Idaho

Funny…most of the cyclists we talked to at the bike shop don’t know road routes to get out of town. Most of them are mountain bike riders. One of the suggestions was that we go up into the Sawtooth Mountains through Stanley and Ketchum, but it’s Memorial Day weekend. If we followed this route suggestion, we would have lots of climbing through snowy mountains and we’d still have to pass through the lava desert when we came down. Two reasons I didn’t want to do that: 1) holiday weekend with big RVs on narrow mountain roads---the first big fishing weekend of the season and 2) it entailed CLIMBING up snowy mountains. (I wanted to flattest route across America I could find. I still don’t like climbing.)

Instead we bought a DeLorme map atlas of Idaho, and found some secondary roads that don’t show up on a regular state route map. We ripped out all the pages of the areas we wouldn’t be going close to (the weight issue, you know?). We mapped out a route that parallels the Interstate and follows the Snake River. There are more towns, so probably more services. We just hope that this atlas has correct information because that’s how we plan on going.

We rode on Interstate 84 for a little while yesterday. Idaho DOT had a state bicycle route map posted in PDF format on their web site. I-84 is one of the state’s suggested routes. We flagged down a local policeman to ask him for a route suggestion and he said to ride the interstate. He obviously had not been on that section of freeway on a bicycle. It was terrifying. There was a 9 foot wide shoulder, but there was construction and lots of debris. The entry and exit ramps were particularly hazardous. Drivers were not watching for riders. There was so much traffic it was difficult to find clear spots to cross. At each ramp you are never sure if someone is going to take you out. We crossed 3-4 exits before we couldn’t take it anymore. We were kind of testy with each other there as well. We were scared.

Bob says I get slower when I get scared. I slow to make observations around me; he speeds up to get through the problem. He yelled at me when we crossed a bridge too, but I was in the wrong gear and I was clipped in, and there was no rail. He yells at me when he gets nervous and he’s not very nice. I go slower; he goes faster, then we get split up and he gets mad because we are split up. We will have to work on this.

This evening we walked around Boise taking it easy. Nice downtown here. It was very festive since they have outdoor activity and music on some summer evenings. We had a good Italian dinner.

Friday, the start of Memorial Day weekend. We thought we had a route out of Boise that would enable us to stay off the interstate. We got out of the city south of the airport. After 20 miles we intersected I-84 and there was supposed to be Old Route 30, but guess what? It wasn’t there. We ended up back on I-84 which was actually OK. It had a really wide shoulder and only a few tire remnants; mostly it was a clean shoulder. Wind at our backs. We ended up traveling 30 miles on the interstate. At one point we found a RV pulled off on the side of the road . It had been really windy. We figured he got freaked and stopped. I stopped to walk around the big vehicle and so did Bob, because we didn’t want to be out on the main highway. There were really a lot of big trucks.

Now we are in Mountain Home. We plan on taking Business 84 and Old Route 30. It should be a real road from now on. It parallels the Snake. We will be crossing the interstate back and forth and shouldn’t have to do any more speed riding. You don’t enjoy the scenery with all the big trucks bearing down behind you. It is a very nice afternoon here in Mountain Home. Puffy white clouds; nice breeze. Pulled our picnic table into the shade. Having a good old time.

Last night we walked to a café named Scottie’s. We were charged $5.50 for a full salad bar and salmon dinner with baked potato, vegetable, and a loaf of bread. Can’t really quite beat it! Quality was not stupendous, but a prolific quantity of food. Lots of trains come through Mountain Home---all night long. Pulling on the horn!

We left Mountain Home a little late today. Wind has already picked up. We thought we were riding 17 miles to Hammett for breakfast, but it turned out to be 22 miles, but since we had a headwind the whole way it seemed longer. Bob was going soooo sloooooww that it took forever to get there. I had to keep waiting for him. I couldn’t believe it. We were traveling at walking speed down hills. We are supposed to have fun, but we weren’t. When we got to Hammett, there was no café open, so we had sausage muffins with some juice and other things left over from breakfast at the grocery store.

It was another 9 miles to Glenn’s Ferry. The wind stopped and at least that part was pleasant. We were off the interstate all morning. Had a little lunch at the café in Glenn’s Ferry. We crossed the freeway and up over a hill toward King’s Hill. Bob rode with his helmet off for a while since it was so warm. After riding along the river we missed our turn and ended up on the stupid freeway again. It wasn’t that bad. There is not much traffic on the Idaho freeway once the cities are left behind. Most of the traffic moved over into the passing lane. Drivers heading towards us honked and waved. The freeway section was only about 10 miles, but it was hot by then. We had planned to go as far as Thousand Springs, but I wanted to stop, so we stopped. We are in Bliss.

