Day 40

July 21, 2003

We arose at 5:00 am, quickly packed up, and stopped by the motel breakfast room for make-it-yourself waffles. Then we set off at 6:00 am. The morning was pleasantly cool but cloudless. We headed south on 5 West (Park Road) then west on Baseline, then south on Jameston. At the end of Jameston we could have walked the Idaho Canal dirt service road to Goshen, a local told us, but we decided to walk west on Monroe one mile, then south on Mountain View Road to its end at Wolverine Road.

The problem with this stretch was the difficultly in finding places to stop and rest in the shade, in view of all the houses the entire way. We don't like to stop near houses because the residents are often suspicious of what looks to them like "homeless bums." On the other hand, the route was well watered. Homeowners had sprinklers watering their lawns, and we could have asked just about anywhere for water.

We reached Wolverine Road at 12:45 pm. Surprisingly this road was paved for quite a distance eastward into the hills. Also, there was more traffic on this road than we had imagined. About a dozen vehicles went by that afternoon. The road led past the transfer station. For some reason our map (DeLorme Gazetteer) did not show the Blackfoot River correctly. It shows it as an intermittent creek, when it is actually a roaring river. We followed the road, which led generally along the river although high above it. The river was never accessible from the road.

At one of the last houses in Goshen we had filled all our bottles, 3 liters each, from a lawn sprinkler. Unbeknownst to us, that was our last source of drinkable water. Where the road leaves Wolverine Creek, there are a few houses, and we probably could have obtained drinking water. Otherwise, that was our last possible opportunity.

We turned right onto the Blackfoot River Road. On the DeLorme map it is called Cedar Creek Road. Where the road crossed Cedar Creek, there was an historical post office site. There was nothing there but a fenced in picnic table, a couple of shade trees and a large rock.

By now the day was very hot. We were doing well, but we could have used a good source of water. Cedar Creek was flowing somewhat, but was quite polluted by cattle. Same with Wolverine Creek. About a mile from Miner Creek we ran into a herd of cattle on the road. This is always a problem because it takes a long time to get rid of them. We had to walk right behind them for about half a mile in dust so thick we could often not see the cows.

Miner Creek was flowing but polluted. There was small house here, of course with a "No Trespassing" sign posted. By now we were badly in need of water. So we checked around the house. There were no pipes leading into the house. The door was unlocked so I stepped inside and saw that there was no water. It was a nice little cabin, otherwise. It almost looked like someone had just stepped out, but we could tell by the lack of tracks on the driveway that no one had been here in a long while. In our search for badly needed water we disturbed nothing.

There was another creek flowing down the ravine, just up the road. It was a very small creek, and again, very polluted. A fellow on a motorbike happened by. He said there was a spring up the ravine somewhere, but it was dry this year. We told him we needed water, but he didn't know where we could get it and he obviously wasn't interested in helping us. We knew he lived in the vicinity somewhere, it was obvious, probably back at the last-mentioned houses.

We hiked another 2 or 3 miles; the day was getting late. Our mouths and throats were parched. We found some oranges someone had tossed out a car window. Most were old and spoiled, but one was edible. Also, we had carried a few oranges ourselves, and we ate those. We also had 2 small cans of mixed fruit which we ate. We figured this stretch might not have much water, so we carried foods that had extra water in them, despite their weight.

We reached a river access where a side road led down a few hundred yards to the river. It was almost dark, and this was our last hope for finding drinking water. Earlier we could see the river from above, and could see it was polluted. Now, at river's edge, we could see and smell that it was horribly polluted. It was quite a large river and it defies the imagination how a river this large could be so polluted. It was obviously due to the cattle. None of this cow-polluted water would have been safe for filtering, boiling or treating in any way.

We had reached our Rubicon. We could proceed no further without water. We had made it only about one-third the distance through this section. It was disappointing to have come all this way and have to return. Despite the heat and tremendous thirst, it had been an interesting walk, with many exciting views into the Blackfoot River gorge, quite spectacular. We could see the smoke from a fire to the south.

We spread the quilt under the stars, opened a can of soup to eat and peeled another orange. We slept well, very few insects.

Day 41

July 22, 2003

We set off at 6:51 am, retracing our steps back down the road, hoping for a ride out, only because we were out of water and very thirsty. At Miner Creek a rancher pulled his truck to a stop, and asked us if we were in trouble. Maybe the guy we had met yesterday had told him we were out of water. Instead of helping us, he mocked us with the words: "you must not be very thirsty, or you would drink the creek water." We made a joke about it, thanked him for stopping, and continued on our way.

