Greetings from West 66th Street, NYC

View from my window ...


End of the ride - and I'm already missing the West Coast ...

Hi, All,

My 65-day journey is over and I'm back in Manhattan suffering the usual withdrawal symptoms, surrounded once again by steel, glass, and concrete, with the far-off echoes of jackhammers in the distance. I'll be spending the year trying to churn out a novel about two middle-aged characters' search for meaning and purpose in life, following the age-old advice to write what you know. But before I immerse myself, here's a last blog entry for 2008, covering the final days of the Big Ride Pacific Coast, which ended in San Francisco, and wrapping up my journey as a whole.

Thursday, 9/25 (day 13) - 91 miles from Ft. Bragg to Stillwater Cove Regional Campground (near Ft. Ross, CA). A long, hard day that to me, coming after a day off and being so close to the end, felt a bit grueling. It began early, as I arranged a wakeup call at my motel for 6:00 a.m. in order to ride to the campground at first light and help with breakfast cleanup, this being my day for K.P. duty. It was a chilly 46 degrees; the morning sky was clear, but south of Ft. Bragg, as we approached Mendocino, a fog rolled in, cutting our views of the coastline for much of the morning. Except for one short but very steep climb, the riding was easy, the terrain was less hilly than it had been on previous days (and would be again), so I rolled along comfortably, just feeling a bit blah and trying to recall the lyrics to Traffic's "(Sometimes I Feel So) Uninspired." The fog did allow for a few interesting photos, adding a somber, gray backdrop (see below), but overall I was glad when the fog finally lifted near Anchor Bay, after 60 miles or so of riding.


A bit Dali-esque, eh?


I call this one "You Can't Go Home Again"

The afternoon then featured bright sunshine and a northerly tailwind helped push us along, but traffic also picked up once we reached Gualala and entered Sonoma County. We were now within 100 miles of San Francisco, and the area was more upscale, featuring some very attractive houses poised on coastal cliffs with long wooden stairways descending to otherwise inaccessible coves.





I rode hard over these final miles, grinding it out, and reaching the campground at 4:30 p.m. Nevertheless by the time I'd pitched my tent and showered, it was time to help prepare dinner, and my group was still washing pots by flashlight after darkness fell. The shorter days and long distances we've been traveling just don't allow for a lot of down time.

Friday, 9/26 (day 14) - 68 miles from Ft. Ross to Samuel Tayor State Park (near Olema, CA). After a good night's sleep, interrupted only once by terrorizing racoons (more on that later), I had a lot more energy and enthusiasm this day. It helped that the mileage was significantly shorter and that we rode beneath clear blue skies nearly all day. There were many beautiful coastal views, often framed by pink-tinted pampas grass growing along the roadside amid the steep, treeless cliffs. I particularly liked the sandy beach near Jenner, CA, a popular surfing spot at the mouth of the Russian River. The route was much hillier, but I enjoyed the tougher challenge and rode throughout the day near the front of the pack of riders. After 25 miles I took a short break in Bodega Bay, the setting of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds. Then, while I almost always have ridden alone on the ride, preferring to go at my own pace, stopping for photos, etc., I rode close to two other riders, Shannon Krig (aka "Yurt") of Seattle and Ken Lieb ("Hurricane") of Golden, Colorado, long enough to take some action shots with the bare hills of north Marin County in the background as Route 1 left the coast.


Entering Marin County

South of the town of Tomales the terrain became more varied as the road ran through thick eucalyptus groves and paralleled Tomales Bay.


Eucalyptus trees south of Tomales on Route 1

Fog was visible across the bay, clinging to the western ridge of hills, but on our more inland route we remained in bright sunshine, and temperature climbed to the high-70s for the first time since western Washington. The big disappointment was the end of the day wasn't more relaxing. I reached the campground at 2:30 p.m. and was looking forward to several hours of down time, but the truck was missing and therefore everyone's gear. As a result I sat around, less relaxed without a shower and without my book to read or journal to update. The situation lasted for 2-1/2 hours, as it wasn't until 5:00 p.m. that the mystery of the missing truck was solved. It turned out that everyone - all the riders as well as David Van Doorne, the ride director - had followed the cue sheet to the wrong camping spot. The only person who was in the spot where we were supposed to be camping, a mile or so away, was Linda McKoryk, the staffer in charge of cooking and driving the truck. In the end, the "right" camping spot proved to be preferable, except for the fact that it was overrun by racoons. As a light sleeper, the racket of racoons bothered me throughout the trip, beginning on our second night, in Cape Disappointment State Park, WA, when I caught a racoon with its paws in my sports bag, just outside my tent, digging for my cache of Powerbars. The next night, in Nehalem, OR, they woke me at 4:00 a.m., having gotten at a stash of trail mix in the seat pack of a nearby bicycle. Riding in Spetember, I enjoyed the complete absense of mosquitoes throughout the trip, but the racoons more than compensated, maintaining the nuisance factor. On this last night of camping, they raised a racket that lasted until the wee hours, even later and louder than our own end-of-the ride celebrating.


One of the nonhuman rowdies ...


Clockwise from top left: Wild Bill, Dad(!), Chile, Auntie Kim, and Crazy Cousin Alan.


Final morning meeting, no worse for wear.

Saturday, 9/27 (day 15) - 32 miles from Samuel Tayor State Park to downtown San Francisco. The final miles were uneventful - a slow slog over bad pavement on Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, which led us over a forested ridge and delivered us into suburbia - the towns of Fairfax, San Anselmo, Larkspur, etc., to Sausalito and the Golden Gate Bridge. The route was trafficked and overrun with weekend bicyclists, who whizzed passed me with obnoxious regularity, making me question what exactly I'd gained after nearly 4,000 miles of cycling. Certainly not speed.

Seriously, though, it has been a wonderful journey. I really enjoyed the company of my fellow Big Riders over these past two weeks, even if, still in the mindset of the 30-day solo journey that preceded it, I kept to myself alot - riding alone and doing my own thing in the evenings - going for jogs, ocean dips, and views of the sunset before curling up in my tent with The Brothers Karamazov (hence, I think, came my nickname, "The Professor"). At times on the Big Ride I was reminded of the quote from Lord Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, which I taught excerpts of to my juniors last spring: "I stood/ Among them but not of them; in a shroud/ Of thoughts which were not their thoughts ..." But at other times I had a lot of fun laughing along, commiserating, celebrating, and sharing thoughts with all of them as we rode on our bicycles on a challenging route, testing our mettle and relishing the experience, pedaling amid such spectacular scenery. Life is simple on a bike trip: you get up in the morning and know that there's nothing else to do that day but ride, eat, try to stay uninjured and to pitch in when needed for the good of fellow travelers. For me it was a time of serious reflection while at the same time a celebration. As Frank Zappa once said (Fillmore East, June 1971), "It's great to be alive."


2008 Pacific Coast Big Riders


End of the road ...

Final statistics:

Total days away from New York: 65

Biking days/non-biking days: 57/8

Miles biked: 3800

Flats: 0

Maintenance and repairs: Nothing a rubber strap, duct tape, or chain lube couldn't fix.

Books read: 6
the second half of The Confessions (Jean Jacques Rousseau), E=MC(2) (David Bodanis), Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast (Lewis Wolpert), A New Earth (Eckhart Tolle), Slowness (Milan Kundera) Wonderful Tonight (Patty Boyd), and the first half of The Brothers Karamazov (Fyodor Dostoyevsky).

Animals sighted:
Black bear (cub) - 1
Elk - several herds
Deer - dozens, especially near Mazama, Washington
Coyote - 1
Racoons (too many! terrorizing coastal campgrounds from Washington to California)
Rattlesnake - 1
Otters - a pair
Sea otters
Elephant seals
Harbor seals
Sea lions
Dolphins
Pelicans
Cormorants
Bald eagles - 2
Osprey
Roadrunner - 1
Hawks
Vultures
Egrets
Blue herons
Turkeys
Quail
Pileated woodpecker - 1
and domestic animals: horses, cattle, sheep, goats, chickens, ostriches and llamas.

