Day 1, Oregon
July 15, 2010: Departure from home, fly to Florence. Miles pedaled 10.
Jenny drove me to the airport, where I checked-in my bike box and one bag. Then I flew to Eugene, Oregon and took a shuttle to the coastal town of Florence.
When I pulled the bike out of the shipping box, I found that the airlines had damaged the front fork. The aluminum dropouts were bent, so that the wheel would not go on.
I have been asked why I didn't take this up with the airlines. The reason was I'm not the type that blames others for things. Instead, I take personal responsibility. If the airlines damaged my bike, it was only because I didn't pack it well enough. (I packed it well, but not well enough, it seems.) And because I was now on journey, and didn't have time for messing with the airlines. I needed to repair the bike without delay.
I found a bike shop in town, and the nice people there repaired the bike that afternoon. The bike got a new fork, and while I was at it, new and wider tires (28mm) to replace the old ones.
That done, I pedaled out to the beach, and back, for a nice 10-mile warm-up.
Day 2, Oregon
July 16, 2010: From Florence to Eugene. Miles pedaled: 88
Up before first light, I still had a lot to do to get the bike ready. That, and organizing my gear into the smallest possible bags. I set off from the motel and reached the junction of US 101 and SR 126 at 6:15 am. That is the start of the "Florence alternate."
The next 14 miles I rode in a dense fog. But it was very pretty nonetheless, and at that time of the morning there was very little traffic.
I reached the last of the fog at the little town of Mapleton. I went into a small gas station and picked out a few things from the shelves and was dismayed when the proprietor stepped outside and started helping two customers fill their tanks with gas. That seemed odd, that I was being ignored, but then it dawned on me that it is Oregon state law that drivers can't pump their own gas.
"Oregon and New Jersey," the proprietor said, stepping back inside.
"That is a strange law," I remarked.
"The older I get," he countered, "the more I think this is a f***ing strange country!"
That cracked me up, because I didn't expect an older, clean-cut gentleman to use such language. But admittedly I had to agree.
Next I stopped at the grocery store, and bought a couple of piping hot food items, then sat outside on the ground, eating breakfast like a hobo. These long trips do things like that to your mind. No place to sit? No problem. Just sit on the ground.
While enjoying the rest, I phoned Jenny to relate my progress. I joked to her that I had 14 miles down and over 4,000 yet to go, and already I felt tired. :) Because of the events of the last week or so, it wasn't much of a joke. Two days before departure I had to get my stitches pulled out early because I was due to leave on this bike trip. A week before that I was in the hospital with an emergency appendectomy. Four days later I was back on my bike, but had worked up to only 10 miles by the time I had to leave for Oregon.
I pedaled out of Mapelton on SR 36, and that's when my enjoyment skyrocketed. I was having a great ride until now, but I enjoyed this little country road to the max. It was lined with tall trees most of the way - Doug fir, maple, and cedar mostly. The greenness of it all was strikingly beautiful. And what's more, there was little traffic and what few cars that went by, gave me lots of room. It was a road meant to ride.
The road was generally uphill most of the way because it was following the Suislaw River, then the Lake creek. I enjoyed pedaling hard, hour after hour, because it felt liberating. And also because my legs were still strong after thru-hiking the A.T.
I stopped at Swisshome for more snacks, then at the store at Triangle Lake I ate lunch at a picnic table three feet from the lake. The day had grown quite warm, so the shade of the trees felt nice. I enjoyed looking out across the big lake for a long while. Before reaching Triangle Lake I had pedaled a long, steep hill, so I was now feeling tired.
The 10 miles to Low Pass seemed to come easy, because the last two miles were downhill. I stopped at the store there for water and ice cream, and had a nice chat with the lady working there. She was surprised to hear that I had started from Florence - that morning - and exclaimed, "I would die!"
"Oh, but it's so beautiful" I replied.
"Yes it is, but not on a bike. I would die."
I didn't say it, but if I lived in Eugene I would like to bike this road once a week. It is so pretty, and a pretty good workout.
The next 11 miles to the Fern Ridge Lake were also enjoyable, but the traffic had picked up, and by now I was feeling tired. But I was on an endorphin high and didn't want to stop for the day. So I kept on going another 9 miles to the Fern Ridge bike path.
The bike path was scenic, quiet and easy, and took me into the heart of bustling Eugene. And after an hour's riding along the sidewalks I found a nice motel.
Altogether it was a very fun day!
