"Where you headed"

      I am headed for Virginia!  As I was cruising by Halfway, Oregon, three cyclist out for a Sunday spin ask me where I was headed.  VIRGINIA! They cheered me on as breezed by.

      8:17 am out of the blocks this morning from Richland. The night before two guys invited me over to their RV for a few grilled dogs and IPAs, a good time was had by all.  No sooner had I returned to my humble bivy sak tent than the skies opened up. Stuffing me and my street cloths into the tent was a bad joke. The bivy sak tent is going bye-bye for sure; three nights in it and torture each time.  It sounded good in theory but in great outdoors it flunked big time. No room to wiggle and drenching condensation every time I use it.  Any step towards perfection. Shipping the new tent will be a trick, what town at what date?

       Today's ride covered 67 miles, two mountain pass and the crossing of the Oxbow damn in to Idaho.  Oregon took over 700 miles and two weeks. Crossing the damn at 1pm made for a sweltering ride.  The lack of guard rails on the Idaho side was unnerving.  Praise to the big guy for almost no traffic; I rode the center line to give myself some distance from road edge which dropped off precipitously. Not fun given my fear of heights.  

       The thought of climbing a second mountain in the afternoon was not in the game plan.  "Local knowledge" failed to tell me that the camp site I was looking for was a mere few hundred feet below the 4131ft elevation of the summit. I kept climbing thinking that the real climb was further ahead.  A six mile grind to the top proved otherwise.  Bouncing around 86 degrees, I must have drunk six liters of water.  Why stop now, once over the top, I barreled down the back side for 13 miles into Cambridge, Idaho in well under an hour.

    Hunched over my map trying to read the write up on the town, I found a hostel a few miles down a country road.  To my pleasant surprise the $22 for the bed came with a hot spring pool. The place had recently changed hands and was being renovated but pool was spot on. It was absolutely divine soaking my tired body in a 99 degree water.  This little secret needs to relayed back to The Adventure Cycling Association which sell the maps along with all the pertinent information on each town.  TransAmerican cyclist will call this place Mecca.  I could not believe I was the only cyclist there.

    Tomorrow, I haven't a clue as to my next destination.  

      

      

   

Only a thirty mile ride

    After conquerring three mountain passes from Mount Vernon to Sumpter, I dropped into low and did a short ride of 30 miles to Baker City. A very nice little town with all the charm.  I could live there for a month out of every year. 

   I coasted into town, saw a book store, yes, a book store, spun around to park myself at the front door. What I thought was a passer by being friendly turned out to be the owner.  We checked out the warmshowers.com places and she bicycled over with me to the house.  Wil Drake and Julie Bouchard laid out the carpet, "Here's the refrigerator and bedroom, make yourself at home".

    After I got settled, I rode back into town and found myself the local brewery.  Sitting at the walnut bar with outstanding walnut paneling everywhere (someone laid down some serious money), I struck up a conversation with the guy next to me who as it turned out was the owner.  I gave him the rundown on my trip and he treated me to the two beers I imbibed.  Down a few blocks I visited local library, one of the 2,500 given by Andrew Carnegie.   Nice place with half of it converted into an art gallery.  Over all Baker City seemed to have its act together or in the process of getting there.  Two beers and a tour of the downtown, I head back to Wil's and Julie's house.

     Four guys I met the day before arrived in the late afternoon whereupon Julia cooked a no-holds-barred dinner for us, breakfast was equally as good. Five of us were scattered around the house, yet having arrived there first, I claimed the only guest bedroom.  Age before beauty played into it a bit also..

         A better time couldn't have been had.  Will drove me around helping find a suitably sized flag to sew onto my left rear pannier.  Aside from being patriotic, I thought it might deter the rednecks from harassing me with their close passes in their trucks.  And to think these people own guns and vote.  Anyways, leaving the next morning was tough.  Why can't people be like Wil and Julie everywhere.

     Hooking onto route 86 was easy but the headwinds were tough for the next 44 miles.  Winds aside, Hell's canyon was spectacular; a fast flowing river hemmed in by step hills and exposed rocks. Farmland with snow covered mountains in the distance, out in nowhere but what a ride.

   Arriving in Richland was less than exciting.  Nowheresville is an apt description and Sunday made for even less excitement. The hardware store was closed but everything was left outside unlocked, mowers, wheel barrows, etc.  The owner of the local RV camp where I camped lost her key to her house years ago. People are very trusting out here.

