Day 17: How old are you?

One of the younger riders approached me after supper last night and tentatively asked a question, "May I ask how old you are?" "52" I replied, and waited for her to tell me how well I ride for my age, or that I ride like a much younger man. "I thought so. Somebody said that you were 72 and I knew you couldn't be that old." I think I'm a young man; apparently others see me differently.

Last Saturday I heard that some people were going to a local bar for a drink. I decided to join them after doing my wash. I walked onto the porch and discovered a group of about 25 under 30 riders. They cheered. "Intentional Intergenerational Interaction," they said, referring to one of the tour's goals, mixing up the generations. The next day one commented, "He was the only old man to join us." "Old man?"

Yesterday I felt like an old man. After the uphill finish in searing heat, I was drained, and felt like a limp noodle throughout the night. "How am I going to ride 81 miles tomorrow?" The weather report said that it would be cooler, so that gave me a bit of hope.

This morning I paired up with two people I love to ride with, Anne and Marti. Right from start we cruised. Marti is a strong rider and she pulled us along at a fast clip, while I contentedly drafted her, mile after mile. It was "win-win"; she wanted to work hard to get in shape for bike marathons, and I wanted to cover the miles as easily as possible.

Our first stop was a dairy farm, of all places, where the owner offered refreshments and a tour of his operation. Sounded lame, but we wanted to be courteous. It was fascinating! He milks 1700 cows three times a day-that's 5100 milkings each day. He uses a 50 cow carousel that looks a little like a merry-go-round. When a cow makes it all the way around she steps out of her slot and another way takes her place. They wait their turn and step in and out at the right time. Just like clockwork. Workers attach suction cups which automatically detach when a sensor detects low milk flow. Pretty amazing, to a city slicker.

A few miles down the road we suddenly found ourselves at the northern rim of the Snake River Canyon. Initially the sheer walls looked like an open pit mine, like the one off the Tri-State in Chicago, but when we got close we realized that this was something God had done all by himself.
After a few more miles we crossed over the canyon into Twin Falls and took a bunch more pictures. It was breathtaking.

After a delicious lunch provided by the Twin Falls Reformed Church we took a two mile detour to look at the Shoshone Falls. The Snake River thundered over the basalt cliffs with the spray creating a beautiful rainbow. The only downside to the detour was that the two miles were downhill, at times quite steep, which meant that after gawking at the spectacle we had to bike up two miles. When all was said and done, of the three people in our group, two of us thought it was worth the effort, one wasn't so sure.

We then rode the final 35 miles into Burley. We averaged 15.6 mph for the 86 miles (including the ascent from Snake River Canyon), which I think is pretty good for a young man. Now I'm pooped, and the thought of doing it again tomorrow (which is the plan) seems bizarre. I'm counting on a good night of sleep and hoping for moderate temperatures.