Alan Phillip (Big Al) Thompson's
Bicentennial Bicycle Retrace of
The Lewis and Clark Trail
from Saint Louis, Missouri, on 06/22/2005
to Astoria and Seaside, Oregon, ~09/01/2005

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Bicycle Road Trip Report 9 of 10, 08/25/2005

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Dear Family and Friends,

      I’m now over the 3000-mile mark — actually over 3200 miles which is the official distance of the route. It may turn out to be more like 3700 miles. I have put on quite of few miles just riding around the cities and historical sites that I have visited — hence all those extra miles.

      The other day I visited Travelers’ Rest which was the site named by Lewis where the Corps of Discovery rested for a few days in preparation for their crossing of the Bitterroot Mountains. Just within the last few years they have done some extraordinary archaeology and have found the actual location. The archaeology has revealed some actual traces of the Corps’ spending time at this site — a button, a pool of lead and a lead bullet, and mercury in the soil of a trench. Why mercury, you ask? Because the journals show that a couple of the men were quite sick at this time, and the cure-all administered by Doctors Lewis and Clark for all different sorts of ailments were Dr. Benjamin Rush’s "Thunderbolts," powerful laxatives that thoroughly cleaned you out. One component of the pill was 760 milligrams of mercury. So the trench is likely the latrine where these two poor fellows pooped until they were too pooped to participate.

      My climb to Lolo Pass and up into the Bitterroot Mountains — “the most terrible mountains I ever beheld” — was considerably easier than that of the Corps’ march up into the Bitterroots. On the morning of the climb, we awoke to temperatures hovering around 30 degrees — within a few hours, we would be in 86-degree Fahrenheit temps. The climb was a gentle grade that led to the pass where there is an excellent visitor center. And the ride down, at first quite steep, began about a 70-mile gradual downhill that followed the Lochsa and then Middle Fork of the Clearwater Rivers. This route along U. S. Highway 12, which was only completed in 1962, is an amazingly stunning and beautiful drive. This section of these two rivers has been designated Wild and Scenic Rivers, and rightly so. It courses through some of the most wild and rugged wilderness in the United States.

      But the Corps of Discovery did not follow this river corridor. They were on the high ridges to the north that parallel the Lochsa River. It was here that a centuries-old Indian trail led across the Bitterroot Mountains. Today a rugged forest road takes you along this ridge. I actually rode this part of the trail about 8 or 9 years ago with a supported expedition sponsored by the Adventure Cycling Association. What a ride it was! A gravel, sand and dirt road that drops down into saddles and then climbs up to high ridges where you have amazing vistas of mountains in all directions. Lewis made the comment in his journal that without their Nez Perce guides, it would have been impossible to find their way out of those mountains — “those Indians are most admirable pilots.” On this difficult 140-mile route over the mountains, the Corps fought the early snows of September 1805, and with little game, nearly starved to death. They were forced to kill a couple of their colts to eat, and resorted to dishes like bears' oil and roots and candles. They have identified a number of the actual campsites, and their names reflect the struggle of the Corps of Discovery — Hungry Creek, Snow Bank Camp, and Colt Killed Creek. When they stumbled out of the mountains, they met the Nez Perce Indians who decided to befriend the Corps, nursed them back to health, showed them an easier way to construct five new canoes (chip and burn method), and agreed to take care of their horses while they were on their journey to the Pacific.

      A couple of days ago I was in Kamiah, Idaho, a center of Nez Perce culture and tradition. When I checked into the Clearwater Motel after a few nights of camping, they offered me a free room when I explained the nature of my journey and the causes for which I was riding. The manager’s nephew passed away from cancer a year ago July, and he was only 25. His name is Dustin Blue, and his mother (sister-in-law of the manager) just happened to be in the motel office. Later in the evening as I was having dinner at the local Mexican restaurant, I ran into her and her husband. They sat down and joined me, and we had a very nice conversation about her son. They are wonderful people and still trying to deal with their loss.

      Last night I was in Lewiston at the confluence of the Clearwater and Snake Rivers, and this morning I crossed into Washington and made a pretty hefty climb out of the Snake River Canyon onto the dry and arid, but agriculturally rich, plains of eastern Washington. Clark made an observation in his journal that the shores along the Snake were devoid of timber, and my climb this morning certainly echoed that — brown, treeless hills with grasses bending over to the breeze, thankfully in my direction.

      I’m nearing the end of my journey, folks. I hope to be in sight of the Great Western Ocean by next week, and have scheduled a flight home for Wednesday, September 7. But there are still some miles to go, and hills to climb, and the spectacular Columbia River Gorge beckons. As always, I am proceeding on!

Al Thompson