Green Netjetter Susan 'about to drop into Hell's Canyon'. Later on, some dodgy map reading would mean a painful loop.
Tim looks at me. I look at Tim. We both look at the road sign which still stubbornly says "Grangeville, 2 miles."' I clear my throat and venture to speak. "Ah yes," I whimper. "This basically means that we climbed a 7% incline hill for an hour in the blistering heat as per the route and then I directed us incorrectly down 12 miles of switchbacks for us to arrive here, right where we started."
I look at Tim with despair seeping into every cell of my body. Tim looks at me, shrugs and says "Oh, it's all cool, I just love riding." Poor dear sweet boy, I wanted to smash his face in. No, you don't love riding, you want to flag down a truck and save us, save us from this 7% hill. Off he pedals.
Tim has been my riding buddy for the journey through Idaho after we met in Lolo, Montana. It's weird riding with someone after nine weeks of solitary confinement, but it seems to be working out quite well. He teaches me about Country & Western music and I teach him English swear words.
Together we have crossed an entire state; one of extreme and violent contrasts. While numberplates for other states say things like "Land of enchantment" or "The sunshine state", Idaho's says "Famous potatoes" - a drastic understatement and one destined to deceive many.
The potatoes are delicious but there is so much more. For the first two days here I was frozen, sleeping in every piece of clothing I owned. Today I drank six litres of water and I'm pretty sure my clothes soaked up most of that. I have coasted through chill forests, on roads which burrowed purposefully onwards through thick carpets of deep green trees, not realising that further ahead I would drop into a virtual desert known as Hell's Canyon. There, flames have torched the mountainsides and smoke belches over the horizon. I have swum in the fast water of the Salmon River, only to emerge into the apocalyptic atmosphere of 17 forest fires raging in nearby valleys.
Native American history is very strong here and their culture of living in harmony with the land seems so simple and obvious. Hanging organic cotton curtains in your city apartment isn't going to save the world is it? Surely we need to accept that our lifestyles and the way we approach the world are going to have to change completely? It does seem that people living out in these rural areas of America are slightly closer to that than the rest of us.
And just as I thought I had met every eastbound cyclist, I meet Michael Wong who set off from Seattle on August 17 on a fold-up bike, raising awareness of his charity bikes4indo. Yep, a fold up bike. Next time you're stuffing your Brompton into the overhead rack on a commuter train just think of what else it is capable of!
So here I am in Oregon, the final stop on my journey. We rode into the town of Halfway tonight, just missing the annual Rodeo which was a major upset for me. (Strangely, Tim doesn't have the same desire to watch cowboys galavanting around a dusty arena.) But luckily I did get to see a lumberjack contest yesterday with some very skilful use of chainsaws. There are no words.
Susan Greenwood is Guardian Unlimited's green Netjetter. She wants to transform the legendary east-west US road trip into an eco-friendly cycling adventure. You can read her diary in full and leave tips and support on her blogs or by email
