In the morning, Marianne made a wonderful breakfast of blintzes, pancakes, muffins, fresh fruit, bacon and eggs, juice, and home blended tea. Tom permitted me the honor of asking the Lord’s blessing on our meal.

I decided to retape my handlebars that morning, so I wasn’t ready to leave until 8:30. As it had been drizzling all morning, Tom and Marianne asked if I wouldn’t want to stay another day. They were such great company, it was hard to decline, but I did, and I reluctantly started off again.

For the next two hours or so, I sloshed through cold, driving rain on a roller coaster road. I looked down at my thermometer and saw that it read 48 degrees. Of course, the wind-chill on a soaked body made it a bit cooler. I stopped at Pinehurst to warm myself by the fire in a country store. That was a mistake, as it was twice as cold when I got on the road again. After that, I didn’t stop until lunch.

Riggins was my lunch stop. The lady at the restaurant said that a couple had passed through two days before, a couple whose description matched Stephanie and Stewart perfectly. Apparently, Stephanie needed to pick up General Delivery at White Bird. Inspiration! Maybe I could catch them.

It was sunny for a while along the Salmon River gorge as I continued on, but I could see the blackness in the distance. Within minutes, the full fury of the storm crashed into me. I clocked the headwinds at 15-20 mph, using the ride-in-reverse-direction-until-dead-air technique. That wasn’t the bad part. The rain didn’t come down in drops, or even sheets. It felt as if someone had turned a firehose on my face. That wasn’t the bad part. Then the hail started. That was the bad part. There were no trees, not even rock overhangs for shelter. I had to keep going. If I stopped, I would face hypothermia.

Several miles down the road, I took shelter at Kilgore’s Salmon River Fruit Company, a roadside stand. My entire body was cherry red from hail stings. I removed my wet shirt and tried to dry myself off as best I could with a saturated towel. After consuming about two pounds of fruit, I was ready to go again. By then, the rain had reduced to a heavy downpour.

Once again, I had warmed myself, and the rain felt painfully cold as I started again. I pedaled hard, hoping to get warm soon.

I had logged 87 miles on my cyclometer when I finally reached White Bird. Stewart and Stephanie were not there. No problem. I wouldn’t expect them to sit around for a day doing nothing.

Sorry, no more pictures. I was keeping my camera out of the rain until the final destination of White Bird.

The rain had either soaked or frozen my camera; it didn’t work anymore. All I got was the low battery warning. All the high-tech advantages of my Olympus Quickshooter Zoom had been instantly nullified. I knew that simpler technology of a mechanical camera would have survived the rain. I wasn’t about to be discouraged. I had the ultimate in simple and robust technology right at my fingertips. I took out my pen, and sketched the scenery. This turned out to be my only sketch for the entire trip.

White Bird was so small, it didn’t even have a restaurant. Fortunately, it was large enough to have a motel and a general store. I sat in my $18 motel room, eating my dinner of rolls, crackers, and deviled ham, planning what I would do the next day. Fantasies of catching up with Stewart and Stephanie spun through my head. Stewart alone I could never catch. But perhaps Steph had slowed him down. Was she slow? I didn’t know. She was a pretty tough lady.