Jeremy to the West

June 4 2018 Mon $145 Day 21

Just to be clear, I do occasionally wash my hair and clothes. Motels offer shampoo and soap packets, so I use those and shower over a pile of dirty laundry in the tub. It cleans. Somewhat.

I gained an hour crossing into another timezone yesterday, but I squandered it this morning debating with myself over whether I should risk getting up to search for a bathroom, or just wait for the Rogers Pass Discovery Centre to open at 09:00. It was a risk because it meant putting my damp shoes on over my dry socks, changed last night after drying my feet. If I couldn't find a bathroom with a hand dryer, my feet would get wet for no reason. Plus my feet were already freezing and I feared removing them from my sleepingbag.

I decided to risk it at 08:00 and found a bare-bones trailer bathroom nearby, queued up with Asian and Australian bus tourists. So there I was, standing in line in wet shoes for a bathroom I knew was gonna have paper towels instead of air drying, with a bunch of people who had nothing better to talk about than how cold it was this morning—because I had to pee. I shouldn't have gotten up from my concrete bed. At least the wiggling worms were quiet.

I soon hit the road, wearing a thin pair of work gloves beneath my riding gloves (even though the point of fingerless gloves is to show off your fingers. Nothing to do with padded palms or greater dexterity). Things went as smoothly as expected for a while, until I hit a pothole in front of a garbage disposal stop. The top of my front-right rack came loose and hung with the weight of the bag attached. I pulled over and found the screw for the top of the rack missing. Unable to find it near the pothole, I took the same sort of screw from another place on the bike and tightened it over the rack. It should be inconsequential. I think.

Checking all my other screws, I set out again, eventually coming to a fantastic decline I could rest through. At its bottom I raised my head to see a patrol pickup stopped before me. The officer waved as I approached and I stopped at his window. "Just clocked you at twenty-five kilometres per hour," he informed me with a smile. "Nice."

I laughed and rode on. He'd killed my flow, but it was worth it for the interaction.

Only a few hours had passed before my weariness caught up with me. My sleep last night had been fragmented by the cold and the soreness of lying too long on one side.

I arrived in Revelstoke only after almost giving up at every sign saying it was 28, 16, 2km away. I called it a day here at 13:00 after checking in at a motel with a British chick behind the counter who had the most beautiful, voluptuous bird tattoos I've ever seen.

After that, I did a bit of walking around, ate my first chocolate bar since leaving on this trip, got some sushi. It's been relaxing and I'm glad to have a warm bed tonight and to properly dry my damp articles. Plus this place does complimentary breakfast. Can't go wrong with that.

P.S. They're on her tits.

It's banana flavoured. And only banana because to mix anything with it would only taint its holiness.

Gotta dry the stuff that got wet. The shirt is there because I wrapped my feet with it and the towel last night.

Who's that fool?