Day 3, Oregon
July 17, 2010: Rest day in Eugene.
Day 4, Oregon
July 18, 2010: From Eugene to Sisters. Miles pedaled: 95
I left the motel in Eugene at daybreak (5:00 am) and began to pedal through town along 7th Ave. The traffic was almost non-existent that time of morning, and day of the week (Sunday). So I had the streets to myself. In the next 10 miles I passed dozens of coffee kiosks, and I wanted to stop at one, but didn't want to waste any time, because no-traffic is a precious commodity in cities, and I knew that it would soon pick up.
From Eugene, the route follows highway 126 along the McKenzie River to its source. The first half was easy pedaling to the small town of Blue River. Along the way I stopped several times to admire the beautiful scenery, and talk with whomever I happened to meet. These people included the friendly staff at the little store in Vida, a fisherman about to launch his drift boat, and a few motorcycle types in Blue River.
I always enjoy talking with the motorcycle types, at least the ones who will talk to me. But hey, there are two types. The friendly ones, which make up a whopping 97% of them. And the Hells Angles types, which I tend to avoid. Someone in leathers is not necessarily a bad person. Far from it. The leather simply helps protect the wearer from road rash in case of an accident. Instead I look at peoples facial expressions. If they are trying to be all macho, I leave them alone. But If not, I may try to strike up a conversation. But usually it's the other way around. Two wheels are birds of a feather sometimes. While riding, I get a lot of waves.
In Blue River I asked a guy standing by his BMW why there were so many of this type of motorcycles today. I saw hundreds of them, and by day's end - a few thousand. He said there was a BMW International Rally in Redmond where they had 9,000 bikes.
From Blue River the route follows the McKenzie Highway (242) which became much steeper, hairpin turns an all. The grade was relentless and my bike lacked a compound low gear. So for those four hours I really worked up a sweat.
I was planning to camp near McKenzie Pass, were the road crested the Cascade Mountains; but when I stopped at a small spring for water, the mosquitoes appeared in vicious droves. So I kept on going down the east side of the mountain pass. With my speedometer reading 30 miles per hour, that was a fun several miles of coasting. The downhill grade eased, and I pedaled to the town of Sisters.
Day 5, Oregon
July 19, 2010: From Sisters to Mitchell. Miles pedaled: 86.
I left the motel in Sisters at 5:30 am, after another lengthy session of trying to get my gear lashed onto the bike just right. The morning was frigid, so I had to tough it out until the air started warming.
I reached Redmond early and stopped for coffee and doughnuts, then on to Powell Butte and more snacks.
The highway was rough and the traffic intense, but I enjoyed the morning's ride anyway. Along the way I saw my first long-distance cyclers, but at a place where neither of us could stop. All we could do was give each other hearty waves. They were a swarthy, sun-baked couple who had obviously traveled many a long mile.
Next came Ochoco Lake and its park with drinking water, where I stopped for a bicycler's rest, laying on a picnic table.
I came to a road junction where Highway 26, the Ochoco Highway, started climbing in earnest. This was a long and tiring ascent in hot weather. By taking many short rests I finally reached the top.
The descent was high speed and thrilling. Then the road climbed a ways to the ramshackle town of Mitchell.
There were several old buildings but only two were still in business, at least that I could see: a small gas station and a small café. But the town also had a nice city park, so I went there hoping to find camping. And that's where I met a fellow bicyclist. He was from Scotland and worked as a "cruise ship driver." He was reading Bill Bryson's "A Walk in the Woods." He was heading east, and said I was the first east-bounder he had met. We both suspected that there must have been loads of eastbound cyclists ahead of us, but with our late start, we were the tail end stragglers. He had been delayed by his job; and I, my hike.
We went to dinner and met three west-bound cyclists, then we all camped in the park.
Day 6, Oregon
July 20, 2010: From Mitchell to the evening camp three miles beyond Austin Junction. Miles pedaled: 101.
Someone had painted encouraging messages on the road's paved shoulder. The first one read: "Piece of Cake." The second mile message said: "OMG!" (Located with a nice view of the steep hill ahead). Then came: "Keep Pedalin'." The next mile message was in two parts: "You can see the top." And a few hundred feet further a qualifier: "Almost." I finally reached the summit and there was the final message: "You're Awesome!"
The high-speed descent was brutally cold. My hands were freezing, so I had to slow down, and even stop a few times to warm up.
