40 miles

This morning we started with a leisurely ~8 mile descent into Okanogan and stopped for coffee at a place called Smallwood Farms. We sat for a while and considered our route. We read some details of the Yellowstone detour we had been considering, and sort of unanimously decided it would suck. It sounds like lots of steep, difficult terrain and “brutal” winds. I think we have decided to do the Northern Tier all the way across, which was my original plan anyway, so I am content with this rearrangement. I would love to see Yellowstone, especially on a bike, but tackling those steep Wyoming mountain roads sounds very intimidating to both of us. 

We rode a leisurely 40 miles to Tonaskett, which allows cyclists to camp for free in town behind the visitor center. There is a laundromat and shower center three blocks away, so we are both feeling refreshed. The town reminds me a little of Alfred, NY. The townies in the laundromat were all very small-townish. I spent a while trying to sort out what that thought even means to me, but listening to their conversations about and with each other while my clothes dried reminded me vividly of how, with terrific irony, you can live in the middle of nowhere and have no space from people, while living in close proximity to everyone in a major city can actually give you a crowd in which to disappear, for better or worse. 

We talked more over dinner about relationships. I’ve been using a plant analogy that I really like. Plants naturally have different light, soil, and water requirements, and I think of my relationships with people in the same way. You can’t expect a cactus to thrive on the same watering schedule as your tropicals, and vice versa. Plants will tell you what they need, but you have to observe them to pick up the cues. If you pay attention to how quickly they grow or drop their leaves, and you have the capacity to meet them on their terms, you can usually adjust to help them thrive. Some make their suffering obvious far in advance, some bounce back easily, while others give only faint indications that they’re withering, or completely hide their distress until it’s too late. 

We have another mountain to climb tomorrow: Wauconda.