Recap

Big Sur created quite an impact on me. There are two days in particular that stand out. On the first, I was cranky in the morning and got a late start out of Carmel. Headwinds were annoying and then frustrating. It got a little foggy and then sometimes rained lightly. My will was flagging and I stopped at a pullout. I met M&A and was told that I had arrived at Big Sur and that I was headed into the storm. We shared stories and both left ready to tackle the world. The rain then came in sheets, gusts of wind from my front right 30mph on a 10% grade. Cliffs to the ocean on one side and cars on the other, this was my toughest riding. I was in a groove. I was flying efficiently in the wind, all rain geared up, using the trance music to push me uphill. I was laughing at the gusts, the way they tried to foil me. The bigness of it all, the wind the ocean the cliffs, made me laugh at myself and my self important bitterness earlier in the day. How could I not love a day such as this.

The next night, I stayed in a campground by the ocean, on a little table of land maybe 50' up from the water. A breeze down the mountain cleared out the sky at night, and the Milky Way was visible before twilight. No moon for much of the evening, it was possible to get around by starlight. The campground maintained no lights; I camped away from the other campers. That night, swells from a northern storm began to come in, pounding the cliffs like thunder and rifles. The stars and shooting stars were incredible. I camped on the edge of a eucalyptus grove and left my tent open. I had the best ambient music that night: the occasional crash and hiss from the ocean against the eucalyptus leaf chimes and cricket song from the grove. I fought sleep, staring out at the stars and listening to the earth, but with such relaxification I was soon out.

Needless to say, there are many other tales from the stretch from Spreckels down to Oceano. I'm just not interested right now in writing them here. At least the highlights are down. Pictures are up too.

I'm headed out again today, by this route.

So far I've ridden:
Seattle to Simcoe Mountains
Bend, OR to San Francisco
San Francisco to Oceano

Happy holidays to all.

Deserts planned

I'll spend a couple of days noodling around the southwestern edge of the Mojave Desert, in Joshua Tree National Park. It's not much of a sample of the place, but the Mojave is small anyway and so a small sample will have to do.

South out of the Little San Bernadino Mountains, I'll enter the Sonoran Desert north of the Salton Sea. These next few days will cover much of the Colorado Desert. I'll start with the mountains on its western edge, the Santa Rosas. I'll ride southwest into Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, and then pick up the old Butterfield Stage Route. Near sea level at Calexico, I'll head into the Algodones Dunes, one of few ergs within the United States.

Crossing the Colorado River puts me in the Yuma Desert. Saguaro will appear. Maybe I'll happen upon lechuguilla here as well. I'll ride up the Gila River valley on old US 80 and then down south to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. I'll explore the park thoroughly this time. Back up through Gila Bend to the Sonoran Desert National Monument, covering the second range southwest of Phoenix. Then across to Tucson, probably along that old stage route again, now I-8. Picacho beckons along the way.

From Tucson, I'll head southeast, down to Tombstone and across to the Chiricahua National Monument. This is the eastern edge of the Sonoran Desert. I'll ride through the mountains and into southwest New Mexico. This will put me in the Chihuahuan Desert, the last of my trip.

Across its northwestern corner, I'll head towards Las Cruces. There are hot springs near there too. Perhaps the Rio Grande still has water in New Mexico. South of the Franklin Mountains, into Texas and onto bouldering at Hueco Tanks. Then I'll approach the Guadalupe Mountains across the salt flats by way of Dell City. I'll head south again, along the edge of the Delaware Basin. From Van Horn, I'll swing around the southwestern side of the Davis Mountains and check out the lights in Marfa. I'll turn south again there, and head to the border and ride along the river a ways. Two parks will occupy a couple of weeks of time. Then it's out of the Big Bend region, through Marathon and then on to Sanderson. I figure Lake Amistad for the edge of the desert, and beginning of Central Texas Hill Country and South Texas chaparral.