Later in the afternoon, after the day had become really hot. I took a long rest in a small wayside town called Prairie City, laying in the shade on a picnic table.
Then I set off again for another pass - this time, Dixie Pass. The late afternoon was still quite hot, and the road steep, so I had to take several rests.
Finally I made the summit and started down, and suddenly in the shade the air was cold, especially going 30 mph.
I reached a one-building town called Austin Junction, and turned onto Highway 7. In a few miles I came to a beautiful spring flowing from a pipe, so I filled my bottle while talking with a friendly local who had also stopped to get water.
The day was very late, so in another mile I found a turnoff that led down to a gate, and there I found a nice place to Camp.
It had been a long day, 15 hours, but I had covered 101 miles and had seen a lot of really pretty country and lots of wildlife. I fell to sleep listening to the coyotes nearby.
Day 7, Oregon
July 21, 2010: From Camp to Baker City. Miles pedaled: 58.
After a good night's rest I packed my bag and set off, climbing Tipton Pass. The morning was cold and I pedaled wearing some extra clothes. Then when I reached the summit I went from 5 mph on the uphill to 30 on the downhill, but not before I had put on everything I owned, for the freezing descent.
The whole morning was a string of ups and downs, meaning lots of work. But the country was gorgeous, with pine trees most of the way, and even some fir above 5,000 feet.
From yesterday's Prairie City to here, there had been no store, so I spent the day hungry. (Such occurrences were somewhat according to plan. I don't carry much extra food, and eat whenever food is available. When it's not, I don't worry about it.)
While climbing Sumpter Pass, my bike started making noises. I could not tell if the trouble was with a bearing in a pedal, or the bottom bracket. Fortunately, the next big town was not too far away, but the problem could be serious, so I had to have it fixed before leaving there. But first I had to get to town.
The final 10 miles were not easy, and seemed to take a long while. The headwinds were so strong that at times the best that I could do was only 8 mph, even on the flats.
Reaching Baker City, I spent 4 hours on the bicycle problem. First I called in at a bicycle shop in town, and no, they couldn't do the work. Then I found Dick Bicycle Shop, and he didn't have a new bottom bracket to fit my bike. Then back in town, the first shop did have one. So I bought that, and took it back to Dick's.
Spending time with Dick made my day. He has a heart of gold and will do anything for cross-country cyclists who find their bikes in need of repairs. Though he seemed a little burned-out on local types who demanded his time, as one fellow did while I was there. In fact he was thinking of retiring from the business and selling the shop, mainly for health reasons. And that's the thing about health problems - they might make a person, or break them. Make them glad to be alive, and fill them with gratitude for each day, and make them glad to spend time with nice people they meet. Of course, I've met people with broken spirits, but Dick wasn't one of them.
I helped Dick with the repairs, kneeling on the floor on one side of the bike stand, while he keeled on the other side. As we removed the old parts and put the new ones back in, I asked about his heath problems. Things like, what was it like to have a quadruple heart bypass, and a hip that had to replaced three times?
When it came time for me to pay my bill, we had a slight argument. He wanted to charge me $20, and that included the parts, (which knew were more than $40). And he said the labor was free. I thought that amount was flat outrageous, and I wanted to pay at least $60. I asked if he had change for $100, but he said he didn't, as he pulled out his wallet. "Oh yah," I said, "let me have a look," as I made a mock gesture to grab it. We went round and round - it was sort of like bartering in reverse. I made little ground, but he finally acquiesced to $30.
Joking aside, I think Dick enjoyed having me around, and liked my work. For in the end he hinted about me taking over his shop. No thanks. I enjoy these places I visit on my travels, but my enjoyment is mainly from a perspective of "just passing through." Things are more dynamic that way, and avoid getting into ruts. I enjoy the lure of the far horizon, and look forward to the fresh new day, when at dawn I can get on my bike and see what lies over the next high pass.
Then I spent 1.5 hours getting a motel, going from one to the other. Today was not my day, it seemed. That is, I expended the second half of the day going nowhere. But at least I got the bike back in reliable order, again.
Day 8, Oregon
July 22, 2010: From Baker City to Brownlee Reservoir. Miles pedaled: 88.
I had to pick up a resupply box at the PO, but it didn't come yesterday, so I had to wait until 8:30 am this morning.
