite on the banks of the Columbia, just shy of Kettle Falls. Upon entering, I noticed several signs that were clear about the fact that campers needed advance, online reservations three-days in advance of their stay. I filled my water bottles, thinking that I’d find a stealth spot to camp later down the line.
Cycling out, I pedaled by the campsite host. He happened to be outside, and, after a brief conversation, hooked me up with a FREE spot overlooking the river. Travel magic.
There were no showers, but no matter. I bathed on the banks of the Columbia.
I ended the day with a long chat with Beth (What could be better?).
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