Arrived in LA

Yesterday I biked in to Pismo from San Simeon. I didn't like where I ended up, so got a motel room. Rented a truck in the morning and drove the backroads sections of my planned route to LA today. I arrived around noon. I had an amazing time through Big Sur, and will have to think a bit before recording it. I'm glad to have bailed, as time was getting short to the first annual Dalton's Game, Saturday morning. It'll be good to get a day's rest before running around like hooligans for several hours.

12/06/07
Lessons in Driving, Los Angeles

Part I: Car on Car
I entered Los Angeles county driving a Dodge 1500, on US 101 just past Thousand Oaks. From there to here, I learned a bit about driving. ,I miss the internet, Driving with the locals involves a bit of attention. 101 to 405 was 40-90mph, never a dull moment. Pay attention. People drive close, and vary a bit in goals - stay on target vs dart here to there - and in courtesy. It takes all kinds. Nonetheless, people seem comfortable driving close and used to making quick decisions. I heard my first accident around 3pm, a block away from here on Santa Monica Blvd. Lots of body damage, nothing and nobody totaled.

Part II: Bike on Car
Shortly after I arrived, Nathan had to leave for a noon meeting. I biked over to Kali's, mostly East on Colorado Ave. I was mostly obedient, learning the stop signage and gauging drivers' attitudes and awareness. I missed riding Ziggy unloaded, and started to pick it up. I caught up with Kali until he had to leave for a meeting at work, and biked down to the ocean on minor arterials in moderate traffic. Going back from the beach I led a Mexican rider I couldn't understand straight through along Colorado until it became Idaho. Riding in the city again, unencumbered, was fun. Drivers gave me space, not much, but always got back when I pointed where I was going.

Part III: Bike on Ped
I started riding North on the bike path. Starting to push the pace, I relished handling with an unloaded bike. Car free, with a sometimes windy or downright curvy trail, light sprinkling of sand, here was a good place to go fast and dodge walkers. Again, the full spectrum of behavior was represented, though traffic was quite light. I was flying, from the Santa Monica Pier to the end of Venice Beach. Leaning so I could keep my 175mm cranks and 300mm bottom bracket drop from striking pedals, I spun through the turns. I was disappointed in myself for not going faster; I never slid my front wheel, and only briefly skidded my rear. Ask and you shall receive...

Part IV: Bike on Bird
I wasn't expecting this part. Perhaps I was asking for it, passing in front of this pigeon instead of behind, as I'd done with several seagulls. Then again too, pigeons are stupid. I pity the fool with a pigeon spirit animal. Sharp 15mph turn and I see it, 20 ft away. In that second, I decided to go around it right. It decided to start flying. Hit it or handle? Aha! Time for emergency handling! Imagining bird in front spokes, rotor, cranks. Jump it - no! - brake. Skidded the rear, slide pump slide front wheel turning. Pigeon wheeling, taking off but still into my front wheel. Grab more brake, dismount over bars, two feet right two fingers touch the ground. Ziggy hangs upright on the front wheel, tumbles sideways to the ground. Pigeon completed the turn and flew away. Ziggy sustained minor injuries, but was already due for another clicky clunky BB overhaul. So I fixed the rear brake to where it wouldn't rub and rode home chastened, but fast. Arrived 3pm.