Greetings from Ft. Bragg, CA

We're enjoying a much-needed day off in Ft. Bragg today before three final days of riding to reach Golden Gate Park in San Francisco on Saturday. The ride has been challenging due to our long mileage days and the hilly coastal route, but we've had great luck with the weather and the scenery has been fantastic, as we've been zig-zagging from wonderful views of the Pacific coast and inland sections through farmland and dense forests, with the groves of redwoods being the highlight. Our 30-mile ride on the Avenue of the Giants in Humboldt Redwoods State Park was one of my all-time greatest experiences on a bicycle. Here's a recap of the four days:

Saturday, 9/20 (day 8) - 90 miles from Bandon to Brookings (Harris Beach State Park). This was my hardest day. I felt low on energy and lethargic throughout, worn down, I think, because of the extra effort I'd made both in Florence and Bandon to get to the town libraries and work on this blog. Blogging is better left for off-days; the daily demands of the ride are simply too great. We've been rising at daybreak - 6:30 a.m. - and have to pack up our tents, eat breakfast, prepare lunches, etc.; and when everything is put away there is then a group meeting, so we usually don't hit the road until 8:15. Riding 90 miles keeps most riders on the road until 5:00 p.m.; I've been riding hard and getting in earlier, but still, with sunset at 7:00 p.m., there's precious little time to set up camp and have dinner. Friday was also my day on cooking detail, meaning I had to help prepare and clean up after meals, thus getting up before dawn and washing dishes at dusk.

That said, it was yet another scenic day. We began with a ride along the coast within the town of Bandon. It was a foggy morning, creating gray, moody views of the sea stacks offshore. The route then moved inland through several small towns until we reached Port Orford, and then inland again around Humbug Mountain before a lovely flat stretch right along the ocean shore. At Gold Beach, Oregon, we crossed over the Rogue River. It's been a special pleasure to cross such wide rivers where they flow into the sea- the Umpqua in Reedsport yesterday, the Rogue today, and the Klamath tomorrow in Klamath, California - after having encountered them all more than a month ago in my solo journey hundreds of miles east. The day stayed cool throughout; the sky was overcast, with just peaks of blue between the clouds, and the temperature never rose above the low 60s. From Gold Beach, then, we had a very hilly final 27 miles to reach our campground near Brookings. I went to bed early, hoping to recharge.


Coast of Bandon, Oregon (morning of day 8)


The coastal fog near Port Orford, OR (day 8)


The sun setting on the coast near Brookings, OR (end of day 8)

Sunday, 9/21 (day 9) - 92 miles from Brookings to Patrick's Point State Park, near Trinidad, California. This was the first of three spectacular days. Most importantly, my energy returned and I've been feeling great physically and mentally. I began the day riding along with the fast group of riders, who regularly ride together, the first eight miles to the California state line. Then, after some picture taking, while they were lingering there, I rode on ahead, preferring to ride alone: I concentrate better on what's around me. The route took us inland through some farmland - the major crop was lillies, but there were also some cow pastures - until we reached Crescent City, where again we had some lovely views of the coast. By then the morning fog had burned off and we rode in brighht sunshine fore the rest of the day, the afternoon temperature reaching the mid-70s. After Crescent City we faced the toughest climb of the trip - 1200 feet up a steep grade - but the road itself was enjoyable, taking us through our first section of redwoods. There was another pretty redwoods section during the climb after Klamath, just past the "Trees of Mystery" tourist trap, featuring a huge talking statue of Paul Bunyan and his bull. After the redwoods we rode through a valley where a large elk herd resides, and then, as was the case the day before, the final 20 miles were very hilly, adding to the challenge. In camp I tried to make use of the sunshine by hand washing some biking clothes, but they never did dry. Then I ran off for a quick dip in the ocean before dinner and afterward caught the tail end of the sunset.


Arriving in California (day 9): nicknames, from left to right: Fist, Flask, Spoke, Bristol, Nipple, Buckets, and Post.


Farmland south of the Oregon border (day 9)


Climbing through the forest south of Crescent City (day 9)


Paul Bunyan and his Ox at the Trees of Mystery tourist trap on U.S. 101 near Klamath, CA (day 9)


A self-contained cyclist riding through the redwoods (day 9)


Elk herd near Orick, CA (day 9)

Monday, 9/22 (day 10) - 81 miles from Trinidad to Burlington Campground in Humboldt Redwoods State Park (north of Phillipsville, CA). A fantastic afternoon riding on the Avenue of the Giants through redwood forest for the final 15 miles of the day, amid bright sunhshine, the temperature in the 70s, and the cooling breezes in the deep forest canopy. Getting there required 65 miles of semi-urban and freeway riding, as we passed through bigger towns today - McKinleyville, Arcata, and Eureka - and rode in the wide, smooth shoulder of U.S. 101, a four-lane, divided highway, for 28 miles. The freeway riding was eased by a stiff tailwind that helped speed us along, and in the end getting to the redwoods was well worth the effort. Once on the Avenue of the Giants, I rode slowly through the deep shade, marvelling at the redwoods' size as well as the lovely green ferny and mossy undergrowth, and the lovely quiet created by the high canopy. I stopped often to take pictures and then made a side-trip to walk the Founders Grove Nature Trail. Our campground was in the redwoods, making the day even shorter, as night fell early and there was little moon or starlight.


Along the Avenue of the Giants (day 10)


Founders Grove trail in Humboldt Redwoods State Park (day 10)


A fallen redwood along the Founders Grove trail (day 10)

Tuesday, 9/23 (day 11) - 94 miles from the redwoods to Ft. Bragg. A hard but, for me, truly spectacular day of riding - first through more redwoods (the southernmost section of the Avenue of the Giants) and then through the mountains to return to the coast. Again there was a section of freeway - U.S. 101 - but reaching Leggett after 45 miles, we left it for good and rode on state highway 1, beginning the climb over the coastal range. The road was narrow and winding and logging trucks barreled down from the summit, but otherwise traffic was extremely light, and we climbed again through deep, shaded forest. The descent was enjoyable - not a single car came up from behind me, as I sped around the long series of tight, banked turns. There was then a second climb that delivered us to the ocean, and then a very hilly ride along the steep coastal cliffs for the final 20 miles to MacKerricher Beach campground. It was a pleasant place, but, given our upcoming off day, nearly everyone opted to spend the night in motels (I'm in the Best Western, where the majority are staying). The length and hilliness of the route made this day the most difficult for nearly everyone, many of whom didn't reach camp until 5:30 or so, but it was also the most scenic, and I relished the challenge, feeling good throughout the day end enjoying the warm weather. It was only 46 degrees when we left camp in the morning, but being inland and further south now, thanks to the sunshine, the temperature rose 35 degrees, peaking at 81 near the summit of the coastal range at 1:00 p.m.; and from there, thanks to the ocean breezes, the temperature dropped back into the low 70s - truly perfect bicycling weather.

So with three more days to go, I'm feeling decidedly mixed emotions. I'm with a great group of people, and I'm looking forward to what I hope will be some more great riding, but after being away for 62 days now, I'm also relishing the thought of getting home.


Confusion Hill - another roadside attraction along U.S. 101 north of Leggett (day 11)


State Highway 1, nearing Ft. Bragg (day 11)


Sunset at Ft. Bragg (end of day 11)

Greetings from Bandon, Oregon

The Big Ride Pacific Coast is well under way. We've just finished our seventh day - six days of riding and a well-timed day off in Lincoln City, Oregon, and are about halfway between Seattle and San Francisco. Thus far the ride has been outstanding, with fantastic scenery and very good weather overall. The days are cool, but there's been virtually no rain: four days have featured bright skies and lots of sunshine, the temperatures rising from the fifties into the high sixties or low seventies; two others were overcast, and we missed the worst weather on our day off, when there were a few sprinkles amid cold, gloomy skies and a stiff southerly wind that we would have had to fight against. Meanwhile, after 30 days of riding solo while carrying my equipment, I'm having an easy time of it; the ride is well-supported, and I'm enjoying the camaraderie as well as the scenery.

