Saturday last was fully consumed with a recon trip to an important section of the JWPT. Section being, a 35-40 mile stretch of the line that hasn't been abandoned - part is still active and part is non-active, but with rails and ties still in place and not rideable, even with a badass fatbike. The usual detour is to get out on the highway or side roads and just get through this section and get it over with, but this sounds like a miserable intermission to my planned symphony, so I turned to who else . . . Google Maps. Which (who?) quickly pointed out that there are some "waterways" in the area, alongside which there looked to be the promise of some form of bikeable passage. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Before I could launch the recon effort, I needed to figure out a better solution for transporting my portly steed, because I will be needing it (the solution and the steed), and also because I'm sick of loading this heavy-ass turd into the back of my truck. This is the rack for the job, I think. We got it last year so that we could interchange it between my ancient truck and Patty's shiny new sedan, depending on our whims.
The solution turned out to be fairly painless . . . all I really had to do was drill out the rivets holding on this molded plastic jobbie . . .
. . . remove it . . .
. . . and voila!
Oh and also do something about the stock rear wheel strap that was about a thousand miles too short. Thule and Yakima must be so totally hoping this fatbike craze will quickly fade away and die.
Problem solved and back to the main story line then. This is the alternate route that I'd mapped, along what I surmised to be irrigation canals between Warden and Othello, but the necessity for the in-person visit is that you never really know, until you get there. Maybe the passage-ways were gated and off limits to all but the keepers of the canals. Or whatever else you can't tell from the online peekhole. Maybe this, maybe that.
Upon arriving in Warden of course, I had to spend about half an hour getting confused by my gps and getting my bearings, but I eventually found the trail, just as it enters Warden.
Shortly afterwards, however, it turns into the full meal deal. You could maybe ride beside it for a while, but I think that option would quickly disappear and besides, it would suck.
So I followed my pre-planned route and was quickly rewarded with this awesomeness . . .
Photo practice, the price you must pay for reading this blog . . .
About a quarter of the way into my total ride for the day, I flatted. And no sooner did I get it fixed, than I flatted again. So in somewhere around 80 miles of recon, I've flatted 4 times. All from thorns. If this flat-to-mileage ratio holds up, I can look forward to 18 flats on my tour. We're talking here about a horrifically mistuned instrument amidst my symphony. First chair needs vacating type of stuff. Something I need to address in the next few weeks, then.
This is reportedly a bike blog and so I'm working hard to keep the agricultural and livestock pictures to a minimum, but those activities define the region and the sights, sounds and smells were wonderful, as far as I was concerned. Even the really smelly smells.
Some bike and canal pics, then . . .
This next picture is significant in terms of yours and my twisted online relationship. You're looking at hours of blood, sweat and tears (not to mention piles of cash), pedal-propped against the rail, leaning towards the irretrievably deep canal. Precariously balanced. I didn't breathe once during the setup, shot, or subsequent lunge to get my hand back on it. All so I could deliver the photographic goods. This is how much I love you guys. Let it never again be questioned.
Blowing through a section of super-fine-powdery dirt . . .
A mysterious preview regarding my rad new western hat, which looks even totally radder upon me, I shit you not . . .
Airport security in these parts is pretty much non-existent. I could have ridden right down the middle of the runway, probably. And don't think I didn't consider it . . .
The second half of my recon was done hurriedly, by truck, under the threat of darkness, so there was no time for pics. But it proved out awesomely stunning and remote. All up, 32 miles of canal-side riding, 300+ miles of driving, and a totally consumed day. A bargain, in my mind, for turning most of one day's ride on the tour from something to put up with into something that stirs your soul.