Before I left the UK my Mother made me promise her a few things including: 1) don’t cycle at night 2) wear suncream (apparently I already have enough wrinkles as it is for someone my age) and 3) please for god’s sake don’t write a book! Well I have stuck to all three so far, although am going to try and write a bit about the trip so far now, if nothing else as a reminder for Billy and I if and when we finish this extraordinary challenge. Being succinct is not one my strengths though so it might well turn out to be the length of a book, you have been warned.

Before I do actually start my brain dump I would firstly like to mention those who have already super kindly donated to the charity Billy and I are supporting - Mark S, Dido, MGM and Pippa J - I can’t thank you enough for your generosity and so appreciate you getting the donation ball (hopefully) rolling. In a nutshell, we’re trying to raise at least £10,000 for Jigsaw4U, a small London based charity, who help children and young people, who have experienced loss and trauma, put the pieces back together. I have deliberately not been rattling the begging bowl that vocally digitally or otherwise yet, mainly because I loath asking for money (also reposting on Instagram is not my forte especially videos, any tips welcome), but also we’re still relatively early into the challenge and so I know some of you will want to see us peddle across the finish line (still TBC BTW - very much hoping it will be New York but it might be too far given the timeframe, if not the Big Apple it will be Yorktown in Virginia instead, I will keep you posted asap, just need to do some maths) before parting with some of your charge. BUT any donations really do make a huge difference from a morale point of view and, more impotantly, will benefit those people Jigsaw4U help sooner rather than later. So, if you were willing to take a chance of us finishing or think what we’ve done so far deserves some of your change please click here for more details.

Continuing on the topic of thanks - messages and calls also really help especially when bouts of loneliness rear their head (thankfully there haven’t been many but I’d be lying if I said there hadn’t been any) so thank you for those too. A special shout out to the those on the day shift - TIHAICB, Sophie Clark (I will be claiming your daily US facts as my own just FYI, yes, daily, what a complete hero), Rosie African Sunset (formerly known as Middle Wintour and tent pitcher critic), and Basil, and to those on the evening shift - my cultural consultant Wally (I fear we won’t be able to top growler*, particularly when it comes to fisting them, but we can at least try) and Pauline.

So, here we go…….

Billy and I have been on the road for 17 days and now find ourselves in Missoula, Montana, having miraculously successfully navigated our way through the Oregon and Idaho sections of the route. How would I describe the last couple of weeks in one word……intense. And if I’m allowed two, I’d say character building. Good intense I might add, but still intense. Safe to say I don’t think I’ve been as physically, mentally and emotionally challenged before as I have been so far but deep down this is what I wanted from this challenge so I am not complaining.  Well, maybe a bit, elevation dependent.

I’m typically one of those people who is the first to leave the ‘kitchen’ when it looks like there are going to be too many cooks, added to which I’m exceptionally, sometimes crippling, indecisive (two years to decide on and order a sofa I think was my finest hour) who is usually very happy for others to take control. So, juggling the logistics of needing to cycle a certain average distance each day (c.60 miles which takes at the very least c.7 hours) alongside the need to plan not only accommodation but food and water stops (not uncommon for them to be 60 miles apart) on my own can, for fear of sounding ridiculously impractical, privileged and precious, at times seem overwhelming, but touch wood, seems to be getting a bit easier, just a bit. I imagine it feels a bit like being a new parent, at which I’m completely unauthorised to comment on, with me predominantly being the parent but its got to be said Billy certainly does his fair share of looking after me too. It certainly seems reminiscent of being an expat, when the first few days feel exciting but at the same time extremely daunting, not to mention intimidating, and you’re willing things to feel more normal, but over time as the days become weeks, the imposter syndrome gradually wears off.