SF to Spreckels

Rounding out the November portion of my trip, I started heading down the coast. Getting out of San Francisco was neither easy nor scenic, filled with hilly suburbs. Past Pacifica the world opened up, and I had the ocean. I've been riding along the Pacific for the last three days, and I absolutely love it. I camped 11/28 at Half Moon Bay, just over the dunes from the water. Sunset was good, but the play of light on the clouds after the sun went down was phenomenal. I met my first cycle tourist there, Bart the Belgian. "If you can find your way on a bicycle, you can find your way through life," he said. I dig it. On the 29th, I rode down to Santa Cruz. I felt like I was a monster possessed, spinning up hills in a large gear. A wicked tailwind certainly helps. I saw my first bobcat in the "wild", crossing highway 1 where Big Basin Redwoods empties to the sea. Soon, the ravenous hunger returned. Thinking I'd have to hold out until Santa Cruz, I was delighted to find the Swanton Berry Farm along the way. Jammed up and ready to go, I made it to Santa Cruz in the early afternoon. On the outskirts, the rich sulphury smell of brussel sprouts got me hungry all over again. The minty breeze of eucalyptus did nothing to abate this. In Santa Cruz I passed the amusement park, but saw no vampires (probably because the sun was still out). I went to the Santa Cruz Bicycles factory, and met again the roadie I talked to in Napa. He gave me a tour of the place - oh so many objects of desire there. I camped that night east of town, on a bluff over the beach. Friday, I rode through much farmland on backroads. They grow artichokes, strawberries, and celery, and artichokes and strawberries, and artichokes. I rode inland to Spreckels to stay with Natalie, a friend of a friend. We went out for dinner in Monterrey with a friend of hers and talked at length about their dissertation work on digital literacy and educational software. Natalie has been a gracious host. Moreso, her inquistive nature has led to all sorts of pickings apart of Josiah, which has been more fulfilling than the sort of "who is Josiah?" that typically results from new interactions. I've learned a bit too about a singular person, and have a richer life on account of it.

Today I'm headed down to Big Sur, and then down and down the coast to LA. I'll be away from computers until then. Instead, I'll be with the sky and surf and sunsets, and maybe some artichokes.

Sacramento to SF

For the last week, I've been in the bay area. I rode from Sacramento out to Lake Berryessa and camped. Then a day in the sunshine through Napa valley, and the ferry across from Vallejo to SF at dusk, Wed 11/22. Then it was time for catch up with college friends: Dave Warner and Ron Butler first. Thanksgiving I went with Ron over to David Todd and Kelley Rosborough's place in Berkeley, where I stayed a couple of days. David and I caught up, listened to music, and wrenched bikes. We three went to see No Country for Old Men, which made me miss West Texas. A fine film, that one. Monday and Tuesday I spent in SF, first exploring with Ron and visiting the MOMA. Today I rode around on my own, getting my best view of this beautiful city. I'm tired of words; they've kept me away from here. There are some pictures though.

I'm headed down the coast next, likely not using the internets so much until LA. I've never seen this stretch of ocean before, and I'm excited about the towns along the way. Today's ride got the juices flowing. I felt like throwing up, going up to Twin Peaks. Then it got much easier, and the hills weren't a problem. I'm ready for more riding, campfires, and stars. My bay area 10yr Obie reunion was great, with no shortage of good talk with good friends.

Chico to Sacramento

11/16

I rode down the foothills of the Sierras from the Benanders. It was fast, down 2200' in 8 miles, but bumpy. I turned South and took back roads through orchards in the morning, mostly walnut with peaches and other fruit trees on occasion. These petered out into rice fields, canals leading square muddy lakes. Thousands of ducks and geese were wheeling in the sky. Herons and egrets abound. It was flat. It was as flat as Oberlin, only for a much longer distance. The Sutter Buttes provided some relief. I made it to Yuba City in the afternoon, ate huge mexican meal - knowing I get rice and beans draws me to the Mexican places, though Cal-Mex isn't high on my list of cuisine preferences - and was ready for bed by 7pm.

11/17

From Yuba City, I rode mostly down the Garden Highway to Sacramento. This parallels the Feather River. It was incredibly foggy, again with many rice fields. More swans rested in one patty than I'd seen altogether in my life before. The fog and the flat and the at times incredibly rough levee road were demoralizing. Saddle soreness dominated my thinking. I picked up a roadie (really a mtb-er in disguise), Brian the engineer, and he rode and chatted with me the last 10-15mi into Sacramento. I picked up my pace a bit, and got engaged in conversation, forgetting my pain. The fog lifted too, as he joined me. I'll probably see more cyclists if I ride on weekend days. Brian really helped distract me, and made the miles fly by.

