What motivates humans to hospitality? Why do strangers show us such graciousness all along our way? These are questions that I have asked myself many times on this trip, so many people showing us such openness and love. Here in Yakima we are staying with new friends Eric and Melanee. Their names appeared on the Warm Showers list, a list on the net of bikers who open their homes to other touring bikers (similar to a Mennonite Your Way sort of thing). We were passing approximately through Yakima anyway so we called them up and asked if we could stop for a night. They said sure.
Here is Eric, riding out despite two flat tires and meeting us on a local bike trail, then welcoming us into their home - a beautiful, old stucco cottage-sort of house that they are remodeling as they have time. Here is Melanee buzzing around the kitchen smiling and chatting and serving us butternut squash soup and mixed greens with pears and walnuts and fresh-made lasagna. Here is Melanee's mother, out here looking for a house to buy and flying back East in a few hours, clearing out one of the guest bedrooms so I could put my stuff in it. There we are, enjoying a lovely house and good food and great conversation about traveling and backgrounds and life in general.
How do we end up in these great situations with so many different kinds of people in so many different places? There was David in Scottsdale, PA, from the Warm Showers list who took us out for dinner and made fresh rhubarb crisp for us. Then Kelly and Bob in North Dakota, both rural, middle-aged men who enjoy meeting new people and so took us in (with no prior connection to us) and fed us and gave us a warm place for the night. After that Steve and Mary Ellen in Pick City, parents of friends of friends whose daughter once toured the country on a bike and wanted to somehow repay the hospitality their daughter had received on her trip. And Mark in Montana who we met in a bar on a snowy afternoon, then ended up in his bachelor-pad trailer for a day and a half. Then on to the uncle and aunt of one of Glen's friends in Lewiston, Idaho, a house on the golf course with canyon-side views of the Snake River, and now another warm and welcoming house opened up to us by two more strangers-now-friends who are showing us wonderful hospitality.
We think it has something to do with the nature of our trip - two guys out on our own on bikes, pedaling freely across the land. Doubtful we would receive as much attention in a car. Traveling as slowly as we do, we have more time to meet people, more time for people to notice us. On bikes and with a commitment to traveling inexpensively, people sense that we need things - a bed, food, a warm place to stay, laundry facilities - and are happy to provide these. In giving there is joy. We are also constantly asked for stories of our trip, people obviously interested in hearing about our adventures and perhaps living vicariously through us, wanting to learn about lives and places that they have not experienced themselves. Human hospitality is driven by a need for connection, I think, and by a yearning to give and be given to, to love and to be loved, to share things with others. Also by a drive to meet new and interesting people, to commune with someone who brings something out-of-the-ordinary into a settled or everyday life.
Whatever the reasons, time after time on this trip we find ourselves so grateful for unlooked-for blessings from people who simply enjoy opening themselves to us and sharing their material resources with us. Just yesterday we stopped at a rest stop - cold, out in the middle of nowhere with 30 miles either way to the nearest town - and a man who had smiled at me earlier as he walked in from his truck gave both of us a packet of string cheese. "I can tell you are further from home than I am". he said, "and you need this more than I do". He didn't need anything from us, just thought we might enjoy something that we did not have easy access to, and so he gave freely.
Glen and I can't wait till we have places of our own and can begin to open ourselves and our places to others as so many have done for us. Perhaps that's it - all of us have received things from others and want to give back, and so the chain of hospitality keeps going and reaches out around the world to all strangers and travelers who need a friend and a place to rest. All y'all out there who have given to us, keep in touch, and we'll have you over sometime when we settle down!
10/21, day 63: Decided to stay one more day with friends in Corvallis, Montana. Took a "real" rest day - with both Ken and Leslie working there was no hiking or other things to do, just enjoyed sleeping in, writing, being lazy around a familiar house. Ken took us out shooting in the evening, testing our abilities to hit a target with a .22, then a bigger and louder .270 and 30/30. It had been a long time since I held a gun, but it was fun and something we had to do to get the "full Montana experience". Made hot dogs and tater tots and watched Monday night football, something that neither of us would necessarily do if we were "at home," but out on the road it's a fun, couch-sitting sort of entertainment to have.