Including me there are 26 Big Riders. The majority are from Washington State and Northern California, but there are also a bunch of East Coasters (three others are from New York and two are from Massachusetts), there are two Canadians, and there are two cosmopolitan Seattlites, a woman from England and a man from Chile. Other states represented include Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Colorado, and Texas. Everyone's is getting along and riding well, and our days are full as we're averaging 80 miles a day - a tough task with the shorter days of late summer: it's not light until nearly 7:00 a.m., and most riders are still on the road until nearly 5:00 p.m. each day, leaving only a few hours of daylight to set up camp, shower, and eat dinner. We've also rotating breakfast and dinner duties - helping to prepare and clean up after meals; so on those days when it's your turn, you're especially busy. We're supported by four staff people who have all been terrific: friendly and easy-going, making the trip all the more pleasurable. I've been particularly impressed with the ride director, David VanDoorne; I know the mechanic, Alan Fitton, from the 2006 Big Ride Across America; and we have a cook along with us, Linda McKoryk, who buys local produce each day and is making very healthy dinners.

Here's a quick summary of our route and each day's highlights:

Day 1 - Saturday, 9/13 - 81 miles from Seattle to Montesano, WA. After a ferry across the Puget Cound amid thick morning fog and some very steep roads grades for the first four miles, escaping Bremerton, the day improved significantly, becoming sunny and warm. I struggled with dehydration due to the layoff in Seattle (drinking too much caffeine and not enough water), but by the end of the day I felt like myself again. The route took us south over rolling terrain along the eastern edge of the Olympic Peninsula; we passed through the town of Shelton and then angled west to Montesano, staying in Lake Sylvia State Park. The park was the day's highlight. I took a swim, and the lake was scenic, surrounded by thick forest that reflected off the still water, creating a lovely, tranquil atmosphere.


Lake Sylvia, where we camped and I swam, at the end of day 1


Tent city in Lake Sylvia State Park

Day 2 - Sunday, 9/14 - 80 miles to Cape Disappointment State Park, near Ilwaco, WA. A similar day - morning fog quickly burning off, then sunny and warm; rolling terrain riding south to Raymond, WA, where we crossed the Willapa River and then cut west to the coast, riding along Willapa Bay to Ilwaco. The temperature was at least 10 degrees colder at the campground, but once again the day's end was the highlight, as the campground was located right on the ocean. A fierce northerly wind was blowing, but I managed to get in a 35-minute run on the beach and then wade into the water for a quick plunge, body surfing one wave before scampering out. Later that evening, the sunset was one of the most dramatic I've ever seen, followed shortly thereafter by the full moonrise.


Riding in the morning mist early on day 2


The northerly wind blowing the sand down the beach at Cape Disappointment (day 2)


The ocean at Cape Disappointment


The lighthouse at Cape Disappointment.


Sunset at Cape Disappointment.

Day 3 - Monday, 9/15 - A shorter day: 64 miles to Manzanita, Oregon, where we stayed in Nehalem State Park. The biggest challenge was crossing the four-mile-long bridge across the Columbia River to Astoria. Later there were some tough climbs along the coast, but the scenery was fantastic, beginning with Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach, and then continuing down the coast to Manzanita. We stayed at Nehalem State Park, another campground right on the beach. Again I managed a 35-minute run and a dip in the ocean: the wind was much lighter and the water slightly warmer. And again there was a lovely sunset, although I only arrived back at the beach just as the sun was disappearing.


Mouth of the Columbia River, Ilwaco, WA, morning of day 3


Riding over the Astoria Bridge, across the Columbia River into Oregon (day 3)


Still riding over the Astoria Bridge ... (day 3)


Haystack Rock, Cannon Beach, Oregon (day 3)


View of Nehalem Bay beach, our destination at the end of day 3


The ocean at Nehalem Bay


Sunset at Nehalem Bay (day 3)

Day 4 - Tuesday, 9/16 - 81 miles from Manzanita to Lincoln City. The day began with thick coastal fog which lightened twice during the day: after we crossed the Nehalem River, the sun came out briefly between Mohler and Tillamook and again while I was climbing over Cape Lookout, but otherwise it was a gray day, the temperature stuck in the fifties. At Tillamook we stopped in on the Tillamook Creamery, where I took the self-guided tour and sampled the cheese: three kinds of cheddar and pepper jack (my favorite). To me the Cape Lookout climb was the highlight of the day, as I rode through the dense, ferny, old-growth forest, streaks of yellow sunlight streaming through the trees. Then after I crossed the summit and the fog reappeared, I rode past the dunes at Sandlake, eerily shrouded in mist, the sand having been blown up onto the cape over eons by the strong coastal winds. In Pacific City I rendezvoused with my friend Carrie Stilwell, who, lured by the great coastal weather, took the bus down from Portland, and we rode together for the final 25 miles to Lincoln City. She planned to ride with me for a couple of days, but since the weather turned, plans subsequently changed. The campground in Lincoln City was conveniently located - walking distance from the downtown area, with lots of shops and restaurants. But given the bad weather and the fact that, due to a plumbing problem, the campground had no running water, most Big Riders opted to stay in motels.


The bridge over the Nehalem River (morning of day 4)


The Nehalem River


Climbing through the temperate rainforest at Cape Lookout (day 4)


The dunes at Sandlake, OR (day 4)

Day 5 - Wednesday, 9/17 - Off-day in Lincoln City, resting up and hiding from the cold. Carrie and I had planned to do a loop ride, but settled for exploring the town, and walking on the beach, and dinner at an excellent Thai restaurant. She headed back to Portland the next morning.

Day 6 - Thursday, 9/18 - 83 miles from Lincoln City to Honeyman State Park, a few miles beyond Florence, Oregon. The sky was gray most of the day, with a few peeks of sun, but the wind was light, the temperature moderate, and the day was the most scenic thus far. Much of our ride through Oregon has been on U.S. 101, where there's a fair amount of traffic, although significantly lighter than when I biked this section in August of 2004. But the route also takes us on some quiet side roads, and getting away from the cars and RVs adds to the scenery. Highlights for me were Seal Rock, with its long line of sea stacks and the chasms south of Yachats, including Devil's Churn, where the ocean waves crash through the rocks, creating at times a thunderous roar. Near Heceta Head we saw and heard dozens of sea lions barking at each other while basking on the rocks below us. And there were some challenging climbs, especially up Cape Perpetua, which then offered lovely views of the miles of jagged coastline.


The beach at Newport, OR (early day 6)


South of Newport (day 6)


Seal Rock, south of Newport, OR (day 6)


Riding on a quiet side road south of Newport (day 6)


The rugged coast just south of Yachats, OR (day 6)


Sea lions on the rocks near Heceta Head (day 6)

Day 7 - Friday, 9/19 - 80 miles from Honeyman State Park to Bandon, Oregon. The weather again turned favorable and we enjoyed a nice, sunny day. The most scenic section was the latter part of the day. In Charleston I watched seals patroling the harbor for fish in the south end of Coos Bay (hte bridge over South Slough), and then there was a challengingly hilly inland stretch on Seven Devils Road leading to Bandon. Most disappointing was the amount of clear-cut forest we saw - the most since Washington - especially between Florence and Gardiner. A facade of trees lined the road - U.S. 101, but through the veil you could see vast, empty patches.


Clear-cut forest along U.S. 101, south of Florence, OR (day 7)


South Slough, near Coos Bay - Charleston, OR (day 7)

So that's it for now. We have four more days of riding until our next off day in Ft. Bragg, California, on September 24th.

Greetings from Seattle, WA

Part Two of this nine-week Western journey is complete. I've arrived in Seattle, finishing a 30-day solo ride from San Francisco that covered 2240 miles, averaging 80 miles a day for the 28 days I rode. And I ended it with a flourish: after taking a ferry into downtown Seattle from Bainbridge Island, I rode straight to Safeco Field, home of the Seattle Mariners, and saw the Mariners play my beloved New York Yankees from a seat right behind home plate!


A lovely afternoon at Safeco Field


View from the good seats, Mike Mussina on the mound.

More on that story later. Meanwhile I now have five days to rest up before the final leg (part 3): the American Lung Association's Big Ride Pacific Coast, which will leave from Seattle this Saturday, September 13th and deliver me back in San Francisco on the 27th. The good news is that it's a supported ride, so I can take the packs off my bicycle and ride a little easier. And certainly I'm in shape for the ride, after my six-week, 2800-mile warmup. But still it won't be easy: the 80-mile-a-day pace is brisk, the coastal route is extremely hilly, and the shorter days will put pressure on riders to get moving despite the chilly mornings and potentially chilly days. As a teacher, most of my biking over the years has been limited to summers - i.e., hot-weather riding - so these early-autumn temperatures are a relatively new experience. When the sun is shining, the cooler days can be glorious, but amid clouds and rain, the cold can seep into your bones, as I discovered this week when riding over the northern Cascades, descending from 5,000 feet in a light drizzle, the temperature 50 degrees and the headwinds creating a fierce wind chill.