The TransAm route is split into twelve sections and so far we have covered three of them. Don’t they say that a pictures paint a thousands words, and even my pictures don’t do justice to the landscape, so what you read next is quite frankly an embarrassingly inadequate description. The first section, starting in Astoria, where after months of talking to talk it was time for us to walk the walk (cycle the cycle doesn’t quite have the same ring to it). Fuelled by adrenalin and the start of our adventure, working our way down the coast was pretty spectacular and the breeze from the Pacific Ocean was definitely something I took for granted at the time. There were moments when I was squealing internally akin to Cher, Dione and Murray’s ‘Freeway Freakout’ (in Clueless in case you’re not as culturally mature as some of us) as the logging juggernauts rattle passed us but thankfully nothing that a few laps of Hyde Park Corner doesn’t prepare you for. We soon crossed into the more humid Willamette valley, meandering through cherry plantations, vineyards and pretty towns such as Albany before finishing in Coburg. We stayed nearby in Springfield and shortly into section two were spoilt as the route followed the McKenzie river before summiting the Pass (as an aside if you’re on two wheels try and avoid any route with the word pass in it, it usually involves you passing out from the elevation) to views of Three Sisters and the surrounding lava fields. Down into Sisters we trundled, well worth a visit if you’re in that neck of the words before undulating our way gradually towards Baker City for the end of section two. Mitchell and Dayville particular highlights in this section too. For fear of sounding outrageously first world the mercantile in the latter could easily give John Lewis a run for its money, for a population of just c.150 people. Relatively shortly after leaving Baker City you reach the Idaho border in the rather awkwardly named Hell’s Canyon, buts that’s not before we were spoilt with yet more spectacular views, vast open vistas with swathes of mountains and running rivers with the sun bouncing off the surface. The Idaho border was a bit of an anticlimax, not helped by losing an hour of time (which admittedly we then regained the next day only to lose it again a couple of days later, confusing stuff i tell you) but as with Oregon we soon fell in love with what we were seeing, bar perhaps Cambridge, admittedly it was a Monday so we didn’t see it in its best light as most things were shut but not sure I would rush back there (the same can be said for Prineville, John Day, Council and Pacific City in case they’re on your radar). The last couple of days in Idaho were particularly memorable as we meandered along the Lochsa river, gradually ascending towards Lolo Pass, stopping off at Lochsa Lodge en route. After 70 miles of elevation we were rewarded with a long descent int Missoula where we now find ourselves.

I confess in my last blog post I mentioned I would be relying on Warmshowers and camping in terms of accommodation, what I actually meant was booking myself into a motel at the first opportunity and only using my tent in cases of a real emergency. I’m pleased to say the motel count has been minimal, I should admit mainly because of Warmshowers, more on that in a bit, rather than anything I can take the credit for. I surprise myself though when I say that I am actually, genuinely, enjoying the camping.  Truth be told I haven’t been camping in the UK for eons, the last attempt at a festival a couple of years ago has been etched on my memory as, let’s say acquired, and that’s me being tactful. Turns out a cow print tent, although aesthetically pleasing to those with as naff taste as me wasn’t able to master a key characsteristic you typically want from a tent - being waterproof. Anyway, I digress, US campsites really are pretty sophisticated so perhaps I need to rethink my views on UK camping in the hope they’re comparable. Each ‘pitch’ comes with your own fire pit, picnic bench, typically showers where you can not only wash but charge everything too. I haven’t quite mastered the whole ‘checking in’ thing, particularly when its an RV park, extraordinary places some of them I tell you, but hopefully I’ll become a dab hand over the next couple of months, I should do as I’ll be relying on them a lot.

Back to Warmshowers where I fear I might lose some of you as I really could go on and on about this fantastic organisation, don’t worry you won’t get some finessed Hideaways Club-esque pitch but it really has been a total saving grace, I actually don’t think I would have got this far without it.  Each host typically offers a bed, food, water and as the name suggests a warm shower all for free on the proviso I will ‘host’ fellow cyclists on my return.  Complete strangers not only share their stories but their home with you too. In the somewhat cynical, ‘fake news’ driven world we live in the organisation has completely restored my faith in humanity.  It may sound insincere but the ‘hosts’ I’ve stayed with have showed unparalleled levels of generosity, and for a rare emotional moment every time I’ve left any of their homes I’ve had a lump in my throat, turns out I’m not so good at doing this going it alone thing! I’m just embarrassed that my hovel in Acton won’t I fear do justice to the kindness I have been shown. So far we’ve been put up by seven different groups of people, all absurdly kind and extraordinary in their own way - from Kelly (Independence, OR), who left blueberry pancakes on top of my panniers in the morning; to Ronnell (Springfield, OR), who gave me her safety triangle so I’d be more visible on the road (safety never takes a holiday remember, and that includes sabbaticals); Cheryl (Sisters, OR), widowed a few years ago after her childhood sweetheart died, who got a bit tipsy and asked me for dating advice (I mean a serious case of the blind leading the blind there); Ethel (Missoula, MT) who earlier this year toured around New Zealand on her Brompton, at just 80 years young, yes, eight zero, and is now weighing up whether it will be Puerto Rico or Barbados next year, god I want her genes. And as for Ray and Jenny (Pollock, ID) I mean I have serious life envy.  The view from their ranch was completely unforgettable. Sadly I don’t think I’m part of their retirement plan but if I was that is where you would find me. My route is now basically dictated by where I can stay with someone care of this ruddy brilliant organisation, if it means a multi mile detour then so be it. 

