Monday, July16th. I think.

Okay, this was a day. Struck out from… Grangeville? Yes, Grangeville. The Gateway Inn was lovely, but also the place I had my first confrontation with someone who insisted on arguing with me. (When I say confrontation, I simply mean I wouldn’t agree with him that the thing destroying his city is "immigration." There was no actual conflict involved.) But he seemed like a nice enough guy - came up to me to ask, as so many have, if I was really from Maryland - and did I really get here on…”that?” We went through the whole panoply of sound bites, even made it to “what about her e-mails.” I am sure he’d have been wearing a MAGA hat, if he had thought of it. He seemed undaunted by my theatre background, but there was a noticeable smirk when I mentioned I was teaching at a college. 

Sigh. 

Still, we parted politely, and I went off to find breakfast, which was pretty much only available at one place. A similarly “red-faced” establishment, but one where the conversation focused mostly on planting patterns and fertilizer deliveries. Grangeville is a really small town, and everyone there was really nice to me, and they all seemed to know who I was by the time I left. 

This is what it looks like around Grangeville...

...and this is what it looks like ten minutes later. I'll never get used to the "landscape whiplash" but, I love it. (except for having to fight the impulse to pull over and take a picture every. single. minute

I came back to pack the bike and head out, hoping for once to beat check out (I did) and hit the road for the west again. The first part of the days journey was pleasant enough - Idaho turned from high prairie to canyons and switch backs surprisingly quickly, and I found my self running parallel with a river, as per usual - this time the Salmon. I stopped for lunch at an adorable little cafe along the route, in Riggins, which is a place I could see settling down, if they had wifi. I swear.

The Back Eddy Grill has deep-fried Bison steak fingers. OMG. 

Here I met Pete, Sarah, and their dog Pepper, who must have been sent to balance out the gentleman from the morning, because they were the sweetest couple, and they gave me some great local travel tips, and suggested a campground (that I ultimately decided against, in the interest of making my distance goal.) we circled around each other somewhat warily, until one of us, I honestly don’t remember who, said the shibboleth, and we realized that we were of like minds. We bemoaned the state of the world today, and they caught me up on recent events, which made me a little sad, but not surprised. They hailed from Boise, and I can honestly say they were as ringing an endorsement as a town could have. They were in the area to visit their grown daughter,  who had gone to undergrad in MD... so they had a nice word for the DelMarVa. I struck out from Riggins, hoping to make Mitchelll where I knew Marcus and John were heading, and made it up and out of the canyons, via some really nice riding, and crossed into Oregon (yay!) until…..

I noticed the sky not looking… quite as welcoming as it had been.

Nothing like being able to track the one hunting you...

The following photos are a record of my attempts (ultimately pretty successful) to dodge the scariest storm I have seen yet, (at least since the one I dodged in the Dakotas) and I got a little damp, but honestly, at the speeds I was traveling, and in the unbelievable winds that came with the storm front, the rain dried as fast as it fell. Everywhere around, however, was getting hammered. I still can’t quite believe I managed to thread the needle on this whole storm system. I actually ducked back into Idaho, having crossed once into Oregon, but ultimately followed my nose through side roads in Oregon, and found my way to US95 again.

I actually ran back into Idaho, briefly, running from the storm...

I don't have any really good pictures of the storm - and it would take video, because there were dust storms all around. It was strongest when I dived into a truck stop in Ontario, but we were all too busy holding down our belongings to worry about photographic evidence.

Blue sky ahead - In Which I Realize I Am Going To Pull This Off.

The weather after the storm was obligingly cooler, but I was running into a new issue - I had no cell signal at all, and had failed to get a paper map of Oregon. Also, it was much later than I had wanted it to be, since I spent  far too much time dodging the storm. Just as suddenly as the terrain had changed before, I found myself in an amazing one forest and realized that I was in the Wallowa - Whitman National Forest  park.

This picture just made me happy - I figured after dodging the storm, I had earned a rainbow of some sort.

I came across this site on my trip through the forest park. Also, my first sunset, really, on the whole trip...

Now if my Yellowstone experience taught me anything, it’s that there will be no gas in the park, and I had no idea how long it would be before I hit a town (a real town) again; I filled up at the truck stop in Ontario, when I was dodging the storm, but the tank was predictably getting lower and lower with no sign of a gas pump in the offing. Also - it was getting darker, and darker. Also: COLD. The temp had dropped from 100 in the shade to below 65 in what seems like no time, with the change in elevation and the vanishing sun. I held out hope when I saw the sign for Prairie City (hey, “city” is in the name, right?) but Prairie City turned out to be a ville that closed down at 6 pm., with one gas station, with one pump. A mechanical one.. (“after hours, call _______”) 

I called. No answer. I am a little frantic. I call again. The gas tank is down to its last bar (although it isn’t flashing yet) and I have one more hope - the town of John Day. WTF?!. Who is John Day? (and why do I care?) But right now, John Day has the potential to be my savior, or my nemesis….

The vista in John Day, as I wait to see if my card goes through on the gas pump.

I pull into John Day, and there is again, one gas station, which is closed, with one pump. BUT IT’S NOT MECHANICAL… I pray for the sign that does, actually, appear: “after hours, credit card only”.

Thank John Day.

Saved. John Day is my hero. I decide that I have had enough road, and enough excitement for one day. (A John Day. Get it?) I find a motel online, and book a room. It’s three blocks up the street. I’m so happy….until I get there, and there is no record of my reservation. I’ve never had this problem with Expedia, so I ask him to check again…. “what’s… your name?" I tell him. “yeah. You booked for tomorrow night.” I check. He’s right.

I am an idiot. 

The good-natured clerk not only back-charges my room from the 17th to the 16th, he gets me a ground floor room that I park my bike right next to. It’s 10 pm - nothing comes off the bike - I throw the cover over the luggage, and go inside the rom to, literally, crash. Even if I had been up to it, the clerk tells me that John Day closes at 10pm. 

Next up - waking in John Day, the breakfast of all breakfast, and John and Marcus’ route. Dinosaurs, canyons, and who is John Day, anyway???

This is unedited. Pics coming soon. Too much time riding, and not enough time editing and uploading. (wait - that can't be right. Can it?)