Here's a summary of the ride since my last post, as I rode on Route 20 east to west across Washington and then south on a coastal route to reach Bainbridge Island:

Wednesday, 9/3 (day 26, after and off-day in Colville): 86 miles toward Tonasket, WA. After the day off, I felt raring to go, ready for a hard day of climbing: a 4500-foot ascent to the top of Sherman Pass, elevation 5575 ft., and then after decending to the town of Republic, another ascent of 2000 feet over Wauconda Pass. Unfortunately as I set off I could tell I was dehydrated, having drunk too much coffee and soda and not enough water while blogging the day before. I took it easy, thus, and drank a lot as I rode through Kettle Falls and descended to the Columbia River (Lake Roosevelt), having last been beside it nine days before, in The Dalles, and then began the long, 25-mile climb. The morning was cool but sunny, and the slow ascent was enjoyable. I saw a pileated woodpecker with its bright red head, and an hour later a coyote and I shared a moment: I heard it moving from the road's edge, but then it stopped, turned around, and we stared at each other. I also enjoyed stopping at a heritage site: an old CCC camp nicknamed "Little America" that highlighted all the good work the CCC did during the Depression,as well as what the program did for the young men who participated. The roadside exhibit included a copy of a letter home from one of the participants who raved about the the three square meals a day and "all the pie you can eat."

In all the ascent of Sherman Pass took me about four hours. The descent was cold, I wore my jacket, and then after regrouping in Republic, I set off around 2:00 p.m., climbing again. Wauconda Pass was considerably easier. I made it to the top by around 4:00 p.m. and had only to ride to Tonasket, nearly all downhill, to complete a really challenging 100-mile day. That's when I had a breakdown, the story of which I tell in detail below (see kindess story #6). But in the end it merely shortened by day to a more reasonable 86 miles, and all's well that ends well: I spent a comfortable evening in a Tonasket motel.

Thursday, 9/4 (day 27) - 87 miles from Tonasket to Mazama. My toughest day mentally ofthe whole trip. The day started well as I rode south on Route 20/U.S. 97, a flat stretch in the Okanonda River valley, helped by a big tailwind, for 28 miles. But then the route turned west again, creating a crosswind, and I started a 3000-foot climb to Loup Loup Pass. The grade was significantly steeper than the climb up Sherman Pass had been; and maybe I was worn out from the day before, but this one really hurt, and I found myself unnerved by a lot of small annoyances: the road was narrow and winding, so cars were buzzing by too closely and the roars of motorcycles were especially grating; clouds kept blocking the sun, making me alternately cold and hot, and the afternoon too dark for sunglasses and then too bright to be without them. Etc. And then after the steep descent, I spent the rest of the afternoon fighting a really fierce headwind all the way to Mazama.


Descending Loup Loup Pass, with the Northern Cascades in the background

By the end I felt worn out, but I recuperated that evening over an upscale dinner with my biking pal Big Eric (see kindness story #7 below).

Friday, 9/5 (day 28) - 95 miles from Mazama to Concrete. Feeling revitalized, I had a big day climbing over the North Cascades to the Skagit River Valley. The headwinds were still there but they bothered me less, and they let up as I drew closer to Washington Pass. The climb was another really long one - 18 miles - and the coldest: for the descent I put on nearly all the clothes I had.


Climbing toward Washington Pass


View from near the top of Washington Pass

After a short, steep descent, there was one more climb to Rainy Pass - my fifth summit in three days, and then lots and lots of downhill, as I was descending from 5477 feet toward sea level.


Rainy Pass - the final summit

The headwinds remained tough - gusty and frigid - until Newhalem but then relented late into the afternoon. I wanted to ride as far as I could and kept at it until nearly 6:00 p.m., reaching the town of Concrete, where I camped alongside the Skagit River and ate a good dinner. The highlight was right outside the town of Marblemount, where I came upon a black bear cub that was right beside the road and was ten yards from it as it dashed into a thicket. It was the closest I've ever been to a bear, and I was struck by its shiny black coat and handsome pale brown muzzle.

Saturday, 9/6 (day 29) - 86 miles from Concrete to Port Townsend. Another long day as I rushed toward Seattle, and a less scenic day, amid a lot of heavy traffic. The volume picked up as I neared Sedro-Wooley and then from I-5 to Fidalgo Island, nearing Anacortes. From there I turned south and benefited from the strong northerly wind as I crossed onto Whidbey Island and then along a pretty stretch on the coast, with views of the San Juan Islands. By 3:30 p.m. I'd ridden nearly 80 miles to reach the Keystone-Port Townsend ferry, a 30-minute ride onto the Olympic Peninsula. It was the weekend of Port Townsend's Wooden Boats celebration, so I was lucky to secure a campsite at Fort Worden State Park: the park was full, but I was granted their one "emergency" hiker-biker walk-in site, nestled in deep woods, and then rode back to town for dinner.

Sunday, 9/7 (day 30) - 55 miles from Port Townsend to Seattle. After a late start, not waking till after 7:00 a.m., I rode 50 miles by 12:30 p.m. to reach the Bainbridge Island ferry. The route had its share of scenery, particularly on Route 19 south of Irondale, where the road followed the edge of a deeply wooded ridge, offering views of the narrow green valley just to the west and the silhouettes of the jagged Olympic Range in the distance. Mostly, though, my thoughts were on the Yankeess, and the real excitement was the ferry ride with its views of downtown Seattle and then the absolute thrill of attending the game.

****************************************************************************

That said, the real story of this past week was the extraordinary kindness and generosity I received from the people I encountered. It made me reflect on the whole trip: people have been kind everywhere; over these last days the blessings have been just more frequent and pronounced. Thinking about it all is also extremely humbling. I realize how fortunate I am to receive such treatment. This past year at the Dwight School, I had the pleasure of teaching juniors one of my favorite novels, Hermann Hesse's Narcissus and Goldmund. In it, Goldmund chooses the life of a wanderer, wanting to fully experience life, and as he sets off he is treated kindly because he is young, has cultivated manners, and his physical attractiveness makes him seem pleasant and nonthreatening. Implicitly, however, there is the caveat in the story that with over time - as he ages and the life he lives hardens him - strangers will not receive him with the same open arms. Of the fellow touring cyclists that I ran across this year, two-thirds were male, one-third were from Europe or Canada, and ages ranged from 20 to 65. But all of them were white, and I wondered especially after the night I spoke to the police in Reardon, Washington, and obtained permission to pitch my tent in the town park, would they have been as accommodating if I had been black, or Hispanic, or scragglier in appearance?

That said, here's a short recap of people's kindnesses during my solo trip - a Top Ten of sorts, in chronological order:

1. When I ran out of energy climbing out of Chico, California, in withering heat, the local fire station crew chief allowed me to stay the night. I was granted access to a shower and bathroom; the chief offered me dinner; and I left after having coffee with him in the morning.

2. While I rode in an all-day downpour from Breitenbush Hot Springs in Oregon, my biking shoes reached a new level of decrepitude. Reaching a gas station, I asked the attendant if he had duct tape. He went into the mini-mart, took a fresh roll from the shelf, tore open the cellophane wrapper, and handed it to me, telling me, "Keep it."

3. As aforementioned, in Reardon, Washington, when darkness was falling and there was no motel or camping option in town, the police allowed me to stay the night in the small town park.

4. In Colville, Washington, I went to a small coffee shop to work on my last blog entry. I ordered an espresso, sat in front of the one computer, and for several hours, engrossed in writing, I didn't move. Besides me and the young woman working there, the place was empty, and I guess she was impressed with my diligence and concentration, because at one point without a word, while I was still hard at work, she presented me with a fresh fruit smoothie, gratis.

5. In Republic, Washington, after riding up and over Sherman Pass, I was sitting outside a restaurant/convenience store eating a Powerbar. A woman entering the store asked me how I was doing, and feeling genuinely euphoric, I smiled and said, "Great." A few minutes later, as she came out, she handed me a king-sized Snickers bar, saying, "You earned it."

