TransAm Day #50 Powell, ID - Apgar Creek Campground, ID
TransAm Day #50
July 16, 2018
Powell, ID - Apgar Creek Campground, ID
59 Miles
Ride Time 3:38 Hours
Tour Total Miles 3614
I slept well in my tent last night at Lochsa Lodge in Powell, ID. I was exhausted and fell asleep in my clothes at 8pm Pacific Time. I had a little too much to drink. Along with my meal, I drank three 24oz Irish Quilter’s Death Ales. They were stronger than I realized. Plus I had a bottle of Moose Drool Ale back at the picnic table. I slept for ten hours. The birds woke me up early this morning. Rich’s tent was near mine, and he snored all night.
I had breakfast back at the lodge, and the WiFi was suddenly working. I was able to update my blog and social media to let everyone know that I was well. I learned that Blanka the Dog got the roadkill antelope bones that I sent her. She had sniffed my left hand cycling glove, but didn’t devour it like Loki. I got word that Becky had a breakdown outside of Dillon. She got a punctured tyre (as she spells it) and had to find someone to drive her to Bozeman for a replacement. If one is planning to do this trip make sure to have standard 700 or 26 inch tyres. Carry and know how to use a tyre boot.
Lochsa Lodge was one of the nicest camping facilities on the TransAm. The bathrooms were extremely clean and nice. The staff were friendly and accommodating to cyclists. I dried my tent and ground cloth out in the hot sun. It took Eileen forever to pack. There would be no services along the route today, and we would be camping in the middle of nowhere. We packed plenty of food and water.
The Lochsa River valley is a long snaky downhill for 66 miles. I was glad to be riding on the rock cut side of the road and not the edge with the steep drop down into the river. West-bounders have it much easier on this stretch.
The cedar trees in the Lochsa Valley are enchanting. It’s a magical place. I learned that Lewis and Clark had plenty of problems here, which I don’t doubt. They traveled along the ridge tops because the valley was too treacherous. Lochsa is a Nez Perce word meaning rough water. It took the Corps of Discovery a day to get from what is now Powell to Wendover, which is only four miles. It was difficult to keep their unit fed and upbeat.
This was one of the most pleasant days of the tour. It was all downhill, riding alongside the rushing whitewater river. The road quality was poor, and I was passed by dozens of semi trucks laden with smelly asphalt headed to the road construction site ahead.
The plan was to stop at a hot spring we’d heard about at the visitor center yesterday. We were to find a trailhead at mile marker 142. Weir Creek Trail led us a half mile to a series of hot spring pools on a hillside above the creek. We left our bikes at the trailhead, and packed in our food to safeguard against bears. We found a large hot pool, occupied by large middle-aged man with a John Bolton style handle bar mustache. He was buck naked, legs spread, and sporting a small penis. Above this pool was a smaller one that wasn’t as hot. The lowest pool alongside the creek was much cooler. Like Goldilocks I sat in all three. We spent over an hour and half at the hot springs, and it was fantastic!
Back at the trailhead we met a friendly motorist who was planning to camp there for the night. He offered us beer and hot dogs to cook for dinner. I got the lowdown on the construction a mile down the road. I had heard about the highway 12 road work for days, and was apprehensive about it. Sven told me last night that cyclists had to be transported through the construction zone in the back of a pick-up truck. This would constitute a gap.
I could claim that my completist streak is philosophical or religious. Others might label it a compulsive disorder. Either way, I can’t have any gaps on the TransAm. I need to be able to say and know that I’ve completely ridden my bike across the country. I need to have peddled every inch. In Richmond Kentucky, Steve gave me a ride back to Berea but that was off route. In Dillon, Larry gave me a ride from the supermarket to his house and back, but again that was off route. I had two choices; try to negotiate or make a run for it. I chose the later, and gave Scott and Eileen due warning.
I was half a mile ahead of my companions, and saw the pylons and orange signs coming. I knew the moment had arrived. The flag person held up a stop sign in the middle of my lane, and I rode right around her. She tried to pursue me. A pick-up with flashing lights came after me and twice tried to block me. I ride my bike in New York City, and I’m used to all sorts of crazy shit. I slipped in tight behind an asphalt truck and continued through. At the second stop point I did the same run around. He also chased me and I peddled fast and through. There wasn’t a pick-up truck pursuit the second time. I was an outlaw on the run for eight miles and it was thrilling! No gaps.
My bold move caused problems for Scott and Eileen, who were falsely told that I had flipped off workers and yelled obscenities. Not true. My companions were advised that they would be transported through the work zone in the back of a pick-up truck, constituting a gap. Eileen replied that she was willing to wait ninety minutes until the end of their work day. She and Scott could cook dinner, dip their toes in the water, and write in their journals. Eventually a compromise was reached, and they rode through behind the pilot car along with the motorists. No gaps for anyone on our team. My sincerest apologies to Idaho DOT and the workers rebuilding highway 12 for my completist tendencies.
On our way to the campground we saw two bald eagles scouting for fish above the river. We camped alongside the Lochsa River in Clearwater National Forest Campground at Apgar Creek. We met three other westbound cyclists in the campground who didn’t mind gaps in their routes today.
ROB YOU ARE A GENTLEMAN REBEL HAHA EXCELLENT.
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