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…

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