Covid Cross Day #42 Apgar Creek Campground, ID to Kamiah, ID
Covid Cross Day #42
July 16, 2020
Apgar Creek Campground, ID to Kamiah, ID 47 Miles
Start 7:13 AM Finish 7:32 PM
Ride Time 4:01
Ascent 372 Feet
Descent 727 Feet
Tour Total Miles 3438
I slept well alongside the Lochsa River at campsite three in Apgar Campground. I had gone to bed early, and soon afterwards I'd drifted off to sleep. At one point I awoke startled by what I thought was a giant spider climbing inside my tent. I shrieked so loudly that everyone in the campground must have heard me. I turned on my headlamp to make a thorough search to no avail. I thought it must have been a black tent strap. Who knew. I rolled over and went back to sleep. Later I had a nightmare about my Brooklyn loft being flooded, surely because of the rushing sounds of the nearby river. I also had a stress dream about getting my bike ready to go on a plane.
My tent had condensation in the morning. I was now below 2000 elevation, the first time since eastern North Dakota. It was a routine pack up. The air was chilly and I was wearing my sweater. I put on my leg warmers and rain jacket before setting forth down the road. I crossed Canyon Creek and then Rye Patch Creek. All along US Highway 12 I’d been passing gates capable of shutting down the highway in case of a snowstorm or rockslide. The ridges to either side of the road were becoming smaller. I read an information plaque about the Corps of Discovery, whom had been able to spot plains to the west from Sherman Pass, which was high above the valley a few miles south from here.
I passed a corral of horses which were part of Lochsa River Outfitters, whom offered trail rides. Then all of a sudden I was sharing the road again with telephone poles and power lines. I crossed Lowell Creek and passed the Fleming Maintenance Center Station. I then rode into the town of Lowell, which was located at the confluence of the Lochsa and Selway Rivers to become the Clearwater River. Lowell had a population of 24. On the town sign there was a slash through the 24, and 23 had been scrawled in below.
I headed straight to the Wilderness Hotel and Cafe, where I had been two years ago with Scott and Eileen. I remembered that there was unlocked WiFi behind the hotel, so I uploaded yesterday’s report before going to the cafe for breakfast. There were no COVID restrictions and no-one was wearing a mask. I signed the guest book and ordered eggs over-easy, bacon, toast, orange juice, and coffee. MAGA hats and racially offensive merchandise were for sale at the cash register. A couple walked in with hand-guns strapped to their belts. Fox news was reporting the protests in Portland, and a customer joked that Black Lives Matter protesters should be shot. I overheard backpackers describing their bear sightings. It was prudent of me to have purchased bear spray and to have hung my food in a tree last night.
A blazing sun greeted me after breakfast, so I removed my jacket, sweater and leg-warmers. I now had the Clearwater River beside me to the left. US Highway 12 was now known as the Nez Perce Trail. The Clearwater River was much calmer and wider than the Lochsa. I would be following the Clearwater all the way to Lewiston. I spotted an odd character walking along the other side of the road in my direction. Dressed in bright orange he seemed part refugee and part monk. He donned a wide brim straw hat with a missing crown that exposed his forehead. His shoes were mismatched, and he was pulling numerous belongings including a gallon of water hitched to a hand truck. If he was walking all the way to Missoula, he had a long trek ahead of him. I crossed Two Shadow Creek.
The next town I came to was Syringa where I noticed the River Dance Lodge and Cafe, which also offered rafting trips. I crossed Big Smith Creek, and then passed the largest pedestrian suspension bridge that I'd yet seen across the river. It had steel tubing piers planted into the water, with a wooden truss and deck. I crossed Swan Creek. I ran into eastbound touring cyclist Misha from Eugene Oregon. She was riding the Trans Am to Denver, and then wanted to head to Chicago, and then southeast to Richmond Virginia, and then finally to New York City. She was the second solo female cyclist that I’d seen on this tour. I gave her my last card and told her to look me up when she got to New York. She’d been camping, swimming in the river, and trying not to spend a lot of money.
I then left the Clearwater National Forest. I crossed underneath a pair of cables strung across the river for a funicular cable car system. Then I spotted another one. Locals parked their cars on Highway 12 and then lived on the other side of the river. I spotted yellow cherry plums growing alongside the road, and then I spotted some red ripe ones. I stopped to sample them and noticed raspberries growing alongside them which weren’t yet ripe. The cherry plums were growing along the highway for miles. I crossed over Sutter Creek.
The valley became wide at this point, and there was a huge bald grassy ridge to my right. I passed numerous horse corrals. The Nez Perce Tribe were known for being excellent horsemen. I passed a bunch of rafts floating down the river to my left. There’s wasn't much white water here and it was very peaceful. I noticed about half a dozen deer skeletons today along the highway, dried out and intact. I was definitely spotting huckleberries, but none that were ripe. I entered the Nez Perce Indian Reservation. I came to an information plaque about Looking Glass, another instance when the United States government screwed the Nez Perce Tribe. There was a flashing light sign up ahead about US 95 being closed. This was in reference to the rockslide between Grangeville and Riggins that I'd heard about from Bill and Cassie at the Lolo Pass Visitor Center. I checked to see if I had phone service and voilà I did, for the first time since Lolo. I stopped to upload photos for yesterday’s report
I crossed the Clearwater River and rode into Kooskia, where I visited TomCat Sporting Goods. I purchased two red Gatorades and ate some of my trail mix. I rode back across the river and got back on US Highway 12, where I headed west. This was new ground for me, as the Trans Am route that I had done two years ago went south from Kooskia on State Highway 13 to Grangeville. I passed a sign that read, "Idaho is too great to litter", and I agreed. I spotted several artificial eagle's nests built on top of utility polls. The valley opened up wide and the ridges now had more grass cover than trees. I stopped at the Nez Perce National Historic Park Heart of the Monster or timné•pe. This was the ancestral birthplace of the Nez Perce tribe. I passed an information plaque about Long Camp. In 1806, on their return trip, Lewis and Clark waited six weeks for snow to melt from the high ridges of the Lolo Trail east of here.
I crossed the Clearwater River and entered Lewis County and the town of Kamiah. This was where the Lolo Trail Option merged back with the main route. I checked out the city park where the route said I could camp, but there were signs that read, "No camping. Sprinkler systems in use." I rode into town, and was about to walk into a bar, when a woman suggested that I return back down the road to the Beer:30 Taproom. She highly recommended the huckleberry cider. I arrived at Beer:30 Taproom before they opened, but found their open wifi network from out front. The owner and bartender soon appeared. I ordered a small glass of the One Tree Huckleberry Cider, and enjoyed it. Then I ordered a pint of Porch Glow Amber Ale, from No-Li Brewhouse in Spokane.
I walked over to Annie's Lunch Box, next door, and ordered two carne asada tacos and one fish taco, along with chips and cheese. I attended a Smack Mellon Studio Artist Zoom call and then ordered another round from Annie's Lunch Box. After all of my digital obligations were complete, I headed west on Highway 12 also known as the Northwest Passage Route. As I was pedaling out of town, I passed a giant lumber mill operation.
I was headed west with jersey barriers between me and the river. It occurred to me that westbound traffic behind me was just as blinded by the sun as I was. I need to find a place to pull over and camp. A woman in the taproom had mentioned a beach six miles to the west and my eyes were peeled. The ridges were bald and grass covered. At mile marker sixty I spotted a small beach, and wheeled my bike down the steep path to the river. I waited until it got dark to set up my tent.
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