Leaving the Dalles, I had a heck of a time getting out, and once I got to the road I was planning to take, I was opposed (for the first time) by a sign explicitly banning bicycles. The signs were too large, obvious, and numerous to claim ignorance. And they forced me down a much more dangerous and miserable road. So, the Dalles were the pits, beginning, middle, and end.

But coming into Madison, I caught a lovely free ferry with another biker and enjoyed the hills, which I had not had the pleasure of for at least a few flat states. Wisconsin looks quite reminiscent of Washington.

I stayed for a day at the hostel sharing a room with a nut named Charlie who was convinced his father was the Buddha. I thoroughly enjoyed State St. in downtown Madison. This is a place I'd like to live.