Cycle Oregon 2008, part the second...

Day 2 dawned bright and sunny once again, and a trifle chilly. This was the day of the first actual climb of CO 2008, the trip up Catherine Creek on the way towards Medical Springs, which is the gateway to Pondosa and the Eagle Creek drainage. Or at least that's the way my family thinks of it. Whenever we go to Eagle Creek, we go past Pondosa and through the microdot metropolis of Medical Springs. Pondosa is the site of a former saw mill...

The first miles of the route followed Catherine Creek. It was mildly uphill and extremely scenic. Unfortunately this was one of those days on which I forgot that there was a camera hanging from the hip belt of my Camelbak, otherwise I'm sure I could have gotten some very cool pictures...

Somewhere along the way I was passed by Matt and Susan from Corvallis. When I said "Hello" to Susan, she decided to slow her pace enough to ride alongside of me for a while so we could visit, which we did to the first rest stop, after which she vanished into the crowd. Thanks for making the miles go a little faster, Susan...

The actual climb up to what I believe is called Catherine Creek Summit is only about 2 1/2 miles, but for somebody whose mileage has not included a lot of hills this summer, it was the first true challenge of the day. And of course I was over-dressed for such activity. About a mile up, I decided that even if I encountered frost bite on the way down the hill to Medical Springs, I had to shed some clothes. It was either that or expire in a puddle and puff of smoke, similar to what happened to the wicked witch in the The Wizard of Oz, leaving a perfectly good bike to lay and decay alongside the road. "I'm melting..." Besides, as everyone is so fond of saying, "This is a ride, not a race"...

On the road once more, I had finally struck a comfortable cadence and was making my way steadily up the road, punctuated by numerous calls of "On your left" and even more numerous passers whose first indication that they were passing me was the swish and click of tires and derailleurs (sp?). But we won't go there...

Then about a half mile from the top of the hill disaster struck, in a manner of speaking. My lovely wife claims that I can't pass up a rest area when we're traveling. I had of course availed myself of the blue rooms at the last rest stop, but I had also consumed a rather large container of fruit juice at the rest stop in addition to the big cup of coffee I took back to camp with me after breakfast. And of course gaspingly slurping from my Camelbak as I pedaled. As I was chugging slowly up the road, it occurred to me that yonder pine tree looked exceedingly thirsty and that it was my duty to do what I could to assuage that condition. In other words, I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to pee, and that big tree looked like the perfect place. Unfortunately stopping totally ruined my cadence so I just kind of thrashed my way on up to the top of the hill after this impromptu rest stop...

The flight down into Medical Springs was much shorter time-wise than the climb to the summit, but it was a great deal more fun. I think my top speed for that stretch was somewhere in the vicinity of 40 miles per hour. I pedaled across the valley, up another short hill, across the north end of Keating Valley, then slogged my way to the top of the ridge that separates it from Baker Valley. From there it was a swooping flight to the valley floor and an easy pedal to the lunch stop...

At the lunch stop I ran into Kathy Orr, who works for the Baker City Herald newspaper. After the usual "How long have you been doing this? I didn't know you did this!" conversation she told me to "Come find me before you leave. I want to take some pictures of you." Which I did, and one of the pictures ended up on the back page of the Herald and proves once again that even homely folks can get their picture in the paper if you know the right people...

The rest of the trip into Baker was relatively uneventful, except for the "clunk clunk" of my tires crossing the expansion cracks in the frontage road for about five miles, which gets somewhat uncomfortable after while and are the reason I rarely ride that stretch of road if I can keep from it...

Highway 30 led to Hughes Lane which led to the Leo Adler Parkway which led to my only flat tire of the whole trip. I was bopping along on the Parkway, having a grand old time, when my front tire suddenly went "Pfft!" and the air that had been holding me up departed for parts unknown. The ensuing squirming of my front wheel quickly brought back Brett Fleming's crash avoidance lecture the night before in Union and I managed to stop safely. I could see the camp just across the mint field beside me so I decided that if I was going to fix a tire, I was going to do it comfortably, so I hoisted my bike up onto the back tire and strolled into camp, on the Parkway trying to look nonchalant...

