the end (75)

I have a few things to say tomorrow.  For now what I’m feeling I don’t understand, and if I did I’m not sure I could explain it.

the hydra (74)

56 miles to where I nearly lost my bike in a ravine and spent two hours getting it out, and then 3 more miles to some trailhead, totalling 59 miles to north of Timber, OR

It all started so nicely.  I found a bike trail, the Banks-Vernonia Linear State Park, and followed it as far as I could.  It was beautiful, and I decided while riding that is was the nicest bike path I’ve seen.  It ran basically N-S, meaning I could only take it so far, but I found an E-W road, Johnson Road, that would take me back to route 26 without too much trouble.  Or so I thought.

Johnson Road was a gravel road, and ran steeply up into the Coast Range.  It was hard going, and often my slick rear tire would slip.  But I stood and cranked and attacked the gravel and sand, and I won.  A beautiful sunset was in progress, and I was rewarded for my efforts with some nice views.  And then I reached a gate.

“Active Logging Operation” “No Trespassing”.  After half an hour on Johnson Road and the burgeoning dusk I couldn’t afford to backtrack.  It would add 20 miles to my trip at least, and of course they aren’t logging at night, so onward I went.  But the road got worse, and worse, steeper and rougher and rockier, until it became grassed over wheel ruts.  And then it ended.

According to Google Maps and common sense it should have continued 50 more feet and connected to the road, where I could see headlights through the trees.  But Johnson Road was long ago washed out, and ended in steep terrain and thick underbrush.  I tried a few routes through, but was stopped by the brush, by cliffs, by a river.  It was very dark at that point, and I was walking, no dragging my laden bike in all directions, trying to find a way out.

I finally found something that seemed to work, along the top ledge of a sand pit.  The growth was still heavy, and my bike was getting snagged, but I was able to pull it loose and make some progress.  But, as I was yanking by bike free of some vines, I lost her down the bank of the sand quarry and she fell ten feet down the sheer face into the sand below.  I felt a little hopeless, but I was able to climb down and find a way to get it up the opposite bank and to the main road.  The sand was too loose to walk out, so I had to throw my gear up and then pull myself up on a tree with the bike hanging on my back.  With as badly as thorns had cut up my legs I felt like a bike touring Rambo climbing out of that pit.

So as I noted, only three more miles that day.  But…

the coming down

the inexhaustible well, pt. 3 (71, 72, 73)

66 miles to Portland, OR

Apologies for letting the blog lie fallow for a few days.  I’ve been in Portland relaxing, exploring, eating and undergoing general recovery.  And managing Leviathan and STEAM ENGINE to their respective semifinal matchups.

Today, Tuesday, I’m setting off for the coast to finish this thing.  I’ll then be heading up to Seattle for the weekend via the Olympic Peninsula.  I don’t think I’ll be making it to the coast tonight–I slept in late this morning and, at 1017 am I’m just starting my coffee.  I’m wearing bike shorts already, which is a good sign.

Hold on for a few pictures.

Evergreen (71)

I can’t tell you what it’s like coming to a rainforest after a thousand miles of desert.

It’s raining, and cold, and windy, and perfect.

38 miles to Portland.

Verdance! (seventy)

104 miles to Hood River, Oregon.

I’m not sure what else to say; today was beautiful and enjoyable, perfect for my last long day. I’m camped now along the Columbia River in view of the hood river bridge thinking about what if might be like to be ‘done’.

I want to say this, however: I’ll never be done. Bicycle is my mode of transportation, and though I’ll likely never travel this many miles again, I’ll always ride. I still have to get to the coast to officially end my trek, and I’ll do that early next week. And I’m going to head up to Seattle very soon.

There is power and freedom in this mode of conveyance. If you can find that, and recognize it, you will be better for it.

But I must sleep, for I have a long and exciting day tomorrow. I’ll have much more to say then.

paradigm of humanity (68 & 69)

92 miles to Pendleton, Oregon

54 miles to Boardman, Oregon

I believe that the way it works is as such:

One day, under some unique auspices, you do something differently than you otherwise would.  That thing, whatever it is, makes you realize that perhaps you’ve been going about everything the wrong way, or at least a less than optimal way, the whole time.  And thus so quickly, and so simply, are your foundations washed away.

Such is the case with me and black tea.  A fellow named Christopher gave me a cups worth of loose leaf black tea near Farewell Bend, and tonight I brewed it.  And wow.  Refreshing.  It’s nice to have something like that, warm and flavorful, on minimalist days like today, where my dinner comes in bar form and my only beverage is water.  Even the act of making it is soothing.