I am meeting such interesting people on this trip. Dick at the bike shop; I could write six more pages about my time with him. Then while waiting for the post office to open, I met a gal who had worked at the South Pole for 8 years. And while eating breakfast I met a gentlemen who knew a friend that I had known 15 years ago. I have met interesting and friendly people everywhere; they are everywhere if one takes the time.
Now here's a little secret from Plain ol' Ray. My trips are not about me. I'm just going along for the ride. That's why I find so much enjoyment in the day, such beauty in nature, such friendly people. I'm not interested in talking about me, my past trips or my gear to other people. That leaves me open for learning and enjoying things without having to demonstrate or prove myself.
Well, there came a time, early afternoon, when a certain hill kicked my butt. Well, not really, but the day was so hot, the road surrounds lacked any shade, and like many hills before it, this one was steep and unrelenting. But oh, the joy of coasting down its backside at 35 mph!
Late afternoon I stopped at a lone restaurant called Hell's Hole Café. Once inside I noticed more people sitting out back, so I asked if I could eat out there. Not to demean the other restaurant patrons seated inside, but the people outside were so much more fun. Some were sipping beers, and some were stringing up lights in preparation for a rock concert. They all seemed to know each other, and with my laid-back attitude I felt like I fit right in. And oh, the food was delicious.
Towards evening I pedaled 10 miles along the Snake River. It was such a beautiful ride, and along the way I picked blackberries. I crossed the brige into Idaho, then came to a hill that was so steep I had to walk my bike. Next I saw a group of Bighorn sheep; a couple of them wore tracking collars.
Finally at 8:00 pm I stopped at a picnic area on the shore of Brownlee Reservoir, and made a stealth camp hidden from view. With the tarp and spitfire pitched, I went for a refreshing swim.
Such a day it had been. Well worth the price of admission.
Day 9, Idaho
July 23, 2010: From Brownlee Reservoir to Riggins Idaho. Miles pedaled: 111. (2010/07/23)
I started out from the picnic area at Brownlee Reservoir at first light, and proceeded to tackle the next hill, a 2,200-foot climb. This type of country is so interesting, and on a bike you have lots of time to study it, especially while pedaling steeply uphill, going 5 mph at best. The lower elevations are sagebrush country, and the shade is lacking except when by water and the pretty cottonwood trees. Then you climb higher and get into the beautiful pines, and higher still the Douglas fir. And at that elevation the day is no longer hot, so you have to put on some more clothes for the screaming descent.
I coasted or pedaled fast all the way down to the little town of Cambridge, and enjoyed a filling breakfast in a café. The locals are friendly and seemed to be used to cyclists passing through, because they don't take the slightest notice of bicycle-type clothes. At first I felt conspicuous in my lycra shorts and gaudy arm sleeves designed to attract the attention of passing motorists. But now I'm used to wearing them, even in restaurants and stores. On my way out of the café I met a farmer going in, and he stopped to talk in a most friendly way.
From there the TransAmerica route heads north for quite a ways, 150 miles or so. So for the next day and a half I wouldn't make much progress towards the east coast. The problem is the Bitterroot Mountains of Idaho standing in the way. They are too rugged for any roads. So one must go around them.
Ten miles further I hauled into another little country store for cold drinks, and the clerk said she sees about 20 cyclists a day, and that last year she saw twice that.
Another ten miles further and another small town and stores. A guy could get used to this, hopping from one store to the next. So nice, especially in this heat.
But by now the headwinds were slowing progress, so it took me quite a long while to reach the next town, New Meadows, 19 miles further on. In fact, I took a nice little break halfway there, at a campground in a beautiful forest.
Reaching New Meadows I ate a late lunch, then climbed back on my bike again for the next stint. By and by, the road began to go downhill, and pretty soon I was flying. So on a whim I decided to try to reach Riggins, 34 miles away. The secret: stay on the bike - no matter how tired - and pedal like mad.
I reached Riggins, but as luck would have it, the town was having a festival, and people were out in droves. It took me a whopping two hours to find a place to camp. Well, naturally I'm picky. But I ended up camping on the very best place of all, right behind a fancy motel on a patch of grass, hidden from view. Never mind the sprinklers coming on in the wee hours. It sounded like rain, and I'm used to that. In my Spitfire under my tarp I slept dry as a bone, and by morning my tarp had dried.
Miles pedaled today: 111
- Bicycling the TransAmerica Trail
- Map
- Oregon
- Idaho
- Montana
- Wyoming
- Colorado
- Kansas
- Missouri
- Kentucky
- Virginia