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.

Day 13: Blue, Deep Lake

Day 13: Crater Lake

“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb. (Don't Hesitate)” 

― Mary Oliver, Swan: Poems and Prose Poems

Today is the day we get to ride without 50 pounds of gear! Our plan is to ride up to Crater Lake,  a 21-mile ride with 3,000 feet of gentle climbing.

We had another beautiful day of weather. Not a drop of rain yet. We started early to beat the heat and slowly made our way up the road. About 10 miles in we got to the Pumice Desert. From the Crater Lake Institute:

The Pumice Desert is a broad flat in the northern section of the park. This desert was covered with pumice and ash more than 200 feet deep in some places by the explosion of Mount Mazama. It has only started to be invaded by scattered lodgepole pines. Due to its scarcity of organic matter, few plants have taken hold to further enrich the soil.

Everyone we have talked to about Oregon told us we MUST see Crater Lake. So, our expectations were high. As we edged up to the rim, we were overwhelmed with the sight. Here are some views as we rode along:

It's a loooong way down!

Wizard Island

It was a lovely leisurely day that allowed us to just take in the beauty with no stress. We sat in the rocking chairs in front of the lodge and relaxed among all the tourists. Up there, in the face of that beauty, everyone had a different vibe. People drove more slowly. People smiled more. One of my favorite experiences was to stand at the first lookout and simple listen to people's reactions as they first saw the lake: "Ooooooh!" "Oh my goodness!" "Wow." What a great thing to witness.

When we got back to our campsite we discovered new residents -- a French couple who were traveling for a year on their recumbent bikes. They loved, loved, loved Oregon and had explored it North-South, East-West and everything in between. They would be traveling on to Latin America later in the year. The man was so ebullient, so full of joy and excitement for his adventures. Here is their blog: http://www.partirlespiedsdevant.com  (Click on the UK/American flag to translate!)

We took some nice hot showers, ate a great salad at the Diamond Lake Resort and slept well.

Day 12 - 7/26: Culp Creek to Diamond Lake - Wow

The big question is whether you are going to be able to say a hearty yes to your adventure. 

- Joseph Campbell

Wow... this was quite a day. Todd's ribs felt considerably better thanks to the rest. Heading out from our campsite we rode farther and farther back into the woods on US forest roads. These are tiny, paved roads that twist and turn through the woods. This one eventually began to climb up.

And up. And up. And up. We probably climbed for 90 minutes. The pitch was relentless; the scenery was breathtaking. No guard rails out there -- just big big drops. In our typical no GPS fashion we had little idea that we were going to end up climbing 3,000 feet. But we did it!

And then we descended for at least 40 minutes. Half way down I saw a baby bear in the road ahead of me. It saw me, stood up with it’s big ears up and then ran. At the exact same time, the first vehicles to pass us all day come right up to me with their music blaring -- two Harley Davidson riders listening to Bon Jovi's "Steel Horse"! How surreal that was.

We coasted by some beautiful streams and nature areas. Gorgeous water and wild lands. No people. The road dumped us out near Steamboat on route 138 and we found an amazing restaurant at the Steamboat Inn, where we had beautiful omelets and endless coffee. We even got a third omelet for free that was a mistake. Good thing we ate up because the hardest part of the day was yet to come!

The 40 mile trip up to Diamond lake started innocently enough, cruising along the Steamboat Creek (great fly fishing waters apparently). But at mile 20 the heat kicked in, the road opened up, and the serious climbing began. We climbed steadily for 20 miles over 3,000 feet (the second time that day). At mile 10 or so I was climbing this hill nice and steady when I experienced some heat exhaustion pretty suddenly. I was well hydrated, but my cooling system just short-circuited and I couldn’t stop shaking or catch my breath. I have experienced this before. It is similar to hypothermia where you start taking clothes off even though you are freezing. With heat exhaustion you can’t think straight enough to do the things you need to do. I finally was able to stumble off my bike and lay down in the shade. That’s all it takes to feel better. But...the last 10 miles were the slowest miles of my riding life.

I am famous for my horse to the barn excitement, so my spirits and energy rose considerably as we entered Diamond Lake area. We stopped at a small service station where the kind older gentleman who ran it told us of the unpublicized hiker-biker campsite right on the lake. YES!

The tiny sign that indicated our campsite.

We pedaled the last 5 miles lightly and coasted into the cute little camping area that had a bathroom, five sites and lake waters to bathe in. We were so excited to be there and to enjoy such goodness.

Day 11: Rest Day!

From SONG OF MYSELF by Walt Whitman

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless,It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,I am mad for it to be in contact with me.The smoke of my own breath,Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine,My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs,The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,The sound of the belch’d words of my voice loos’d to the eddies of the wind,A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple bows wag,The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides,The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.