That afternoon there were no shower lines! This was undoubtedly due to the majority of riders having taken the long option. I'd just ridden that route the previous Monday, so I didn't go that way...

At this point I have to mention one of the baggage handlers, aka high school kids, who went above and beyond the call of duty. When I first got to the BHS sports complex, this kid about five feet tall, with glasses, asked me if I wanted help finding my bag. I told him my rider number, and we gave things a cursory onceover. My bag didn't just reach out and grab either one of us, so I told him I would go find where my traveling companions were camped and come back. His reply was that he would keep looking...

When I got back to the baggage area he immediately came up to me and told me he'd found my bag and would I like him to deliver it for me. Thinking that was an excellent suggestion I pointed him toward our area and went and got my bike. Now remember, this bag is huge. Really huge. I think I probably could have stuffed him inside and zipped it up and he would have been perfectly comfortable. And he had about 1/4 of a mile to go with it, which he did, no complaints. When we got where we were going, I handed him some dollars and said, "Give this to your coach." Then I handed him a few more and said, "Pocket this. You went above and beyond." His smile was more than worth the few bucks it cost me...

That night was the movie Blazing Saddles on the big screen after announcements, and the next day was the trek to Halfway...

I survived another one, part the first...

Cycle Oregon, that is. I didn't have nearly the miles in that I should have had for the year, but then again this year's CO, cleverly titled "The Wild-Wheeled West", wasn't as hard as last year, either. This time we only did mountains on Day 3, from Baker to Halfway, and Day 5, from Halfway to Wallowa Lake, and Day 7, from Wallowa Lake to Elgin. But I digress...

Getting to the start of this year's CO was harder than actually doing the ride. Not physically, of course, but mentally and stressfully (is that a word when used in this context?). The day before CO started off well enough. I got my stuff loaded into my pickup Friday morning so I could go to Pendleton and do some stuff for Brett at his new leather shop. Of course I had to go to Pendleton by way of Mount Vernon, which those of you who know Oregon know is quite the scenic route. For those who don't know Oregon, let's just say I went about 200 miles and three hours out of my way. The things dads do for their kids. The reason I went through Mount Vernon was to pick up a couple of custom horse bridle type bits for Brett to put in his shop...

Unfortunately things went suddenly downhill from there. I'd decided to go back to Union to my dad's to spend the night before going on to Elgin for the start of CO on Saturday, but when I went to start my pickup, she no startee. Period. Crank, crank, crank, but no vroom noise. So that night I ended up at the Pendleton Travelodge, with the idea that I'd find a mechanic on Saturday morning. Yeah, right. Fortunately, Brett knows a guy who is a mechanic, and so my pickup found a temporary home. I finally got it back the following Sunday...

But once again, I digress. This is not meant to be a tale of my woes but instead a chronicle of my adventures on Cycle Oregon 2008...

Brett hauled me, my bike, and my bag over the mountains to Elgin. The start of CO was at Elgin High School. I arranged for my bag to be delivered there, hopped on my trusty Roubaix (which I believe is French for "a few days down the road your butt is really gonna be aching") and made my leisurely way to the check in area in the high school gym. At check-in I ran into my buddy Dave E., who is an annual CO volunteer and who made the transition from pedestrian to official cyclist quick and painless. Then I ventured outside looking for Todd's garbage can...

A garbage can may at first glance seem to be rather an odd thing to look for in relation to a bicycle trip. However, this particular garbage can is special. To the best of my knowledge, it has never held an ounce of trash, at least not on purpose. Instead, it serves as Todd's luggage. When I get into each camp at the end of a day of riding, I look for Todd's garbage can. Once I find it I know I have the right camp...

