Day 9, Prairie City-45 miles

Today I had a 45 mile ride into Prairie City. I planned an easy pace in an effort to recover some mojo from the prior day's damage. I packed my things, signed the church guestbook and pinned my hometown with name attached to the map of the United States that hung conspicuously on the wall by the bathroom. After drinking an entire pot of coffee, I left a good donation,(beer guilt) bid farewell to the church and rolled into the same cafe for breakfast. I ordered their traditional breakfast plate.

Standard cowboy breakfast!

I eased out of Dayville and cruised along the desert at a relaxed pace. I had all day and the ponies needed a day off. Roughly 23 miles later I rolled into the town of Mount Vernon, named after a horse named Vernon that a local indian chief from long ago obsessed over. I walked into, yup you guessed it, the towns cafe and became their only customer for the time being. I was greeted by owner Dale, a delightful lady, and shortly after the cook Elloise joined her at the table. A new person! I asked then questions about the area and they immediately went on a rampage about the State of Oregon sending all their sexual perverts and child molesters out here and paying them to stay. There is a major disconnect out here between the high desert Oregon folk and the big city politicians around the coastal areas.

Dale and Elloise...sex offender task force!

After a nice turkey sandwich and lentil soup, I mounted up and pointed my ride toward Prairie City, about 22 more miles down the road. This is cowboy country and rodeo posters are everywhere. Ranch entrances dot the roadways all along the desert road and some are pretty cool in their decor.

I arrived in Prairie City without expending too much effort and checked into the Prairie City Hotel. My room was about 18 inches larger then the queen size bed on all sides and may bathroom was out in the hallway. The room was so small I could not get my bike inside!

I went to the super cool bar and restaurant that just opened for the season, (Elk Season in case your wondering) and flirted dangerously with another Blue Moon Pale Ale or two. The walls were adorned with the heads of many Elk who didn't move fast enough at the right time and the area behind the bar was filled with wall statues of topless woman figurines. My kinda place!

Fine dining in Prairie City

The owner was the bartender and his wife, the cook. She made homemade pasta for transcontinental cyclists coming through and I ordered just that in a bath of Alfredo sauce. Every bar stool was occupied with a local and it seems they all claim to have seen me riding into town earlier. Weird. I fielded questions for an easy hour and a half about the nature of my trip. I'm getting used to being a novelty in these parts and I think a new face in the bar is probably refreshing for these residents, who all know each other like family.

The wife came out from the kitchen after my pasta pig out and advised me that her Strawberry rudabega(sp) pie is an award winning desert( she pointed to a yellowed newspaper clipping on the wall behind the bar and the husband backed up against the wall and held his arm up to like Carol Marol from the Price is Right, pointing proudly and on que at the article. Plus, she added, it comes with the meal. Good enough for me!

I turned in early. The next day was challenging but I knew it would be the last before my first rest day. That's called motivation............