Glaciers and plains

The day started nervously. I inflated the front tire to 90 PSI again, but as soon as I rolled onto flat pavement I noticed it was bumping rhythmically, much more than before. The warp was getting worse, faster than the leak in the tube.

I hit the all-in-one convenience store for the last time, and bought two Prince Polos, a banana, two chocolate muffins, and a large carton of milk. I strapped the carton to the back of the bike, where it’s visible to passing motorists. I like to think it amuses them.

The temperature was fine but the wind was against me. About 10mph, pushing into the bike. With over 50 miles to cover I knew I would be in the saddle for the whole day — and worrying about the front tire every minute of it.

But, it’s hard to stay worried when you’re seeing stuff like this.

A few miles east I found the pie shop I’d seen on the map. Having a stubborn nature paradoxically means that you sometimes insist on slowing down and relaxing even when you’re worried about getting somewhere. As I parked the bike next to a table sporting a delightful view of the waterfall, I thought of the story my Mom liked to tell about my grandfather’s stubbornness:

He was on a months-long expedition, going up the Alaska-Canada highway, riding shotgun in a truck with my father. My father had every day scheduled and booked in advance, and wanted to get to the next place with as much time to look around as possible, so he was not inclined to stop. My grandfather checked his watch and, seeing it was early afternoon, and considering the trip to be the vacation it definitely was, said “It’s cocktail time. Pull over and let’s take a break.”

Looking around at the trees, my father said, “Why would we stop here? There’s nothing interesting.”

“Because it’s cocktail time,” grandad repeated.

“Let’s just keep going and we can relax when we get to town.”

“Cocktail time is now,” my grandfather said.

“So?” said my Dad, irritated.

Whereupon my grandfather scooted over to the middle of the cab and awkwardly shoved his leg into the footwell across the center divider, and pressed down on the brake.

“We’re stopping,” he declared.

“Fine, fine! Fine. We’re stopping!” said Dad, with bad grace, and turned the truck towards the shoulder. “Let me just park.”

And so granddad walked around for a bit, then pulled a folding chair out of the back and had a beverage, and probably smoked a cigar.

I definitely take after him.

The nice lady behind the counter mis-heard me and brought me the wrong slice of pie, but it was delicious. I sat outside next to the bike, gazing at the water tumbling over the cliff, eating slowly, and listening to an audiobook.

Eventually I rolled out again. The road was almost perfectly flat, and I would have made great time except for the wind and the tire, which I had to pump up about 10 PSI every half-hour.

More moss-covered weirdness came into view. More terrain I hadn’t seen anywhere else in the world. Maybe again in Norway, if I ever got there…

Then, at long last, I caught sight of a full-on glacier. This was something I almost completely missed on my northern route two years before.

The terrain evolved slowly, and the glacier passed out of sight. Before I could see it again I was forced to stop when the front tire suddenly went completely flat. Uh oh…