6. Later the same day, descending Wauconda Pass, I had a breakdown. I thought at first that I back tire had blown out, but what had actually happned is that the struts of my back rack - two thin, metal strips that attach the rack to the frame - had suddenly snapped, apparently due to wear and tear (I bought the bike in 2003), and as a result the whole rack had flipped backward and was dragging behind me - panniers and backpack still affixed. I got off my bike and was staring at it on the roadside, assessing what had happened and what I should do next. Still reaching the conclusion that there was no way to ride, I only half-heartedly waved as a red pickup drove by; the driver waved back, and then I waved after him. A minute or two later, the red pickup reappeared: deciding that I was asking for help, he'd doubled-back to assist me. The driver's name was Lee Hale. He drove me to Tonasket, 15 miles away, where he lives and which was also my destination (I'd already ridden 86 miles). There's no bike shop in Tonasket, but he came up with his own solution. Driving to his house, he went into his garage and brought out a hard rubber strap - shorter and less flexible than a bungee cord. By affixing it to the rack and hooking it around the stem of my saddle, he'd concocted a solution that has lasted to Seattle. Thus in all I was stranded for less than five minutes, and Lee repaired my bike for me, asking only in recompense that I read some Christian pamphlets. Lee is recently married - I met his lovely wife - and he credits finding Christ and being saved for his happiness.

7. "Big" Eric Knudson of Seattle, with whom I rode on the Big Ride Across America in 2006 and, most recently, on this year's Tour de Rubenstein, met me in Mazama, Washington, and drove me to his new vacation home, putting me up for the night. Which reminds me to also mention Steve "Big Rube" Rubenstein and his wife Carolyn in San Francisco and Carrie and Cynthia Stilwell in Corbett, Oregon, for also putting me up and being so generous. They're treasured friends.

8. The next morning, as I was beginning the long climb over the northern Cascades, a couple from Vancouver driving in a camper pulled over and asked me if I wanted a lift over the mountains. I declined politely, and then asked, Did I look like I was struggling." "Oh, no," the man said. "We just thought we'd offer." "Thanks," I said. "It's very nice of you. But I'll make it, and it's what I'm here for."

9. About that Mariners-Yankees game. I rode to the ballpark, straight from the ferry dock, on my fully-loaded bicycle, and as I neared the ticket window, a scalper asked if I needed a ticket. I rode past him saying that I couldn't buy from him; I had to talk to the powers that be about securing my bicycle. At the window I was assured that there was a place to stow it. The next question was what type of ticket to buy. It was already the third inning, and I had a choice between a good seat for $68 and a seat in the rafters for $25. Before I could decide, the same scalper walked up to me and handed me a ticket. "Here," he said. "Best seat in the house." As a New Yorker, I have to admit I was skeptical, but I thanked him, gave him $15, and went inside. As it turned out, he wasn't lying, and as I sat down I thought, "Wow, I must be doing something right." The seat was in the tenth row directly behind the plate, and it was a rare treat to be so near to the action - within ten yards of Derek Jeter, etc., as the players stood on the on-deck circle. I've been away from New York for 45 days, and it felt like being with old friends again, closer to home, even if they did go nearly hitless in my presence.


Jason Giambi after grounding out.


A-Rod strikes out. Later he walked and was picked off firsat base.


10. Finally, I should mention the gift I received when arrived here in Seattle and staying with the Clifford clan - my former wife, Susan, with whom I always stay, and her family - her mother Margit, father Tim, brother Ted and Ted's partner, Cass Turner. Cass is an accomplished quilter; and several years ago over dinner I mentioned off-handedly an wonderful quilt I'd seen made of all the t-shirts that a couple I knew had accumulated from bike rides they'd participated in over the years. "Send me your shirts and I'll make you one," Cass said; and with some help also from Margit, it was recently finished. The quilt consists of all of the shirts I accumulated over a six-year period, from of my first group ride (BRAG, the Bike Ride Across Georgia) in 1997 up to Bike Florida in 2002. It's a keepsake that I'll value always, both for the memories of that era and for the labor and artistry that went into making it.


The Quilt

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All in all, my solo ride was a wonderful adventure. I'm proud of the accomplishment, grateful for all the help and encouragement I received, and particularly pleased with the feeling of joy and the composure that I maintained throughout the journey, notwithstanding the one low day to Mazama. Overall I've learned to take things as they come, accepting road and weather conditions as all part of the experience. Even while bicycling amid an all-day downpour, I had the resilence to carry on, my spirits never plummeting, causing me to curse my luck, or the elements, or the gods, or my own bull-headedness for choosing to be out there. When things got tough I simply accepted them. There was no timetable, so I plugged away and made what progress I could, riding as far as I was able and carrying on the next day, and I arrived in Seattle just when I hoped I would.



Some tallies relating to the journey thus far:

Total days away from New York: 44
Biking days/non-biking days: 37/7
Miles biked: 2768
Flats: 0
Maintenance and repairs: Nothing a rubber strap, duct tape, or chain lube couldn't fix.
Animals sighted:
Black bear (cub) - 1
Elk - a whole herd
Deer - dozens, especially near Mazama, Washington
Coyote - 1
Rattlesnake - 1
Otters - a pair
Sea otters
Elephant seals
Harbor seals
Sea lions
Pelicans
Cormorants
Bald eagles - 2
Roadrunner - 1
Hawks
Vultures
Egrets
Blue herons
Turkeys
Quail
Pileated woodpecker - 1
and domestic animals: horses, cattle, sheep, goats, chickens and llamas.

Greetings from Colville, WA

Hi, All,

After a hard three-day ride north through eastern Washington, I'm taking a day off here in Colville, which was a favorite overnight stop on my ride just last year, when I rode east across Washington on Route 20, the North Cascades Highway. Now that I'm here again, I'll be retracing my route, heading west this time. It's the nicest way east-west across Washington by bicycle. Also by far the most mountainous. But I'm hoping that up here the winds will be more variable and not as strong and relentlessly westerly as they generally in the flatlands further south.

The northward route I took to get here from Oregon brought me through a harsh, mostly treeless landscape that surprised me in being as remote as it was. From Pendleton, Oregon, with a strong southerly tailwind aiding me, I zipped across the border to Walla Walla and made the mistake of not stopping at an ATM. I was down to $12, and as it turned out, for the next 110 miles or so, the few towns I rode through were all ATM-less: not a bank to be had, and in some cases not even a store. But in today's cashless society, a credit card got me by, and by the time I reached Ritzville about 26 hours later, I still had $6 or $7 in cash.

Anyway, here's a more complete recap:

Saturday, 8/30 - day 22 of my solo ride, which began in San Francisco: 96 miles from Pendleton, Oregon to Lyons Ferry Marina, near Starbuck, WA. As I said, I benefited throughout the morning from a tailwind over the flat terrain under cloudy, chilling skies, and I reached Walla Walla - 42 miles - by 11:00 a.m. Looking ahead, then, and asking in a Starbuck's about the road north to Starbuck, WA, I set my sights on reaching the Lyons Ferry Marina. Outside of Walla Walla, as the sky brightened and the day grew warmer and cloudless, I passed by the big state penitentiary ...


State penitentiary, Walla Walla

... and then the road emptied. I rode all afternoon in a nearly carless, treeless landscape, riding past a few farms and ranches but mostly deserted and very hilly grassland. The sense of emptiness became more extreme north of the town of Prescott, when I left the state highways (Rt. 125 to 124) to take a backroad that was a more direct route. And as the afternoon wore on, the easy passage I'd experienced for most of the day began to shift - the winds becoming westerly and gusty, slowing me a lot, the day growing hotter, and the road tilting relentlessly uphill. Because of the early coolness I hadn't been drinking much, and I began feeling dehydrated. I stopped along the road in the shade of cliff, drinking most of a water bottle and eating a Powerbar, noticing the total quiet - no sounds of birds or insects, and from my sheltered spot, not even wind - amid a brown landscape of raw earth and burned grasses.


