This was simply one of the best days cycling ever. Scenery such as I have only seen on films. Wide open grasslands leading to mountains with scattered pines, small derelict wooden barns, cattle in some places, horse ranches in others. Narrow wooded canyons with cliffs, winding through to the next open vista. And always that big Montana sky. Wow! 

  
To begin with it was overcast and cool – great for cycling but not so good for photos. After 50 miles we stopped for brunch at the Stray Bullet Cafe in the tiny wooden wild west hamlet of Ovando. This was the first place since leaving Missoula! I had been looking forward to this moment for at least 2 years and, although it wasn’t quite as quirky as I had imagined, the three generations of women did us proud with a second breakfast and a pack up for the remaining 77 almost uninhabited miles. 

   
 
After Ovando we picked up an afternoon tail wind as the sun came out. We were still climbing, but at a good speed. And still the scenery was stunning – huge glacial moraines hundreds of feet high and miles long swept down from the mountains and cut across the grasslands.

   
 
After 95 miles, and at the second hamlet of the day, Avon, we had run out of water. The hoped for Post Office wasn’t open so Tim knocked on a door where we had seen boys playing. Well, we got a hero’s reception and had a lovely play with the kids into the bargain!  8 year old twins boys are fun. 

For the final miles we ran beside the railway again and were treated to the sight and sound of more enormously long trains. One had 2 traction units front and back and 4 more in the middle! And nearly 200 wagons. The track ran beside low crags and I was expecting Butch Cassidy and co to come swooping down to hold up the train! (I may also have sung the Casey Jones theme tune).

  
And finally there was the small matter of the McDonald Pass. I am not used to starting the main climb of the day with over 100 miles in the legs, but needs must. And it had been the fastest 100 I have ever ridden.

  
At 6225 feet this was our highest point so far. But more important it is the Continental Divide. I had to have a pee on the top – just to see if it would end up in the Caribbean, via the Missouri and Mississippee, or the Pacific via the Colombia River!  The views off the very fast descent to Helena were great.

  
It’s not much of a hotel, but we were here before 5pm. Not bad for 125 miles and 6000 feet of ascent. We are now in search of large quantities of food.

Everyone assumes that we are in town for today’s marathon. But we managed to resist the temptation to join in. In fact it was pretty much all over by the time we had got up! (They started  at 6am to beat the heat).

  
We wandered round the area near the Uni campus, where there are some lovely, delapidated wooden house.

   
 
The campus itself is very attractive – and the Uni of Montana has a mediim sized social work dept! Mmm.. 
  
It also has good views of the hills behind, labelled L and M (M just visible above) for Lake Missoula – mentioned earlier. In the next photo you can just about make out the horizontal lines of the various lake levels. (The zig zag lines are the path leading up to the M – no we didn’t!). This was the vast lake that drained explosivley through the Clark Fork river valley that we were riding yesterday.  

But most of the day we spent reading and lying down. Can’t think why. Tomorrow the adventure resumes. 127 miles and 6000 feet of ascent across the open, big skies of the Montana grasslands, with only 2 tiny settlements all day – oh, and we cross the Great Divide. Can’t wait.

There had been rain in the night, and we woke to low clouds on the mountains. So we knew we were in for different weather today. 

But first, here are some photos from last night of the damned dam, and the 50ft high, snakey concrete fish ladder.

   
 
We had steaks and beer on a deck overlooking the river, watching the deer and the herons. The only thing spoiling the tranquilty were the huge, honking freight trains rolling through about 50 feet away. We counted 123 wagons on one of them. Again, the locals were very friendly and we were offered the use of a nearby fishing cabin. Sadly we had already checked in to our motel. 

After a quick breakfast at the 24hr gas station we were away early, heading up valley. Except it wasn’t really up at all. We didn’t gain any height in 65 miles of riding. The river just sits there quietly. Not a place for kayaking or rafting. Its because of the Missoula flood erosion. And this had also scoured the valley sides, so we cycled under huge crags. Side valleys played havoc with the wind direction. One minute we had a good tail wind and were purring along at 25mph, and the next minute it was in our face and we were doing 13. 

Entering Plains a train came past us – for what seemed like an eternity.

  
We also passed through Paradise, though we agreed that it left quite a lot to be desired. The owners of the fishing cabin drove past and wound down the window for a chat. Just like the tdf team cars – but no magic spanner.

