We'd stayed up with Tom later than we'd stayed up the whole trip, so we slept in until 9 and woke up to his van driving down the dirt road. He left his business card tucked into the bungee on my solar panel.

We couldn't leave without at least trying to get to the hot springs. We walked around the hill on a dirt road that led to the bank of the Malheur on the other side. Only between us and the "island" with the hot springs was a good twenty feet of mild rapids, a water temperature around 40 degrees. We aimlessly kind of stared at the river for a while before I decided that the good things in life don't come easy and we took the plunge. The water came up to out waists in the middle, and the downstream rush tried to carry us off with each step. But we made it across, hand-in-hand. And it's a perfect hot spring in that island there. Dug out a little so it's deep enough to sit and submerge but still a little wild. We watched the cows graze and the hills stand still and the sky change color until finally we figured we'd better wade back. Plus we were hungry. The way back was easier and not as cold as I remembered.

We heated up some Quaker Oats then packed up and headed out to the road. We didn't have a specific destination in mind. Juntura is kind of the entrance to the Oregon canyon lands on highway 20, so we spent most of our day with these touring walls squeezing and flowing the road around broad curves.

We agreed to meet at various mile signs, with Rachel going ahead. In he morning, I was stopped by a guy in a red pick up who had seen us riding the previous day. I had stopped to pump some water from the creek, since we were running low, but he had a bunch of bottles in the back and gave us 4 liters. Then, ten miles before our meeting point after lunch, I earned the first flat tire of the trip. I pulled off to the side of the road (butted up against the canyon wall) and had just unloaded the bike when an outback pulled up, piled with bikes and other gear. Turns out, the lady was a bike mechanic from West Yellowstone. She fixed my flat in two minutes flat. Unbelievable timing. I pedaled on to Rachel, but hit road construction pretty soon after. One of the guys in charge, Scott, pulled up with his flatbed and said I'd better get on since I was moving too slow (ouch). He ended up driving me all the way to Rachel, since I'd lost so much time earlier. And about a half hour later, he honked at us from behind in his jeep and gave us extra lights to use for our trip. How de-light-ful!

We toyed with the idea of asking a homestead if we could camp on their property, but neither of us felt much like socializing. We ended up on this magnificent ridge overlooking Vale, and into Idaho. Dinner was tough to cook in the wind, but the sunset was worth every frustrated flame, and the wind died down soon after.

Most mornings I have it together but this morning I'm a mess. My gloves and glasses have disappeared into the dark and foreign depths of my panniers. At least with a real stove, Rachel cooks up some real protein for breakfast, maybe the eggs and sausage will jumpstart some neurons.

It doesn't. I walk to Safeway across the street and it takes me like half an hour to pick up hot chocolate and pick out some ziplock bags.

On our way out of town, I see a sign for peach pie and can't help myself. I love pie. This is also the pie tour of America and the limp pumpkin in Alturas was a bland disappointment.

The lady at the pie shop says we only have two little hills to worry about. Douglas and Lowenda, a couple in their eighties, finish off cold coffee in ceramic mugs and shake their heads about how burned out Burns has become since the mill closed in 1980. Then they tell me the story again.

Right out of Burns we're sailing (we must have had a tailwind, we averaged like 18 mph) and see a red outback with a bunch of bikes on top.

At this point we haven't seen a floor pump since Sacramento three weeks ago, so when we see it pulled up ahead, we figured we stop and asked. Mmm we rode up all excited to say hello but then they're making out in the front seat and the guy looks up at us kinda horrified. We sped off feeling pretty red in the cheeks too.

At the first rest stop into Stinking Water, though, there's a car with a pretty-looking bike mounted on top so I dropped in for take two. Turns out, Colin had taking Adventure Cycling's Northern Tier across the country a couple years back. So we talked for a good while and he was kind enough to donate his mini pressure gauge to the cause.

My knee started acting up for the first time the whole trip. Just a pain on the inside of my right kneecap. We'll see.

Stinking Water and Drinking Water are definitely not two little hills. They are very large, very steep ones. The views of the valleys, their perfect rows and pristine tractors, those were good though. The downhill was almost worth it.

Despite the winds/grades, I signed a lease in Ithaca along the way! Finally have my own apartment, so if you're ever in the area, come hang out.

It was getting late in the evening when we pulled up to Juntura to fill up our water and find out directions to the hot springs. The last two miles were all headwind and no fun, and we took the wrong turnoff the first time so we ended up going on this dirt road all the way around the outside of the river.

I bumpy road kicked a shirt I had hanging off the back of my bicycle, so I ran to go grab it while Rachel went to find the actual entrance. On my way back, I ran into Tom, an older, fit guy who crossed the cracked and blocked off concrete bridge we were avoiding. He helped me carry my bike across and then Rachel and I played tag trying to find each other, but eventually got all the bikes and gear onto the correct side of the river (future campers/ hot spring goers, take the highway exit furthest from Juntura, it's a gravel road).

Tom offered to cook us dinner and we were a little wary but are learning to accept the abrupt kindness of strangers. And he had an incredible bounty in his camper van. He was on his way home from a tour of Oregon and California, and the ex-heart surgeon-turned-distiller was something of a foodie too. So he fed us dried meats, pungent cheese, raw almonds, fresh bread and then fried up some home-grown potatoes. Plus he had some of the best lettuce I've ever tasted. I don't know if I've been starved of vegetables or something but this lettuce tasted sweet and full, texture soft but still with some crunch. It was perfect. We stayed up until 1 am with him, talking and talking about politics and his kids and food. The moon rose and lit up the whole inlet.

Rumor has it, the hot springs are haunted, but bellies and hearts full, we slept easy and late.

Day 20: Oh the people you'll meet (Juntura hot springs to the top of Vale)

Day 19: Two little hills (Burns to the Juntura hot springs)