Day 12 A man named Murry

While travelling east through Idaho on Hwy 12, we had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Murry. We had just bathed in the brisk waters of the Clearwater River and were beginning to be on the lookout for a place to bed down for the night when we zipped past Murry while he was walking along the road side with the largest pack I've ever seen on his back. We soon found a beautiful little wayside that was littered with wild daisies across the highway from  river. After exploring a bit and snapping plenty of pictures, we began to set up our tents and up walked Murry. He asked if he could share our spot and there was plenty of room, so of course we told him he could most definitely camp with us. I'm so glad we said yes to the universe and had the opportunity to share the evening with this man. He has been hiking all over the country since 2010 and shared with us the most incredible stories about his adventures. Not only were his stories fascinating but Murry himself was one of the most interesting people I've ever met. The way he knew the flora and fauna surrounding us, his philosophies of life, and the way he told stories were enthralling. At one point late in the evening while we were sitting around the campfire, Murry began to lament the death of his violin. He then recounted he numerous McGyver repairs he did on his instrument until sadly, he got caught in a heavy rainstorm, which caused the back of the violin to pop off and it became beyond repair. He then told us about how he worked for a time as a piano tuner's apprentice at the Berkley school of Music in Boston and that with time, all piano tuners became alcaholics. He believed it had a lot to do with listening to all those partial chords all day. When Adam and I told him about our musical background and the instruments we played, he became very excited. Especially about my playing the accordion. He asked me all sorts of questions about different accordions and their size versus ability. And then with a twinkle in his eye he told me about an opera he's been working on. You see, with all this time on the road to yourself, you have a lot of time to think. Murry is working on an operatic version of the Iliad. And with great gusto and an incredible voice, he sang us the opening song, explaining first that the scene opens with Homer's son playing an accordion. As I've said, this person was fascinating. I've never met anyone like him and I believe that I'll be hard pressed to meet anyone like him again. Meeting Murry on that highway in Idaho was such a gift. Not something tangible, of course, but a gift none the less. Something I will remember and treasure for many years to come. So Murry, if you're out there reading this, thank you for the time you spent with us while on your journey. May your days continue to be filled with wonder and adventure.

Day 10, Washington

As I sit here typing this, I'm taking in the view of the Oregon side of the Columbia river gorge. We've been riding all day from Hood River. We're on one of those stretches of highway in Washington that warns us of "no gas for 82 miles". What that sign didn't tell us was that there was going to be absolutely nothing for the next 82 miles. We came upon what was technically a tiny town, since they had a post office about 45 minutes before we stopped for the night. The tiny post office was about there was, other than a large neighborhood. Oh! There was a small store and diner that unfortunately had closed 20 minutes before we rolled through. A bit dismayed we prepared to roll out of town when I remembered that our water bottles were either empty or well on their way. So we rode through the neighborhood until we saw a father and son on their front porch and asked if we could fill our water bottles from their hose. They both retreated inside and after I thought they weren't coming back, they came out with three bottles of water. So we had bare neccesities and down the highway we went. We all knew we weren't going to find any campground or forest service land of any kind, so we started to scavange a spot off the highway to sleep for the night. What we found is by far one of the prettiest spots on the gorge. With a wind farm across the wide expanse of the Columbia, we spent the night in the perfect spot. The highway was below us, the stars blanketing us from above, while the huge electrial lines behind us hummed like giant robotic crickets. We have found our bliss and it hasn't cost us a dime. This is something I've began to realize while out on the road; not everyone has the means to take a journey like ours and it has nothing to do with money...

Outward bound

So many things and experiences have happened since Portland.... I was going to title this entry "The kindness of strangers" but the more I've thought about it, the more I've realized that their really aren't any strangers out there. In the country we've covered in the last 2,200 miles(!) we've met all sorts of folks. And the bond that ties us all together is not just our bikes but that we're all people. Real people. This has helped me discover and decide that it's not strangers out there. It's people. New friends. Friends that are so excited to see us take a journey like this, that they can't help but gift us with their kindness and sometimes a cold Bud Light out of their cooler. This isn't what strangers do for one another, this is what friends do to care for one another. Examples of this have been presenting themselves left and right. When we went through Hood River, I needed a snap rivet attached to my helmet, as the original got ripped off, along with the face shield by the wind on Hwy 26, going into Portland. I tracked down a sail repair business and the guy fiddled with the snap bracket but realized that he didn't have the tools needed to connect everything to my helmet. 5 minutes later, we found ourselves downstairs in an independently owned motorcycle shop and Jesse, the owner and operator had attached my rivet free of charge. From Portland on out, we've received blessing after blessing from folks like this. From small towns in Idaho, to the national parks in Montana and Wyoming, everyone we've met has been nothing but kind, warm, and generous. Even as I type this, I'm sipping a beer in the lodge in the Grand Tetons thanks to the generosity of a couple we met on the side of the road outside our campground. It's these perpetual gifts that give us the fuel to carry on our way. Oh! And I want to thank you all for your patience! Wifi I've discovered is a tricky thing to find out here, so I'm keeping up as best I can. Stay tuned, y'all! I'll have more to share as soon as I can!