  
Soon after Paradise the rain started, so no more photos I am afraid. After the 65 flat miles we stopped for brunch at the Bison cafe before the only (very gentle) climb of the day. I loved ordering a Huckleberry Short Stack with 2 eggs over easy. And I’ve nearly got the accent!

The Bison cafe is fairly near the National Bison Reserve. Sadly, this is one attraction where road bikes are a serious disadvantage. The idea is to drive miles of dirt track from an already remote visitor centre, over steeply rolling hills, looking for the beasties. And anyway, it was raining, so the bison were probably sulking. We stayed in the cafe. I am sure there are bison photos on the internet somewhere.

Fuelled by eggs and pancakes we flew up the hill in steady rain, and on to Missoula. This last section had much more traffic and we were riding a broad, but very dirty shoulder. The Continental 4000 tyres that we put on proved brilliant, coping even in the wet with bits of lumber, huge quantities of sharp grit, broken glass and assorted animal bones. The only thing they cant handle is the spiky wire from the shredded sidewalls of truck tires. So after one puncture each in good weather earlier in the trip, we were weaving furiously to avoid shreds of tire so as not to puncture in the rain. Running downhill to Missoula we actually kept pace with a train for several miles.

Our second day over 100 miles was done soon after 2pm, so we are off exploring soon. And a day off the bikes tomorrow.

Last nights meal at McDuffs brewery was great, and the beers fantastic. A big salad starter, but then the chIcken came with broccoli but no carbohydrate. No good for a hungry cyclist. So I had to balance the meal by having the chocolate brownie, made with their Porter beer. Quite the best ever. It was 5 inches square, and an inch and a half thick and had space on top for 4 huge scoops of ice cream. Oh, and lashings of chocolate sauce. 

We had a walk on Sandpoint beach, with some geese.

    
This morning our friendly host at Sweet Magnolia made us an excellent breakfast, and told us his life story. Used to be an engineer, down South, but came here on holiday ten years ago and stayed. ‘I had my mid-life crisis with my wife and family in tow’. They all came. Watch out Helen!

The first 25 miles today were round the north shore of the Pend Orielle lake. It is hard to say how good this was. The long views across the vast expanse of water were hazy, because of high altitude smoke from a huge bush fire about 35 miles away, but I took some close ups of the Pack River delta, and some floating logs.

        
Here is some geography for you. Sandpoint is on the site of the trigger for one of the most gigantic, spectacular, and cataclysmic flood events ever to take place anywhere on the planet. During the past ice age 13,000 years ago Sandpoint was just beyond the southerly extent of the ice cap. A glacial tongue projected south and, at Sandpoint, it blocked the Clark Fork River. Because the river is bounded by mountains on all sides this created an enormous lake south of the ice sheet, some 200 miles long and, in places, up to 2000 feet deep. The centre was at what is now Missoula, where we are headed tomorrow. It is thought that the lake took about 50 years to form, but the spectacular moment came with the near instantaneous collapse of the ice dam. Pretty much the entire lake emptied in about 24 to 48 hours – with a wall of water moving at 80mph, at about 100 times the flow rate of the Amazon. This created the ‘channeled scablands’ south of where we’ve been riding, towards Coulee Dam, and smaller temporary lakes where the water was constricted at various points before it escaped to the sea, creating the Columbia river gorge behind Portland. There is a 15 min video at www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Na-yPW-52I if you have time on your hands!

We turned up the Clark Fork river valley, entering Montana, the third state of the trip, and followed the valley all the way to Thompson Falls. At times the smoke haze obscured things, but in the afternoon the sun came through. 

 Lunch was at an amazing casino/bar full of pensioners playing cards. About 50 of them around card tables. 

The Montana rail line also comes through the valley – so we were treated to the sight and sound of these enormous trains rolling through.

And now we are in a basic motel, right beside the falls, now dammed. On arrival we discovered that we have skipped ahead by one time zone and gained an hour. We must really be heading East.

  
By the way, apologies for apparent lack of response to your comments. A glitch is disconnecting me from my server after just one post – so progress on posting anything is very slow. But I am loving reading them. Thanks.

Our first >100 mile ride – which is significant when you are trying to average 100+ for the whole trip. But better than that, this was a stunningly beautiful ride. 

After an opening, fast, 22 mile valley ride we stopped  at Chewelah for coffee, and bumped into a woman we had met the previous afternoon in Kettle Falls. People can’t get their heads round how far and fast we move!