About a mile further we ran into probably the same herd of about a hundred cows. But this time three ranchers on horseback were driving them along the public road, apparently from one area to another. The cowboys treated us with disdain, and tried to block our passage using the cattle as roadblocks. We simply walked ahead into the herd. This sent the cows scurrying in a cloud of dust and stench while spattering the road everywhere with manure. Maintaining our pace, the cattle trotted ahead of us for at least a mile, until finally moving off the road and letting us by.

We walked about four hours with no rest stops and no traffic, when a second truck happened along, going our way. The fellow and his kids had been up to the Blackfoot Reservoir with the intent of fishing. But he said it was too polluted to fish. He was glad to offer us a ride. We hopped in the back of the pickup and enjoyed an exhilarating high-speed ride down the canyon. Once we reached the pavement at Wolverine Road, the truck accelerated to what seemed like warp speed. At Highway 91, the driver asked where we wanted to go. We said the first place that sells cold drinks. That soon put us on the outskirts of Blackfoot, at a gas and convenience store. We thank the driver profusely, and he sped away.

With heads fairly reeling, we sat at a table inside the air-conditioned store, chugging ice water and iced sodas. Just to think where we were 30-minutes ago... Compared to where we were now, it seemed like two very different worlds.

From the gas station we walked west to a lovely park, and lay on the grass in the cool shade for well over an hour contemplating our plight. We didn't think we could proceed with our current plan of hiking. This year had been extremely dry with record-setting temperatures all across the western states. With the cattle pollution, our backpacking possibilities were not looking good.

We continued past the city lake and found a motel. The staff were friendly, and the rooms were large and reasonably priced. After taking showers we tossed around ideas: should we bag it and go home? Should we go boating? Should we go hiking somewhere else? None of these ideas had much appeal. We walked over to a nearby x-mart, and just for the heck of it we looked at their bicycles. They had some nice looking mountain bikes for surprisingly cheap, but we didn't know enough about bikes to judge their quality.

Day 42

July 23, 2003

When we awoke around 7:30 am, I found myself thinking "bicycles." And the first word Jenny uttered was, "bikes." The more we talked about the possibilities, the more it made sense. We had hiked through Idaho, and we could finish our I.U.A. trip, through Utah and Arizona, on bicycles.

Actually the subject had been on our minds for some nine days now, ever since we had reached the flatlands from Morrison Lake, and especially since we had come down Warm Springs Canyon into the sagebrush prairies and agriculture lowlands.

While hiking up Wolverine Road we suspected the natural water sources would be heavily polluted. This is the reason we had not carried a filter or any other method of water purification. We knew that nothing would make the ground water safe to drink, but instead had hoped for more piped springs. In lieu of those, we could have carried more water, but we knew we were taking enough of a gamble as it was. The more water that we carried, the deeper in trouble that we might have found ourselves in. We figured we could spend one day walking back out with no water, but any longer would have been risky. And this was the reason why we didn't try any harder to punch through. Any success would have condemned us to more of the same. This was cattle country, and it generally meant heavily polluted creeks and unconscionable abuse of the land at the hand of the rancher's livestock.

In our travels we have met many friendly ranchers. Not all of them have displayed the John Wayne, cowboy mentality. And most of the farmers we met were courteous and super friendly also.

A hundred years ago we could have easily hiked up Wolverine Creek. Back then the many creeks flowed with relatively clean water. How times have changed.

We walked back to the x-mart for another look at their bicycles, and decided that their top of the line bikes would probably work reasonably well for us. They had aluminum frames with Shimano parts; front suspension only - more than adequate since we planned to ride mostly paved roads and a few gravel roads. As a bonus they cost only $150 each. We also liked the idea of salvaging our summer with a purchase from x-mart, just like we had done in Yellowknife with the canoe a few years earlier. We also picked out a small pump, a tool bag, spare inner tubes, and a tube repair kit.

We laughed with glee as we peddled our new bikes across the parking lot. They were fast and fun. Back at the motel Jenny offered to make a quick run to the post office to send our unneeded items home. The post office was about a mile away and she was back in 20 minutes. The store did not sell racks, so for the time being we would carry our camping gear on our backs.

And so began phase-2 of our summer's journey. If successful, we would call it our "Hike and Bike."

