Day 11: Walla Walla to Dayton

Didn't get far today due to a record-breaking heat wave. I climbed through beautiful hills from Walla Walla to Waitsburg, where I decided to, well, wait. Not because of the name of the town, but because a map of all things beer in Washington told me that there was a brewery there. Laht Neppur - Gaelic for "drink to life", they told me - was the first pretty-good brewery I've found since leaving Portland. Apparently I'm a bit of a snob now. Interestingly, Laht Neppur is also Ruppenthal backward, and that's the name of the family that runs the place.

My route so far has generally followed Lewis and Clark's expedition, which was a big part of early American claims to the Oregon country, as the northwest was called by white people at the time. I tend to sprint and rest instead of riding at a steady pace (mainly to give my butt a break), so the various roadside history exhibits have been good excuses to stop for water. The history is, frankly, pretty depressing. Most signs proudly proclaim that Lewis and Clark came through here to claim the land for America, or that early settlers fought native people here, or something else about how we conquered the west. A couple signs mentioned the Nez Perce's ill-fated attempt to run for the Canadian border, but they don't express how we violently removed them after signing a treaty saying they could stay, nor do they give so much as a nod to the tragedy of murdering a bunch of fleeing civilians. Props to Dayton for being the only town so far to have a sign written by native people about native people, though.

Ethan and Jon found me at the brewery, as expected, and decided that they wanted to stop at a camping spot a little ways down. I wanted to put in a few more miles than that, but I only made it maybe 8 extra miles to relocate myself to Dayton's brewery, Chief Springs Fire and Irons. The air conditioning was better than the beer, unfortunately. I scouted out a nice pedestrian bridge that hid a nice campsite, and spent a long time laying beneath it, cursing mosquitoes, picking thistle seeds out of my socks, and failing to get to sleep due to it being freakishly hot until late. It broke 100 F, apparently, even though highs for the area are normally below 80 at this time of year. I enjoyed hearing people cross the bridge without noticing me, though. Am I a creep?