Two miles on I84 brought us to The Bridge of the Gods. Indian legend says that at this point there was once a natural bridge, guarded by Mt. St. Helens. But, when the brothers Mt. Hood and Mt. Adams fought for the love of Squaw Mountain, Mt. St. Helens was powerless to prevent destruction, and the bridge fell. The modern bridge has a long history as well. It was started in 1920, completed in 1926, raised 47 feet in 1940, and redecked in 1961.

After a breakfast of burgers and cokes at the Charburger restaurant, we payed our fifty cent tolls and pedalled into Washington. The bridge itself is rather high and has a metal grate deck, making for an exciting crossing. In a car you can't look down through the grate and see how high you are. In a bike you have fight not too. I was really impressed by this and took enough pictures while crossing that we didn't have any film for the "Welcome to Washington" sign. We had finished out first state!

The next state started out great. The gorge acts like a wind tunnel most days. With the wind at our backs we made about 65 miles today. Almost double our previous best. The wind and the fact that we were both getting up to speed really let us go. I really needed to. My pent up frustrations of having travelled so short a distance in so many days were really showing. The road was better too. Route 14 has much less traffic than I84, and has a decent shoulder in most places.

We zipped along. Marvelling at the sunshine, and at how quickly the lush forests were giving way to grass and scattered pine. We tried to do a wine tour in White Salmon, but the show room was closed. We passed up the Maryhill museum, because it was getting late, and ended the day, camped at Maryhill St. Park. Our only inconvenience that night was that a bike thief had made the rounds of the campground the day before. Tenting, just about on top of out locked up bikes was the best protection we could manage.