REST DAY! We stayed at the beautiful spot all day, resting, reading, napping and eating. I rode my bike a total of two miles to get water at the local campsite. Turns out our site was the property of a mining organization called the Bohemia Mining Group. We could camp there but could not take gold from the creek! It was really perfect and allowed our legs to get prepared for the next day.

Doing some heavy work -- reading.

The swimming hole

Clear, clear restorative waters!

Day 10 - 7/25: Smith Falls Campsite to Culp Creek - A Big Day!

The practice of quietly riding every day is a powerful one. Sometimes the more challenging the circumstances around me, the more still I become inside, the more clearly and deeply I can listen. So I enjoy coming up against my limits. Hard conditions pare me down and lead me to the places in me that are still gaurded. Because where I am guarded is where I no longer live from my truth. --Annie

At the beginning of this day we weren’t sure if it might be our last. Todd’s rib pain made it nearly impossible to get on the bike, but another Percocet set him up. Given that the road was so quiet, he didn't have to worry about being slightly off due to the drug. It was slow going at first -- very slow going, Thankfully it was an easy grade and cool shade protected us from the building heat.

By 2 PM that had changed, The road had changed too, venturing away from the river and up to where the logging companies were in full tilt operation, creating vast open areas where heat seemed to rise up off the naked mountainside and plow down to envelop us as we rode. We did sample lots of blackberries and enjoy the quiet, quiet world.

As the day went on we drew more deeply into ourselves--- Todd due to the pain of his ribs, me due to anxiety about the heat and growing exhaustion after 10 days of riding. By the time we go to Cottage Grove, despite eating and drinking along the way, I was a bit beside myself. I needed a lot. I needed food, rest, coolness, sleep. I needed to get off the bike.

Even in my stupor, I was able to appreciate Cottage Grove. To our delight, the tree lined main street was thriving with small cafes and stores. We had expected a sprawling wide boulevard lined with big stores since the town was so close to the major North/South interstate 5 . Somehow, Cottage Grove, preserved it’s beauty and an intact Main Street.

I was kind of delirious, but Todd knows me to be made of hardy stock so he put forth the idea of riding another 26 miles to a great campsite “Sharp’s Creek.” “No way!” I said emphatically. “I don’t have it in me.” He didn’t say anything and went to find a library. He is good at sensing when I am not in a good space to be reasonable. And... there have been enough times when all I need is a little time and food to get myself together again.

I went to the bike store to get the skinny on where to find camp stove gas, food and a good campsite. When I am tired I get in survival mode--- what do we need? Where can we get it? The young man there, Chris, was a real ambassador for his town--full of ideas and questions. Despite my tiredness and hunger I enjoyed myself immensely. He pointed me towards a local restaurant that served local beef burgers and local color. And... he said the campground we wanted to go to was at the end of a 21 mile flat rail trail bike path.

When I met up with Todd at the library we did some Internet work and then decided to eat. We still had the stress of trying to find stove gas before heading into some wilderness, getting to the campsite and finding more food, but at least we were about to eat a locally raised beef burger.

The reality of a long distance bike tour: Many people have more good sense than us and hire a bike touring company to take care of everything while you ride through beautiful countryside. It’s a great idea. They cook, carry your gear, keep track of the route and maintain your bike. I highly recommend it! Some of us, however, can’t resist the allure of being self-sufficient out in the big wide world. Having everything you need on your bike and being the master of where you ride and for how long is a prize well worth the cost, to us. But, the cost can be high. A self-supported bike tour is a never-ending series of decisions about food, camping, gas and route-finding. Throw in there some bike maintenance, health issues (like a cracked rib and sore knees) and you have a recipe for stress. 

I think the key is to make sure the person you are touring with has a similar sense of things. Todd and I are well matched. We both have a high tolerance for discomfort, dirt (when you can’t shower), beans for breakfast. We both get a kick out of being very resourceful -- finding useful things by the roadside, eating other people’s leftovers, pocketing the sugar and butter patties at the restaurant. We are both very careful about our stuff, work hard on establishing routines for breaking down camp, cooking, etc. But we are easygoing in general and don’t get wound up about the small stuff. There is no energy for resentment and bickering. We have an ongoing joke that was born midway on a back country ski adventure. We were high on a mountain, bushwhacking through this horrific scrub pine when Todd’s ski broke. I just looked at him and calmly said, “Well. I guess that changes things.” So.. that’s what we say when something kinda big and icky happens, like cracked ribs.

