Day 4 - Grand Coulee, WA, to Spokane, WA

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Day 4: June 22, 2000, Update

Grand Coulee, WA, to Spokane, WA

Today's Miles: 89.9

Miles since Seattle: 326.5

Sometimes the day after a very long ride is harder than the long ride itself. Overtaxed, taut, and sensitive muscles just aren't there to move the bicycle forward. This is all the more true when faced with a long hill, or long flat stretches over long distances. Well, sure enough, today, the day after our first 100-mile ride, we were faced with a long hill and then long flat stretches over long distances. Ninety miles of distance.

The pack in the prairies

of eastern Washington

The Wake-up Crawl

The drive that pushes people out of the campgrounds in the morning is quite astounding. The gentle and muted clickety-clack of tents being dismantled is now like a steady, daily alarm clock starting around 5 a.m. The road awaits, but first all the gear must be stuffed back into bags and loaded on the gear truck, morning ablutions completed — a wake-up shower for some, a quick water-in-the-face eye-opener for others — breakfast (always a carbo feast stewing in the meal truck) consumed, and any necessary bike tune-ups looked into. Ahhh, mornings. Though slow, they are surrealistically busy, oddly lit by the early morning sun and even more oddly peopled by a swarm of bright Lycra-clad ants.

A few people actually started today at 5 a.m. Perhaps the talk of a ten-mile hill spurred them on. And, as each of the riders is coming to know his or her strengths, the extra time they took was probably used to good advantage. For, straight out of the blocks, there was indeed a hill—ten miles of one. Up and up out of the valley dug by the Columbia River.

Plain like the Plains

There was one view that many will never forget (like so much of the ride): From the top of the hill, stretching out toward the east, straight as the frame of anyone's bike, there was a road. Our road. A full five miles of road, dipping up and down through the endless fields of wheat, barley, and flax. Slightly bent and gently rocking, each of the grains, pointed by the grip of the wind, showed us the way to go. Which was a good thing. It meant the wind was behind us. And would probably stay there all day.

This is, in fact, what the rest of the day was like. Up and down along slowly rolling prairie hills we rode, nudged along by a friendly wind, progress broken only by pauses in towns for food or a phone call. The Big Ride vans continued their support of the riders in a multitude of ways: shade under their blue fold-up awnings, cold water or Gatorade for the thirsty, and lots of encouragement from the continuously outstanding volunteer crew.

This wasn't prairie like yesterday's. It was green and somehow more relentless. Perhaps it was the achy muscles asking for a break. Perhaps it was the knowledge that there would be little change in terrain and that miles and miles still lay between us and a good night's rest, but that is what kept us going.

The Pack

Think of the Big Ride as an expanding and contracting rolling party accordioned out along scores of miles of roads. Different constellations of people come together to bike for a time and then stretch apart, forming new clusters. This is how conversation is made, time passes, and people get to know one another. It is also how people find others prone to cycle at their tempo.

Clay Gump and Ceil Heller

on the Centennial Trail in Spokane

The hind reaches of the pack consist of cool combinations of the slow-but-steady, the taking-it-easy, and the meet-the-people people. It's a fine gang that explores treasures in knick-knack shops along the way, slurps down ice cream shakes in little local cafis, and shares some of the good will of the ride with the good will of the townsfolk that live along the way.

Spokin' into Spokane

Spokane called like a mental beacon. We have two nights in Spokane, including a rest day and real beds (we are staying in the dorms at Gonzaga University).

When, late in the afternoon, a line of low mountains filled in the horizon, we knew we weren't far. The hills are what we will be biking into in the next few days, but ahead of them lay Spokane. The city itself came upon us sooner than expected, but then the ride through the city on excellent car-free bike paths (the Centennial Trail and other downtown riverside paths) seemed to wind on forever. It wasn't a long path. Only six miles. But so late in the day, and so sore after almost 325 miles in four days, we were ready to be there.

And Now We Are!

Tomorrow is our day off. We all need it. Laundry, errands, a skip into town for some easy sightseeing. In the evening we will shift into party mode at an all-you-can-eat Cajun feast made possible by Stacy Gilbert, one of the Big Riders native to this city. Look for tales of the feast in the next update, the day after tomorrow, since even these frayed fingers are going to take a break.

Ethan Gelber contributed this report.

For more information about today's ride, check out the Riding Reporter.

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