I arrived in Sacramento around 3pm, and spent some time catching up with Heather. We acquired groceries and then went over to friends of hers for dinner partyings. This was the first time I broke into a circle of friends on my ride, and it was a good time. We ate well of the tofudebeast and eggplant, with Heather's friends prodding me for stories from the past. I was happier to divulge bicycle touring lore. Later we played Apples to Apples, a game we should teach Cyc. Wordy people will love it, but it has a broader appeal.

11/18

I spent a bit of the day talking to family, and arranging my visit to Berkeley and San Francicso. I napped. I ran errands, and ultimately never explored Sacramento much. This, I am told, is not a great loss. I did get more time to catch up with Heather, and that was good. It's interesting to see how we've each changed in the last ten years, and who we've become. There's still a connection, true with most of my Obie friends, that I don't find elsewhere. It has to do mostly with values. Intelligence and freakiness are a common thread too, but they seem to matter less than some shared understanding of should. We spent a bit of time talking over dinner, mostly about family and friends, and then called it an early night.

This morning (11/19) we went out for breakfast and now I'm preparing to head West.

At the Benanders

11/15 & 11/16

I had a couple of good rest days with the Benanders. I'd lost 15 pounds in three weeks, and was determined to put it all back in, in two days. Doug and Betty treated me to excellent food and a low key relaxing time. I needed it. I explored Chico a little each day, seeing more bikes per capita than anywhere else I've been in the US. It's a cute college town, just at the foot of the mountains. I was referred by one bike shop to another when I asked for directions. There I received a number of hand-drawn maps from Mike "Rand McNally" Peavy, detailing the route from Chico to San Francisco, by way of Sacramento. He was a great resource, and put me on back roads much of the way. My week ended with pizza, beer, and BSG Friday night, excellent denoument for my rest days. It was familiar, in many ways. Thanks Benanders.

Bend to Forest Ranch

Summary

My trip really began in Bend. I knew better what I was into, and was excited about getting to Lava Beds National Monument in particular. I spent nine days riding, with a "rest day" in the park. The terrain went from high desert pines to the Klamath Lake basin. On to Tule Lake basin and the buttes of the Medicine Lake shield volcano. Through low mountains to the Pit River valley, over more mountains to Willow Creek and then Big Valley, more mountains to Eagle Lake, more mountains to Susanville, and finally, over and through the mountains to Forest Ranch. Thank you Zack (and Jill and Lee) for convincing me to take the dry route South. It's been wonderful. You can see pictures from the whole trip thus far here.

As I travel, I'm learning a bit. I carry too much food and not enough water. Scenery and music are my best distractions from pain, though growling sometimes helps (Jon taught me this at Emma Long). I carry too much anxiety about the unknown: upcoming weather, strange people, and things that go bump in the night. I have a healthy fear of getting run over, but the rest of it I need to let go. Still, I relish travel, and finding out what lies down the road.

As I meet people along the way, I become more convinced that people are good and act in a kindly manner. This includes especially Don the driver to Bend, the ranger in La Pine, the woman at Dawson House lodge, the construction workers southeast of Klamath Falls, rangers Tom and Amy in Lava Beds, Robert the flight attendant, Jim et al. at the Canby Hotel, and the Eagle Lake fisherman who gave me water and told me the rest of the days ride would be easier. I know that's a laundry list, but each of those poeple went out of their way to be friendly or helpful, and they deserve recognition.


Daily Notes

11/5

Out of Bend to La Pine State Park. A short day's ride, maybe 32 miles. The bike computer eats too much battery. Also, it's not as entertaining as it is demoralizing, and so I go without. The terrain is slightly uphill, with long flat hills. The roads are hemmed in by modest sized ponderosa and lodgepole pines. The scenery is somewhat tedious. La Pine SP is much the same, though with more wildlife than I've seen so far. An abundance of chipmunks and squirrel, and no shortage of raptors, including a bald eagle. At around 18 degrees, this was my coldest night. I sing Tom Waits "Cold Cold Ground" to myself - well, the chorus at least - again and again.

