42.73 miles (Total: 3807.03) Avg Speed: 10.7mph Max Speed: 24mph
2 Bananas and a Cliff bar for breakfast and I was ready to get the show on the road. I was hoping to buy a new rear wheel in Baker City, I think riding for the lengths of time I have on the trip with an unbalanced wheel has riddled it for life. It was going to be a shorter day with only one big climb towards the end so me, Wim and Terry took it easy. Wim had noticed a hole in his tyre this morning so was using his replacement folding tyre but it wasn’t so smooth.
Morning.
We stopped for our first break at a rest area where one old woman said ‘Welcome to the United States, if Obama can welcome people then so can I!’ what the hell does that mean?
After killing the climb we got a glimpse of Baker City down in the valley, the same view frontier settlers would have had a few hundred years ago. We got into town with no sign of Jessica or Siemen. We split a motel room 3 ways and me and Wim dumped our stuff then headed to the first bike shop. Pubs and bars advertised micro brews and the bike shop itself actually played recognisable music, its been months since I have heard locals listening to none country music.
Me and the mechanic from the shop looked at several wheels but he had none suitable for disc brakes. We resolved to just replace the spokes and rebalance my wheel. I talked about how it has broken down again since last getting it fixed but he insisted I hadn’t had him fix my wheel before. He worked well and did a great job, he then pointed us in the direction of the micro brewery across the street and I offered to buy him a beer if he went in after work.
Wim needed a new tyre.
Siemen caught up with us by this point, he had been in the library. We talked him into joining us at the motel so the price would be split 4 ways, he reluctantly accepted after some persuasion because we had a free camp last night after all. We then also persuaded him to join us in the micro brewery for food. They had imported Strongbow on tap! I haven’t had cider for months, first pint refreshment as the advert says. Continuing my series of buying the biggest burger on the menu I ordered the ‘Death Burger’ after recently sampling the ‘Gut Buster’.
We returned to find free burgers on offer at the motel which didn’t bother me but Siemen on his tight budget looked mortified having just dropped a pretty penny on food he didn’t need too. Pretty funny. A storm passed over so we were holed up indoors as I tried to update my blog on the useless wifi.
Motel room carnage.
Me & Wim may look busy, but the wifi didn’t actually work.
Two bananas and a Cliff bar got me moving — enough fuel, I figured, for a short forty-three-mile day with only one real climb waiting at the far end, one that would nudge the running total past 3,800. I was hoping to find a new rear wheel in Baker City; mine had been quietly falling apart under me for weeks now, unbalanced beyond any fixing I knew how to do myself. Wim discovered a hole in his own tyre that morning and was running on the folding spare, which rode about as roughly as you’d expect. The three of us — me, Wim, Terry — took it easy accordingly.
Morning.
At our first rest stop an old woman informed us, apropos of nothing, that if Obama could welcome people to the country then so could she. I still don’t know what that means.
We crested the climb to find Baker City laid out in the valley below, presumably much the same view the frontier settlers had a hundred and fifty years earlier. No sign of Jessica or Siemen in town, so we split a motel room three ways and Wim and I went straight to the first bike shop we could find. Pubs advertised microbrews on hand-painted boards, the bike shop played music I actually recognised — the first non-country radio I’d heard in months, which felt like its own kind of homecoming.
The mechanic didn’t have a wheel that would fit disc brakes, so we settled on new spokes and a proper rebalancing instead. I mentioned it had broken down once already since he’d last fixed it; he insisted, flatly, that he’d never touched my wheel before in his life. Either way he did good work, and pointed us toward the microbrewery across the street afterward — I offered to buy him a beer there if he made it in after his shift.
Wim needed a new tyre.
Siemen turned up eventually, fresh from an afternoon in the library, and after some negotiating agreed to split the motel room four ways — reluctantly, having enjoyed a free campsite the night before and clearly resenting the change in fortune. We talked him into the microbrewery too, where they had Strongbow on tap, actual imported cider, my first in months. Riding a personal tradition of ordering the biggest thing on any menu, I went for the Death Burger, having already conquered the Gut Buster a few states back.
We got back to the motel to find free burgers being handed out at the door — no skin off my nose, but Siemen looked genuinely wounded at having just spent good money on food he now didn’t need. Small, cruel comedy of touring life. A storm rolled through not long after and pinned us indoors, where I fought a losing battle trying to update the blog on wifi that barely deserved the name.
Motel room carnage.
Me & Wim may look busy, but the wifi didn’t actually work.