We have our areas of stress. He has a higher tolerance for discomfort so I sometimes put pressure on myself to keep going, sometimes I think he diminishes my discomfort like it’s no big deal. I am less fastidious than he, so I can lose track of things, which is hard for him. Some days we just can’t seem to communicate. I have a taste for more creature comforts but he loves the random chocolate bar I pull out of my bag or the extra food I stashed. We are well matched physically, which is very important, although touring can be a great leveller as you can load up the stronger person with more gear. 

Above all else, I think both people need to enjoy the same kinds of experiences. We love interacting with people, checking out historic markers and relaxing in similar ways.

So.. what happened? Well. I got a good burger in me. If you don’t feel like going on, just eat a meal. In my typical “get er’ done" fashion, I asked the guy at the table next to me for camp stove gas and he agreed to meet us at his house with the gas! (The Coleman fuel comes only in 1 gallon containers, so we only needed a little bit and offered him some money for it, which he refused.)

Food and rest can do wonders, so I said, “Let’s get to that campsite before dark.” After a quick resupply at Safeway we headed out into the fading light on the lovely bike path:

Before we got too far we picked up the gas. The kind man, Mark, set it out in his driveway with a note saying, "God Bless you." A great example of the kind of generosity in the world.

It was nearly nine o'clock and almost dark as we rode along in silence looking for the campsite. Finally I pointed out what looked like a camping spot on the side of the road and we pulled in even though it wasn’t the campsite. In the dark we discovered a beautiful crisp swimming hole, set up our tent and slept hard. But not before I asked Todd if the next day would be a rest day. YES!

Day 9 - 7/24: Florence to Smith Falls Campsite - OUCH!

Todd’s in rough shape, His rib made a popping sound in the morning that brought on a tear-inducing pain, Luckily he had cracked his ribs before and was familiar with what was happening. Even luckier for him was the fact that I had packed some Percocet -- heavy duty pain reliever. With that he was able to climb on board his bike after a huge breakfast with Amber and the gang.

We set out to check out the Oregon dunes and was greeted with blustery Pacific winds and awe-inspiring dunes.

From there we hunkered down for the ride to Reedsport where we would be leaving the coast. We eat a lovely lunch in Reedsport -- bacon, turkey, avocado on a GF bun with awesome fries. I am in heaven. Tons of GF food in Oregon. Yay!

We carry that lunch heavy in our bellies for the first two hours of our trip up Smith River Rd. The road is indescribably beautiful, with almost no traffic. A canopy of trees creates a tunnel above the road as it follows the Smith river mile after mile. The road gets more narrower. First no shoulder, than no painted lines, soon Todd and I are travelling right down the center of the road.

The start of Smith River Rd.

We end up at a beautiful free campsite at Smith River Falls. Huge Douglas Fir surround our tent. We wash off in the river and sleep deeply. Warmth, Free Campsite.

The tree that our tent will cozy up to!

Happy and clean!

Day 8 - 7/23: Yachats to Florence - The Dude

We had planned a rest day the next day to go to Yachats, eat some fresh seafood and share some more time with Brian, but after a morning of laying around drinking coffee, we felt ready to move on. We were excited to take advantage of the afternoon sun to view the stretch of coast from Cape Perpetua to Florence which was famous for its views and was only a 30 mile ride. Early starts on the coast don’t pay off as the fog sticks around until afternoon most days.

So off we went ---- And boy did we see some beautiful sights.

Of the entire section of coast that we did, this was the most dramatic to us.

Endless waves of dunes leading to Florence, OR

Old route 101 winds along the coast as a one way road with a dedicated bike lane. Closed for years, it is now open. Wow!

Deep Fog, High cliffs (800 ft up) 

Wicked high winds pushing us around, 

Nice walk down to the Devil’s Churn, 

High speed cruising, Beautiful waves of dunes.

We had arranged to stay with another WarmShowers.org host, Amber, in Florence. She was new to WarmShowers and we, along with two other cyclists and their dog were her first guests. She treated us like royalty. Wow. Finding out I was gluten free she made, not one, but two types of GF bread, tacos and a beautiful Frittata for breakfast.

The two other cyclists were two young men from Olympia, Ryan and Colin who had decided, after experiencing some big life changes that they would ride down the coast and then to Florida, toting their 80 pound dog "The Dude". They were wonderful young men who shared their stories and fun freely. We stayed up late in the 1969 Omaha camper that Amber's husband Trace was refurbishing, talking and giggling. This is a typical experience on the road, meeting people you would never normally bump into, from totally different worlds and then sharing laughs and stories.

We were honored to be the first to sleep in the old Omaha camper. Yea baby!

Ryan, The Dude, and Colin.

The compound - We take over Amber's yard!

Thank you Trace and Amber!