Idaho Police support was the best I’ve ever seen. We didn’t stop at a stop sign or light until we crossed into Oregon, about mile 45 as the police were stopping all cross traffic at all intersections for us. With a storm sitting off the PNW coast sucking air out of the Boise Valley, winds were pretty strong from the SE- my guess is 15 MPH at a very steady rate- no gusting. The first 10 miles we headed south and east into it. For some reason, I rode hard and stayed at the tail end of the first group. Then we turned onto the only road in the area that heads NW which gave us a perfect tail wind. I forgot about staying with the first group- which had doubtless split by then, and I sailed along at 18 to 22 to Marsing. Here the roads follow the farm tradition of running between section lines at true directions North or West. However, whichever direction we traveled, the tail wind continued. All good things come to an end, and at Adrian, OR (mile 60) the route turned to the south east giving us headwinds as consistent as the tail winds had been. Three young men- late depaturers- passed me just after this turn, but otherwise I rode alone at my own pace. The organizers managed to find the only long steep hill outside of Nampa- about mile 95- which wasn’t at all necessary and which those behind me certainly noticed. I got the last lunch- a vegetarian hamburger. There are two kinds of vegetarian burgers: the kind the vegetarians defend against us carnivores and the kind that the vegetarians don’t need to defend. This was the later type!

The ride was obviously organized by racers. Traditionally, cyclists came in two types: racers and tourist. Racers need no defining, but tourists are those riders to like to put in miles, see the sights, and enjoy the ride- in no hurry. My perspective is tourist. Away, the snacks were bland: power bars, luke-warm water and watered down luke-warm power aid (racers can guzzle warm water without throwing up or taking a break!), peanut butter and tortillas, and bananas- which tourists also like! They didn’t seek out shade for the break stops and most were literally where the fog line would be if farm to market roads had them. One needn’t even dismount the bike to get a snack and move on! These were not places one would want to take a brief rest while trying to complete his first century. The tourist in me really wants the breaks in a grassy yard or park under a tree where a tired first timer could rest and cool off. We tourists are a dying breed though!

I’m looking forward to reading something about the Whitebird ride. In Corrie’s absence, I hope someone else blogs it!