Right!

This area of Idaho is very dry. Semiarid desert. Miles of irrigated wheat and potatoes. Irrigation water is from the Snake. The Snake placidly meanders through the state. Big fields of sprinklers. It is not what I expected. High plateaus. The Snake sits in a big, wide gorge.

Left Bliss this morning and went downhill to Hagerman. Good pavement, great shoulder. Had breakfast there, nice downhill. Left Hagerman via the Million, no Thousand Springs Scenic Byway. Waterfalls spurt out of the hillside into the Snake. Take this byway if you are ever in the neighborhood. We are moving pretty well. We climbed back out of the river’s gorge then on into Twin Falls for a snack.

What!!! That shouldn’t be here.

It was cool, so we were riding pretty well without getting tired. We were going to stop at Mile 70, but Bob convinced me that we should go a little further because he didn’t want to go too far tomorrow on the last day of the holiday weekend. So we went 95 miles to end at a hole-in-the-wall dump in Rupert (the Flamingo Motel---where do they get these names? There is nothing tropical whatsoever here). No restaurants are open Sunday, except the pizza parlor. We bought deli food at the grocery and carried it back to our suite. This town is silos, trains and trucks.

We were checking in and he told me to watch his bike. I watched it for a while, then I looked away for just a second and then it tipped over. His mirror attachment broke. He yelled at me and won’t apologize for yelling and being a jerk. I’m pissed off at him now. This is a truly wonderful establishment. The farmworkers outside the room next door stared unabashedly at us as we banged our way into the dingy room.

Who cares about a mileage record?

Maybe 3 cars passed us.

If people scratch on rocks now, it is called graffiti. In the middle of the Idaho desert, if you put an old enough date on it, it becomes an historical landmark. The road to this landmark was not pleasant. It was large, pebbly gravel. Quite the kidney wrencher. We wanted to stay off the interstate so we could enjoy the countryside, but after Register Rock, we opted for a smooth section of the paved road again. The interstate smoothes out the hills and it was not so bumpy. We could write a treatise on various road pavements and how they effect a rider’s mood.

I keep forgetting to mention is how fragrant it is out here. There are lots of plants blooming. Aromatic sage and alfalfa. I watch carefully for beehives. There are pungent moments as we pass by a particularly ripe dairy. Yesterday, we passed a monstrous pile of white stuff. I couldn’t figure out what it was. I stopped to ask a woman working in her yard. It was residual from a sugar beet processing plant. She described the smell as a combination dead cow and dead chicken mixed with sulfur. She said it wasn’t vile today while we were there, but it was vile, just vile.

This is a nice afternoon. Breezy, but in the mid 70s. We have the tent up and clean laundry. Bob cleaned and oiled the bicycles. I am in the tent reading and I am very relaxed. The sun’s rays beat down on my head.

People here in Idaho have got to be the friendliest so far. My shoulder socket is getting sore from lifting my arm so frequently to wave at all the ranchers/farmers who give us their nods. Each of them has a different signal---some lift a thumb off the steering wheel, some give a half wave, some the nod. While we were eating lunch next to the reservoir a couple asked us a couple of questions, then brought their sandwiches over and sat with us for a good half hour.

Wide swathes of blue flowers along the road.

The main highlight of this trip is the people. This morning at breakfast one of the locals from another table brought coffee around since the waitress was busy. He chatted until our cups were empty and needed more refills. Then at lunch we pulled into a restaurant in Blackfoot where we were immediately surrounded by 3 young boys. "Where are you from?" "California." "Where did you ride from?" "California, south of San Francisco" "No!! Where did you really come from?" Their mom came out while we were eating and said we had really, really impressed them. I think it may give people an idea that maybe something they want to do, but may seem a little out of reach, just may be possible.

The second highlight is being able to try the many homemade deserts we find in cafes across America.

85!!!

Our route (Hwy 91) into Idaho Falls was OK until we were within a couple of miles of town. The road narrowed to no shoulder as the after work traffic picked up. We were not happy riders and could find no parallel road into town, so once again we went to the other side and walked/rode on the edge. We are not proud or insistent on riding if we feel our lives are imperiled.

The riding across the plain area with the cross wind was difficult, but the riding by the lake (Palisades Reservoir) was grueling. Overall our elevation gain was minimal, but we climbed and dropped repeatedly passing the reservoir. When we came to an open area the wind swatted us sideways. I could not anticipate the variance of each blast, so each open space was mentally fatiguing.

At the top of one grind I stopped for a snack. Two very excited travelers almost fell out of their cars while honking, waving and cheering for us. We like this encouragement. Except for the tourer we glimpsed in Upper California, we still have not seen any other loaded bicyclists.