Day 43

July 24, 2003

Eager to start our new adventure, we rose at 6:00 am and departed at dawn. We followed Meridian Road south to Yellowstone Ave, Highway 91. It was fun riding the bikes, and we enjoyed traveling at speeds several times as fast as we could walk. But because the bikes did not have gear racks, we had to carry our packs on our backs, and this was not easy. But the speed more than made up for it.

Following Highway 91, the right-hand shoulder was about three-feet wide, the traffic was moderate, and most cars gave us plenty of room. But at one point a truck hauling cement bags went by, and dropped a bag just behind us - sending an explosion of cement powder into the air.

We were forced to stop at least every 20 minutes to get off the bicycle seats. We never actually sat down, but just took standing rests. Once I peddled about 10 minutes with my pack balanced on the handlebars. It was a great relief to get the pack off my back, but I had to hold it in balance on the handlebars, so could not move my upper body much. That grew tiring.

We experienced headwinds throughout the morning of 5 to 8 knots. These slowed us down, but also helped cool us.

We passed through the small town of Fort Hall, and then several miles later entered Chubback on the outskirts of Pocatello. The town was little dingy at first, but became more well kept the further south we went. Crossing Highway 86, we found another x-mart store and pulled in to see what kind of bike gear they sold.

Unaccustomed to riding bikes, our butts and crotches were positively killing us. So we each bought a gel-type seat pad. The pads helped a little. Nevertheless, while riding we found only four possible seating positions: middle, left, right, and farther back. When one position grew unbearable, we would change to another one. Sometimes we stood up on the peddles to encourage a bit of circulation.

While in town we stopped at a bike shop to see if they might sell racks. Looking at our new bikes, the shop's owner became extremely upset. He did not like our having bought them from his competition. We were about to leave, but he seemed to calm down, so we ended up buying a gear rack for the back of each bike - installed by ourselves - a handlebar vertical extension for my bike, which he installed because it required a longer front brake cable. We also had him install tire-liners.

The shop also sold climbing gear, and one of the employees, Mike T. was a climber. Mike introduced us to his climbing partner, Phil L., and said they had done the DNB, Steck-Salathe, and Mike had climbed the Nose. They helped us with our bikes, and recommended a route to the south. Phil gave us two pieces of old 7-mm perlon, four-feet long, for tying our packs to our new bike racks. We used them all the way to the Mexico border, and subsequently throughout our "Hello America" tour. In fact, they have gone with us on about every trip since, including our ski to the South Pole.

From the bike shop we set off at 1:40 pm and followed the Bannock Highway. The day had grown quite hot, although clouds were building. With the backpacks stowed on the rear racks we were able to positively cruise along, at least for the likes of us. It was lot more fun and less painful to crank away the miles. But still it was quite an effort as our bodies were not used to this type of exercise. One problem was my gears would not shift into low, so I had to work doubly hard to get up the hills. I knew the front dérailleur simply needed adjusting, but I had not figured out how to do it, quite yet.

Mile after mile we kept looking for a rest stop in the shade, but not in front of someone's house. To no avail. The sun was bearing down, and as the miles reeled by slowly we began to fade. We had carried only one quart of water each, but what we needed even more was a shady rest stop. We couldn't find one.

Earlier we had made the mistake of not detouring to Inkom. There we could have indulged in a long, cool rest. We didn't want to make the detour, but in such heat the next stretch proved a gasser. This was along Marsh Creek Road with very little traffic. We actually walked several steep hills and then fairly flew down their backsides. Despite the up and down, this was quite a good bike route due to the infrequent traffic. We saw only about half a dozen cars all afternoon. And it was good pavement the whole way. We were in an interesting valley with miles-long lines of basalt cliffs to our east and west. Apparently this was the route of the stupendous Bonneville Flood, when, several thousand years ago the natural dam had burst, releasing Lake Bonneville.

We finally turned east, pushed our bikes up a long, steep hill, and rode across Interstate 15, just north of the town of McCammon, making a beeline for the gas station/convenience store. It was 5:00 pm, and we spent the next 45 minutes guzzling ice cold drinks and eating burgers and fries. Adjacent was a trailer park and campground. Our campsite had a strip of grass and picnic table, and was sandwiched between two large RVs. We enjoyed refreshing hot showers and some shade on our little bit of cool lawn amid the gaggle of RVs.

One aspect of bike travel we found interesting is that people tend to be less fearful and suspicious of us. They think we're nuts for biking in this heat. But at least we have vehicles.

At day's end we were very tired but quite pleased with our progress. We really enjoyed the cycling, especially when going downhill.

