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.