Between Prescott and Starbuck, WA

Thankfully soon afterward the road tilted downward; I found myself suddenly speeding downhill, and the descent last for nearly ten miles, delivering me to Starbuck. From there it was only seven miles to reach the marina, but even that was a struggle - uphill and a strong headwind now all the way as the road angled westward. A highlight, though, was that as I rode beside the Snake River, I saw two otters swimming pareallel to me. I made it by 4:30 p.m., which was a good thing, since the cafe closed at 5:00. I ordered two hoagies, charged them, and saved them for later - after I'd pitched my tent and swam in the broad Snake River near the confluence of two other rivers, the Palouse and the Tucannon (actually it's a reservoir, Lake Herbert G. West, upstream from the Lower Monumental Dam). It was a rowdy night at the marina; a d.j. had been hired and music blasted until 11:00 p.m., but even the hard core partiers had stopped yakking by midnight.


Lyons Ferry Marina (on the Snake River)

(Despite the hard partying atmosphere, I enjoyed my night at the marina, amid the local boating and fishing, beer-drinking crowd. People generally everywhere I've ridden have been respectful of me and curious about my travels. I've been conscious, though, of the religiousness and political conservatism of the area. Signs are all for McCain and the GOP candidate for governor, Dino Rossi, whose slogan is "Don't let Seattle steal this election." Yesderday I passed the God Fearing Bros. Auto Dealership. ("We finance") And here in Colville, on thew mountain above the town, next to the white "C" denoting local school spirit, there's a large white cross illuminated at night by floodlights. What disappointed me most - back to talking about the marina folk - was that when I told the cafe waitress about the otters I'd seen, she made a face and said "They're a nuisance. They eat all the fish, and even get into people's boats," and that when they're reported, they're trapped and relocated.)

Sunday, 8/31 - day 23: 110 miles from Lyons Ferry to Reardon, WA. A long, hard day through even rougher terrain in order to avoid an overnight stay in an aesthethic location - Sprague, WA - and also to get myself within shooting distance of Colville. The best aspect of this was my ability to do it - the reserve tank of energy that I have after five weeks on the road: I'm in really terrific shape.

The day was hard from the outset. The first 20 miles were filled with steep climbs, the terrain still treeless and now resembling the badlands of the western Dakotas and much of Wyoming. The wind was also much tougher this day: a very strong westerly crosswind that was slowing me as I angled northwest. I sped up at times when the road turned northeast, though, and I kept at it, making steady progress all day. Traffic remained light, towns few and far between: there was one store in Washtucna, 22 miles into my day, then nothing at all in Ralston - no store, no people.


Near Ralston, WA

Finally after 50 miles I reached civilization: the town of Ritzville alongside Interstate 90, with two motels - a Best Western and a La Quinta - and a Perkins Restaurant. It was too early to call it quits for the day, though - only 1:00 p.m. - so I rode on, taking backroads that paralleled the interstate toward the town of Sprague. The land was flatter along this stretch - nearly all of it was wheat fields, and dust devils were whirling across the vast fallow sections.


Dust devil (between Ritzville and Sprague)

And maybe I should have been tipped off by some of the impoverishment in the town of Ritzville proper, as opposed to the outskirts servicing I-90 (a motel in town advertised rooms for $19 with "TV Bed Pillows"), but becasue of Sprague's proximity to the interstate, I rode along fantasizing about the Holiday Inn Express, maybe even a Motel 6, and the restaurants - at least a Denny's - that I hoped I'd find. I was really looking forward to it. The sky had grown cloudy, the crosswind even harsher, and it had begun to sprinkle as I neared the town. Instead the town was extremely dreary. No upscale services at all. Just two ramshackle-looking motels (one of which, the Purple Sage, I was warned against staying in; "The owner's crazy," a policeman said) and one burger-and-fries joint. So after mulling it over and being told that there was a good restaurant and motel in Reardon - 31 miles further - I decided to ride on. It was 4:00 p.m. when I started and 7:00 as I arrived, slowed by the crosswind and the nearly relentless upward tilt to the land: every time I reached the rise in front of me, I'd see, instead of a slope dopwnward, another rise in the distance; in all that day I gained about 1,800 feet of elevation. Then more bad news: there was no motel. But being nearly out of daylight, I made do in Reardon, and I was happy with my decision not to spend the night in Sprague. Reardon was a much nicer, more affluent-looking town, consisting of farmers and only 20 miles or so west of Spokane. There was an upscale steakhouse, the Branding Iron; I just needed a place to stay. So I spoke to the local police, explaining my predicament, and was permitted to pitch my tent in the town park for the night. I had only the men's room sink in the Branding Iron with which to wash, but I ate a good, well-rounded meal and read my book there afterward until bedtime. [A note for all my fellow 2006 Big Riders: Reardon was the one town in my travels this summer that we traveled through on our route across the country, on day 4 between Odessa and Spokane. It's 12 miles east of Davenport, which I think was our midday check-in point. I didn't recognize it until I arrived, but maybe that was part of the better karma I felt there.]

Monday, 9/1 - day 24: 78 miles from Reardon to Colville. A shorter day but difficult because of the winds, which grew progressive stronger and became a full-fledged headwind over the final 27 miles as I rode north. What was most memorable was the shockingly sudden change in terrain. Shortly after leaving Reardon, I stopped to take a picture of a mature wheat field. Further south the wheat had already been cut, but the crop around Reardon was still being harvested.


Wheat field near Reardon, WA

A half-hour later I was back in evergreen forest, descending through a canyon, mountains on either side of me.


Back in greener pastures - Valley, WA

For the rest of the day I was surrounded by mountains, the road carefully paralleling them and slipping through gaps, so there weren't any big climbs; that starts tomorrow; and I relished being back in greener, more scenic country. The road was quiet until I reached the north end of Route 231, which I'd followed since leaving Sprague, and turned onto the much larger, more traveled U.S. 395. The road was safe enough, with a lane-wide shoulder, but traffic was heavy and that's where the wind really became fierce, as the land opened up into broad mountain valleys. I reached Colville by 3:00 p.m. and rode directly to the fairgrounds where I'd stayed last year - a nice grassy area where it costs $5.00 per tent to camp. It's also on Adventure Cycling's Northern Tier Bicycle Route, so for the first time since my solo trip began, I spent the evening talking to some fellow travelers.


Sunset over Colville

That's it for now. From here there'll be tough mountains all the way to Seattle, beginning with a 4,000+ foot climb over Sherman Pass (elevation 5,575) tomorrow. I'll be in Seattle on or about September 8th and then set off the Big Ride Pacific Coast from Seattle to San Francisco on behalf of the Lung Association on Spetember 13th.

-Charlie

Greetings from Pendleton, Oregon

I arrived in Pendleton around noon today, capping off a truly fantastic week of bicycling, first in and around the Columbia River Gorge area with my friend Carrie and then, back on my own, I took a five-day journey looping through the John Day River area in north central Oregon. The riding conditions were outstanding if you, like me, enjoy climbing and can put up with some tough, gusty winds. And the weather finally cooperated: the weather story of my solo journey has been a little like "Goldilocks and the Three Bears": first for days it was too hot, then it was cloudy and rainy, climaxing with an all-day downpour, and now for the past week the weather has been just right - cool mornings and bright, sunny days, the temperature peaking in the 80's. And the John Day area is maybe the best kept secret in the country. In all of my travels I have never been an area so scenic with so little traffic. I've virtually had the roads to myself. As an example, over the course of three days, I rode down six major descents - that is, a downhill of at least several miles where I reached speeds over 30 mph. The longest was an 8 miler with a six percent grade that took me 18 or so minutes to descend. And yet, never once in all six did a car pass me from behind, or even show up in my helmet mirror.

Here's a recap since my last post:

Day 13 - Thursday, 8/21 - an off-day in Corbett, OR, with no riding at all. I took my bike to a bike shop for repairs, dried out all my gear after the soaking it all took the day before, worked on my blog at the public library in Gresham, etc.

Day 14 - Friday, 8/22 - a semi-off-day: more work on the blog and then an afternoon 30-mile ride in the Columbia Gorge from Corbett to Multnomah Falls and back via the Historic Columbia River Highway (U.S. 30), the first planned scenic roadway in the U.S., build between 1913 and 1922. The views of the gorge were wonderful, and the road deeply shaded as we descended from the top to nearly the bottom. The return trip was tough, though: uphill against a a stiff westerly headwind.


