Pomeroy, Washington to Lewiston, Idaho. Sunday, May 26, 2024.
This script almost wrote itself. I should’ve known better. If I wax poetic about my dream bike, if I gush with pride, something is sure to happen.
The seat had been squeaking more than usual, so I got down below it to apply some lube. I was immediately taken aback.
Oh no! The right seat rail had broken, just as in the seat before, but this time I couldn’t blame the seat post clamp, it was brand new and much more supportive than the previous. I noticed this early Sunday morning of Memorial Day weekend, and for a moment, I was at loss about what to do. I called Jane, who talked me off the ledge.
I was in this tiny town, Pioneer, with the only establishment being a small grocery store. No handy garage with a welder, no service station at all. I looked for bike shops, only one showed up on Google maps, 32 miles away in Lewiston, Idaho, where I’d already reserved a room for tonight. It was open from noon till four today, then not again until Tuesday. Other than that, there were no bike shops at all until you hit Missoula, Montana!
Take an Uber to and from the bike shop, Jane suggested. I was skeptical Uber would even come here, in the middle of nowhere, but apparently I could do it, for $170 round-trip. Or I could see if I could squeeze the bike into the Uber and save one leg. But that would of course “break the chain” of a coast-to-coast bike ride, and my sea to summit mountain climbs.
I could see if the motel proprietress, Rhonda, knew a welder in town. I’d survived the shower, so she’d morphed in my mind from Norman’s Mother to Help Me Rhonda.
These were sensible suggestions, but none sounded too appealing. I futzed around a bit and was able to slide the seat backwards, so that the clamp acted as a splint across the break.
Maybe, if I was very ginger on the bike seat, I could ride the bike to Lewiston on my own. Jane was rightly skeptical. What if this MacGyver job failed, and I was really in the middle of nowhere, out of cell range, with no chance of making it to the bike shop before it closed? I’d be up the proverbial creek. Get the Uber, she said.
What do you call a man with half a brain? Gifted. The old joke echoed in my head as I torqued the clamp bolts to 10 Newton meters and cringingly headed down the highway, trying not to put too much weight on the seat. There was a thousand foot climb to Alpowa Summit, then an exhilarating 10 mile descent to the Snake River, averaging 32 mph. I tried to stand on the pedals, did not want the seat to fail here. When I reached the river, it took a minute to unclench my teeth, and pry my fingers from the handlebars.
The seat seemed intact. I dared a look.
Could it be? It looked like the gap was smaller! Could I have taken the half brained option and gotten away with it?
Anyway, I could relax a little and notice the Snake and the scenery.
The Snake River, the major tributary of the Columbia. I would follow it for only ten miles before it veered off to its eponymous Canyon, site of the infamous Evel Kenevel Skycycle jump so long ago. I’d been so anxious I failed to notice my odometer rolling over to 1,000, and missed the chance to belt out, as I had in the rain in 2021, the thumping Proclaimers song.
And. I. Would. Bike. Five. Hundred. Miles. And. I. Would. Bike. Five. Hundred. More. Just to be. The. Man. Who. Bikes. A. Thousand. Miles. To. Fall. Down. At. Your. Door.
It was just ten more miles to Clarkston, my last town in Washington, which seemed little more than a commercial strip, then across the Snake to Lewiston, Idaho, much cuter and leafier. The town name reminded me of BFF Brian and Frank’s college town in Maine. Bates was the classic New England small college, so beautiful, such a contrast to the sterile halls of MIT; I would escape there whenever I could. Funny it was surrounded by the gritty town of Lewiston Maine, site of Muhammad Ali’s “phantom punch” defeat of Sonny Liston in 1964
and much later, the largest mass shooting in Maine’s history.
But I digress. I failed to notice that Lewiston and Clarkston were named for my old buddies Meriwether and William, and belatedly purchased the Audiobook Undaunted Courage, Stephen Ambrose’s classic biography. And I’ve been on the Lewis and Clark trail for three weeks. D’oh!
The bike shop, Follett’s Mountain Sports, was still open, and Scott was very helpful.
He is a collector of Lionel model trains, and showed me a photo of his awesome home set up. He mentioned he had met Evel Knievel at a convention, he seemed a rather withered old man. He warned me of a hazard in these parts, goathead thorns, cause of many flat tires. And he sold me a classic Avocet touring bike seat for only $15.
I remember these from the 1980s, the first of the anatomically padded bike seats. Avocet was more famous for their adorable little cyclometer, so simple and light, came in many colors, all of the Tour de France riders sported them back in the day.
Since the MacGyver job seems to be holding I think I’ll keep the Brooks Saddle until it fails, having the Avocet on hand. I texted Simon Firth, the Brooks guru in Philadelphia, for his ideas on why the rails keep breaking. Scott at the bike shop has never seen that happen. Meantime, Jane will mail my other Brooks Saddle, the one Simon repaired, once I figure out a good pickup spot, and I’ll send this one to Simon. And so the triangle trade continues. Maybe, as I lose further weight, this dance can stop. Not ready to give up on Brooks yet.
The hotel was full of baseball players, from Indiana University Southeast campus, I had fun chatting with Ben, their coach. Lewiston is the site of the NAIA World Series. I wish them luck.
Idaho. One of my least visited western states, although incongruously I have climbed the highpoint, Borah Peak, twice (don’t ask). Famous for potatoes, Sun Valley, Hemingway’s suicide, and the Ruby Ridge debacle. For me, notable for the Idaho Stop (Idaho was the first state to allow bicycles to use stop signs as yield signs) and for an inane childhood riddle.
If Mrs. Ippy leant Miss Ouri her New Jersey, what would Della Wear?
Idaho. Alaska.
Distance 34 miles, 1,028 total. Time 6 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,243 feet
©️ 2024 Scott Luria
The Ends of the Earth 