11/6

Ice inside much of my tent this morning, I'm happy the campground has hot showers. Slow going, I ate a big breakfast and fell back asleep in the sunshine, tent and bag drying out. I got a late start and took backroads out to 97. Stopping at the general store, I talk to the locals, and see Stecher's predictions fulfilled. They talked about neighboors so strung out on meth for days on end that they can't put a can in the recycling machine. They ask me if I'm carrying heat, fearing for my safety from "beasts on two legs". Rode slightly uphill, hemmed in by pines. As the day went on the scenery started to get interesting, ridges on the left and Mt. Thielsen on the right. I was feeling good, and pushed another 20 miles, turning my planned short day into an average one - 48 miles.

11/7

Staying at the Dawson House Lodge was a good idea. Homemade coffee cake and many scones came with the room, and fed me throughout the day. I planned a long day's ride to get South before the weekend storm arrived. The first 25 miles flew by. Collier State Park on the Williamson River was the first change in scenery in a while. The ground dropped to the river, then I followed the river into the Klamath Lake basin. There were great views of the mountains across the lake. I rode past sunset, over six hours in the saddle and over 70 miles. I talked to Elise for a while on the phone. It was good to catch up; I miss my sister.

11/8

I started the day riding a bike path through Klamath Falls, along the canal. Many domestic and stray canal cats wondered what I was. Talked with some construction workers a while on the other side of town, and they were very encouraging. Flat farmland and Mount Laki on my left, the scenery kept getting better. Garlic harvesting made my tummy rumble. I motioned this to the farm workers, rubbing my belly, and they smiled and laughed.

This was an incredible day. I was off US 97 for first time in days, taking back roads. The weather was sunny and in the 60s - perfect. I crossed into California, and took Hill Rd along the west side of Tule Lake. Gillem's bluff, basalt block faulting covered in orange and green lichens, was on my right. The lake on my left. I rode into Lava Beds, and then up and uphill at end of a 50 mile day. I stopped frequently to check out the crazy lava formed terrain, e.g. Devil's Homestead. Several times I stopped to rest, and marvelled at the peace of desert solitude. How I love it. Near sunset, I made it to the Visitor Center. Ranger Amy indicated the campsite with the best view, and stopped by later to chat. I asked Ranger Tom if he had any firewood in his truck as he was driving around. He went back home and provided me wood for two nights' fires. I offered my fire to my nearest camper, Robert, driver of the technomadic offroad van that passed me earlier in the day. He came by with a bottle of wine and we shared stories, campfire, and stars that only the desert can provide.

11/9

Many cars and RVs drove into the campground over the night and morning. The Pathfinders were enjoying an annual gathering at the park, bringing folks from all over Northern California. No more solitude at the campsite, I quickly got out about the park to explore. I rode out to and hiked up Schonchin Butte. On the top, I stripped down to my shorts and did Sanchin kata several times. It felt good, and satisfied my sense of verbal irony. It was good to get to the top of things and have a look around. I explored three caves, delving into lava tubes for the first time. They were ok, but somewhat dry as far as caves go. The surface landscape was far more impressive. Buttes abound. Lava flows stretch across the land, dotted with holes that are cave entrances. It's like nowhere else I've been, and yet has so much of what I love about desert landscape.

11/10

I rode out of the park in gray light, ominous clouds dropping over the mountains to the Southeast. The crosswinds were strong. A sail would've carried all 300# of me and Ziggy and our supplies up the gradual grade on 139. Ah yes, a new road, smaller than 97, bigger than the backroads to and through the park. The land was again ponderosa pines, though with more grasses and hills. It started to rain in a misty way. I put on the Chemical Brothers, Underworld and Roni Size. I was cold and wet, but my hands and feet only got to a certain amount of discomfort and then got no worse. I rode on. My campground at Howard's Gulch was closed, and having talked to a local NFS employee, I was hestitant to camp there. I rode on to Canby, and discovered the Canby Hotel, a diamond in the rough.