The coffee shop provided more evidence of the ‘2 Americas’ theory. Unlike the working class cafe a couple of days ago, this definitely did not serve ‘just caaffee’ – but was hippie central with every type of coffee and adjuncts you could imagine – and fantastic, very expensive, whole food cooking. Slim people choosing carefully. As opposed to last night’s meal in Pizza Hut where the other America (and us!) downs cheap fast food and bland beer and coffee.

Next was the Flowery Trail pass – a delightful climb up a quiet side road. Life really doesn’t get much better than this I was thinking as we left the cafe! Lovely hot day, 2500 feet of climbing to look forward to in great scenery, and we have still got weeks of this ahead! Actually, it was steeper than usual – 9% for several miles – and I was glad of the 29 tooth ring that I added to my rear cassette at the last minute.

    
After an equally steep descent (where Tim still didn’t quite manage to break the 50mph speed limit that he’s been aiming for on each descent) we reached the Pend Orielle river. Crossing the bridge gave great views of old salmon catching net posts.

    
We followed a quiet road along the river bank. By now it was in the high 90s and we still had 50 miles to run. But the tranquil river scenes settled us into a smooth rhythm and the miles rolled by nicely.

    
At Newport we recrossed the river, entered Idaho, and had a huge chicken salad and the usual gallons of water in a restaurant with riverside views.

The afternoon was also mainly on quiet roads and, in horse and farming country with beautiful wooden houses and old barns. We saw huge, white headed birds of prey, nesting on telegraph posts. Not bald eagles, but not sure what. 

The final run in to Sandpoint was on a long bridge over the Pend Orielle lake. The photos don’t do it justice. 

   Sandpoint is an unexpectedly excellence town, in fantastic scenery on the edge of the lake. A well kept secret – maybe I should write something for the Guardian travel pages. Our Sweet Magnolia B&B is very top quality, if a bit twee, and we have a recommendation for a good brewery restaurant. 

Two beautiful passes today. There was a lot of climbing, but the scenery is fantastic, and there’s no way I was going the flat way round the mountains, with all the traffic. 

The alps may be beautiful, but these moutains are the Wild. No chalets, ski lifts, villages, tourist buses – just logging lorries coming through every now and again. 

    
I spent most of the day climbing 6% grades at 6.6 mph at a cadence of 66rpm. Sounds diabolical, but it was heaven!

Starting at 5.30 meant that we got to the top of the Wauconda Pass in the cool, and were down in Republic by 9.30. Republic is another proper Wild West town, dating from the gold rush in the 1890s. But the mining was very short lived and nowadays, apart from the period shopfronts, there are but two attractions: a fossil hunting centre and – wait for it – a wooden carousel built in 1896. We didn’t have time for fossil hunting but we felt we had to hunt down the carousel. After all, you can go a very long way between visitor attractions around here, so it’s important not to miss anything interesting! But it was shut.

    
We were well fed in the general store, and stocked up with delicious cookies. The Sherman Pass was steeper, but just stunning. Rolling mountains with fir trees spaced out in lush grassland. On the summit we met two touring cyclists who had been crawling up the Washington Pass a few days ago as we shot past. They got to Winthrop about 4 hours after us and looked done in after a 12 hour day. They were looking enviously at our set up and planning to shed some gear. So how they got to the top of the Sherman Pass ahead of us I have no idea! They must surely have got a lift part way – but they weren’t owning up to it!

A long descent took us to Kettle Falls. Kettle Falls is a sad sort of place, because the falls no longer exist. Where there used to be a magnificent set of rapids and waterfalls, and a major salmon fishing site known to native Americans since ancient times, now there is just a pair of utilitarian bridges for road and railway. 

The falls were flooded in 1940 by the creation of the lake behind the Grand Coulee Dam. Nonetheless, the Columbia river is the first major river crossing of our trip, so it was worth a stop and a photo.

    
A litre and a half of iced coca cola in town revived us for the final leg. A fantastic day.

Winthrop has old wooden buildings and a real Wild West feel to it. Tim tells me The Virginian was filmed here. Last nights meal on the wooden veranda was enormous – salmon and rice, rhubarb pie and local IPA. 

   
 An easier day today, and just as well. After breakfast in the hotel we cycled down the Methow valley for about 30 mins to Twisp for a second breakfast, and food for the climb. Not making that mistake again. Tim was told off for trying to order a posh cappuccino – ‘we just have caaaffee round here’! The most photogenic thing in Twisp were the school buses.

  
The scenery has changed a lot. Everything is hotter and drier than west of the Cascades, and the trees more sparse. 

