Baker City, OR to Council, ID

Thursday morning we biked an easy downhill twenty miles into Baker City with the goal of finding a large breakfast, a public library and a grocery store. Baker City was the largest town we had been in in several days, one we could have legitimately gotten lost in. A business building reached nearly twelve stories as we entered the outlying neighborhoods- the largest building I had seen since reaching the west coast. Baker city is surrounded by three mountain ranges: the Strawberrys (from which we had descended), the Blues and the Eagle Caps, all laced with snow on their topmost ridges. Baker's main road was two lanes going either direction and wide, with squat buildings on either side. We passed an artisan stationary shop, a record shop with an old typewriter in the window, and several cafes.

After breakfast burritos, updating our blog and loading up with food, we met up with the boys and headed down the road, nearly three hours later. The first twenty miles had variable wind, were uphill and in the middle of the desert, no clouds above us. It was hot and desolate. But as the raod continued we descended into a river valley, part of the Hell's Canyon area of Eastern Oregon. The ride was mostly downhill, sometimes with wind in our favor, sometimes against. We biked nearly forty miles to Prairie City, a small town just ahead of our single climb (1500 ft) of the day. The guys got blueberry pomegranate sorbet as the rest of us filled our water in a shop advertising souvenirs, clothing items, records, music, ice cream and snacks.

We put off the climb as long as possible, and then finally made our way towards it, an obvious and looming hill with long, steep switchbacks (7% grade) cutting across its side. The road was such that at each turn the climb stretched to the horizon, the road's sides only millimeters from meeting in the distance. Then you turned, and again the same sight leading up. However, it was past the heat of the day and the view was immediate and striking for its shear expanse, so we puffed our way up it.

Arriving a mile outside of Halfway, the town just after the descent, we opted to continue 17 miles (downhill) to the Snake River- also the border between Oregon and Idaho. We camped near the Oxbow dam at a Recreation Area, Chad and Chas jogging across the bridge to visit the neighboring state. That night we went to sleep almost immediately, having arrived in camp around 8 and exhausted after a 90 mile day.

At 6 am I woke up imagining someone was dragging a suitcase with broken small, plastic roller wheels across the gravelly asphalt in the parking lot. Opening my eyes, I realized the sound was instead the blast of a pressurized stream of water against the rain tarp of the tent. Sprinklers.

The park service ran the seven sprinklers directly surrounding our small cluster of tents for exactly three hours and eleven minutes- the amount of time it took us to move our groggy selves out from under their spray, pack up, eat breakfast, and leave. Turns out, we had accidentally camped in the 'Day Use' area, and the feds were working on new passive agressive techniques to keep visitors aware of the rules. So we parried by handing in an empty payment envelope.

The first twelve miles of the day's ride brought us along the Oxbow Reservoir (above the Dam on the Snake River) on the Oregon side. We crossed into Idaho at the Brownlee Dam, and began the steep climb up to the dam's top on Hwy. 71 to overlook the surrounding mountains, soft with grass like draped felt, folding up and away from the water on either side. For the next seven miles the road wound ina nd out of creases in the hills, at times only ten feet above the water. then we turned east up a valley following 71 and began a more consistent climb up into the hills. Two miles later we came along the Gateway Cafe, tucked in between the road and hillside. After ordering grilled cheese we sat and hung out with the guys (who got a later start out of the campground and had to catch up with us - in fact according to one guy at the cafe 'well, those girls have been here for ages. They just straight up kicked your asses!')

As we were leaving we met four college guys (three go to Seattle Pacific University, one the University of Washington), also doing the ride from Florence, OR to Virginia. They were carrying little weight, and joked with us about skipping lunch and dinner, then promptly smoked us up the hill. But we were both camping in Council so we figured we'd hang out with them later.

the ascent from the cafe was long (about 7 miles) and gradual, bringing us up to aroudn 4200 ft. again. From there we descended into Cambridge (pop. 450) in a scattered rainshower. Our welcome to Cambridge was the yelled proferring 'Go buy a car', and the sight of a taxidermied sheep with a rubber Obama mask stretched over its head stationed on the side of the road. We had a snack, I checked out the town Museum and we peaced. The final twenty miles on Hwy 95 were in a headwind, with a narrow shoulder and speeding traffic- many large trucks or semis whose tailwinds visibly jolted each of our bikes forward as they passed. Not comfortable.

Five miles out of Council, huge thunderclaps sounded from across the hill, and we wheeled in to a local park to hurriedly pitch our tents before the rain. As we went to buy groceries however, the weather passed and we found ourselves chowing heaping burritos in calm weather. Today, we continue to Riggins! We may not have service or very spotty service for the next few days as we cross the state.