Day 44

July 25, 2003

It rained for about an hour in the night, at times quite heavy. Then all went still and the bugs came out in numbers, probably because of the small canal nearby. It was one of those nights when we could have used a net-tent beneath our tarp.

We set off at 6:12 am and peddled through the town of McCammon. In another seven or so miles we reached Arimo where we stopped at a gas station/c-store for cuppas and doughnuts. The morning was delightfully cool and we made some good miles. The traffic was light, but sadly we saw a freshly killed red fox, big and beautiful, countless dead mice, and a large hawk.

About half way to Downy, the southbound Interstate 15 traffic detoured onto this Highway 19, so the traffic suddenly became heavy. However, the shoulder along here was paved and about 5 feet wide. So we continued following it. And just north of Downy the Interstate 15 traffic returned to the Interstate.

At Downy we stopped at a gas station/c-store for refreshments. From there it was another seven or so miles to the Red Rocks Junction. By then I was starting to flag, so we spent about 5 percent of our time walking the bikes. My knee was becoming sore, and I could hardly tolerate the bike seat.

Along the way a train passed close and blew its whistle at us. At Red Rocks Junction there was a sign explaining that this was the outlet of the ancient Bonneville Lake. According to the sign, 14,500 years ago the lake had burst its natural dam, the water rushed out of the lake in a torrent seven times the size of the Amazon River, and the lake disappeared. When the dam gave way, the flow of escaping water is estimated to have lasted one year.

The D1 had almost no traffic, and led through a wide basin with tall mountain ranges on both sides. This road was also called the West Side Highway. This part of the afternoon was hot. We took a break in the shade of a roadside tree. The town of Oxford had no amenities, but it did have a very small park with picnic benches, shade, and water. The next town, Clifton was quite pretty, nice houses, generally, lots of open space.

We had no speedometer, so at one point we checked our speed. It took us six minutes to cover a mile. That equaled 10 miles per hour. On our first day of the ride, someone on a road bike had passed us like we were standing still. We knew our mountain bikes were slow - with their fat, knobby tires - but they were plenty good for us.

Parking our bikes at a gas station/c-store we noticed a sign warning of a $30.00 charge per bag for using their dumpster. Inside the station were a number of similar signs, and we realized that someone must have a curious sense of humor. At the deli we had cold drinks, hamburgers and fries. We were enjoying this part of the trip, with so many places to stop for refreshments. The people running this store were quite friendly, and so were the folks at the post office where we mailed a few things home. Then we cycled a short distance to the city park for a long rest and a nap, lying on picnic tables under a shelter during a short rain. Then we made use of the nearby restrooms to rinse out socks and take quick sponge baths, leaving everything nice and clean.

Another 5 miles to Dayton, we stopped at a small store. Even though it was closed, we were able to buy cold sodas from their machine. Lying on the nearby grass, we enjoyed a long rest in the shade of a tree. Due to fatigue and discomfort, we were taking many long rests today.

Another five miles of peddling brought us to Weston. The afternoon was now very cloudy with some intermittent rain. At 5 pm we stopped at Bill's Weston Market where we bought a few things for dinner. I asked Bill about camping in the area, and he suggested we camp in the nearby city park. He recalled that another cyclist had passed through town, once, and had camped there. He made a few phone calls, then handed me the phone and said, "here's the mayor." So I talked to Leo, for a few minutes, and he said it would be no problem camping. So we proceeded to the park, ate our dinner, then selected a perfect tarp site between two trees, just beyond the baseball field.

The evening was windy with some rain. We slept for a couple hours, then wrote in the journal. We figured about 47 map-miles today, and probably at least that yesterday.

At dusk we were just dozing off when our camp was attacked by dogs, barking ferociously and racing round like Indians attacking a wagon train. One dog tripped on a lifter line. Fortunately the knot came untied to relieve the strain. Jenny ran out yelling at the dogs to "go on! Go away!" After the owner had his fun, he called the dogs off.

Then came the storm. For about twenty minutes the beat on the tarp. We got a smattering of rain, with lightning all around. Then the storm passed, the wind went dead, and a few mosquitoes came out. We had the quilt's netting draped over Jenny's brollie and with the new side panels sewn on, this works a lot better although it could have been about a foot longer.

Day 45

July 26, 2003

We packed up early, so didn't notice all the ants we were including (more on that later). Peddling one block back to Bill's Weston market, we bought some breakfast snacks, and again talked with Bill, thanking him for the hospitality.

The early morning riding is most pleasant. The towns are still asleep, the air is crisp, traffic is slight, the day's adventure is waiting to unfold.