10/22, day 64: Ken and Leslie are out early to work, so we pack up slowly then wave goodbye to their house, to the apple orchard, to Doc the dog that hangs out outside, to Charlie and Julie who own the orchard and are in the shed grading apples. I find my tire is low, but decide to just pump it up and see what happens. Stop in Stevensville to cash a check, our wage from our day of painting with Ken. Feel rich to have fresh cash that we actually earned on the trip. Outside the town of Lolo my tire goes flat, but I pump it up and make it to a gas station where we can sit in the sun and patch the tire and eat lunch. Had been going north into headwind, but turning west at Lolo meant hopping onto a tailwind - amazing to have an east wind! Fairly flew up the low grade along Lolo Creek toward the pass, muscles feeling good and well rested.
In late afternoon it's getting colder and I put my jacket and pants back on. Soon get to a section of construction on a steeper part of the hill. The flag lady says you guys are crazy, don't you know it gets cold out here, as we head up the hill toward miles and miles of mountain forest. Climb slowly so we don't overheat, at the top of Lolo Pass put on even more clothes for 6 mile, steep, sunset-lit descent. A man driving by just laughing at us. Could see our breath on the way down, Glen's watch reads 32 degrees at the top, and the night hasn't even started. Whiz down slope and into rounded humps of pine-covered hills, lit purple in the dusk. Find a campground a mile back off the road, pick a spot next to the creek and, in remaining light, gather firewood.
10/23, day 65: Twenty degrees outside, 32 in the tent when we wake up. Got out of the tent to a re-lit fire more because my feet were cold than because I was ready to get up. We simply sat by the fire for a long time, maybe half an hour, too cold to do anything else. Finally got breakfast and began to pack up, trying to keep as close to fire as possible, warming our clothes over the flames before putting them on. Back out to road, find ourselves biking through beautiful pine forest mountain river canyon that will go on and on until we get to Washington, about 160 miles from Lolo Pass downhill to Lewiston. See sign that announces "Next Gas 63 Miles". At a roadside parking lot, meet young couple moving east from Oregon; they try to convince us to stop at fabulous hot springs not far off the road. We resist and move on, not ready to stop since we had gotten a late start. Besides, we have to get a good regret or two in sometimes. Stopped by river to eat and to nap on a rock in the sun. Did a long section of road, maybe 40 or 50 miles after lunch without stopping, trying to get to Lowell to get snack and groceries for dinner. Close to bonking; down an ice tea and snacks from store in Lowell and feel much better. Biking downhill all day actually not as fun as it sounds, constantly seeing road slope down ahead of you but not able to go as fast as you think you should be able to, no uphill pulls to provide variety and get one into a different position on the bike. A bit frustrated and cold at end of day, but we find a sweet camping spot just off the road, down a bank and right by the river on a sandy beach. There is firewood there, sand pit for the fire, stones to sit and cook on, raspberries bushes still loaded with sweet fall berries, a clear and cold mountain stream to freshen up in (yes, we both dove in, but didn't stay long and came out yelling!). Probably my fave camping spot so far.
10/24, day 66: Today a longer day of biking, 95 miles to get to Lewiston where we have a house to stay in for the night, an uncle and aunt of one of Glen's friends Michael-the-helicopter-guy from Supai. With the cold our biking days tend to be shorter, but with a destination to get to we leave camp fairly early (maybe 10 am) and bike steadily to get there. A better biking day today, some uphill for variety and me learning from my downhill-biking mistakes of yesterday. Soon reach edge of national forest and, with river bottom widening, see more houses and ranches along our path - back into "civilisation". Some houses on the opposite bank that can only be reached by cable car across the river - looked neat. Lots of people fishing - on the riverbank, standing in the water in hip waders, out on boats. Stopped for lunch groceries, sat in front of the store and talked to people that passed by as we ate. As we got closer to Lewiston, truck traffic picked up, which didn't add any fun to the riding, but got to town safely. South along Snake River, then steep climb up brown hillside to the Thillman's house on the golf course overlooking the river and its deep canyon. A great evening eating with them, sharing stories of travel and family backgrounds. His family from Europe, he remembers forced winter wagon train move across Poland after the war. Hearing about that makes our trip look easy.
