This biking thing drives an appetite. It’s all about balance, though. Today, I have been trying to balance the fiber intake from the day before. Let me tell you what I ate yesterday: 1 small tin of honey roasted peanuts, 2 bananas, 1 tin of sardines, 1 package of salami, 1 can of chili and beans, and 1 pound of strawberries.
I’m sitting at McDonald’s, waiting for the rain to subside. Actually, I’m waiting for this guy in the bench behind me to leave so that I can crop dust it without harming any innocent bystanders.
Now, I’ll give you a recap of what brought me to this point.
Thursday, Marissa gave me a ride to Twin Falls, ID. I found her on Craigslist. I had to meet her at her house at 5:30 AM. She was kind of excitable, real into yoga, and kind of excitable.
I biked about twenty miles that day, just enough to get outside of civilization. I found a nice nature reserve to camp in. Then, Friday, I biked about 65 miles to Craters of the Moon National Monument. That place was real fly—mountains on one side and fields of lava rock on the other side. The lava formations had names like Devil’s Spit, Southern Butte, Grandma’s Spittoon, Johnny Unitas’s Belly Fat, Polly Pocket’s Exercise Room, Canine Quesadilla Peak, Stuart Chipman’s Belly Button Lint, and Ozzy Osborne’s Eyebrow Trimmer.
Saturday, I biked about fifty miles. It was pretty chill until I had to bike through Idaho National Laboratories (the place where the government does nuclear research.) That place had a lot to look at, but, sadly, everything to look at consisted of small bushes that all looked the same. The mountains were nice to look at for about an hour, but, for the next three hours, I just wished that they’d do something cool. So with boring scenery, batteries dead in my IPod, and a belly full of salami, I biked on. It was getting late, and I worried that I wouldn’t make it out of that government noise by dusk. Camping on government property is no good: trespassing is a federal offense. I made it, though, and set up camp off the side of the road.
This morning, Sunday, I woke up to snow on my tent. Breaking camp wasn’t terribly enjoyable. It would have been better had there been no snow and more pancakes. There wasn’t even one pancake. I biked the twenty miles into Idaho Falls, stopping every five miles or so to warm up my feet, laundered my clothes at the mat, and, now, I’m at McD’s.
I figure that I’ll figure something warm out tonight. But, tomorrow night, I’ll have to get a hotel room because it’ll be too cold. The day after that, I’ll be in Stuie’s friend Rachel’s cabin thing at Yellowstone.