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...
No comments:
Post a Comment