I walked into the Hotel, through the restaurant into the bar, where everyone was sitting watching UCLA v ASU. Here I am, rain pants, day glow vest, probably with my helmet still on. The bar has maybe 7 guys, mostly in camo. All become silent. An old man sits in a recliner facing the bar and TV. He's the owner, Jim Tavernetti, and he quickly puts all at ease giving me a room for the night, clasping my shoulder and asking pointed questions about my trip. Others become interested. I go upstairs to change, and come back down and shoot the shit with the guys. Mostly I talk with Jim and with Keith, a hotshot firefighter. An excellent bacon cheeseburger - something that'd been on my mind for several hours in the rain - and several beers and I'm ready for a nap. I got up later for dinner and the USC/Cal game, and had an excellent prime rib. Met another local who'd spent time in Antioch and had his kids train with Alan Dollar. We knew someone in common - a small world after all. I talked with Matt and then Michael a bit, connecting with friends I've left behind. I finished The Agony and The Ecstasy that night/morning. That was a good read; thanks Tim.

11/11

After taking pictures of the Canby scenes, I started the day with the best biscuits and gravy I've had. Did I mention that the food at the Canby Hotel, a modest establishment in many ways, was surprisingly excellent. The biscuits and gravy were from scratch, the sausage broken up and fried first. With eggs and potatoes, this was what I needed to start my day. Over Packers manhandling the Vikings, I ordered a short stack of pancakes less than an hour later. "Where are you going to put it?" the waitress asked. I get so hungry on this trip. The cakes were good dessert for my breakfast. Jim and I were the only ones in the bar that morning, watching the football game and talking about football and listening to his tales from the pass. Occasionally he'd step into the kitchen to work on the elk stew he was making. Wish I could've stayed for that. I rode out of Canby around noon, through the Pit River valley a little ways, and then up mountains and over Adin Pass. Big Valley and Adin weren't too far away. The mountains were rugged and not much higher than the surrounding land, making for interesting but sometimes difficult riding. I stopped at the general store and should really have taken Keith's advice and picked up a sandwich for later. I rode out of the valley and mostly uphill for hours, following Willow Creek to my guerilla campspot. Drinking cold water left me chilled. I wasn't hungry, having had a late breakfast and having snacked a bit on the way. Finding cat scat near my tent, I spent a cold windy night a bit restless, in my sack for most of 12 hours.

11/12

Red sky dawn was a bit ominous. Multigrain porridge with apricots and blueberries helped. This was my hardest day's ride. It was cold, gray and windy, around 40 degrees with 10-20mph cross and headwinds. I wore my skullcap for the first time riding. Still going uphill most of the morning, I was tired and cold. The land opened up into several flat basins, with more cows than belong in the desert. After about 25 miles I made it to Eagle Lake. I was ready to give up, and yellow blaze again - i.e. hitch a ride. A little Toyota truck passed me twice and then stopped and the man inside offered me water. Woohoo! I was running low, thinking about filtering some lake water through my washcloth. He bailed me out and then told me the rest of the ride to Susanville had one hill to climb, a couple miles of flat and then I could coast the rest of the way in. Well, that wasn't exactly true, but it did serve to motivate me. Of the 20 miles left that day, there were two climbs totalling maybe 6 miles. There was a 1 mile descent where I howled like a wolf to keep the deer from crossing in front me. A long flat stretch of 5 miles in another high basin full of cows. After the climb out of this, there was indeed 7 miles downhill to Susanville. Enchiladas rice and beans, a hot bath, then Kung Pao Chicken and MNF helped ease the pain. I felt like I accomplished much this day, making it when I felt for so long like giving up.

