LA CHERCHE POUR LES SOURCES CHAUDS.

07/14/2020

My sleep was satisfactory. My internal alarm clock seems to be set to eight. After rolling out of bed, I made my way to the kitchen and poured myself some coffee. Once the caffeine kicked in, the cheffing commenced. This morning's menu was my famous tomlettes (trademark coming soon). When breakfast was completed, I started to plan out my route for the day. I quickly learned that it was not going to be that simple. With guidance from Mark and Ashalome, we attempted to create the most efficient and scenic route possible. Ashalome even decided to call over her helicopter medic friend, who knows the backcountry exceptionally well. The route we concocted was approved.

However, there were a few tweaks and adjustments to perfect it. Now I had a tentative route all the way to Yellow Stone National Park. Feeling content with my planning, I started to load my bike up with all my belongings. Mark made me some to-go pancakes for extra carbs. After thanking Mark and Ashalome for their hospitality and kindness, I returned to the road. Getting out of Boise was extremely easy. The celebrated Greenbelt Trail took me along Highway 21. Fellow bikers saluted me as I returned to my vagabond lifestyle. One cyclist shouted out hell yeah as we passed each other.

Inevitably, the trail came to an end, and I had to jump onto Highway 21. This is where the climbing commenced. The shoulder on this reckless route was nonexistent. I was essentially tight-roping the white line against the stone barricades. Traffic was high, but the drivers were very conscious of me. There were several bikers ahead and behind me striving to climb this summit. Some six miles later, I reached the peak. It was smooth sailing down to my turnoff point, E Spring Shores Road.

This was the start of the amazing Arrowrock Reserve. Words cannot describe the beautiful blue color of this water. It surely was stunning. Naturally, it was filled with boaters, tubers, and jet skiers. Abruptly the pavement vanished. My new path was some delightful white sand. I could not comprehend how perfectly white it was. It reminded me of the beaches in Sarasota, which are notorious for having the best beaches in the world. Some gravel occupied the trail in parts, but the sand was dominant. This led to much fishtailing, but I had already mastered the technique for combatting this danger.

After biking along this spectacularly scenic path for some miles, I encountered Jim. This older gentleman was pulled off the side of the route and was smoking a joint. He called to me over my music, asking me if I smoked. Promptly I pulled over and partook in the purple. We chatted for some time, and he informed me that he had been fishing here for the past thirty years. He further educated me on the lay of the land, among other interesting statistics. He refilled my water bottles and sent me on my way, thanks Jim!

Filling up a cyclist's water bottle in the middle of nowhere is more valuable than gold. Seven or so miles later, I arrived at my first hot springs opportunity. Fun fact, Idaho has more hot springs than the entire rest of the United States combined. Unfortunately, this spring was booked up for the evening and only offered access to its guests. Luckily, they did have an overpriced little market. Simple commodities rise in price when you are in butt-fuck nowhere. Anyways, I paid twenty bucks for two cans of beer, two tins of smoked oysters, and some spam. The lady who helped me said that there was a public hot spring not too far down the road. I needed that warming water on my broken body.

It took several miles more to find it. Immersing myself in this naturally heated hot tub was the most magical experience. The warmth welcomed me, and I did not want it to end. Quickly, I unpacked my camp at a nearby primitive campground. It did not take long for me to return with my dinner and scrubbing supplies. When my bath and a little laundry was completed, I had my dinner. My evening meal was one can of tomato soup, one tin of smoked oysters, and half a container of spam. The rest of my night was dedicated to assignments that did not require an internet connection. My day was extensive and tiresome. It was not long before I retired to my tent. Bonne nuit mes amours.

Here, the route!