We followed Highway 23 south, and in a few miles crossed into Utah, unknowingly. We saw no indication that we were leaving Idaho. We passed through Cornish and took a rest at the small park there, and then biked past Trenton. This entire region is farm and dairy land, and all the natural water is extremely polluted. We were glad to be riding and not walking. The grain was in season and mice were unbelievably numerous. There were thousands of them smashed on the road. We could see the survivors scurry into their roadside holes as we passed.

Newton was pretty, green, tidy and clean. We stopped for refreshments at the town's only store, Bep's Country Market, then continued south on Highway 23. We crossed over the Cutler Reservoir. On the map this looks like water, but in reality it resembled cow sewage. The road led long and straight along the east side of the Wellsville Wilderness. There were high and striking mountains nearly 10,000 feet high.

Each town, even the small ones, seemed to have a town park. And these are nice places for bicyclists to rest, with picnic tables under a roof, restrooms and water.

At the town of Mendon we stopped at the city park. It was Saturday and there was some kind of festival about to take place, with a strange parade and all sorts of goofy vehicles. It looked like a day of family picnics and games in the park. We rested in the shade of a big spruce, pulled out our food from our packs and found a bag of crackers was infested with ants. Jenny's remark was that we would have to examine each cracker before eating it. My solution was to dump all the crackers onto a map and remove the ants from each cracker, then put the crackers back in the bag, one at a time, then dispose of the crumbs (and ants) onto the grass where the ants could continue feeding and possibly also start a new colony here. Jenny also found about a dozen ants on the threads of the lid of her sunscreen - outside the seal, but under the lip of the lid.

The day was largely cloudless and we were glad that the towns were ten or fewer miles apart, because we could stop and rest in the much-needed shade. Seven miles further we stopped at the Wellsville Market which is half-a-block east of Highway 23. The proprietors were very friendly. They had a small grill and soda fountain, and had milkshakes. This was the first market we had been in that actually sold some fresh produce. We bought a head of lettuce, two tomatoes, and an apple.

This region around Mendon and Wellsville was very beautiful with the striking mountain backdrop and mixture of old farms and new expensive homes. Highway 23 terminated at Highway 89/91 and this we followed west up Wellsville Canyon. This was a major 4-lane freeway with heavy weekend traffic, high speed of course. To us, the road was quite steep. However, the shoulder was 6 feet wide, ample room for us to ride and walk. And so we made our way slowly while perspiring heavily. We generally ignored the traffic. Whenever walking or bicycling in the presence of high-speed vehicles, they seem so absurd. It seemed like each is competing for speed, like they are playing highway hockey. The pickup trucks were the worst. The pickups pulling any kind of a load sounded like their engines were in their death throes. Such is normalcy in the eyes of a bicyclist.

The map showed dirt roads leading south from Highway 23 through Mt. Sterling and up McMurdie to the summit. This might be a better way to go because it would avoid the busy highway. At the head of Wellsville Canyon we stopped in the shade, then continued uphill along the highway several more miles, past a golf resort, and eventually to the summit.

From there, the highway led steeply down, and it was a quick few miles with the frequent use of our rear and front brakes to Mantua Reservoir. There we stopped at the Mantua Country Store for cold sodas and a shady rest. It had taken us two hours to ride/walk over the summit from Wellsville.

From Mantua it was another quick three miles down to the outskirts of Brigham City. Along way we used lots of brakes. These bikes are not designed to use lots of brakes, and the shoulder along this section was not quite as wide. Anyway, at the bottom of the hill we suddenly found ourselves in the big city, with all sorts of amenities everywhere. We followed Highway 89 south. This was not a fun section of bicycling because the shoulder was not paved. We spent most of the time riding on the gravel with the high-speed traffic whizzing past.

But we were out of dairy farmlands and into fruit orchards, with fruit stands all along the way. Mt. Willard towered overhead to the east, an awesome mountain with a craggy and weathered west face, and of course it brought back memories of flying my hang glider from this mountain perhaps a dozen times.

Just before entering North Ogden we stopped at the last large fruit stand. The people running it were very friendly and invited us to come in, out of the heat, and get some cold water. We bought a basket of cherries, some apricots, a banana and a bottle of cold water. Then we sat inside near a swamp cooler, and filled our stomachs to capacity with this wonderful food.