11/13

Mexican breakfast fueled my climb out of Susanville to Fredonyer Pass, the highest point in my trip at 5700' and change. The weather turned nice again. The piney mountains were nice, but the little hills leading to Chester were frustrating. The road, 36, wasn't the best. There was often no shoulder, and the road was crumbling along the edges. Trucks blew me off the road several times - better this than swerving back into the road following the pressure wave, uncertain of what's following the truck. I went to several campgrounds on Lake Almanor, only to find them all closed. It was a bit too populated for me to want to guerrilla camp again. The lake was low, and I had barely any view of Mt Lassen through the low clouds. So I moteled it at a place where I could cook my own food and cut some more weight from my load. It was a good days ride, but I was certainly worn from the days before.

11/14

I expected the ride down Deer Creek Valley to be a bit more downhill. I got on 32 from 36, and rode the winding road through the mountains. I did get some wicked descents, covering many miles faster than I could spin in my top gear. I spent most of my time though in my low range, climbing from one valley to another, following a ridge line for a while, down and up and down and down. It was the most scenic mountain ride so far. The ponderosas were soon mixed with fir, then live oak and maybe chestnut, with increasing manzanita in the underbrush. I stopped for a views and granola from time to time. I had the end so close, that I willed myself up some of the mountains, trying to forget how drained I felt, how sore my ass and lower back were. I left the creek sooner than I expected, again having to meter out my water. 1.5L over 52 miles with several thousand feet of climbing loaded isn't much, but it proved to be enough. I made it to the Benanders before 3pm, ate and napped. I caught up with Betty, and then we went out to meet Doug at the Sierra Nevada Brewery and Restaurant. Again, it's great to be around folks who are like family, having known me since I was a wee thing. I'm going to rest here in Forest Ranch for a couple of days, and enjoy the company of the Benanders while I can.

Corvallis, 11/2,3&4

Friday I rented a car, packed up my stuff, and drove over the mountains to Corvallis to spend the weekend with Vicki and Bob. I hadn't planned on this, but it turned out to be a great idea. Thanks Vicki. Friday afternoon I spent with Bob, first to his probability class then to an excellent seminar on billiard trajectories on rational polygons. I was surprised at how accessible this all was to me, after years of no math. In the evening, Bob and Vicki and I went to a math professor reception party for the visiting seminar speaker and had a good time chatting with Linda, Ed and Yeygeny. Good converstation was really the theme of the weekend. Bob and I have a similar distracted rambling style, and share many interests. This was good stuff. Vicki helped me learn more where I come from, telling me stories of my parents and grandparents from times I'd not heard of. I'll keep ending sentences with prepositions; that's what they're for. Anyway, this was an excellent rest weekend with folks as close as family. I wish I could have stayed longer, but the road ahead was calling.

Cascades, Yak and on and on

10/28
So on my second day I went over the Cascades on the John Wayne Trail, a converted rail grade. It was nice riding without cars, up through the mountains. The pines and firs grew shorter, and soon I was in the tunnel through the pass. I camped by Lake Keechelus, making my first shells and cheese and tuna dinner. It was so good, indicating that I had indeed climbed mountains to get there. I turned in early, happy to get warm and cozy as night fell.

10/29
I got a slow start the next day; it was cold and damp outside and I just wanted to stay in my bivvy and bag. I met Jesse as I was packing up, happy to meet and talk to someone. She said my trip was inspirational, and this has stuck with me as a sort of burden. I need to let that sort of thing go. The riding was gently downhill, still on a gravelly path. About 15 miles on my way, I broke my Brooks, most likely because I was mounting a double rail saddle on the wrong seatpost. Evil looking clouds were rolling in from the North and I was riding along a front, fearing weather. The mountains behind me were disappearing into grey soup. I bailed from the trail at Cle Elum and took old Hwy 10 down to Ellensburg. The old highway goes along the North side of the Yakima river, and took me from forest to grassland. I rode hard to beat the storm that never came. Arriving in Ellensburg at dusk, I bought a new saddle and decided to motel it.

