Day 14: Cruising

“Being content is perhaps no less easy than playing the violin well: and requires no less practice.”
― Alain de Botton

Easy days are good to have.

Since we landed in Portland, we have climbed and descended many hills and mountains, navigated fog and hot weather. Today we had a different day; gradually climb for 13 miles and then cruise for 70, under high clouds and fair temperatures.

If I am in a certain mood I can really get into flat road riding. To just hunker down and pedal along can be a beautiful thing. The steady rhythm of my pedals turning around and around can send me into a semi-trance of lovely emptiness and quiet. I do it most often when Todd isn't his usual robust self and could use a break drafting behind me. Today Todd was experiencing what he called "healing pain" in his rib, versus the searing pain of a few days ago. I am happy to be the workhorse for a while.

Here we are after we climbed up to the height of the Cascades and prepared ourselves for a long and steady downhill:

We cruised along on a very straight, long road -- the kind you don't see in Vermont. It looks like an optical illusion, as if the road goes up and stops in mid-air. The scale here in Oregon is just incomprehensible to the New England brain. That spot in the horizon could be 5 miles or 20! It can be quite a head game to stare at it and wonder when you will get there. Best to get lost in some daydreams if that happens.

What do you think about when you ride your bike for 8 hours a day? Bike touring has many obvious benefits, so most people have a general idea of why people do it, but it does take the ability to be content with saying and doing nothing while riding your bike for hours at a time. Todd and I will often go for an hour at a time without speaking. What do we think about all day on our bikes? Well.. I find this a fascinating question I often ask cyclists. Some people are able to occupy their minds with elaborate problem-solving daydreams, plans and visions. Other people, like me, rarely get lost in thought but simply take note of everything that passes: "Oh, that's a nice tree." "That house needs a new roof." "I wonder what kind of flower that is." "Mmmmm.. more blackberries. We should stop and eat some soon." Too often my thoughts are a running commentary of how I am feeling: "My knee hurts a little. Maybe I should slow down." "I need a new pair of shorts. These are chafing." "Wow. That's some fire in my shoulders. Maybe I need to adjust my stem." On and on with that stuff can make you crazy. But ultimately, riding a bike for me is an 8 hour meditation on the present moment and looking with curiosity at the world as it passes by me and the world in me that arises as I come up against all the things a bike trip sends your way. On this trip I did come up with an elaborate plan of what my daughter should do for the next year! But.. that was the best I came up with.

Back to the trip. We came to route 97 and the town of Chumult, called the Siberia of Oregon to some. I went into this "Eat" diner to ask for water. When I asked the busy owner/waiter he hesitated so I said: "This is the cleanest restaurant I have ever seen," which was true and what was on my mind as I looked around. It made him smile and he came back with a pitcher of ice water. In the next moment, the older couple sitting at the counter who had been staring into their coffee cups, looked up and began to ask me questions. When I talked of all the beauty we had seen and the appreciation we held for Oregonian hospitality they just started beam and ask questions.

We carried on route 97, which we thought would be one of the worst sections of our trip. We imagined 20 miles of highway, no shade and big trucks. Nothing is ever as you expect on the road—the wide shoulders and tailwind made it very pleasant and soon we found ourselves in Crescent where we turned left onto the Cascades Lake Scenic Highway.

Scenic can mean that you ride along a long corridor of trees for a very long way. And this was the case here until we came across a huge burn from 2003. The damage was stunning, creating what looked like a wasteland of 21,000 acres.

Farther up, we came across a closed road due to active fires causing campers to flee, leaving their boats and gear. We continued on to find a nearly empty campsite, safe from the fires. At out campsite we met Mary, a 78 year old woman riding her bike from Montana to California for her 60th high school reunion. Wow. What an inspiration to witness her health and happiness. She said it would probably be one of her last long trips since she recently married for the 3rd time (she outlived the first two) and he enjoyed shorter trips.