How I Spent My Summer Vacation: July 23: Coulee City

Our campsite last night was at the Wenatchee Confluence State Park. True to it's name, the park is at the point where the Wenatchee River flows into the Columbia River. Sadly, the confluence is not very scenic. I do like the high barren hills visible in the distant east though. The park itself is heavily developed--more suited to RV's than small tents--and has far more luxurious accommodations than we've been accustomed to.
The young rangerette who checked us in gave us a pretty nice deal. "We like to get bike-riders here," she said. "I'm not going to put you in the regular campground. Since there are no groups coming in tonight, I'm going to put you in the group campsite."
"Sounds good to me," I said.
"You can just set up your tent anywhere you want," and she pointed me in the right direction. Then she asked where we were coming from and where we were going, and sounded genuinely interested in our story--just as so many other people have been along the way.
I rode down to the group site and found we had about four football fields worth of land to work with as well as a huge grill, a 561 square foot shelter (I stepped it off myself,) a big fire pit, a complete sink and wash station, 31 picnic tables, our own restroom, and, best of all, total privacy.
Total privacy, that is, until a ranger came by and asked me what we were doing in the group campsite. I explained what the young lady at the ranger station said, showed him my paid receipt and he left me alone.
A couple of hours later, the second exception arrived. Hank, who was a 63-year old dude riding from southern Illinois to Renton, WA. Out of courtesy, we invited him join us for the deluxe meal Aaron prepared--grilled shrimp, a grilled vegetable medley consisting of red bell peppers, zucchini, and mushrooms, plus cheese raviolis smoked over the coals and added to an alfredo sauce. He had ridden into town to pick up all the ingredients a little earlier. Damn good stuff.

Well, that was last night. Today we started with a pleasant and scenic ride for 14 miles along the Columbia River valley, passing tempting apple and cherry orchards as we went. Then came the brutal 7-mile, 2400' climb to the high semi-desert of eastern Washington that we had been warned about. It took us nearly two hours to complete, but it wasn't as bad as the guys at Snoqualmie Pass made it sound.
The plateau was not quite as desolate as the area along I-90 that I described last week but it was close. On U.S. 2, from Waterville to Coolee City (a distance of 41 miles) there was no water, no services, and no people. There were some wheat fields but no signs of farmers or farmhouses. There were also a few house-sized boulders randomly scattered. I can't imagine how they got there, but I considered them to be better evidence of alien activity than crop circles.
The afternoon became ridiculously hot and somewhere along the route the driver of a big Pepsi truck heading in the opposite direction flagged me down.
"Do you have enough water?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, proud of my own self-sufficiency. "Thanks anyway."
"No problem. Have a safe trip."
A few minutes later, I could have slapped myself silly. I took a drink and discovered that my water was hot. Not just warm, but HOT. And sure enough, by the time we arrived in Coulee City, it was 104 degrees and I was out of water.

Do you know what's worse than bicycling 65 miles in temperatures in the 90's and 100's? The answer is setting up camp in that heat. So I bought a room in a small motel on the east side of Coulee City and we took it real easy in our air-conditioned room.