As we were leaving, one of the fellows gave us four more apricots, "for hard times" to which we joked, "like in about 10 minutes!" We thanked him very kindly, then set off again, following Highway 89 to Ogden. To our good fortune we came to a x-mart and at the garden section I asked the clerk if there was somewhere we could safely park our bikes. Sure enough, she invited us to bring the bikes inside and park them next to her cash register. She then handed us each a cup filled with ice and water. She told us that her Dad was a bicycle racer. He was from France and had participated in many races. Two other clerks stood around talking with us also. It was at least 20 minutes before we excused ourselves to go shopping.

We spent about an hour in the store, enjoying the air conditioning and looking for the small number of items we needed. One was a couple of bags we could mount on the bikes for frequently needed items like maps and snacks. We also bought a package of four aluminum tent stakes, a small spray can of insect repellent, a package of nylon parachute cord, new shirt and shorts for Jenny, and water bottle cages or holders.

Back at the garden section we sat talking with the three clerks again for another half hour. I was thinking how easy it is to make friends when traveling by bicycles. We are finding that we can make friends with just about anyone, it seems. It really says something about people in general. That there is friendliness in just about everyone, if you can bring it to light. It is the long bicycle trip that people are interested in. And by our appearance I think they realize we are going through what to them would be very hard times. Not that they are sympathetic, but they see us simply as different from the normal masses. Also, because we have spent so much time in solitude we are interested in the people we meet. And we are usually willing to spend some time talking with them. The result is someone unusual taking an interest in that person, and this brings out the friendliness.

From there we continued south, following Washington Blvd, which had merged with Highway89. This street was much more bicycle friendly because the right lane was dedicated to turning right at each intersection, so hardly any of the cars used it. We had to be careful, however, with the cars and not make any assumptions.

In a few miles we came to a Motel and checked in to a room. Parking the bikes inside the room, we walked a block back to a restaurant for a big dinner. This was the end of our third full day of riding. Today we rode approximately 65 miles. Our bodies are slowly adapting to this new mode of travel. The seats don't hurt quite so much. It is very good exercise, just as good as hiking it seems. It is also nice to get the breeze, more so than when hiking. And we certainly like the mileage.

Day 46

July 27, 2003

Layover Day in North Ogden, at the Motel. We walked a couple blocks to a department store, and bought some small items we needed: a helmet for Jenny, bike bags for often-needed items, and some 3-in-1 oil.

Day 47

July 28, 2003

We checked out of the room, oiled the bikes, and set off at 6:48 am. Traffic was moderate, but the shoulder minimal so we rode on the sidewalk a fair ways. This part of Highway 89 through Ogden was hilly. We had to peddle slowly up the hills, sometimes even walking. Then the road dropped quite a ways down into Weber Canyon. And there it became more like a freeway.

A strong wind was funneling down out of the canyon. We could hardly ride the bikes sideways against it. But when we turned left onto the Interstate 84 on-ramp, we could hardly make headway against the wind. Traffic roared past us. The canyon itself was huge, with mountains rising abruptly on both sides. Weber River would have been nice, but was polluted. Because of the wind we walked our bikes a couple miles, then rode to the first rest stop for a break. Three-quarters of a mile past the rest stop we pulled off the Interstate and followed the parallel road that led through the town of Mountain Green. We stopped at a c-store, bought cappuccinos and doughnuts, and enjoyed sitting at the indoor tables.

At the next exit beyond Mountain Green we crossed under Interstate 84 and followed the road to Littleton and Richville. These communities had no amenities that we could see. Somewhere around Richville my front tire went flat. By now the morning was hot, the sun glaring, there was no shade and nowhere to pull off the road. So we effected the repair right there. Fortunately traffic was light, only a few vehicles passed. Relying on my experience as a youth, we removed the wheel, peeled off the tire and tube, and found a thorn that had punctured the tire, liner and tube. We removed the thorn and patched the tube, and had the bike back on the road in about half and hour. It bolstered our confidence; knowing we could fix a flat.

We followed Road 66 to East Canyon Reservoir. The road was paved the entire way, although we had to do some walking up the hills. About half way along the east side of the reservoir we came to a State Park with a sign that said "Store, grill." We coasted far down the steep entry road and enjoyed cold drinks at a picnic table outside in the shade. After pushing the bikes back up to the main road we continued around the lake. This road would be good exercise for cyclists because of its many ups and downs.

Then we joined Road 65 South, still paralleling the reservoir. About half a mile south of the reservoir's inlet is a very nice resort with campground and store. But we didn't stop. About a mile further on we turned left onto a gravel road leading up East Canyon.