Who else have we met along the way - well for fear of stating the bleeding obvious, mainly fellow cyclists. Most have been going East to West so are rather enviably near the end of their trip but thankfully full of great tips and advice to share on the roadside, or even given me bits of kit they no longer need. James, for one, very kindly gave me his foam noodle, yes the thing you typically thwack people with whilst swimming or try, and if you’re me struggle, to balance effortlessly on in the water whilst sipping rose, sea breezes or whatever chin drink you’re quaffing. People strap them to their back panniers in the hope that it means motorists give you a wider berth on the road. I mean its a slightly extraordinary look but let’s be honest so is all the ghastly lycra.

Food wise its safe to say we, well I, have been eating extremely well. When I say well I mean eating a lot but not always the most healthy or Michelin starred quality but we’re on a budget and sometimes the choice is extremely limited. And I basically just need to replace the calories I am supposedly burning. To say hanger and touring don’t go hand in hand is a serious understatement. I’ve inhaled my way through an impressive amount of burgers, even more if we include sandwiches, and have a serious panic if I’m not travelling with a couple of packets of Planters peanuts.

On the weather front we’ve been lucky in that there has only been one day where there were a few drops of rain. Saying that the sun and its heat, whilst good for the tanning (oh the marks are already pretty extraordinary) sometimes up to 40 degrees, can be pretty stifling and draining so as we’ve gone on I’ve been trying to set off earlier to avoid the afternoon heat and the consequently gallons of sweat that accumulate from lugging Billy. What has surprised me most weather wise though has been the wind element. The jury is still out on whether it is a friend or foe which is a tad frustrating as I was told one of the very few things I’d unconsciously got right about the trip was going West to East because the prevailing wind direction was more in my favour. On the one hand the wind can act as a natural break, air con and on what seems rare occasions a tailwind. On the other it can completely hinder any progress and be a complete pain in the chops, the equivalent of wading through treacle, a nemesis in a nutshell. It seems to get more prevalent as the day goes on too. I’m no meteriologist so not entirely sure why that is the case, but it just gives us even more impetus to set off earlier in the morning. It might sound far fetched but nothing seems more cruel than mentally prepping for how long sections will take you only for you to be taken completely off track, ie delayed by a howling wind.

A bit more on Billy, so far he has been a complete trooper even if conversations with him are understandably pretty one way so I need to work on that. Whilst all shiny and new on arrival he’s got a few scratches but I figure that’s just a sign of him slowly morphing from the Velveteen Rabbit to the Skin Horse as we go about our ways and the cuts and scraps will just be signs of how loved he is, he’s going to be more real and human than me I fear by the end of it. Saying that, thankfully all my joints etc seem to be holding up OK, and even the derrière isn’t as sore as I thought it might be. My left hand currently has a bit of a twinge in it but hopefully that won’t spread and will wear off as time goes on. Not wanting to be disloyal but Billy’s weight has been causing an issue, well more to the point the distribution of said weight, at c.90kg when fully loaded (and just to clarify that excludes my timber) it feels like a tonne, no wonder the back tyre is already looking pretty worse for wear. Fingers crossed we’ve resolved it to some extent with some front panniers but it might well mean a parcel or two on its way back home for stuff I won’t need. Dare I say it the drone might have to be saved for another trip, hopefully not though. Saying that I have, for once, actually packed relatively lightly and where possible only carrying minimal supplies of things. That adds to the need to be on the ball at all times and doesn’t really allow for normal levels of dappiness like forgetting things at campsites - only one return trip so far for my solar charge but an additional 30km wasn’t ideal.

Right, well I think I’ve prattled on for far too long. For what its worth the next section ends in Yellowstone which will no doubt be a particular highlight of the trip, its going to be hard to beat what we’ve already seen though its got to be but let’s just wait and see, if nothing else it might make for a more worthwhile read, you can at least hope.

Some facts and figures to round things off:

• Completed mileage (miles) c.1000

• Elevation climbed (ft): 57,000

• Visits to the Golden Arches: 3 (the novelty of taking Billy through the drive-thru lane is sometimes just too much) 

• Discussions on Brexit/Boris/Trump: 3

• Number of times IDed: 1

• Punctures: 1

• Jars of peanut butter consumed: 1

* In the US a growler is a glass, ceramic, plastic, or stainless steel bottle (or jug) used to transport mainly beer.