Elevation gain: gradual rolling desert mounds. Maybe 3000ft total.
High: 85 degrees F and cloudy
We were freaking beat, maybe a bit insane. But the thought that Boise may be just 48 hours away made the entire United States shrink to the size of a summer camp and so resistance to slow was unstoppable. Strapped to this stretch of road we were unhinged only to eat and sleep in a trapped myriad of thistled foxtails. The backseat reindeer fertilizes the imagination to unlock combinations of literary expression. Stories mosey through minds, memories of Ralph a young lad in childhood days when hot tubs were overflowing with carrots. You see, Ralph had had a long night, guarding his fine stash of orange roots from cute wild jackrabbits. Not long after the first hour of pedaling, our mascot has talked himself to sleep. But in the midst he reminded us of the days when Grandma would plump him and Hazel (the longest living buck toothed gineau pig) with afternoon carrot snacks while they patiently awaited my arrival from the education bungalow.
Memories ran long and sweet while transfixed cows stared at the two wheeled alien lifeforms. With the posse in tact and cohesive, strangers were welcomed into conversation. Jon was a friendly 78 year old dad, lugging his life from California to Montana. At the only rest stop within hundreds of miles, we spent an hour chatting about his 2 daughters, drinking his lemon lime sodas, and graciously accepting his ice cold water supply. He told us stories of warfare in Germany during WWII, while checking to made sure we were traveling with enough weapons and warm clothes. Gifting us a Swiss Army knife, we now had 3 damaging blades against those wild bears, but as he pulled out his $3000 rifle collection, we suddenly paused with worry. His whole back seat was loaded with enough ammo to start a malitia of his own. Even with our posse of 5 armed with 3 blades of steel, it would have been a hold up on the 395. But Jon turned out to be one of thoes cool dudes, just had a passion for shootable bullets. His lightheaded spirits once again offered us anything we could possibly need, like a father making sure we had enough to buy food and stay warm. "We have plenty," knowing we were living the dream out of two panniers and $25 a day.
Flats turned to rolling hills and mid day naps were needed for our trio, ralpha, Zeb and I. O'Reilly and action boy had been steadily inhailing caffine by the hour. And at 6 cups, the truth of his caffeinated past came out. All thoes coffee beans he stole from the counter top as a kid, while mom was in the shower, fueled his addiction at an early age. But happy to curl up with a book at a gas station bench, we both go to rest in our own glory. With warnings that cities of rattle snakes live in wild fields all around, we pushed forward to a green grassy manicured lawn in town, imagining horses with braces to keep spirits high. It wasn't the heat that dragged miles out and at 85 degrees and having adapted to our new lizard skin in scorching days of heat, it was now jacket weather. Days of never ending miles finally collaborated and when about to collapse, the only thing dreamt of was a day off at the movies. But after sandwiches and beer, tomorrow awaited with excitment.
Field log: 395 N to the 20. Probably one of the most beautiful roads around. Hwy 20 has a very small shoulder and a handful of cars. It wasn't pleasant but so worth the 100 miles of the 395. Riley has a small campsite and so does Heins and Burns.