The road paralleled East Canyon Creek, and it was some kind of historical route: California Trail, Mormon Pioneer Trail, and some other "Trail." It led up and down like a roller coaster. After pushing the bikes up a steep hill, we would coast down to the bottom, then repeat the procedure ad infinatum. And not to be demeaning of any one group, but we were tired of seeing creeks and streams horribly polluted by cattle. And this one was no exception.

We kept thinking what it would have been like before the pioneers arrived. With sparkling clear and clean springs, creeks, streams and rivers, the water was good for the native peoples and animals. Anyway, we were glad to be on bikes and not hiking. Because of the ubiquitous pollution, I don't think this part of this region would be good for backpacking.

The last few miles up to the East Canyon Reservoir had been void of houses, as had the Pioneer Trail. But suddenly we came to a paved road and soon found ourselves riding through a very posh golf community, peppered everywhere with million dollar homes. Rarely have I seen so much money in real estate clustered so. There were hundreds of them. Surprisingly, the paved road led very steeply up a long hill. The sun beat down on us. Ladies on shaded verandas watched us labor past. Men were out playing golf.

At the top we stopped at a temporary golfer's lunch cabana where we bought cold sodas and ice. There was very little shade here, so we didn't linger. As it happened, we stopped too soon, because just a short ways down the hill was a gas station and c-store. We didn't stop there.

We crossed under Interstate 80 and followed the frontage road eastward. The traffic was heavy. Like everything around here, this road had a lot of hills. This area too was posh, more than we had imagined. But in a sense it made for an interesting ride, looking at the nice homes and manicured landscaping. Unfortunately we had to dodge the people in their expensive cars. I don't think they meant to be unfriendly; they were just city people, impatient to get to their destination.

At Kimball Junction we stopped at a posh hamburger joint for a meal, then we set off again. The late afternoon was very hot. About half-way to Park City we stopped in the shade of a large tree on the landscaped yard of a professional office building. The restaurant had not been too restful because the seats were hard and our butts were sore from the bike seats. But at least there in the shade of the tree we could stretch out and lay down.

Nearing Park City we followed a nice, paved bike path. We saw lots of other cyclists; a few of them acted very serious. Eventually we reached a supermarket and stopped in the shade of the building. Jenny went in for a quick round of shopping while I watched the bikes. Then we sat in the shade eating watermelon and cottage cheese.

We followed another bike path along Road 224, which led through the "old" part of town. Actually it was quite new, from appearances. An unbelievable amount of money had been thrown into this place. It was like Aspen on steroids. But not in a bad way; it had a nice ambiance. For someone who likes biking and skiing, it seemed ideal. Even walking up and down the steep hills, you would get good exercise.

Then commenced a very steep and interminable walk up paved 224, which climbs the mountain of the ski resort. The road had very little shoulder and a surprisingly amount of fast traffic. We pushed the bikes slowly and steadily for over an hour to the first switchback. There, we slipped past the gate of a large mining complex and found a cozy little camp hidden behind a large pile of hay bales. We spread some of the loose hay for bedding. Once again we were famished so we had another round of food. We commented on the calories we were burning, much more than hiking. Looking at the map, we had come an amazing distance today, at lest for us. And that distance had to be fueled with food.

Day 48

July 29, 2003

Sometime in the early morning someone unlocked and opened the gate to the mining facility. We did not hear them come through, and hopefully they did not notice us.

We set off at 7:15 am and continued pushing our bikes up the steep paved road. From the town of Park City to the road's high point, we had camped about half way up, so it was still a long, slow slog to finish the ascent. The morning was cool. The road led through one part of the ski area. It looked like a superb area to ski with lots of lifts everywhere and slopes galore. We saw several mountain bike trails that looked difficult.

Reaching the top we had great views of the surroundings. We saw seven hot air balloons to the north, and great views of Mount Timpanogas to the southwest.

The descent of the south side of the mountain was very slow going because it was steep gravel and required almost constant use of the brakes. We had to stop frequently to let the rims cool. This region was familiar because I had flown my hang glider here, taking off from the mountain tops a few miles to the south. It was a very pretty forest of aspen and lower down, scrub oak. We saw a couple of small streams and there probably was no cattle above them.

Finally at the bottom we passed through a golf resort, and the usual smatter of expensive new homes, this time with a Bavarian theme. Reaching the town of Midway, we stopped at the post office, collected a small resupply parcel containing mainly maps. Then we stopped at a burger joint for lunch.