Todd's garbage can, his and Mike's tents and another tent basically identical to Todd's, were actually easy to find. I went and got my own mongo sized bag and drug it over to the tents and proceded to set up my own little piece of campster heaven. My tent is just big enough for my bag and my ThermaRest pad, and of course yours truly. And that's it. Makes it easy to set up. Once my home away from home was set, I beat feet for the traditional Widmer Brothers beer garden, where I was relatively certain I'd find Todd and Mike and the new guy, whose name turned out to be Craig, and who turned out to be just as much fun to hang with as those two...

Mike is on the left, Todd is in the middle, and Craig is on the right. This was Craig's first CO, but I don't think it'll be his last...

Before too long, Larry and Colleen and Jerry and Betty arrived and made our little company complete. Betty stayed with us for a while, but then she had to go home, thereby abandoning me to the company of evil companions who forced me to drink Widmer Brothers beer and Pendleton Whiskey and Crown Royal during the course of the coming week. My poor arms were nearly twisted from the sockets...

Day one dawned bright and sunny, and chilly. I was up with, well, not exactly the chickens, but I was up somewhere between 5:30 and 6:00, which is a good thing, because it usually takes me a while to make it through the blue room lines and the breakfast lines and back to my tent to actually put on bike clothes, take down the tent, and etc. in time to get my chubby hiney out on the road at a reasonable hour. This year I went the whole week without setting my alarm clock, for which my campmates were thankful I'm sure, and I still managed to get on the road by 7:30ish every day except the layover day at Wallowa Lake. But I hadn't planned on leaving camp before 10 that day anyway...

For the uninitiated, let me do some quick explainating regarding the blue room line comment. Cycle Oregon as an organization does its best to make sure we have all the amenities. You know, a place to eat, a place to sleep, a place to drink beer, etc. Then, once one does all of these things, one needs a place to, well, pee. Enter the blue rooms. These quaint plastic shanties are variously known as Porta Potties, honey shacks, that stinkin' ... You get the picture. In the case of Cycle Oregon, they are, in my limited experience, invariably blue, therefore the name blue room. And again invariably, if the time comes when you really have to go, there will be a line. Probably a long line. If you don't really have to go that bad, every one for a quarter of a mile will be empty...

So anyway, there I was, pedaling up the highway that leads out of Elgin toward the turnoff that would take us up and over Punkin Ridge, down to Summerville, up to Hunter Road, and so on and so forth. The ride up the creek was a bit on the brisk side, which made me a bit thankful that I had, once again, slightly overdressed. At least I wasn't shivering the way some of those who had ventured forth wearing only shorts, socks, shoes and a jersey were shivering...

We had a small climb to do, during which my legs were whispering minor obscenities at me, but I just geared down until they shut up and spun my way up. It was a beautiful day to be on the road on a bike and there were hordes of colorfully dressed people of all descriptions zipping hither and yon. Or something like that...

At my brother's house on Hunter Road I stopped with the idea that I would say hello and possibly use their bathroom, even though I had made a blue room visit at the rest stop a few miles back. I found that there was no one home but Tonka, who is a very large dog of indeterminate breed who is normally friendly. However, on this particular day he had decided to take his house guarding duties seriously, and informed me in no uncertain terms that he would eat my legs off if I ventured any closer. Considering that I needed my legs more than usual for the next few days, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and went on down the road to my sister in law Susan's house, which actually wasn't that much further. There was someone home there who was much more friendly...

A couple of years ago, I bought a camera small enough that I can carry it on the hip belt of my hydration pack, and whip it out and take candid shots along the way. Amazingly enough, it almost takes better pictures that way than it does if I stop and concentrate. Hence the following photo of a field of sunflowers alongside Hunter Road...
Lunch was in Cove, at about the 35 mile mark or somewhere thereabouts. Of course I had dawdled and meandered through rest stops and blue room lines until I arrived at lunch at, amazingly enough, almost lunch time. There I ran into Don B., Sue, Beth, Joe, and Patrick. I hadn't seen Don since last year, Sue, Beth, and Joe since my first CO in 2005, and I had never met Patrick, but we were soon all acquainted or reacquainted and I managed to kill almost an hour there. A very pleasant hour, I might add. Then it was off to Union, with a very nice tailwind to push me along. Once again I found the trash can and made myself at home...

