Day 9
Lacrosse to (almost) Pullman
It was a
gorgeous beginning of the day. The
comfortable cabin I stayed in looked like a Scottish crofter’s hut, but was
warm and dry.
I
strolled around the town and was still unable to find any person, so I went to
the post office. I had a lovely
conversation with the post mistress (that was the title over her window) who
informed me that I could get wifi at the grocery store/library on the next
block. Ira, the cashier/librarian spoke
to me of the changes to the community since she moved there as a newlywed 43
years ago. The population of Lacrosse in
1980 was nearly 700. In the intervening
years, as the number of people farming has been declining, it now contains fewer
300. It is her hope that some other
folks will see what a beautiful part of the world it is and move there.
I loaded
up my bike and pedaled through roads made of red clay through these beautiful
fields of wheat. Though it is still in
mid May, it is already 18 inches tall.
There was a strong tail wind (which pedaling much easier) and the stalks
were waving in the wind. Strange
thoughts emerge when you are well rested, have a full stomach, the wind is
supporting you, and you are gazing over a beautiful isolated landscape. I imagined the wheat, in their motion, was
waving at me. It was a wonderful feeling
and, because no one was around to see me, I waved back. I started humming to myself “It’s a wonderful
world”. My rear wheel made some strange
noise, but I have a great ability to ignore things I find unpleasant.
It is 45
miles to Pullman, and I could do this easily.
I decided to splurge on a hotel in this college town and I thought that
I might even arrive too early for checking in.
Like a young child, the wheel began to cry out in noises that are hard
to ignore. I got off of my bike and
inspected it. While stationary, I could
see no problem. Followed the counsel of
my GPS and turned on a dirt road in Colfax.
I noted a sign which stated “Klemgard County Park, 5 miles”. I thought this is an important piece of information
to store in my mind. Two miles later, my
derailleur feel off my bike and broke 3 spokes of my rear wheel. I pulled out my phone and realized that I had
no phone signal
I could not
ride my bike, but was able to push it.
Retrieving the information about Klemgard County Park from my brain, I
began pushing my bike. I was still 20
miles from Pullman.
Walking
along a country road and pushing a bike creates a good context for problem
solving (arguably a bit longer that I needed).
When I arrived in the Park I discovered my phone service was
restored. A little known (though very
helpful) piece of information is that AAA will pick you up on your bike and
bring you wherever you want to go. The
lovely woman who answered asked was I safe and was I hydrated (very sweet of
her) and told me that Taylor would be on his way shortly. I discovered there was a bike store in town
called 3Forks Bike store with the following mission statement:
3Forks Bike Shop is founded on a belief that riding a bike
changes lives, and in turn, transforms communities. The simple choice to ride a
bike is a global and revolutionary act, one pedal stroke at a time. We see the
bicycle as a tool for change, where people become free for exploration,
wellness, and joy. We are committed to creating an open space, where the people
of Pullman and the Palouse have an opportunity to creatively contribute to a
greater whole.
On our 20 mile drive to Pullman, Taylor spoke to me about growing up in Lacrosse. His high school graduating class was 5 people. He said that every gets to know everyone more than they would like. After we dropped off my bike at the shop and me at the motel is connected with a micro brewery and every guest is give a complimentary beer
I called
them up and Scott is one of the most pastoral persons I have ever met. He told me to have Taylor drop the bike off
at his shop enroute to my hotel. He was teaching
his Monday afternoon bike riding class for 6 year olds, but promised to look at
my wheel when it was over. He phoned me
at 7 that evening and asked “How did the derailleur fall off?” This question haunted him and tried asking it
in several different ways. He was
seeking a motive. I tried to tell him I
could not think of anything strange happening at that time. Though he was frustrated by my inability
answer the question, he decided to put this aside and see if he could repair
the wheel and replace the derailleur.
I asked
him “can it be fixed?” He replied “everything
can be fixed” I know that this is not really true. His kindness, however, brought tears to my
eyes. Not everything can be fixed. Healing, however, can be greater than we can
either ask or imagine.
I decided
that this would be a good time to visit Chris Hagenbush in Grangeville Idaho
for a few days while my wheel is being repaired. He is an acquaintance of mine I had met some
years ago and had promised I would one day visit. I phoned him up and he would be happy for me
to visit. He then mentioned that his
wife had died during Covid. I was embarrassed
for not knowing this. For understandable
reasons, he did not want to post this on Facebook. He added that he would love to show me around
that historic part of the world and show me the mountain cabin he had built for
him and his wife. Today I will rent a
car and get a bottle of good whiskey, and spend some time with him.
Scott, the bike guy, called at 7:30 this
morning. He said that, if I would like,
he could order a new derailleur to be sent express and that he will be bringing
the wheel to someone in Moscow, Idaho, who is a master wheel fixer (who knew
there were such people?). He will report
back to me later tonight with the verdict.
I now take off for Grangeville.
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