We followed the highway south past Deer Creek Reservoir. Charleston, shown on the map, was nothing but a small marine complex. It looked like they rented hobies and wave runners. The ride south of here was down, but was difficult because of the steepness and narrow shoulder. But the traffic was absolutely nerve-wracking, and the few drivers who honked rudely didn't help them or us. I was so stressed-out that I gripped my handlebars much to tight and although I didn't feel it then, but I pulled a few tendons. It was about my worst injury ever.

Two or three miles south of the reservoir we came to a small park and found an absolutely marvelous paved bike trail that in fact led all the way down to Provo.

Switching from the highway to the bike path was like going from hell to heaven. It was shaded much of the way and paralleled the river. We saw dozens of people floating in the rapid-free current, in inner tubes and cheap rafts. The bike path led past quite a number of parks and picnic areas. It was quite fun to ride. At one point we stopped at an apple tree loaded with fruit - immature, but still good eating.

The bike path led past Bridalveil Falls. It also passed several very imposing rocky cliffs. At the mouth of Provo Canyon the bike path turned south and continued several more miles. Along the way we stopped at a self-serve car wash and washed our bikes, cleaning the grit off the gears. Then we sat in the shade with cold drinks. Eventually the bike trail turned west, but we continued south through the city. There was a lot of traffic but again we had the turning lane. About 4 pm we stopped at a lodge. With our bikes and gear inside the room we spent the next hour in the swimming pool. It felt good because the day was quite hot. We biked about 45 miles today.

Day 49

July 30, 2003

We had a very good night's rest, with several extra hours of sleep. We set off at 6:10 am and continued south on Highway 89. About 45 minutes later we stopped at a fast-food for breakfast. We were surprised by the austerity of the food served. It was difficult to imagine how they can stay in business selling something like that.

We continued south through Springville. As we approached the mouth of Spanish Fork Canyon the headwinds grew stronger and eventually required us to push the bikes. This was the katabatic basting out of the canyon. Maybe three miles up the canyon the wind eased enough for us to resume riding. The shoulder was narrow and the traffic moderate with large trucks. At the head of the canyon there had been a large landslide or slough and the highway had since been re-routed high above it. This meant a long climb to the landslide area and then a descent around the backside of it. The small town of Thistle had been flooded and buried by the landslide and a few houses were still in evidence with little more than their roofs above water.

The traffic was light on this part of Highway 89. The day grew hot and the road led on for mile after endless mile, past the settlements of Birdseye and Pines with no amenities. We traveled gradually upwards to the head of the valley, often walking the steeper parts. We find that a stint of walking every hour or two is good for the feet, legs and lower torso. It is a welcome switch from the labors of peddling. Cresting the hill, the road led down five miles to the town of Fairview. Here we found two gas/c-stores and a restaurant. We went into one of the c-stores and found they had quite a nice deli. So we sat at a booth and ate large veggie sandwiches and drank cold drinks.

From there we peddled another six miles to Mt. Pleasant. We stopped in the shade of some large trees on the lawn of a public building of some sort. After watching people come and go from the building, it occurred to me it might be a library. So we investigated and found that it was. I went in and sat at one of the computers for about half and hour, checking email and catching up on the latest rowing and skydiving scenes.

From the Mt. Pleasant library we proceeded half a mile south and stopped at a c-store. This one was quite good. It sold a little bit better food. We had salads, juices, hot dogs and treats. We continued south on High 89, then turned off on 117, south to Spring City. There, 117 headed due west. We didn't know how to find the cutoff, so we followed 117 back to 89.

In another four miles we reached a junction with 132 and just beyond, we pulled off to an old railroad grade and made camp at about 7 pm. The battery on our watch died today, so we don't know the exact time, not that it matters. We pitched the tarp from a large sagebrush at one end, and the two bicycles at the other end. With the bikes tied together and wheels chocked, and the ridgeline of the tarp pulling down on the bikes, it was all quite stable. We used large rocks all around as anchors. The cu-nims were overdeveloping and spitting lightning, and the wind was gusty, but only a few raindrops fell. We were lying beneath the tarp eating our salads when suddenly my rear tire started hissing loudly. This seemed very strange. We couldn't repair it this evening because the bikes were supporting the tarp.

Day's mileage: 70

A while later, large brown ants started getting a little too inquisitive. I was brushing them off of me in the dark, wondering what they were. When I shined the flashlight they got the message and went scurrying away.

The sky was clearing somewhat so we shifted our bed to a different location five feet away, leaving the tarp in place. Lying out beneath the starts was a beautiful way to end the day, and we slept well.