    Two guys across the way from where I  set up camp invited me over for some excellent  IPA's and grilled dogs, a pretty good time was had.  Now for another night in the bivy sack. Tomorrow another mountain pass awaits me.  Ride, walk, ride,walk, drink water, keep moving forward.  I have made over 600 miles and am just getting into the groove.  

      I met a seventy year old couple

, who are riding the TranAmerica for the second time, amazing.  Just like me, they had attached  the Stars and Stripes to the end of their bikes to appease the rednecks.  I felt like a novice compared to them.  What an experience this adventure has turned out to be.

The three summit day

7:14am to 4:50pm, 67 miles, 90 degree heat and three summits (5300, 5100, 5000); what I thought was to be a 40 mile day turned into a grueling slog.  I crested Dixie Summit  and descended to Austin Junction. The place was a no show, a building closed for the season and that was it.  The name suggest at least a small town.  I rode a bit in each direction but found zip.  Terrific, I needed a watering hole and place to crash for the night and now I was faced with a sizable ride before I would find any civilization.  So onward, although tired from climbing the first pass, I was looking at having to climb two more.  No towns anywhere accept Sumpter which was 23 miles away with two more mountains in the way.  Not a reassuring feeling. Over the next four hours, I bicycled and walked my way up the two remaining summits.  Two pit stops to eat the provisions I had brought along: cheese, bread, raisins, chocolate and water.  The sun beating down on me caused me to consume water faster than I normally do. At one point a federal park ranger stopped to check if I were OK.  "I saw you pushing your bike out in the middle of knowwhere and wondered if you 

were OK".  He offered to drive me to Sumpter but I said I only needed water.  He came back ten minutes later with several bottles of ice cold spring water.  I throw down one bottle immediately and topped off my four water containers. The name of the park service guy  is Bill Michell.  God will give him a star for helping out a complete stranger. 

    After one final refueling stop, I crested the last summit and flew down to the Sumpter turnoff. During the final three miles over flat terrain, I could barely get any speed up. I rode into not much of a town but I found a decent campsite stockaded as was done in the nineteenth century. Had I been ten minutes earlier, I could have had a roof over my head but the last hostel bed was given to the guy in front if me at the main desk. Yes, I will sleep tonight, even in my minuscule bivy sack. Tomorrow, will be a short day of  thirty miles to Baker City.  

Out in the pokie

    Late in the afternoon, as I was settled in at the hotel, a couple staying there, asked  me to join them while they drove over to the painted rocks a few miles away.  The position of the sun highlighted the color of the hills.  The whole park was gorgeous with one spectacular setting after another.  A nice ending to a relaxing day.

   The next morning

I got cranking out of Mitchell at 7:55 and immediately began climbing a mountain for 5 1/2 miles.  Walking took the place of bicycling.  The ride over the other side was the sweetest ride of the trip; canyons, farm land, fast flowing rivers and serene little towns/hamlets along the way.  Almost no traffic and the rednecks were off the road back at work!  I met a couple at a cafe, who have toured all over the world on a BMW motorcycle, including some dubious places like Syria, Egypt and Moracco.  They had so many country decals plastered all over their bike, I could barely see what color was underneath.   Their stories were fascinating; onne meets the most interesting people on the road. 

      I arrived at Mount Vernon and laned  a bed at the Bike Inn just outside of town, donations only, gorgeous setting nestled into a rocky hill. Five newly minted college graduates showed up an hour later, so it was a fun time getting their take on life.  They reminder me of when I hitchhiked the country in 1972,  43 years ago!

     Today it is off to who knows where with three consecutive climbs in front of me; about seventy miles to Baker if I am lucky.  More than likely, I will be camping.  The miles are beginning to add up.  One day at a time, one hill at a time.

Another day, another mountain pass

       Pat and Walt fed me a killer breakfast before sending on my way to Mitchell, Oregon.  Wonderful people out here; seeing the trusting nature of people out here combined by their generosity and sincerity is very refreshing.  New England is full of good people but it lacks what I am experiencing out here.  

     On ward, fifty miles and another mountain pass landed me in Mitchell, Oregon. A sign pointing to the business district was funny how little there is in this blink of a town.  130 people with plenty of funky charm. I arrived, plunked myself on a bench in front of the local grocery store and struck up a conversation with some local folk, real friendly people and everyone knows and is related to one another.  (I haven't heard any banjos playing...yet).  

      A guy riding a nice Triumph 1200 motorcycle pulled up loaded to the hilt.  He sold his house and hit the road, cruising the country, 10,000 miles so far. My next trip. Working with the DOD, he worked with and is friends with Peter Legnos in Mystic.  Small world.