So another combo post, which I may as well do because today, the 52 miler, was very nondescript.  Day 68 however, the last of the mountains, was a doozy.  I knew it was destined to be, with the Blue Mountains Summit and something called Dead Man’s Pass awaiting me, so I got an early start.  The climb up to the summit was a difficult one, but Dead Man’s Pass isn’t even a thing if you’re going west.  It does offer 6 miles of 6% grade to coast down, however.  From 4000 ft to 1000 ft elevation in one whrrrrr.

Now I’m at something like 100 ft, and near the south bank of the Columbia River.  Day 69 was what the day after a 90+ mile day always is: Hard.  Hard to get out of bed, to get moving, to get on the bike.  Hard to keep myself from taking a lot of breaks, and hard to find motivation.  Even the fact that I’m a mere 150 miles from Portland couldn’t get me excited to cover more miles.  Which is fine.  150 miles in two days is not a big deal; if you recall I rode about that in one day going into Denver.

Yes, I’m excited to have this existential finish line ahead of me; I’ll go more into that whole subject soon.  For now it’s Colossal 100 protein bar and off to bed!

Pictures later/tomorrow.  It’s an interesting tidbit that there’s a giant free wifi cloud that covers most of eastern Oregon, provided by EZwireless.  I don’t know why, or exactly how, but it’s quite nice!

burnt river canyon (67)

84 miles to Baker City, OREGON.

…well actually just beyond Baker City.  My penchant now, since I’m doing most of my riding on or near the interstate, is to sleep at rest areas.  They are convenient, comfortable, free, and safe, and there happened to be one 10 miles past Baker.

I’ve been riding along what was the Oregon Trail for some time now, and burnt river canyon is alleged to be one of the most difficult and treacherous parts for those early pioneers.  It was for me too, and represents my third trial:  mountains.  The climbs were impressive- nothing I couldn’t handle, and handle comfortably, but besides the Rockies I haven’t seen anything like it.  And even in Colorado I think the routes were designed more gracefully.  Here they are strait climbs with 6% grades for miles and miles.  And there’s a lot up and down, climaxing at another place just called ‘summit’, right around 4000 ft.  It ended with a nice coast down to Baker (elev ~3400) at twilight.  I’ll have a little more to say about these mountains in my next post since I’ve already finished two more passes; difficult but rewarding.

I’ve read two different explanations as to why the canyon was called burnt river.  In both the natives burn the grass, but in the first case they do so to strengthen and improve the grazing land, and in the second they do so to starve the animals of the westward pioneers.  In either case it’s yet another reminder that those who came on the Oregon Trail were trespassers, and the land was claimed and managed by a well established civilization.  It’s annoying that the rest stop murals and historical markers take awkward steps to avoid saying this.  Someday I think the undertones of the natives as savages and the pioneers as noble will be reversed, as they certainly should be.

temple of trials (66)

62 miles to Ontario, OREGON

I realized why I had all those flats. I’ve read and seen enough about epic journeys to know that as I come to the end, I have to face all the challenges I’ve seen along the way, but in a more acute and powerful form. Confused? Just watch a movie, or play Mega Man. That’s all I’m saying.

So flat tires was the first trial, and the second came on day 66: wind. Steady 20 mph headwinds in the high plains of westen Idaho. The onion fields there ad recently been harvested, giving rise to billowy clouds of dust. The wind did settle down, but remained throughout the day as I ran northwest into Oregon.

It was great to cross the border, but I have to admit my focus was to finish the day by 1700 mountain time so I could watch the Patriots season opener. I did make it, just barely, and it was a great game and worth it.

I want to write a little narrative about this old trucker who bought me a beer while I was watching the game, but I need to keep moving, so it will have to wait. Tomorrow perhaps.

rodeway inn (65)

22 miles to the other side of Boise.

The only thing I want to say is that on off days I eat whatever I want.  And what’s that?  Well, today it was:

Breakfast sandwich

Coffee

Coffee energy drink

Fritos and bean dip

64 ounces of Gatorade

Two soy yogurt smoothies

Boltwood Farms soy protein smoothie

Superfood smoothie

Double order of salad, meatloaf, peas, and mashed potatoes (This is actually the first time I’ve ever gotten room service!)

Note all the smoothies in the middle.  Were it not for my steamroller of a metabolism, I would only want liquefied food products.  I think that’s the strangest development of the bike tour in total.  That and I talk to cows.  Aaaaaaaanyway, some pictures:

The American flag, note it.  It made me think a lot about how the neoconservatives have taken the flag, and made it very uncool to be patriotic.  Patriotism now means jingoism and blind support elitist imperialism.  Dammit, I like this country.  Not like I want to see it exclusively, or really have any kind of commitment, but as long as it’s on my terms, we’re cool.