Along the Historic Columbia River Highway


The Columbia River Gorge


Multnomah Falls

Day 15 - Saturday, 8/23 - Carrie and I drove east to the town of Hood River, a major recreation spot within the gorge, world famous for windsurfing, parasailing, etc. - because of the strong, near-constant wind. We rode for two days here, on this first day taking another 30-miler inland from Hood River, following the "Fruit Loop," a suggested tour of the Hood River Valley's local orchards and fruit stands. We were a week too early for the beginning of apple and pear season, but we could see all the ripe fruit on the trees, and we passed by a llama farm, where the llamas were in good form, every season being llama season!



Llamas!

All in all, it was a lovely ride; the roads were quiet, and as wee rode south to Parkdale, we had great views of Mt. Hood towering over the valley.


Mt. Hood, with young fruit trees in foreground (apple and pear trees with ripe fruit were elsewhere)

Day 16 - Sunday, 8/24 - A longer, 80-mile loop ride on the Washington side of the gorge from Lyle to Goldendale. The highlight was the first 20 miles as we followed the Klickitat River upstream through a canyon, the road shaded both by pines and the tall cliffs. Then after a steep three-mile climb that brought us out of the canyon, we rode through high, treeless prairie, with views of Mt. Adams to the north, enjoying a stiff tailwind all the way east to Goldendale. The bad news was that we then had to turn around, and the 25-mile return against the wind was a hard slog, riding through the prairie with not another soul around except one small rattlesnake and, once we reached the treeline, a rafter of turkeys.

Day 17 - Monday, 8/25: 67 miles from Hood River to Maupin, OR. Carrie got me started, riding the first ten miles or so with me east from Hood River, back on the Historic Columbia River Highway (the first miles of which was a section where cars are prohibited); and after saying goodbye at an overlook, I was back on my own, sailing along with the usual westerly tailwind eastward to The Dalles. From there I headed south on Route 197, and a hard ride it was, first climbing out of the gorge and then riding through very lumpy prairie land, where nothing was flat, either climbing or descending amid gusting, ferocious wind. At times the wind was aiding me, but most of the the time it was was westerly, billowing over the Cascades, which were visible as a blue wall off to my right, and the crosswind was so strong that I had to work hard to keep my bike from swerving into the road.


Mt. Hood from the high plains south of The Dalles

The day ended really well, however, as I descended to the town of Maupin, which has a lovely town park on the Deschutes River. I arrived late - 6:00 p.m. - but had time to soak in the Deschutes before dinner; and that night was the first of several where I spent time gazing at the stars, as all the past week the night sky has been moonless.

Day 18 - Tuesday, 8/26: 81 miles from Maupin to Fossil. A rugged day of biking in an extremely remote region, as for the entire 80 miles there wasn't a single open store: the store in Antelope, OR (pop. 37) was closed, and the only other dot on the map I passed through - Clarno - wasn't a town at all. The day began with an arduous 11-mile climb that took me two hours up and away from the Deschutes and back into high prairie, as I continued south on Rt. 197. The wind was already a factor - again mostly a slowing crosswind - and after a little bit of rolling, I was climbing again. In all it took three hours to cover the first 20 miles to Criterion Summit, elevation 3360. At the top, though, there was a real treat: an overlook featured a "mountain identifier," pointing out the names of all the Cascade peaks visible in the distance; and from that spot you can see them all for at least 150 miles, from Broken Top, south of the Three Sisters, to Mt. Adams in Washington. An hour later I was riding on one of the most beautiful roads I've ever encountered, east on Rt. 218 toward Antelope, OR - beautifully paved and completely empty of traffic, winding through a canyon of picturesque mountains, the colorful outcrops surrounded by grasses and pines. I was entering the John Day River area, noted for the tremendous fossil record embedded in its eroded cliffs. It's a rough landscape, however. As my route had been ever since The Dalles, none of it was flat; and after a relatively mild climb and descent to reach Antelope - where luckily I found a water pump across from the closed store - I faced a steep six-mile climb and then an eight-mile descent to Clarno, where I crossed the John Day River for the first time, and then a tortuous 14-mile climb before a final six-mile descent into Fossil. By then it was nearly 6:00p.m.; I'd averaged a mere 8 mph all day. I camped in the town RV park next to the fairgounds, again saw a sky full of stars, and heard coyotes howling in the distance.

Day 19 - Wednesday, 8/27: 100 miles from Fossil to Mt. Vernon. It was payback for all the harsh wind and the climbing: a day of relatively flat riding, aided by a strong tailwind. After an initial six-mile climb out of town amid a cold, gray sky, I had a chilling 14-mile descent to Service Creek, a small outpost alongside the John Day River. From there the sky cleared, becoming blue and cloudless, and the route followed the river upstream. It was wonderfully scenic, rich in color - the blue water framed by bright green banks, with the eroded cliffs creating a dramatic, ever-changing background.


The John Day River between Service Creek and Spray, Oregon

I simply sailed along, taking it all in, riding east on Rt. 19 through the towns of Spray and Kimberly (the latter consisting of a single general store and post office, but surrounded by fruit orchards), then south, stopping at the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument headquarters, and then east again to Mt. Vernon, the wind following me all the way. From Dayville to Mt. Vernon the road is less scenic and the river disappears from view within a broader valley, but it was a fast, flat ride, and Mt. Vernon was worth reaching: the biker-hiker campsite at Clyde Holliday State Park is a thick patch of grass (good for sleeping) and only $4.00. And once again that night I was treated to a black sky filled with stars and serenaded by coyotes - this time much nearer by.

Day 20 Thursday, 8/28: 83 miles (including 9 miles of shuttling between town and campground) from Mt. Vernon to Ukiah. A harder day featuring four summits to traverse, but overall another wonderful day: warm and sunny, on quiet, well-paved road, traveling north on U.S. 395. None of the climbs were particularly tough, but the cumulative effect wore me down by the end. The longest was the first - a 16-miler from Mt. Vernon to Beech Creek Summit, elevation 4708, that took me two hours. Then after a short decent through Fox - another town without a store - there was a steep, three-mile climb to Long Creek Mountain Summit, taking me above 5,000 feet for the first time since Crater Lake. I took a break at the one store in Long Creek and another in Dale, and then once again there was a lovely stretch of riding along the John Day River - this time its north fork - before reaching Ukiah.


North Fork of the John Day River

In Ukiah I hoped to find a motel in order to watch Obama's convention speech. No luck. There were two "motels" and one hotel in Ukiah, none of them offering a room with a television. The one place I was told that I might watch it was at The Thicket, the only place that served dinner, but it really was just a bar that also happened to serve food. I ate amid the locals and a group of motorcyclists from Idaho. The jukebox was blaring a lot of country-rock songs, and I didn't dare ask to turn on the convention. After dinner I retreated to the state campground outside of town. No coyotes this time, but it the morning I heard the plaintive cry of an elk, which sounds like a cross between a cat's meow and a trumpet.

Day 21 - Friday, 8/29 (today): 53 miles from Ukiah to Pendleton. Needing a rest, I made it a short one today, and it was exceedingly easy, as after an initial 11-mile climb to Battle Mountain Summit (elevation 4270), I left the trees behind and started descending 3,000 through prairie to reach Pendleton (elevation 1,200), passing through one town - Pilot Rock - along the way. The most amazing part of the day - beside the elk calls (I heard another on Battle Mountain) - was the rapid shift in temperature: it was 38 degrees when I woke up at 6:30 a.m., 77 degrees by 10:00 in Pilot Rock, and 83 degrees by 11:30, when I arrived in Pendleton. From here I'll be continuing north into Washington State, passing through Walla Walla, and then start angling west (against the wind, I'm afraid) to reach Seattle in approximately 10 days.

Greetings from Corbett, Oregon

After 12 days of solo riding I've reached Corbett, Oregon, which is along the Columbia River Gorge, east of Portland, for a few definitely needed days off.

A summary of the ride through Oregon:

Day 7 (Friday, August 15 ...) - 77 miles from Weed, California via U.S. 97 to reach Klamath Falls, Oregon. I'd intended to head northwest from Weed through Yreka toward Happy Camp, but there was a big fire in that direction so I cut northeast instead. U.S. 97 is really a bigger highway than I like to be on - not as scenic or intimate as less traveled byways, but it had a big shoulder, making for safe riding, and it was the best way to continue north. Again it was hot, reaching 98 degrees, but I got an early start and the toughest part - climbing over the Cascades - was in the earliest, coolest part of the day. On the other side of the mountains, I rode through the very flat Butte Valley, where the sagebrush and grasses were replaced by agriculture, mostly strawberries. Another short climb out of the valley brought me into Oregon, and from there it was a final 20 hot miles to reach Klamath Falls, where I hit the Wal-Mart for supplies (Powerbars cost 98 cents there and up to $2.79 in small markets elsewhere) and then holed up in a Motel 6.

