Made it to Idaho!! Easily the most disappointing and pathetic state border sign I've seen.

I started the morning tired and uninspired. I packed my things and went for breakfast at the local diner. They had a house special: Angie's Omelette. The description: olives, pepperoni and cheese. Okay... that is weird. I thought it might be one of those so-weird-it's-good things, like bacon maple bars or tahini jelly sandwiches, but no. It was just weird. Like pizza for breakfast except it isn't pizza. But it also wasn't bad. But I also probably wouldn't eat it again. But I also kinda liked it. This omelette inspired a variety of conflicting emotions.

I'm not feeling energized this morning, but nevertheless I hit the road. First thing is a ridiculous climb full of switchbacks and steep inclines. I have my pocket radio lashed to my handlebars for entertainment. And out here in the boonies, there are few radio stations to choose from. Reception is not great. But I am able to find an NPR station. So I'm trying to listen to NPR, but every few seconds, my already tenuous connection to Oregon Public Radio is interrupted by another station on the same band. And so as I agonize up this hill, pedaling with all I have in me, my one connection to people and sanity keeps switching back and forth between NPR (hot) and a Christian rock radio station (not).

*...we're here today with poet and playwright...and heeeee knowwwws and heeeee lovvvvves...who addresses issues of gender and race in her new...light touches my soul and I knowwwww...controversy when...in his handddddds and I kno...you I would like to say that...everydayyy I rememberrrr....*

Looking back I recognize how objectively funny this scenario is and chuckle over how deeply unfunny it was to me at the time

I had a lovely mid-day. Beautiful riding. Excited to get to the Idaho border. Getting to Idaho was an 8 mile stretch along the Snake River. I was getting hungry but I thought I would eat in Idaho. And so I kept going along, and kept going, and kept going. Telling myself I'd eat in Idaho. And then actually getting over the dam was a slog, a stupidly steep hill. And I thought--I'll eat in Idaho. This was a mistake.

"Bonk" was a word that I had heard among bikers but not understood. Today, I learned.

bonk (v.)

to neglect to eat the right amount at the right time and subsequently run entirely out of energy (usu.) when going up a hill

And I bonked.

There is no easy recovery from a bonk. Most people try to eat as much sugar as quickly as they can. Lunch at the top of the dam made the nausea go away, but there was no way I was going to be able to ride my bike any further! Especially since a significant mountain pass laid between me and any other point of civilization.

I was considering my options... I took the next turnoff which just HAPPENED to be a campground (yet another godsend) and as I studied my maps, trying to determine how far to the next town (too far), a man approached me and asked if I was lost. "No," I said, "just tired." Turns out he was the campmaster, Joe, and he offered me a spot, no charge. Great. The spot was a patch of gravel and a picnic table, but sometimes? You count your blessings. And really, gravel can be quite comfortable to sleep on actually. I took a shower and enjoyed the beautiful scenery around me.

A little before sunset, I had my things laid out and was milling about. Then a STORM came through, from NOWHERE. The wind came from the blue and sent my sleeping bag (still rolled up) flying across the campground. I chased it down, looking like one of the three stooges, and tried to grab anything that was loose and secure it. Then the rain started. Great, hard, wet rain. I slinked into my bivy sack, ready to wait out the night and the storm. But then 20 minutes later, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had come. So I got out of my sack and milled about a bit longer.