The sun rises early but Mark and I sleep until 5:30 AM. We eat a bit off our supplies, break camp and a bit after 6:00 AM we're the day's first customers at the Winthrop Chevron. Along with some shortbread cookies and a small square of chocolate, I buy a 24 oz. bottle of Gatorade. While the contents of this bottle will be welcome in the warm part of the day, this purchase also provides me with the third bottle I wanted for water storage. The bottle fits nicely along the top of my coroplast handlebar bag, underneath the map holder.

The day quickly warms and we climb Loup Loup Pass. Mark is definitely less chipper than he was yesterday and at one point he asks how I'm doing. I've noticed that when a fellow rider asks how you're doing it's almost always an indication that they aren't feeling great. Unfortunately for Mark, I'm feeling fine and I tell him so. I also mention that I'm looking forward to settling into what I call full "road-mode".

This trip is my biggest test to date of my road-mode theory. Mark and some of the other randonneurs have accused me of speeding up as the events get longer but the actual truth is is that most randonneurs slow down in the later stages of long rides. I think this is because they gauge their effort to specific distances, trying for the best time and using their reserves in such a way that they end the ride with the physiologic equivalent of an empty gas tank. I don't ride that way. I always try to run at a sustainable pace, fueling my body as I go. When I'm in "road-mode" the rhythm of riding/eating/sleeping becomes virtually automatic and the question is never "Can I cover this distance?" Instead the questions become "How long will this ride take?" and "Do I have enough food?"

Twenty years ago I rode a solo Minnesota to California bike tour in which I covered 2,300 miles in 21 days. Now, twenty years later, I'm on another journey. This road is not quite as long, but then I'm not quite as young. And I'm attempting this with far fewer gears and a projected pace at least 50 percent faster than what I'd done back in '82. But the basic principle is the same and it's so simple it fits on a T-shirt:

At Okanogon Mark suggests a real breakfast stop so we load up on our standard heavy fuel of bacon, eggs and hashbrowns at a place called the Sidekick Cafe. We discuss the road ahead, revise our plan for the day and call our wives. Originally we'd planned on following Alex Wetmore's route across the Coleville Indian Reservation but the Microsoft Streets & Trips routing for this section includes the ominous instruction "turn onto local roads". This is the modern equivalent of the old cartographer's note "here be dragons" so we are wary. Also, Hwy 20 has been a great road thus far so we agree to stay on 20. Mark decides that Republic, Washington will be the end of the trip for him and he'll have Jane meet him there. I'm not sure how much more ground I'll cover today, but I'd like to get closer to the Idaho border.

We press on, stopping briefly in Tonaskat around noon where I have another of my standard road snacks, a pint of milk and a Snickers Ice Cream Bar. As I've noted many times, I am not a nutritional role model.

There's a hard, hot dry climb out of Tonasket followed by some flat chipsealed road and then Hwy 20 winds it's way up Wauconda Pass. This is terrific stretch of road and while the day is hot and sunny this is certainly a beautiful part of Washington state. There are lots of wildflowers in the meadows, red-wind and yellow-headed blackbirds and a few spectacular rock outcroppings along the roadside. I'm enjoying the climb but Mark had been slowing down and weaving a bit and now he's faded off the back. As I crest Wauconda Pass I look back and don't see any sign of Mark. I spin down into Republic and find a grocery store. It's now 3:45 PM and I fuel up on milk, PowerAde and Pringles potato chips. I'm munching happily when Mark rolls in. He doesn't look good.

This is the end of the ride for Mark and I think he's relieved. In a way, I'm relieved as well. While I certainly enjoy having a riding companion and Mark is one of the best riders I know, everyone has to ride their own ride. Mark and I both know this and today I have to continue on and he really does have to stop here. I finish up my snack and thank Mark for the ride. He pats me on the shoulder and wishes me luck for the rest of the journey. I head back out into the sun, still heading east on Hwy 20.

The road goes up and up and up. Since I'd originally been thinking of following Alex's route instead of Hwy 20, I'm a little vague about the exact nature of what lies ahead. While I do own a set of the Adventure Cycling Northern Tier Maps, I'd figured they weren't worth the weight and I'm instead using the maps I'd generated with Streets and Trips. But I my Streets and Trips maps detail Alex's route, not this section of Hwy 20. As I climb I'm figuring that this had better damn well be a named pass with an elevation marker at the top or I'm going to feel kind of cheated. I'm also thinking that this is the kind of climb that Mark would love.

At 6:15 PM I'm very pleased to see the Sherman Pass summit sign listing the elevation as 5575 feet. I follow my usual procedure and pile on clothing for the descent. It's a long, swooping drop and eventually I see the Columbia River. The road turns north for a bit as I ride along the rolling hills beside the river before the road twists east again and crosses a big bridge. At 8:10 PM, I stop at the Kettle Falls Chevron, load up on my evening snack food and call Christine. I'm not quite sure where I'll stop for the night but Christine and I exchange the news of our days. I tell her I'll probably camp somewhere around Colville. After I hang up the payphone, I put on my reflective gear, turn on my lights and head east once again.

I get into Colville a bit after 9:00 PM and I begin scouting around for a likely place to camp. I see a decent looking field behind a strip mall. It's certainly not the prettiest place I've seen today but there's a bit of a hill rising up behind the field and I think the grass is high enough that I can lay down my bike, set up my bivy and camp undisturbed. And it's getting pretty dark now so I figure I'll settle in.

I roll Eddy into the field and a deer bounds away and up the hill. I figure this is a good sign. I'm keeping low and rolling out my bivy sack when I see a fellow walking towards me. My first thought is "uh-oh, busted!" While this land didn't have any obvious "No Trespassing" signs it also didn't have any "Welcome Campers" signs either. I'd kind of been counting on just passing through not really having to explain myself to anybody and leaving no trace behind when I leave. Now it looks like that won't exactly be the way this night is going to unfold.

The guy is a few years younger than me and he looks pretty relaxed. He's wearing a backpack and he's munching an apple. "Whatcha doin'?" he asks.

"Ridin' cross country," I reply trying to sound casual and pointing at the bike. "I pretty much ride 'til dark and then find a place where I won't disturb anybody. I'll be gone in the morning."

The fellow nods and squints along the line of sight between where we are and the back of the strip mall. "You think you're far enough back to not get hassled here?" he asks.

"Well, I thought I was." I reply with a bit of a grin, "Once I get my gear rolled out and I lay down, I should be hidden by the weeds."

The apple guy nods. "The reason I'm asking," he says, "is that I'm hitchin cross country myself and I was looking for a place to crash. I don't want to disturb you though. I think I'm going to head up the hill a ways." He points to a thicket of low trees about thirty yards off.

What remains of the tension in my shoulders drops away. "Yeah, that looks like a good place," I say.

The apple guy hitches his pack but before he heads out he asks me "You got enough food? I've got some more apples if you're hungry."

"Nah," I reply, "I'm OK on supplies."

"OK then," he responds, "have a good trip."

"You too." I say. And with that the apple guy heads up the hill to make his camp.

I finish setting up my bivy and settle in for the night. One of the small luxuries I've brought with my on this trip is a 4 ounce Grundig 100 PE mini AM/FM/Shortwave radio. I tune in a radio station that's playing some of Harry Chapin's lesser-known songs and listen for a while I jot down the day's notes.

Forward to June 17, 2002 -- Coleville WA to Western MT

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