10/25, day 67: Take a slow morning with the Thillmans, they a retired couple who play golf, travel a lot, enjoy their grandchildren. Talked about bird-watching, the news that morning, watched leaves fall and the frost disappear from grass and the line of morning light move slowly down the hill opposite us and up the near hill to the house. Went down into Lewiston and bought groceries, mostly shopped at a dollar store where we splurged on cookies, grahams, raisins, fig bars. Tried to go dumpstering behind grocery stores, a past-time we've been trying to get better at doing, but found nothing. Pulled a long, 10-mile hill up out of the river bottom; about an hour and a half of climbing - surprisingly fun! Stopped at the top and ate a junk food lunch, half of the cookies and fig bars and grahams that we bought at the dollar store (biking all day makes one crave sugar). Thought we might regret this "lunch" but ended up biking well off of it for the rest of the day. Stop in town of Pomeroy to get dinner groceries, where a county courthouse employee we meet tells us we won't get as far as Starbuck tonight, not with the little daylight left to us! With motivation, go on an old-style evening rampage and make it to Starbuck with dusk to spare. We know there is a campground about 11 miles ahead, but not sure we can make it, so we tool around in the rusty, junky town for a bit, then get back on the road. Find a pull-out place by the river a few miles shy of the campground and decide to stay there since by now it's really getting dark. Get immediately into what has become our cold-weather camping ritual - find firewood and start a fire, then cook dinner and eat by the fire, then set up tent in the dark. Fire and the heat it provides the most essential ingredient to our camping lately. Am also getting used to dressing up to go to bed, all sorts of underwear and socks on, then keeping bag pulled over head all night. Temperatures regularly down into the twenties these nights, temperature in the tent in the thirties. Neither of us expected we would be doing this when the trip began in ninety degree August heat, but we've adapted as it's slowly gotten colder and are actually finding it a little enjoyable at times.
10/26, day 68: In the morning I found another flat tire. Glen pulled four thorns from it while I patched three holes in the tube. On the way out waved to the three sets of fishermen who had pulled in early and put out in their little boats. Thought, "They must be crazy to get out on the water so early in this cold weather," then realized they must have been having similar thoughts about us. Rode into miles of grassland and dry canyons, gravelly earth, wide space with far-apart towns - unexpected scenery reminiscent of eastern Montana. Stopped in small, derelict town of Kahlotus to eat lunch. Pulled into the bar/cafi/10-item grocery store and asked if anywhere in town we could buy tuna for our sandwiches. No was the answer, but Ruthie, a 75-year-old woman who was sitting there drinking beer and tomato juice, went to her house across the street and came back with two cans. We sat there and ate lunch and had a great chat with her, hearing about her life. She gave us 6 cans of stewed tomatoes that someone had given her; when we left gave us her address and said we should send a postcard sometime. Stop in Connell for groceries; in the store I am at check-out stand and suddenly four admiring female employees around while I answer questions about our trip and how far we have biked; I flustered. By now evening, and we realize whole day has gone by and we've only gone about 50 miles. Tack on a few out of town, then stop at a campground by a reservoir. Had too much food for supper, so saved some of it to eat at breakfast.
10/27, day 69: Ate leftovers for breakfast and got out of camp fairly expeditiously, knowing we have a long way to go to get to Warm Showers people in Yakima. Sun came up in a slit between horizon and clouds, then disappeared into total cloud cover - our first real cloudy day in a long time. Hemmed and hawed trying to find a shortcut to our main route for the day, started raining but didn't stay long. Asked for directions from two passing Mexicans who spoke little English and from an old man who wasn't quite sure where he was. Finally found the correct way and got going. With no sun to warm us as on previous days, fingers quickly became ice blocks. After going 25 or so miles realized we are out on a 60-mile stretch of road with no towns, nothing but dirt and scrub, and we are cold and hungry and approaching miserable. Finally just stop by side of road to quickly eat some bread and graham crackers, put our hands down our pants to warm fingers. While we stopped I look up and see what looks like a bicycle coming toward us. It is a biker, and after we exchange "What in the world are you doing out here"s,. we chat for awhile. He is training for the Race Across America, an annual race from coast to coast where bikers pedal for 20 plus hours a day and make it across the country in 9 to 10 days. Crazy; but it was fun to meet him. After that our luck for the day got better - we found a rest stop with a hand-dryer in the bathroom to warm our hands, some dude gave us string cheese, and the sun came out. Glen's knee feeling better so he takes some leads, which helps tremendously and we get to Yakima before sunset. Call Eric and Melanee from the Warm Showers list and Eric bikes out to meet us and lead us to their house. Once there we are treated royally, served a wonderful dinner and have a good time chatting with them till bedtime.
Keep in touch - Joe (lappjoe@yahoo.com) and Glen (glapp@juno.com)!