'Don't tell me this town don't got no heart,,, you just gotta poke around!'
Yup Slappy from Slowboken here just signin' in from MIssoula minutes after the day of my birth, (which i was just told makes me 27 not 28, so that's funny, I am waaay ahead of schedule) While I supposedly completed the Shakedown St. portion of SLowBoken a lil while back, this is the first computadora access I've had in a while, (not to mention shower, shave, car ride, potluck, midnight, etc.) ANd it's only been 11 days! Or somethin' wheeew
So just do me a favor alright, given any opportunity to tour anything, anywhere, for any period of time, by bike, fucking do it. Ok? Ok.
The Photoz will follow, IB takin' tomorrow off expressly for bacon and bloggn', but howz about a little run down, hmmm?
Contrary to mud shark mythology, I do require sleep and post SSWC, post burnin'Man, post SeattleStompn' (not to mention post C'dale exodus) I did need some sleep and subsequently turned off ze phone, escorted Anna & Justin(bunnyHawk) out of their humble abode, and went to sleep in seattle, thus my departure was SunDay Sept 7th. On the first day, after painlessly finding my way out of Seattle and into the wee burg of Preston, Wa the Shakedown began.
PBR, or Preston Bike Repair happened to be located a matter of feet past the location of my first flat, and Bolton Peck the proprietor, former Dead tour-er and ostensibly stay at home dad, happened to not only have the 170 mm Campy triple cranks that I needed in the back shed which was his sweet shop, but was also willing to trade for the 175's racing triples my short little legs didn't intend on spinning across 'merica. SO the Shakedown began at the heart of the drivetrain and included a new BB, which was also a J&B bargain Campy wannabe that already creaks like a mother.. Aaanyway, on day 1 I was able to put to use some of my hard earned skills and help shut down a bike shop drinking beer, with the aformentioned parts bolted onto my whip..
A couple miles down the road after Pbr was the begining of the rail-trail that I would ride for much of Washington. A singletrack switchbacked up to where the old bridge used to be and I was almost fatally crushed under the Xtra at the crux of the biscuit.. Atop the climb, the rail trail was paved with mowed shoulders and dreamy moist pacific forest. More or less at the very begining of said trail the Shakedown tour de Slowboken continued with my choosing to camp immediatley next to a spring on a lovely bit of lawn. In the morning I managed to watch the Xtra tip over directly onto my new helmet and put a full on spider crack in it that robbed any integrity, as my Pops' says, "good thing yer heads not a vital organ."
From there I was more or less alone on the former Chicago St Louis Railway line for a hundred plus miles, no cars, virtually no other people, and regular refueling opportunities; divine to say the least. As I got farther from the ocean and the moisture dissipated and the density of the trail decreased. The final 20 miles to the columbia river at Vantage where through a sandy desolate section of army traing grounds and it was there that my whip aquired its new name; The John Wayne Pain Train. (JWPT) Oh yeah at some point the trail is called the John Wayne Pioneer trail and railroad grade can be pretty rugged when your skinny lil tires are doing nothing but causing trouble in soft sand and the couple hundred pounds of Xtra cycle baggage react disrespectfully to just about everything. SHakedown St. So anyway the Cascades were gorgeous, not least of all because there were no cars to distract me, and the JWPT got nicer.
I slept under a bridge, off down a little rabbit trail, next to a sign in the desert, in a fallow field, and behind a delapitated barn. The Shakedown was succesful in figuring out the packing scheme for the XTra, (where it can be ridden with no hands) and in rattling loose any shit I didn't need, which I don't know about. Actually I turned around for a while to get one of the Specialguyz gloves of Hollenbacks and for my towel on two seperate occasions. Worth it.
Even until I was at the locked gate it seemed that the John Wayne Pioneer Trail had outdone itself, ( it is a State Park after all (the Iron Horse Park - rail corridor))) BUt when I reached the old railbridge that went across the Columbia River it was a no go, and it was there that the
SHakedown St. reached it's supposed conclusion. A hundred someodd miles (not that I'M counting) of sweetness, not least of which being the Snowqualmie tunnel, (A 2 mile tunnel under Snowqualmie pass accessible only to those non mechanized users on the trail) BUt I had to cross the Columbia on I-90. And so powering up ze phonepodderthing and eating a burger to fortify in Vantage I cowboyed up and dropped the hammer for the mile long bridge of 2x2 traffic with a NO shoulder. And the twoside by side tractor trailers whosomehow gave me the inches I needed will forever be my pals. And then off into the Washington Farm Country, traversing through lovely, albeit economically depressed, farm country down to Clarkson and Lewiston where I crossed into Idaho.
SNorky had told me that the first part of the Slowboken tour would hurt, then it would get better and eventually it would feel like I'd never done anything else, (not there yet) But he also said he might ride with me through Idaho. Well it's too bad he didn't because Rt 12, although a logging truck corridor, is also a wild and scenic river corridor for 70 miles, and the truckers must be used to bikers because I was given plenty of berth throughout. It was in the Wilderness and the Nez Perce reservation, after the first week, that the initial pain cave dwelling began. Culminating I suppose, on my birthday with 30 mi of headwind into Missoula.
None the less, my friend of friend, Jordan, has been uberly accomadating and we were off to a delicious pot luck shortly after touchdown, from which farts continue to emanate.
BUt the SlowBoken is in full effect and the Slideshow will be close to follow. Goodnight and good luck, Slappy from Slowboken