  
Today there is high cloud and a heat haze. As we climbed the Loup Loup pass we passed through an area of last years big forest fire. On the summit at 10am, we flew down to Okanagan, past netted apple orchards. By now the heat was intense. 

  
Lunch in Omak was the biggest Cesar salad you ever did see. Every small town needs its entertainment. Here it is the ‘World Famous Omak Suicide Race’. This consists of a horse race straight down the 200 foot tall, 60 degree bank of the Okanagan River, crashing into the water, swimming across and then racing the remaining few hundred feet to the Rodeo ground. The first into the stadium is the winner.

I am just sad that we had to make do with watching previous years on the internet because it doesn’t take place until August. It is one hell of a big, steep bank! Of course, had we had mountain bikes we’d have given it a try – but these thoroughbred Bianchis can’t swim.

So here are some Youtube links. Just not for animal rights’ activists. The best one is from 2013:  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvlJkI1kqO8 

But there is also a headcam version from 2012: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cY5fbHnXSFs 

The last 20 miles into a moderate head wind were some of the hottest I have ever cycled. After 30 mins our iced water in the bottles was hot enough to make tea. The wind was like an open furnace door. On flat, straight, boring roads we have been using an egg timer to take 3 minute turns on the front (sheltering the other from the wind). We change over when the timer goes off. Perfect! This time I found myself wondering whether I would actually be baked solid right through after 3 minutes on the front, in the heat blast, or whether there would still be runny bits in the middle. Good job we weren’t doing 4 minute turns.

  
We knocked off at 2pm and plan to do nothing at all this afternoon! Tomorrow is the biggest day of climbing in the entire trip – 2 big passes one after the other. 

A fantastic day’s cycling – right over the  Cascades via the Washington Pass.

But first last night’s ‘Resort’ provided an enormous bacon egg and pancake breakfast, and we stopped to play with the semi-tame rabbits that live there.

  
Away at 7.40 in the cool, we soon reached the last settlement in the Skagit valley, the Seattle light company town, where everyone works at the hydro plant. An old loco sat outside.

    
But we arrived at 8.30, and the general store didn’t open until 10. We had no food at all, and it was 60 miles and 6000ft to the next supplies. Being impatient, and worried about the heat,  we set off regardless and did the whole thing ‘pane y agua’ as the cyclists say. Except without the bread, and using water from the mountain streams. Madness.

The climbing was relentless, but the views were stunning, first through a gorge and them high above Ross Lake. We had flown over this section last week and seen it from the air.

We didn’t stop at the first pass, Rainy Pass, but shot off down before the final climb to Washington Pass.

 The descent underneath Liberty Bell Spires was sensational. On reaching Mazama at about 3pm we ate the equivalent of two lunches to make up! The first blueberry pie of the trip – and sensational.

In Winthrop, at journey’s end, we were eating ice cream and sheltering from the heat (nearly 100F by now) when a lovely couple and their son came over to chat about our ride. All cyclists, and Bianchi owners. And they live in Michigan, a couple of miles from our route through Marine City. They figured it out from the map on our jerseys! So we exchanged details and hope to meet up, as they will then be back from their holiday. 

I’m afraid we didn’t make it to the July 4th fireworks last night, having fallen asleep before they really got going! And, strangely, we were the only people up for breakfast when it opened at 7am.

The day started with a crossing of the Deception Pass bridges. I like these sea level passes that require no climbing at all. This one separates Whidbey Island from Fidalgo Island. We crossed by means of a spectacular high level steel bridge, built in 1935. The bridge is in two sections, stopping off at the tiny Pass Island, midway across. This is a truly stunning seascape, with a huge tidal surge racing through way below us.

The Pass was named by Vancouver himself in 1792, because his expedition missed it the first time around and had concluded, wrongly, that Whidbey sland was connected to Fidalgo Island. They were an incompetent lot, these explorer types. I am not sure if this is an early example of English self-deprecatory humour or an attempt to deflect criticism.

In the 1880s the Pass and its smalls islands were the site of large scale (for the time) smuggling of Chinese immigrants. This became notorious when the operation was threatened by imminent official intervention and many of the would-be immigrants were simply drowned by the smugglers in what became known as Dead Man’s Bay.

These days there is a state park on land and at sea, and boat trips a plenty. Kayakers love the tidal falls, and so does a lot of other marine life. The views are superb out to the San Juan slands, and towards Victoria and the Pacific.