10/30
I'd seen the canyon road leading in between the hills South of Ellensburg before, but had always taken the highway around it. I'd wanted to follow it for some time, and was not disappointed. The picture from this post is looking down part of the Yakima River from Canyon Road. I loved the windy road, cottonwoods, and riffly waters. I'd followed the river most of the day before, but this was the big payoff. After several hours in the canyon, the land abruptly opened up, presenting the town of Selah on the hills opposite the river. Talking to a couple of locals, I determined I could take the highway or the long way over the Yakima and Naches rivers. Wide shoulders and lack of cycling prohibition led my bike onto I-82. Sometimes Ziggy leads the way. It was good most of the time, as far as surface and shoulder go. After 10 miles, I was more than happy to get on US 97. I rode again until dusk, and rented a teepee from the Yakima Nation.

10/31
That was the coldest night I spent outdoors in over a decade. What's my bag rated to anyway? Canvas teepees aren't made for indoor fires, and so I had a cold night with trains and owls hooting and whistling again and again. Tired, with an achey knee creaky in the cold - the family doc calls this "arthritis" - I had some doubts about my day. I climbed a small mountain South of Toppenish for about an hour. This dropped into a small river valley, not unlike the Yak. Only this was drier country, and the river was not so accessible, fenced off for cattle. This kept me from refilling my bottles; I wanted to hold out for better water. I slowly climbed the river grade in the foothills of the Simcoe mountains. The sun started to sink behind them, and my desired campground was still 2000' up and 10 miles along the road. I told myself how tough I was. Then I decided to hitch over the pass. Discretion. Valor. Etc.

Having some concern about being able to make it to Bend by the weekend, in order to meet Bob and Vicki when they were free, I was conflicted to find that I could get a ride not only over the pass, but all the way to Bend. This state persisted for at least five full seconds. I decided to take the opportunity presented, and head on down to Bend. Don was a kindly old samaritan, who turned around after a quarter mile or so to come back and pick me up. We talked most of the ride, and he seemed glad to have the company, refusing my offer of gas money. The scenery passed much faster. Back up into the juniper and ponderosa of the Simcoe mountains. Down to the Columbia, one of the best American river. Up the grasslands of the central Oregon Plateau. Through a few small farm towns.
Into increasing sagebrush, then juniper and pine, with more and more fire peaks appearing to the Southwest. Redmond. Bend. Thank you Don, for the lift and for good company.

11/1
Rest day in Bend. After riding around town a bit, finding a local bike shop and learning my way around, I rode out to the High Desert Museum. My trip has a desert theme, and this was a good educational opportunity. Also, I really dig natural history museums. It was that and much more, though I wish there'd been more natural history... I rode back and spent much of the afternoon at the Deschutes Brewery, my first beer in a week. So I tried all of the seasonal and pub only beers they had. I took notes. I especially recommend the Double Black and the Ghostbuster. The Lucky Dutch Lager was one of my favorite lagers ever, but the other two paired better with my sloppy joe. Yum.

On the road

I rode out with Zack to Fall City yesterday. We stayed for the Critical Mass ride Friday night, which was a fine way to say goodbye to Seattle. Riding up the Snoqualmie Valley was gorgeous - trees changing in the valley with the Cascades as backdrop. Today, I'm riding over the mountains. Then it's South to Bend.

I've got all sorts of mixed emotions right now. I'm incredibly excited to be on this trip; it's me and my steed and the great outdoors. How touching. Leaving friends in Seattle makes me sad, though. I'm expecting to be lonely a bit this week. Facing the mountains now is a bit daunting, but I'm hopeful I'll get over with both of my legs still attached. Then I'll be in new territory (for me), and exploring is one of my greatest joys.

Route Thoughts

I'm not really tied to it, but this looks like a good way to get away from the wet. The route segments are split in a way I remember them, not necessarily by day. I may wander off this path, but it looks good for now.