Riding on the Sabbath angers God.

I stopped at a signal in Whitefish this morning on my way out of town. A man missing roughly 72% of his teeth rolled up in his pickup truck. He told me that I shouldn't ride on the Lord's Day, that it would anger God, and I shouldn't go down that road.

I literally and metaphorically went down that road. I have this to say: I'm sorry, toothless man, for not listening. You were right.

The original plan from yesterday was for me to ride 55 miles to Eureka today, 70 miles to Libby tomorrow and pick up my package, and board the train to Seattle there for $91. However, after a couple of lengthy calls to Amtrak, it turns out that the nearest station that a passanger with a bike can board is Whitefish, the town I was in this morning.

The ticket for Monday night was $113 and, for Tuesday, $191. So I had to be in Whitefish by 8 PM tomorrow night. The problem was that I also had to go to Libby, 107 miles away, and pick up my package that can not be forwarded. So, if you're following this insanity, I rode 107 miles to Libby, am going to the post office tomorrow at 8:30 AM, and then am riding the 107 miles back to Whitefish and I NEED to arrive by 8 PM.

It seemed doable though and so I decided to go for it. I spent last night sleeping in a teepee with another cyclist I met named Steph. She's from Australia and all of my thoughts this morning were in an Australian accent because of her. I left most of my stuff at my host's house last night so I could ride partially unloaded and move faster.

I made it about 50 miles before God smote me with his wrath: a flat tire. In the middle of nowhere. Without my tools or patch kit. So that was game over for riding for the moment. I started hitchhiking since it was the only thing to do.

I'm going to gloss over much of the experience since it really wasn't all that thrilling. It involved a lot of waiting and a lot of cars passing me by. I know it's no one's duty to stop for me, but seriously?! I'm a 19-year-old kid in cycling clothes, a clearly flat tire, and a look of absolute distress. I weigh 120 pounds; I'm not going to kill you.

Eventually, one woman drove me 10 miles. Another drove me 6. After that, I finally found someone headed to Libby and he drove me the rest of the way. No one chopped me up into little pieces and mailed me to my parents so my first hitchhiking experience went well.

I'm in Libby now, staying with a Warmshowers host. I'm going to fix my tire, pick up my package, and head back to Whitefish tomorrow. And then to Seattle. I keep telling myself that nothing worth having comes easily since that seems to be a theme of this trip. Seattle's going to be awesome!

Peace out.

Shahmeer

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