       Tomorrow is a chill day. I am hold up in the local hotel with a hostel.  The neon hotel sign reminds me of the days when there were countless roadside mom and pop motels.  The building of the interstates marked their death knell. 

      The bike will get a going over and my derrière will get some down time.  It is real slow here where not much is going on, a rest for the mind as well.

Another day another adventure

Memorial Day is upon us and so is the traffic.  I pulled out of Sisters and rode 42 miles through moderately flat farmland and cruiser into Prineville.  A redneck town for sure, one place I really wasn't thrilled to be in, depressed and totally un-scenic. Sitting on a park bench munching   on some food I had on board, I checked all the my options of the places to stay.  Nothing appealed to me so I thought a cold beer from the brewery behind me would be a good way of thinking over the matter.  As I was about to walk in, I struck up a conversation with an older guy driving a 86' VW  camper. I explained my situation and he said his wife and he would be glad to put me up.  What followed was amazing.  Walt and Pat have a beautiful spread out of town. I showered, changed and we headed off to some friends in the hills of Oregon who were having a whole load of very talented musicians show up to jamb. The food, the local craft beer, the setting and the awesome musical talent was truly serendipitous. One musician after another took a turn as the lead performer with all the others playing rhythm.  Violinists, guitarist, a harmonica player like no other and vocalists made up the ensemble.  After a totally good time we headed home. From now on "home" will be where I lay my head every night, wherever that may be. Once at home, Walt set to making homemade cookies and showed me his shop.  Tomorrow Pat is making me pancakes and I shove off for another 50 miles. More climbing, up up up I will slowly climb.  The Rockies are waiting. 

And McKenzie pass is only a warm up

       After I "reluctantly" left the commune,  I rode out to the Co-Motion bicycle factory to check out where my touring bike was built Pete, in the main office, gave me a personal tour.  These guys are on my level of quality.  Get the best talent to the best work. Along with some fairly sophisticated machines, the company was a first class operation.  Now I fully comprehend why My bicycle cost my right ---- and part of my left ----. It is only money, right?

      It rained all day but with my rain suit I was able to push forward fifty miles.  Out in the pokey there isn't much in the way of lodging, so another night in the bivy sak.  Not real fun especially with the rain.

The bivy sak is be jettisoned for sure; I have found an ultra light tent which hopefully will be vast improvement.

      Ok, now for the real fun, remember I am already somewhat soggy.  So there is this climb from hell; I made the accent over McKenzie pass, 5300 ft..  Forever it went up, really UP.  I "bonked", ran out of juice, and began pushing my bike upward.  I visions of me sleeping in the forest or slogging along all night long. Thank god for dark chocolate and garlic bread, it restarted the engine.  Gear one for hours and WHY am I making this trek?  I learned how to conquer the mountain monster: crank slow and methodical, don't look up the hill, numerous lung, leg and butt breaks, water and chocolate, finally, some custom made expletives to piss off the gods. On top it was wet, foggy and blowing 25.  A moon scape of lava greeted me.  Going down the other side was wonderful.  The landscape abruptly changed from a temporary rain forest to a much drier Alpine climate.  

      In total, I blew into Sisters with 60 miles behind me.  Stinking pretty bad, still soggy, suffering from a bit of hypothermia and near exhausted, I scored a nice warmershowers.com accommodation.  This place was located in a small modern development where home owners stored their planes in their garages.  The runway was adjacent to the community.  After landing your plane, simply drive it down the road into your garage.  A sign stated that cars had to yield to planes (taxiing down the road; p

retty bizarre though a cool concept.  Now after a divinely hot shower, this boy drifted off into the land of nod.  And this is only the warm up phase.  Go Dickie boy!

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The sixties revisited

Through warmshowers.com I stumbled upon a commune straight out of the sixties (when I had a good head of hair down to my shoulders). After fifty miles on the road, I said "why not" and settled in to enjoy the experience. The outside tube/shower had not been used since the turn of the century. It was fun clearing away the cobwebs, spiders and layers of leaves and accumulated debris which had fallen into the tub.  As the young woman showed me my Adobe guest cabin, she instructed me to pee around the corner from my door where there was a pile of dirt used to fertilizer the gardens.   I made a mental note not to eat anything grown on the property.  The bed was fine but I opted to use my sleeping bag on top of the bedspread to be on the safe side. Not much has changed in the world of hippiedom, at amongst the hardcore tree huggers.  Is deodorant still frowned upon?  Earth mother, beam me up!  

