I'm in Montana already! When I left Forest Grove over 3 weeks ago, Missoula seemed worlds away. It's satisfying to know that if you wake up every day and pedal, you really do get somewhere.
My host here in Missoula is Nick Engelfried, a good friend and Pacific alum who's now a grad student at the university here, studying Environmental Writing. He's an inspiration to me: he doesn't own a car,and has even found a way to get from his apartment in Missoula to the surrounding wilderness areas for backpacking trips. By bike, of course! He wears his camping backpack, and pedals the distance in 40 minutes. Once there, he embarks on a 1-3 night backpacking trip and returns to the parking lot to pedal home. Now that's what I call awesome!
This city has proven refreshingly hospitable to cyclists, with well-marked bike lanes, racks, and routes. (It's also home to the organization that created the Transam Bicycle Route that I've been following. If you're riding one of their routes and stop into their office, they give you free icecream and take your picture to add to the wall. I stopped in today, along with Joey & Jess, and discovered there are at least 12 other women who have toured solo this year. Woot!
Luckily enough, I managed to get a last-minute interview with the ACA marketing director. It's the first thing I've done so far to truly work on the academic side of my Senior Presentation, and it felt great! She was incredibly helpful, interested, and directed me to some good resources. Thank goodness for knowledgeable people who have the time to chat with folks like me.
Heading back on the road tomorrow, and wishing you all the best!
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
The Rattlesnake Grade
So far the most common cultural traits of the Americans I've met are: we ask lots of direct questions and love to scare eachother. Shitless.
In other words, I should have known better when people were warning me about the Rattlesnake Grade. This infamous stretch of highway, connecting Flora, Oregon with Anatone, Washington, twists its way down one side of the Grande Ronde Canyon before snaking its way back up the other side. The locals would have you believe that it's also edged with venomous reptiles, fraught with heartless logging trucks, and extends for at least 50 miles.
Having rode through it this morning, I'm alive to tell you: it's not that bad. I didn't see any snakes, the truck drivers were courteous, and it was probably only 10 miles of uphill. I could have saved myself some stress by getting accurate information, so here's some truth for the next person who attempts bicycling the Grade :
1. No doubt, it's an unsettling ride down. Go slow (less than 30 MPH) and watch for loose gravel. There's lots of rough pavement to maneuver as well, but it will be no problem at a cautious speed.
2. Go early. Motorcycle riders love the Rattlesnake Grade, and they'll roar through there in huge numbers, especially on weekends. Fortunately for us bicyclists, the Hell's Angels aren't an "early-to-rise" crew. If you start your descent by 8am, you should be fine. By 10am,expect more motorbike traffic.
3. Be thoughtful. If you hear a big truck coming,pull over and dismount. There are no shoulders, and that means you need to share the road. The drivers don't want to endanger you, so don't endanger them by forcing them into the other lane to pass. I got a big smile and thumbs-up from a logging truck driver when I pulled off the road to let him pass. It's slow-going that way, but sure beats getting run over.
4. And above all... don't psyche yourself out! You totally got this, and you're in good company : Cycle Oregon did this stretch one time. If the roadies made it, so can the rest of us.
In other words, I should have known better when people were warning me about the Rattlesnake Grade. This infamous stretch of highway, connecting Flora, Oregon with Anatone, Washington, twists its way down one side of the Grande Ronde Canyon before snaking its way back up the other side. The locals would have you believe that it's also edged with venomous reptiles, fraught with heartless logging trucks, and extends for at least 50 miles.
Having rode through it this morning, I'm alive to tell you: it's not that bad. I didn't see any snakes, the truck drivers were courteous, and it was probably only 10 miles of uphill. I could have saved myself some stress by getting accurate information, so here's some truth for the next person who attempts bicycling the Grade :
1. No doubt, it's an unsettling ride down. Go slow (less than 30 MPH) and watch for loose gravel. There's lots of rough pavement to maneuver as well, but it will be no problem at a cautious speed.
2. Go early. Motorcycle riders love the Rattlesnake Grade, and they'll roar through there in huge numbers, especially on weekends. Fortunately for us bicyclists, the Hell's Angels aren't an "early-to-rise" crew. If you start your descent by 8am, you should be fine. By 10am,expect more motorbike traffic.
3. Be thoughtful. If you hear a big truck coming,pull over and dismount. There are no shoulders, and that means you need to share the road. The drivers don't want to endanger you, so don't endanger them by forcing them into the other lane to pass. I got a big smile and thumbs-up from a logging truck driver when I pulled off the road to let him pass. It's slow-going that way, but sure beats getting run over.
4. And above all... don't psyche yourself out! You totally got this, and you're in good company : Cycle Oregon did this stretch one time. If the roadies made it, so can the rest of us.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Falling in Love with Eastern Oregon
Today marks the end of the second week of my journey by bicycle. I celebrated by taking a rest day with 2 new friends I've met through a mutual friend. They have a beautiful homestead here in Halfway, Oregon.
"Halfway to where?" my Mom asked on the telephone. I'm still not sure, even after spending 24 hours here. But I do know that Halfway is more than just a town to pass through on the way to somewhere else: it's got a life of it's own, and from what I saw, it's a beautiful tribute to Smalltown-America.
After a lovely morning with my hosts, I had the pleasure of attending a Benefit Auction event today in the Halfway City Park, to benefit the Halfway School District's music program. For dinner entertainment, children sawed at their fiddles, adults sang and played guitars and banjos, and one group stole the show with incredible tunes on the marimba.
