Two Lane Blacktop

Friday, 20 June: Rest day. I ate a whole lot of fruit and yogurt, since I'm near a grocery store. I talked on the phone and used the internets a whole bunch. I almost feel caught up to society again. I only just learned today that Hillary offically dropped out of the race. It was pretty much a done deal before I left, but she's a scrapper...

Some other Canadians, doing self-contained touring, rolled in and set up camp this afternoon. They are going the opposite direction as I am, so I got a little info about the road ahead, and passed on some tidbits about the road behind. We spent a lot of time checking out each others' gear and exchanging tips for life on the road. They are the first touring cyclists I've camped by on this trip, and seem like the most hard core old school campers I've met so far. They're really friendly and nice to sit and chat with. They say eh a lot, eh? It makes me pine for a nice Kids in the Hall rerun. And a lifetime supply of Kraft dinner! They had also met a bunch of the people who have passed me, or that I've heard about, so that's fun. It's a wacky little bicycle touring community up here on Highway 2. They also met the Germans on their way into town, who are apparently staying at a nearby motel. Those guys got a ride past the construction in Dodson... And the rest of the way into Malta! That's about twenty miles! I should just be hitchhiking, instead of pedalling hard like a sucker.

While we were hanging out, sharing grapes and cookies and slapping mosquitoes, a couple stopped by with their grandkids. Apparently they had met the Canadians at the store, and wanted to introduce their grandkids to the people riding their bicycles across the country. They got a bonus biker. We all had a nice visit.

I stayed at the city park in Malta. Most smaller towns let you stay for free, but this is a really big park with quite a few campers, so they charge three dollars per night. I gladly paid it, because in the bathroom there is a laundry sink! That is uncommon. There is only cold water, but it is so much easier to rinse out my clothes in a nice big sink. There are no showers, but I got one over at the gas station for two dollars. It was a flip-flop kind of place, but the time was unlimited and they provided the towel. This park combines the camping area with the playground and picnic areas. Everything is just kind of interspersed, and you can set up your tent wherever. Another case of mixing the tourists with the locals. It's a large area, and the various playground equipment is spread all over. That's a great idea, because then the kids have to run around more to play.

Saturday, 21 June: Today felt like the movie "Two Lane Blacktop." It's a languid, anticlimactic road trip movie in which the main characters, none of whom have names, are racing across the country for high stakes, but no one seems to be in any hurry to get anywhere. They wander around doing whatever they please, and have random conversations that go nowhere and leave everything unsaid. I can't say why it was so completely engrossing to me, but there you have it.

Today was hot, and the wind had changed direction, so it no longer helped me. The hills were hillier than they have been and the pavement bumpy, yet I still stuck to my goal of going seventy miles to Glasgow. There was, however, absolutely no sense of urgency or desire. There is so much daylight, I knew I would make it eventually, and that stopping early wasn't an option. I got on the road fairly early, by my standards, but the Canadians were already gone by the time I even emerged from my tent. What discipline. I pedalled slowly. I took lots of breaks. I napped. I had spacy, lazy chats with fellow weary travellers at a rest stop. This tough old French Canadian said "those bathroms remind me of prison, because everything is stainless steel." I refrained from asking if he had been in prison. It seemed rude... He seemed nice enough, but I was a little relieved when he left and some other people showed up.

When I got to Glasgow, no one seemed to know which of the city parks I could camp at. The Canadians had told me where to go, but I forgot. That was spacy. I *knew* there were five different parks. I got sent on a wild goose chase, then stopped to consult my Garmin. Some nice people driving by stopped and asked if I needed help. They then led me to the park where the bikers always stay. It was very sweet of them, but there's no bathroom in this park! I wandered around the park and talked to some other people to confirm this. They suggested I just use the bathroom in the hospital across the street. Excellent plan. I okay it with the woman at the desk in the hospital, and she points out that this park is the safest for camping, since the police patrol it all the time because it is by the hospital. Also excellent. Apparently I'm not afraid to say exactly where I am sleeping tonight when I know I'll have police patrols.

While I was setting up my tent, I met someone who had just moved here from Portland a couple of weeks ago, but was originally from a town in Minnesota that is about twenty miles from the town where I was born. I refrain from singing "It's A Small World." Maybe it just stays in my mind better when it happens, but it seems like I am meeting a ton of people from Minnesota and Washington.

Random thought: if any of my loyal readers are interested in hosting any cyclists I befriend along the way who are headed toward your town, let me know, and I will give them your contact info after prescreening. As long as you trust my prescreening skills...