Getting into the groove

        Yesterday I had an easy day (no major hills with some distance from the traffic), made it to Corvallus and am off to Eugene.  My body is slowly adjusting to the pace I need sustain throughout the trip. Having worked up to thirty miles a day while in training and to increase the distance to nearly double in just a week is an accomplishment in itself.  

       I tried out warmshowers.com and found an accommodationwith with an ER doctor at his very cool house in the hills outside of town.  Getting up his driveway was akin to climbing Everest but once at his house, we bonded quickly and hit the town for a great dinner and local brew. His hospitality was outstanding allowing me to Chill a bit.  Spring is in full bloom so I am trying to smell the flowers but also knowing that I must simultaneously ramp up the tempo.  There is a very long way to go.

83 mile push to Salem from Pacific City

Will someone remind me that I am 65?!

I start off from Pacific City at the leisurely hour of 9:30.  I dug down deep to make it all the way to Salem.  Route 18 was a horror show, fast cars and trucks with a four foot shoulder.  The red necks and their trucks are about as obnoxious as they come.  At Otis I pulled over for refueling, what a serene spot not realizing what lie ahead of me. 52 miles to Salem, no way;I just kept chipping away at it, looking for a place to park for the night.  I was going through nowheresville so I pushed onward.  I was more than tired when I rolled into Salem.  Turns out Julia was in Portland so the extra push to reach Salem to surprise her was for not.  After the eighty-three mile ride so early in my trip, I needed a recovery day.  I chilled out all Tuesday, got my brake rotor straightened, logged in some serious zzzz's, ate at the Sassey Onion and took Julia out for dinner.  I can see I have to adjust my tempo, drop down a few gears and just enjoy the experience and not the quest to log on record amounts of miles.  My type A driven personality often gets in the way of common sense.

South bound following the big blue

       Getting my gear all packed on the bike is always a bit time consuming.

  Who loaded me up with all this stuff? The bike and gear weighs in at around 74 lbs.. Rob at Mystic Cycle Center replied, "Is that all?!"  I am akin to a long distance hauler; 30 gears to keep me moving forward.  

        Within a few miles I met my first cyclist, a woman touring solo.  She was headed down the Oregon coast from Vancouver.  We exchanged notes, wished each other well and off we went at our own pace.

Shorty after, I hooked up with two guys, one Canadian, one Brit, 28 and 29 respectively.  I suggested we average our ages to make me feel better about being 65.  The Brit was headed for Mexico and the Canadian to the Calufornia border.  

     We stopped at the Tillamook cheese factor and pick up some chunks.  Americans haven't a clue about what  good cheese is about.  Our wines are pretty good but we are flunk when it comes to good cheese. Anyways eventually wensplit off and I headed down 101.  I hung a wrong turn which saving myself several miles but bypassed some scenic coastline.  At Pacific City I  call it a day. Given the pricey lodging and droves of surfers, I I took refuge at a state camp site. I set up my bivy sak, mattress and sleeping bag and headed off for some liquid refreshment.  The local brew, Pelican, was excellent. I slid into my sleeping quarters early and can't say I had the best nights sleep.  I felt like my bivy sak was shrink wrapped around me. Condensation and overall discomfort were deal breakers. From now forward I will use the camping option as a last resort. A funny thing about the camping area, a few years back someone released a few rabbits. Needless to say, the place is over run by them! Have rabbits will multiple.

My wheels are smoking

      I  blew out of Astoria with the assistance and encouragement from my daughter, Julia. She drove me three hours just to my starting point.  Pictures and hugs accompanied the send off.  

The first day out was trial by fire, narrow bridges, never ending hills and, of course, the usual thoughtless drivers.  Where is a paint gun when I need it. Aside from the usual impediments a bicyclist must suffer, the views of the Pacific were spectacular. That afternoon I stopped  in Nahalem, 47 mile, and found a funky like place which fit my budget, "The Bunk House".  My body is burning calories at tremendous rate, perhaps 6,000 calories or more per day.   Water wise, I am chugging around four liters a day and then some after each ride.  Is there any question that every night I sleep like I am dead.

      

T minus one

The trip of a life time is upon me.  Liftoff from Boston, 14:30hrs..  On the road again going solo, I will be seeing America and getting the pulse of middle class America.  One hill at a time, one day at a time, through thick or thin get me there safely.  See you on the road.