Finally made it to Hamilton, MT and a warm welcome from Jeff’s friend Mark Engbrecht and his partner LaDonna Felton. Hamilton sits between the Bitterroot and Sapphire ranges, and is the greenest place I’ve seen since Missouri (maple trees!).

I got there none too soon—coming down from Chief Joseph Pass, I heard my brakes scraping. Made the first appointment I could get for the local brake repair shop, and, as I expected, both front brakes needed replacing. LaDonna and I quickly felt like old friends, as she joined me for some needed shopping. 

Then Russ’s iPhone started having problems. Knowing we would be in wilderness areas through Idaho and eastern Oregon, he decided it was time to replace it. I’ll let him describe the nightmare we went through at the Missoula AT&T store, but suffice it to say that’s the first time he’s ever been denied a new iPhone because his MA license came up invalid. 

Once that was straightened out, we headed into Missoula while his new phone was loading up to stop at a local bike shop (to pick up gear and some bike gooodies)

and to visit the headquarters of Adventure Cycling Association, the organization that created the Trans-America Route that Russ is riding (and many others: they have bike routes for every region of the US, and for every level of biking ability. They even have supported tours.). They gave us a full tour of the building, with its many bicycles both modern and antique, and Russ got his ice cream (the real reason we stopped by). He even got his picture taken for their ‘wall of fame’. We saw Theo Gabriel’s picture, too! He and some friends are riding the same route as Russ, but in reverse. Two Ashfielders, riding across the Unted States at the same time. We must have crossed paths somewhere near Breckinridge, CO, but missed seeing him. 

After that, we stopped at Five on Black for about the most delicious lunch I’ve ever had. They serve Brazilian Rice Bowls, which I’d never heard of, but which sounded good, so we went on the recommendation of our salesman at the bike shop. Kind of works like Chipotle’s: you choose your base, meat, sauces and sides to create your own combination. I chose rice and greens as a base, with roasted chicken in a spicy coconut sauce, and coconut roasted sweet potatoes on the side, topped with tomato vinaigrette and cilantro. YUM!!!!

Back at AT&T, there was more bad news: almost none of Russ’s apps had downloaded. At that point, he started to panick because he needs the riding apps for his maps, bike maintenance records, etc. It was a perfect storm of the kind of stresses his TBI brain can’t handle. The bored, dismissive salesperson was no help, either mumbling instructions that neither of us heard clearly, or manipulating the phone so quickly that we couldn’t follow. I finally dragged Russ and the phone out of there with a promise to return tomorrow if things were not fixed by then (they let him keep his old phone, just in case).  Back at Mark’s house, the download still seemed to be frozen. It was Mark who finally asked if we’d tried turning it off and rebooting it. You would think the guy at AT&T might have suggested that, but I guess he couldn’t be bothered. 

Russ was relieved that we would not have to stay another day and drive into the busy city of Missoula (another thing he hates), and I was relieved not to have Russ in one of his meltdowns. 

The next day I stopped at the local home and ranch store (western version of home and garden) to get my propane tank topped off, not knowing it was ½ price day.  While I waited in line, I struck up a conversation with the guy ahead of me about the Jan. 6 investigations (fools rush in). He was of the Democrats are destroying America camp. Somehow, the discussion turned quickly to religion, and that was when I found out that I am not a Christian, and am most definitely going to hell, because I don’t believe that the Bible is the inerrant word of God, written by God. Who knew?  Later, some guy driving by in a pickup truck yelled “Go home!” First blatantly negative interaction I’ve had (mind you, I’ve gotten some stink eye for my “End Gun Violence” shirt.) The very nice man who topped off my propane apologized for the a$$hole in the truck, and said people are getting grumpy about the growth in population in Montana (darn newcomers!). Whatever. 

Back into beautiful Idaho! Green and cool, and smelling of cedar! Sure am glad I got those brakes fixed, because there were some gnarly switchbacks coming down from Lolo Pass.

I’m at the Powell Campground, part of Clearwater National Park, right on the Lochsa (pronounced Lock-saw). In the river canyon there is no cell service whatsoever, so I headed up to Lochsa Lodge, hoping they might have wifi, as Russ needed to know where I was. 

And that was the second nasty interaction of this whole trip. I sat at the bar, thinking I’d get a soda, log onto the internet, and be gone.  I actually thought the guy was kidding when he said the wifi was for guests of the lodge only. After that, things went rapidly downhill (he was serious, and not nice about it, either). I promptly walked outside, hailed the first passerby, and got the wifi password from her (yay for women of a certain age—we don’t take shit from anyone). Then I found out the password is printed on the bar menu. So what was all that nastiness for? Meh. 

Took the boys out for a short hike on part of the Lewis and Clark trail, and met two young men struggling to mountain bike the same narrow, overgrown, winding trail. I caught up with them where the trail crossed a steep rocky hill. They had given up at that point, acknowledging that it was beyond their abilities. Can’t blame them: I nearly pitched right down that hill myself. 

On the second day at Powell I headed off to hike a trail my neighbors in camp recommended: about a mile and a half, up to some hot springs (“There might be nude people,” they warned me.). I doubt the dogs or I will be offended. Russ should catch up today: I’ll leave a note on the camper for him, as I’m taking the car. 

Didn’t find the trail. I found a dirt road, and took that. Parked the Subaru about a mile in, and walked from there, up a dirt road in perfect condition along narrow creeks tumbling down the mountains, under giant old cedar trees. The forest primeval. Clearly, people had camped here; I found several old fire rings. Back at camp, I checked my maps: it was a forest road, open to anyone, and it went on for miles. 

Russ arrived right after I’d gotten back from my hike. Met a nice couple near my campsite; she was from Westfield, Mass. originally. Later, she gave me a copy of a recent Smithsonian Magazine with an article about Bob Leverett, who had discovered old-growth forests in the Berkshires. Russ and I enjoyed that. I wish I could have stayed longer; it was so peaceful, and the hiking opportunities were endless. I ‘m already thinking of a multi-day rafting trip in the area. But time and through cyclists wait for no one, so it’s off to Whitebird, ID.