Day 8 (Saturday) - 89 miles. A great, beautiful, challenging day, riding to Crater Lake and then down to Diamond Lake (elevation about 5,000 feet), where I camped. This was the last really hot day, making the climb up to Crater Lake - 3,000 feet higher than Klamath Falls, to over 7,000 feet at the rim - fatiguing. The temperature at the rim was in the high 80s, which was nearly a record, I was told. But the climb was through beautiful forest, featuring gigantic ponderosa pines, and the view of the lake made it all worth it. I got some great photos just before the clouds rolled in, a lightning storm visible in the distance.


Crater Lake

Luckily the storm stayed south of Diamond Lake. There were lightning flashes and thunder rumbles in the distance, but only a few sprinkles overnight.


Sunset over Diamond Lake

Day 9 (Sunday) - My biggest mileage day thus far: 96 miles from Diamond Lake to Oakridge. The Cascade Mountains are so rugged that only a few paved roads traverse them, so to continue north and avoid the Willamette Valley, where temperatures were still hitting triple digits, I had to backtrack east, climbing to nearly 6,000 feet. From there I rode north on U.S. 97 Then after a short climb over the Willamette Pass, I had a long, speedy descent to Oakridge - dropping 3,000 feet in elevation over the final 27 miles. The day was overcast and fairly humid, but the cloud cover kept the temperature at least a bit more comfortable. I was expecting to have to stay in a motel - there are no campgrounds in Oakridge - but luckily the town park had hosted a big group of bicyclists that weekend, an event called Mountain Bike Oregon, and a few of the bikers had gained permission to camp there one more night, so I (fellow biker) was allowed to pitch my tent also. The park was right alongside the Willamette River, and so I slept well amid the white noise of the rushing water.

Day 10 (Monday) - 74 miles from Oakridge to Delta Campground near Rainbow, Oregon. A truly wonderful day of riding on the Aufderheide Highway (forest service road 19), a scenic byway through the western Cascades that was nearly deserted: perhaps a dozen cars passed me all day. The road was converted from an old railroad line, so the long uphill grade was relatively easy, following a branch of the Willamette River upstream, and the deep forest scenery all along the way was spectacular. It was another overcast day - again it had sprinkled overnight - and finally cool, the temperature staying in the 60s, and the muted light served to enhance the experience as I slowly climbed through the damp, dark old-growth forest, moss growing from tree trunks and hanging from branches.


In the deep forest of the Aufderheide Highway

There were groves of Douglas firs hundreds of feet tall, and when I reached the top - Box Canyon Summit, elevation 3.728 ft.), an old sign explained that the forest was protected on behalf of the spotted owl. This, then, was ground zero for the environmental movement; and it made me realize that the issue of the spotted owl (perhaps the most famous case of the Endangered Species Act pitting environmentalists against logging interests) is really just a buzz word for preserving old-growth forests. If these rare owls prefer to nest in ancient, pitted trees, surely so do a whole array of other creatures. It's an entirely different ecosystem. Being in an old-growth forest in the Pacific Northwest is a special experience that has a whole different look, smell, and feel than being amid younger (smaller, hardier) trees.


Old-growth forest along the Aufderheide Highway


North of the summit, the road paralleled a branch of the McKensie River and then rose above the Cougar Reservoir, created by the Cougar Dam. After the climb I was taking a break, overlooking the reservoir, when a bald eagle flew right by, nearly eye-level to me, displaying tremendous command presence - seemingly owning its environment - as it speedily cruised along parallel to the water. It was the first time in all my travels that I'd ever seen a bald eagle, and I found it thrilling, sorry only that I didn't have my camera ready.


The Cougar Reservoir, where moments later a bald eagle flew by ...

I camped that night along the rushing McKensie after a truly memorable 68-mile ride, and then added six more riding to Rainbow for dinner, after which I slept well.

Day 11 (Tuesday) - 78 miles. Another cloudy and cool day in the western Cascades, not nearly as memorable as the day before because I was on more traveled roads: first Route 126, following the McKensie upstream, and then after climbing for 25 miles or so, much of it relatively easy, with just a few steep sections, following the Santiam River downstream, northwest to Detroit. The forecast was for rain overnight, so I was looking for a good place to hole up indoors. My solution, having been suggested by a bicyclist I met in Oakridge, was to spend the night at Breitenbush Hot Springs, a private retreat - very hippie/new agish - ten miles beyond Detroit. Reservations were required, so I called ahead to secure a place: $63 including three meals - the food all organic and vegetarian, served buffet style in a communal dining room. I arrived at 4:00 p.m. as the first raindrops started falling, and it sprinkled throughout the late afternoon and evening. Meanwhile my visit was tremendously restorative. I spent the two hours before dinner sampling the natural hot springs, first trying the "sacred pools" on one end of the grounds. Signs said clothing was optional, but nearly everyone was naked, and people of all ages and body shapes were enjoying the mineral waters in pools several feet deep lined with smooth rocks. The nicest of these was at the far end of the short walk; it overlooked the Breitenbush River, and it was designated a "silent pool," so no talking was allowed. I stripped down and stepped in, enjoying the cosmicity of the atmosphere, when all of a sudden I saw another bald eagle flying right above the river like the one the day before. No one else was noticing - all of my fellow bathers were lost in silent contemplation - so I had to resist my urge to shatter the silence, calling out "Bald Eagle!" or to stand up and start waving and pointing frantically, for fear of becoming an utter pariah. Instead, then, I just watched it soar past in silence, amid the rushing of the river and the misty sprinkle of raindrops.

Really, Breitenbush was a lovely experience. There were cold showers by the sacred pools, so I spent an hour or so bouncing back and forth between the hot baths and some cold soaks, finding the contrast invigorating. Similarly, at another end of the grounds, I tried the "spiral tubs," a circle of round, tiled pools of increasing temperature, the hottest of which was followed by a cold one. Again, liking the extremes, I switched between these two before heading up to dinner. The food was great and I slept well that night. My accommodation was a large tent mounted on a wood platform and with a tarp tied above it - cheaper than the dorm rooms and cabins that were also available. It rained steadily all night, and I was glad to be dry.

Day 12 - 85 miles from Breitenbush to Corbett in nearly constant, pouring rain. "You chose this," I kept telling myself. I knew the forecast was for heavy rain all day, I hadn't taken a day off since leaving San Francisco, and here I was at a lovely hippie enclave, warm, comfortable, and surrounded by friendly naked people. Why not spend another day here and wait out the weather? That's what I told myself I'd do overnight, but after another morning soak in the sacred pools before breakfast, I guess I felt I'd had the whole Breitenbush experience, and at times the rain was lightening from a steady downpour to a misty sprinkle. Also, I planned to take a few days off once I reached Corbett, so why not suck it up and press on. "No matter how miserable this day is," I told myself, "at the end of it you'll be inside, and you'll have time to recover." So after breakfast and then another hour of waffling, my thoughts ping-ponging between "C'mon, let's get go!" to "Why? Are you nuts?" I headed out. And in response the skies erupted. The first ten miles were a steep climb, so at least I kept warm, but the rain was relentless and I was thoroughly soaked. Under normal circumstances it would have been another lovely day of cycling. Like the ride two days before between Oakridge and Rainbow, I was on a virtually traffic-free forest service road through dense forest, misty clouds clinging to the surrounding peaks. But instead the day was a tough endurance test, as I rode nearly nonstop to stave of the chill. The rain stopped and the sky lightened once or twice for several minutes, but then once again the boom was lowered, drenching me anew, and it seemed to rain especially hard whenever I faced a steep downhill. The good news was the my mood held throughout the day as I kept telling myself the challenge of it was self-inflicted.

So that's it. After 12 days I'm in northernmost Oregon, taking a few days off from self-contained riding to rest up for the next leg, heading for Seattle.