After the bridges we followed the coastline for a few miles, through more villages with painted wooden houses, before finally turning inland and heading East, towards the mountains. But first there was time for a second breakfast in the beautiful town of La Conner. A maple and bacon cake with maple sugar icing. This is the life.

  
The jerseys have been a great hit. They get us into conversations everywhere, right from the first ferry yesterday. I suppose by definition, those who are interested enough to ask are mostly encouraging – so that’s good!

From La Conner we entered the Skagit Valley and enjoyed a fabulous, quiet road beside the river for about 30 miles.

   
 Our final stop was at the town of Concrete. This is a company town – the Portland Cement Company – and was essential for the building of all the concrete dams up the valley in the early 19th century. The Concrete Drug Store (concrete drugs?) and Concrete Theatre (no imagination required) amused us both. 

   
 It was about 95F by this time and much water was needed. The final few red hot miles up Hwy 20 have brought us to a lovely spot where we have our very own 2 bedroom cabin in the woods. Luzury! Tomorrow the Washington Pass.

Pedals have turned, and the ride is under way at last. Well sort of. The first leg lasted just half a mile, from Waterfront Park to the ferry terminal. Then we boarded a car ferry, and glided serenely across the Puget Sound. The sun sparkled off the improbably blue water, and the views forward over Bainbridge Island to the distant Olympic Mountains were breath taking. And back to Seattle and Mount Ranier wasn’t bad either.

 Tim’s camera was working overtime. This simply has to be one of the best seascapes on the entire planet, and one of the best ways to travel.

The only snag is that we were heading westwards, and that is altogether the wrong direction. With every passing second the distance to Boston was increasing. But we were not worried. Just at the moment nothing is going to break the spell. The promise of 40 days cycling is stretching out in front of us like an enchanted dream. Setting off to cycle east across America, from Seattle to Boston, seems such a perverse thing to do anyway (we could fly across in 3 hours) that to begin by sailing, not cycling, and in entirely the opposite direction – well, it seems a fittingly odd way to start!

It seems to have become almost mandatory to bookend your cross-country cycle ride with well-photographed wheel-dipping ceremonies: rear wheel in the sea at the start (nervously), and front wheel at the opposite coast (triumphantly). I would like to claim that the non-conformist streak in me decided not to bother with it at all. But when we arrived at our ‘official’ starting point, Waterfront Park, Seattle, it became clear that wheel-dipping at this particular spot was nigh on impossible. The Park is built on wooden piers, jutting out over the water. When we arrived at around 8am the water was about 20 feet below the railing at the edge of the pier, and there was no ladder access to the sea. So we had to make do with a picture by the rail.

  
The real point of the ferry ride was to get us out of Seattle and north towards the Washington Pass by a suitably scenic route. But I have always enjoyed punctuating my bike rides with ferry crossings, as anyone who has ridden with me will attest. This one took us to Bainbridge Island, a very well-heeled commuter suburb. Today the high street was sealed off for a July 4th parade, but we just got through ahead of the party! Then it was on across the Agate Pass (actually a sea passage – spanned by a road bridge) to the mainland again.

   
 We stopped for the first coffee of the trip in Port Gamble – a pretty wooden village where, again, July 4 was in full swing.

Then it was on to the Hood Canal Bridge – confusingly named. First, the Hood Canal is not a man-made canal – it is a natural arm of the Puget Sound, a salt-water, tidal estuary. Second, the Bridge is mostly not a bridge – it is a series of floating pontoons with a roadway on top and a retractable central section to allow big boats through. (Small boats can get under a small bridge section at the eastern end). The big boats in question are Trident submarines going to and from the nuclear weapons store at Bangor. Being here brings back distant memories of an early 80s CND mass trespass at the site of RN D Coulport (the Navy’s equivalent Trident weapons store on Loch Long) when it was under construction. The one and only time I have ever combined serious Scottish hiking over
rough ground with a direct action protest. But fortunately no sign of Trident subs today and no direct action required.

The ‘bridge’ floats for just under 2km of its nearly 2.5 km length. It was built in the 1960s and was rebuilt after being destroyed by a wind storm in 1979. Glad I wasn’t riding over it then.

   
 Another 20 miles took us to Port Townsend and a fantastic hippy cafe for lunch. Then a second ferry took us back east to Whidney Island and the final miles to Oak Harbor. 

  
It has hit 95F this afternoon, but we have had the cooling sea breeze all day. We are making the most of it! The hotel has a windmill on the roof (not sure why) and we are relaxing and preparing for tonights fireworks. We are promised a spectacular display!

Altogether a superb first day.