04 Sept 2012

Bonners Ferry ID to Creston B.C. 42 miles (TNV 106 miles)

“What do we do?!? What do we do?!? What do we do?!?” I am yelling this in Gina’s left ear as I pedal to her outside, strategically placing her and her bicycle between me and the black dog that is racing toward us, his line of sight locked clearly on Gina’s right ankle. I am clean out of water, so no squirting the barking beast, and I am unclipped and undecided as to whether I should be prepared to kick or come to a full hard stop, like the Russian submarine in the Hunt for Red October, visions of the dog flying past me, unable to anticipate my strategic move.

Gina, meanwhile, is strangely calm, almost smiling at my naiveté, her TransAm worldliness transcending my inferior state of being, her water bottle poised to squirt, her demeanor poised to please. “Oh, he’s fine,” she says nonchalantly, the dog mere inches from her leg but now slowing, the thrill of the chase diminishing, “He’s more curious than anything else.” Yeah, curious how your leg might taste, I think to myself. I guess I need a little toughening up, the kind three months crossing crazy-dog-riddled rural states brings.

Up until the potential dog bite scare, it’s been a fabulous day on the bikes, having opted to take the quieter, safer route through the Kootenay Wildlife Refuge as opposed to our new nemesis I-95. This meant nearly 5 miles traversing a gravel road, the kind with the loose stones that put me into Full Rudder Readiness mode, though I’m pleased to report that nary a toe touched down.

After leaving Fido behind, we cross into Canada, the nice border control lady only curious about whether or not we were carrying alcohol or tobacco – which we weren’t – and then wondering how we could be riding our bikes so far without either of those items.

Tonight we are in Creston, another cute pint-sized town, where we are discussing how it is that Gina could possibly be so tuckered out after just two days on the road. Apparently this self-touring has become “so much more work” than what she remembers, but from what I’ve deduced, this is because Gina has no one to carry the weight of her luggage, no one to go to the store and ensure she has food, and then no one to cook her dinner.  Someone misses summer camp.