Day 14

The alarm clock goes off at 6 am; it's irritatingly loud. The warm bath I'd had the night before causes me to become painfully aware of how much everything hurts. So, the cure...? Get back on the road and start walking. 'My detour has cost me an extra 3 miles.' I'm thinking as I exit the Shilo Inn parking lot. However, the view while walking across the bridge is well worth it. With Mt. Hood behind me, I press on, eager to put up some good numbers for the day. But it seems like every 500 metres there's an exraordinary picture to be taken. By noon, I realize how much I've doddled, and determine not to take any more, at least not for a while.

The road begins to climb and doesn't stop ascending until far past Wishram. At the top, I stop to take in the view of Celilo Lake and wish that I'd been present to see the magnificent falls that once thundered here. My short rest causes me to realise how thirsty I am. I'm out of water, and the next place for a possible drink is still five or six miles ahead. I keep going since there's not much else to do. Then, as though someone had heard my unspoken need, a truck pulls over next to me, and a big fella named Ventura calls out:

'You need a ride?'
'Na' I respond. ' I'm on a walk from Long Beach to Lewiston, hopefully to raise a little money for charity.'
'Oh,' he says. 'Well you want a pop?
'That would be awesome.' I reply.
'Here, take two.' he offers.

I give him a card and thank him for the generosity, and with that the truck pulls away leaving me to sip on the best pink soda I think I've ever tasted.

A couple more miles ahead and I run into Maryhill Museum. The timing can't be more perfect as I need to use a toilet desperately. Inside a woman named Nancy Lee permits me to use the toilet so long as I leave my pack outside. When I return, she tells me about how has champion bull dogs and delineates at great length the challenging events they must participate in at dog shows.

I pass the 97 junction and wave in the direction of my folks (they live in Yakima) and just keep on moving. There's a State park up ahead, but since I don't have any cash I reckon the best place to put up camp is around the John Day Dam. It's dark by the time I find a reasonably acceptable spot. I don't waste time staking the tent down or anything. I just get it up and crawl into my sleeping bag. Within about five minutes I realize that I'm right on top of some sort of prickly plant.