Once I got my tent set up, I went over to Dad's house to borrow his shower. I try to take advantage of any normal house type showers that I can, because the alternative is the shower trucks that CO has along to keep us smelling sweet. Not that the shower trucks are necessarily bad, but that a real shower is so very good. Dad's shower came with a price, however. After I got out, I had to do some remanufacturing of his computer, which was making funny noises. I was pretty sure it was his old hard drive, which had been superceded by a brand new one recently, complaining about being left out in the cold. It turned out I was right. By then it was dinner time. Mom fixed tacos, which I ate several of. Obviously "starving wolf syndrome" was beginning to set in. After dinner I went back to camp, found the troops in the beer garden, went to dinner with them, then it was off to beddy bye to get ready for the pedal to Baker by way of Catherine Creek and Medical Springs...

As ready as I'm going to get...

For Cycle Oregon, that is. Yesterday I had Cheryl drop me and my bike off in Baker City on her way to Halfway to the fair. I had ambitions toward doing a 30 or so mile ride around Baker Valley, then riding home, which would give me between fifty and sixty miles. Little did I know...

On my way out Pocahontas Road I suddenly had the idea to call Kim and Janie, my local riding buddies, and see if they were home, so I stopped and dug my cell phone out of my backpack. They were indeed home. Unfortunately for him, Kim was on call (he's a vet) but Janie was more than happy to get in some miles. "Let's ride to North Powder!" was her reply.

"We can do that," I answered. Silly me...

I rode on to their house. By this time I had about 11 miles on the odometer. It was chilly even while riding and I had several layers on. Actually several too many. While Janie finished getting ready to go, I shed the top layer on my upper half. Much better.

By the time we left their house the wind was kicking up more than it had been and it was shaping up to be a bit of a headwind. Wow, did it ever...

By the time we got back to Pocahontas Road, which pointed straight into the wind, the wind had started to become serious. Just past the old Pocahontas School site we saw Janie's friends John and Cindy coming out of their driveway for a short ride. We rode with them to the Rock Creek turnoff. I had a nice visit with John, who is retired from the Forest Circus. Janie and I went on toward North Powder while they turned up Rock Creek Lane.

By this time, the wind was getting really into its playful mode. I was pulling, and managing to keep my cadence up most of the time by doing a virtuoso performance on my shifters. The wind would drop a little, then kick back up. Some of the gusts made me feel like I was starting to go backwards. Interesting feeling. Janie stayed tucked in behind me most of the time. She did get out and pull for a couple of miles, but since she is only about half my size drafting behind her wasn't the rest break it could have been though she did her best. It did help though. On the leg back toward Baker, I decided that the wind had to be at least 20 mph because I had to be going that fast to get any breeze in my face...

Then, we made the turn back toward Baker. Ah! The joys of a tailwind. I led off and suddenly found myself pedaling easily and a glance at the bike computer told me we were cruising along at just under 25 mph. Cool!!! We made the 8 miles to Haines in just about 20 minutes. More Cool!!!

Janie cut off back toward home when we got to Wingville Road, and I went on into Baker, hit Subway for a foot long Prime Rib and Pepper Jack cheese sub with all the veggies and a double helping of blue Powerade from the soda machine then headed for Durkee myself, anticipating the long downhills from Pleasant Valley to Durkee...

Ride stats: 76.3 miles
16.9 average mph
Max speed 41.64 mph
Just over 4 hours ride time

So it appears that the horsepower is mostly there, so the engine is pretty much ready, but the engine mount , as my friend Don Bolton so aptly put it, is a little shaky. The legs are fine, mabye a little tired this morning, but the sit bones are more than a tiny bit tender. I don't think I'll get on the bike today...