Easy day—22 miles. Climbed 12 miles up White Bird Hill. The route was magnificient—dozens of switchbacks with long-reaching views of the canyon leading down to White Bird. A deer and her fawn watched me roll slowly up hill. Overhead a hawk spiraled upwards on the rising thermals. A pair of chukars scuttles across part of the road before taking flight. Coming down the north side into Grangeville I expected a repeat of the southern landscape—large, loaf-like mountains (called hills around here) creased with deep stream-cut canyons. Rolling down into Grangeville we were greeted by a huge, table-flat verdant valley with 10-story silos punctuating the skyline.
We’re here to prepare for our split. Tomorrow Dee will head back to CT via car. I’ll continue heading that way but a dramatically slower pace. She has to return to take care of Annie and Oakley, our two rescue cats. Danny, our house sitter, landed a summer camp counselor job and will move out June 16. The day before our downstairs tenant, Win, will move to take care of her ailing mother. I will miss Dee desperately. It has been wonderful sharing this voyage with her. It’s fun to see how another person views the same experiences. She has been a marvelous psychological support when my spirits began to wane. Now that she has seen me handle a variety of situations and terrains she is more at ease with this crazy dream of mine. Knowing that she was sitting at the summit of a climb with a snack or lunch has been a tremendous motivator. I’ll retain that practice, i.e., stopping, resting and noshing, at the culmination of a hard slog.
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