The Time Traveller’s Wifi

Day 14

New Meadows, ID to Whitebird Summit, ID

Distance: 77 miles

Max temp: 105.6F

Switchbacks: lost count

Welfie (noun, informal) (1) a photo that one has taken of oneself in wet-weather gear; (2) a photo that royalty or a cast member of Made in Chelsea has taken of him/herself, repeatedly, and posted on social media; (3) (adjective) polite description by an East Ender of someone in category (2) above. 

So, in case you hadn't guessed, it rained this morning, and I got caught in it.

After a fantastic and restful time yesterday, it was a bit of a wrench this morning to tear myself away from Phyllis and her comfortable cabin in McCall but, seeing as the rain and storms overnight had cleared up completely by the morning, I had no excuse but to get back on Steed and pedal my little heart out again.

And although I felt sad to leave, it wasn’t long before I was bombing along at top speed, in a gorgeously cool and calm morning, talking to the cows and the birds and generally feeling on top form again. For a few miles. Until I heard a rumble of thunder, and felt a few large spots of rain, and pulled over to extract my new wet-weather gear from the panniers and give it its first airing.

In fact, it rained quite hard. It rained for around 20 miles of my journey, giving ample time for me to snap my first Welfie…

And then the sun came out.

Stopping at Riggins, ID, the first town of the day and around 35 miles into the ride, I found a great little coffee shop called Twin Bridges, which roasts its own coffee, and knows how to make them properly too. I lounged around in there for a while eating a cinnamon roll and a bagel with cream cheese while sipping my delicious latte, and availing myself of their excellent wifi.

And that’s when the puzzle starts. At 11.05am I was licking the last remnants of the cinnamon icing from my lips, packing up leftover items and squeezing them into the handlebar bag with all the other crud, and getting ready to depart. So, then how is it that at 11.05am precisely, I was 15 miles down the road taking a photo of the salmon river gorge?

How can that be? It’s a bit like the guy in the full frogman suit who was found miles from anywhere in the middle of some burnt out woodland; or the guy lying dead in the middle of a large field with an unopened package next to him…

Well, this is why… 

Bizarre, but true. Southern Idaho is on Mountain time and so although I lost an hour leaving Oregon and entering Idaho, Northern Idaho is on Pacific Time, so I’ve gained it back again…  It’s like the time zone hokey-cokey for pete’s sake.

Anyhow, after stopping for half a sandwich at White Bird, over 60 miles into my ride, the real challenge for the day started. Climbing over 2,000ft to a height of 4,245ft to the top of the main road passing over the Whitebird hill, and then climbing a bit more to get to my B&B for the night. It might not have been so tough were it not for the 105.6F temperature, and the 20 or so switchbacks that had to be navigated to make it to the top. I have to say that, even employing my Florence and the Latrine antics of dousing my white top and neck cover regularly with water, the heat was still draining, and it was a real slog getting to the top.

But when I got here, I received a warm welcome from the owners Terri and Frank, some of the other guests, and the many dogs of various sizes and colours that live here. Getting to my room, I was transfixed watching a group of humming birds drinking from a feeder…yay, I got a photo this time.

And then Terri insisted that I joined a group of them for dinner at the lodge (rather than cycling a long way into town and back), which was a godsend, and great fun to boot.

Retiring to my room to chill out and write this blog, I note to myself that I will certainly not want to be sleepwalking in the night. The property is full of stuffed animals, most if not all shot and stuffed by Frank, and very elegantly displayed around the various stylish rooms that make up the lodge. Waking up face to face with my head in the jaws of a snarling black bear isn’t something that particularly appeals. Although I’d be more worried to see an empty space with a plaque below reading ‘touring cyclist”.

And so as I turn out that light, I shall be thinking happy thoughts of Terri’s delicious cooking and the promise of a hearty and healthy breakfast tomorrow, before I get to freewheel down the other side of that hill, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Me x