The wee witching hours of the night were interrupted by a bowlful of oatmeal and fresh joe courtesy of Tara from the unequivocal Cutter Theatre!!
Knowing we were heading into potentially the longest and legg crushiest day of our 80 across the country, we cruised out of Metaline Falls at daybreak and started suffering our saddle sores as soon as day broke. Straining our horses in their lowest gears, we crossed our first mountain pass of the day with the sun at our backs and the gentle rain on our brows. With 36ish miles and like 2k elevation under our belts, we rolled into first lunch on the side of the road.
With bellies full and hearts fuller, we left the yellow jackets behind and finally dropped the elevation we climbed in the morn. Rolling into Kettle Falls, we started preparing ourselves for Sherman’s pass. After brief riparian cruises through Washingtonian countryside, we crossed our bridge of destiny and rolled onto highway 20— the beginning of 22 miles of climbing to Sherman’s pass. We pumped, we sweat, we bonked, we snacked, we sang, we laughed, we pedaled, we pedaled, we pedaled, and we pedaled until we finally reached the summit.
With approximately one brain cell left between all of us, we floated into an ethereal plane of consciousness known as a 6% downhill grade. Riding that dragon for the next 14 miles, our horses took liftoff and our souls went flying with them. What felt like a lifetime of downhill later, we had teleported into Republic, WA, where we spent the night under the stars.
The day was not done playing tricks on us however, oh no! That night we got some Pacific Northwest showers and were rocked asleep by sounds of thunder and raindrops hitting our tents. The luckiest of us even tasted the rain through the went tent.
An incredibly tough but intensely rewarding day for all the riders and our beasts of burden! Saskia bless us that we all finished with minds and bodies intact!
Xoxo jad