Halfway to Baker City: 87 kms
Baker City to Prairie City: 108 kms
Prairie City to Dayville: 72 kms
Dayville to Mitchell: 62 kms
Total distance so far: 6324 kms
First to a point of order.
I received a complaint from a reader who shall remain nameless but obviously has too much time on her hands (due in the main to the fact that she spends most of it in various South Sea paradises), that I spelled the word hail/hale wrong in not one but two of my previous pieces.
This is of course the fault of the English language generally and The Oxford English and Webster dictionaries specifically and can hardly by any stretch of the imagination be attributed to your humble correspondent in any way whatsoever.
To those among you who may feel the need to comment on similar vulgarities in the future, I recommend a course of genuflection and a dozen hale maries until such time as you realise the error of your ways. 🙂
OK back to the business in hand.
We left you in limbo last time as we prepared to power our way into the amazing town that isn’t Baker City. My weird mind couldn’t get a certain quite good song made great by a phenomenal sax solo, out of my thoughts as I was riding but sadly there was nothing about the place that lent itself to such musical wonderment.
We did play a solitary tribute round of the sausage sandwich game just for the hell of it though. It was a layover day after all and there was shit all else to do.
On the way there we broke the 6000 km barrier which we celebrated in the usual way by taking a stupid picture. We were for once at the top of a nice mountain at the time so there was a reasonable view for a change.
We are now three days into the last seven and I must admit that my enthusiasm for describing more routine examples of astonishing beauty is diminishing at the same rate that my thigh muscles are getting more toned after fighting and defeating yet another slope.
It is beautiful around here but I am no poet and can’t be arsed finding new adjectives to describe it.
This picture anyway is typical for the deserty and scrubby landscape that we see between the foresty bits.
Eat your heart out Wordsworth.
I am so uninspired right now that I just spent an hour watching chess on the computer which might sound geeky but really is.
But even someone who understands only the fundamentals of this honourable game (like me for example) should sacrifice an hour or so to see the brilliantly funny communicator and pedagogue, Jan Gustafsson playing banter blitz against patsies. (While discussing movies, basketball and other bullshit).
Anyway we stayed at our final campground a couple of days ago and I managed to grab quite a nice picture of an old railway station (I refuse to utter the word “railroad”).
We apparently have enough money in the kitty to stay indoors until the end now so the tent has been packed away and won’t be seen until sometime in another life if I have my way.
To be fair I have quite enjoyed sleeping under canvas and being woken by annoying birds but the pitching and unpitching part I can well do without.
What do you all make of this by the way?
Anyway we will skip to where we are now which is the nicest hostel we have stayed at so far, run by people who burn for providing cheap accommodation for velocipedes.
It is an ex church that is now half a church/half a hostel and is an interesting concept.
A lovely place it is, in any case.
We got some pics of the famous painted hills and another gorgeous gorge but now it is time for some nourishment so until a later moment in my life, au revoir.