As the jovial music of 6 marimbas and other percussive instruments filled the afternoon air, a little girl began to dance off to the side of the band. She jumped up and down, pointing her feet inside little tennis shoes and tossing her long golden hair over her shoulders. After the third song she became more comfortable, swinging her arms to and fro and twirling. She began to experiment, throwing her limbs around and leaping with the joyful movements that only youth can teach us.
By the end, people were beaming and applauding for her, as well as for the band. The band director stood up and thanked the girl for dancing, and she smiled shyly.
I used to be a little girl who danced next to the band, too. In my hometown they still remember me as the youngster who'd get up on stage (where i wasn't supposed to be) and jump around, showing my appreciation for the live music. And just as they did for the little girl in the park today, they always made me feel welcomed.
Thank you, Halfway, for a wonderful afternoon. Congratulations on being the kind of town that comes together to celebrate music, youth, and art. You made me feel right at home. :)
"Halfway to where?" my Mom asked on the telephone. I'm still not sure, even after spending 24 hours here. But I do know that Halfway is more than just a town to pass through on the way to somewhere else: it's got a life of it's own, and from what I saw, it's a beautiful tribute to Smalltown-America.
After a lovely morning with my hosts, I had the pleasure of attending a Benefit Auction event today in the Halfway City Park, to benefit the Halfway School District's music program. For dinner entertainment, children sawed at their fiddles, adults sang and played guitars and banjos, and one group stole the show with incredible tunes on the marimba.
As the jovial music of 6 marimbas and other percussive instruments filled the afternoon air, a little girl began to dance off to the side of the band. She jumped up and down, pointing her feet inside little tennis shoes and tossing her long golden hair over her shoulders. After the third song she became more comfortable, swinging her arms to and fro and twirling. She began to experiment, throwing her limbs around and leaping with the joyful movements that only youth can teach us.
By the end, people were beaming and applauding for her, as well as for the band. The band director stood up and thanked the girl for dancing, and she smiled shyly.
I used to be a little girl who danced next to the band, too. In my hometown they still remember me as the youngster who'd get up on stage (where i wasn't supposed to be) and jump around, showing my appreciation for the live music. And just as they did for the little girl in the park today, they always made me feel welcomed.
Thank you, Halfway, for a wonderful afternoon. Congratulations on being the kind of town that comes together to celebrate music, youth, and art. You made me feel right at home. :)
Friday, August 12, 2011
Baker City!
I've met some wonderful folks biking the same route as me. They're two new friends from North Carolina, Joey and Jessica. :) It's been fun to have cycling buddies and campground neighbors for the past couple days! Tomorrow they're staying here in Baker City, Oregon to do some bike repair. I'll be pushing on to Halfway, but I'm sure we'll see each other again soon.
The longest ride so far happened yesterday: 68 miles, from Mt. Vernon to Sumpter, OR. It included 3 (albeit small) mountain passes! I felt empowered by the presence of my new friends, and the three of us chugged along, gulping water and whooping to keep our spirits up. We rolled into an RV campground in Sumpter just as the sun was setting, feeling accomplished and sore.
Baker City is a lovely town! After arriving here this morning (via a gentle, 30-mile ride along the Powder River) we spent a few hours slumped outside of a hip general store called "Bella Market", which happens to be a hub of the progressive, cyclist culture in Baker City. A fellow Trans-Am cyclist from London walked by, noticed our bicycles, and pulled up a chair to chat. It was a pleasant, easy afternoon to make up for our grueling ride yesterday.
Warmshowers.org has been a wonderful resource. For those who don't know, take heed: www.warmshowers.org is a website that allows touring cyclists and their supporters to connect, providing cheap (or often free!) places to sleep while journeying long distance. Here in Baker City I am staying with one such host. They've graciously given me access to their laundry facilites, shower, guest bed (!), and computer... in exchange for nothing more than my gratitude. It's shocking and inspiring to meet so many great people in this way! This is my third warmshowers.org host this trip, and they've all been wonderful so far.
Blessings to you and yours, may August continue to be a lucky, relaxing, beautiful, and productive month for us all.
The longest ride so far happened yesterday: 68 miles, from Mt. Vernon to Sumpter, OR. It included 3 (albeit small) mountain passes! I felt empowered by the presence of my new friends, and the three of us chugged along, gulping water and whooping to keep our spirits up. We rolled into an RV campground in Sumpter just as the sun was setting, feeling accomplished and sore.
Baker City is a lovely town! After arriving here this morning (via a gentle, 30-mile ride along the Powder River) we spent a few hours slumped outside of a hip general store called "Bella Market", which happens to be a hub of the progressive, cyclist culture in Baker City. A fellow Trans-Am cyclist from London walked by, noticed our bicycles, and pulled up a chair to chat. It was a pleasant, easy afternoon to make up for our grueling ride yesterday.
Warmshowers.org has been a wonderful resource. For those who don't know, take heed: www.warmshowers.org is a website that allows touring cyclists and their supporters to connect, providing cheap (or often free!) places to sleep while journeying long distance. Here in Baker City I am staying with one such host. They've graciously given me access to their laundry facilites, shower, guest bed (!), and computer... in exchange for nothing more than my gratitude. It's shocking and inspiring to meet so many great people in this way! This is my third warmshowers.org host this trip, and they've all been wonderful so far.
Blessings to you and yours, may August continue to be a lucky, relaxing, beautiful, and productive month for us all.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Evangelist Campground Managers, and other great folks
It took me three days to bike from Eugene to Sisters, over the McKenzie Pass. It takes most veteran cyclists only one day, but I feel that I'm the fortunate one: as the miles of asphault slowly slip beneath my tires, I have time to smile at the blue skies overhead, observe wildflowers quaking in the roadside breeze, and of course... meet people.
The first night just outside of Blue River, I balked at the $14 campsite fee (there was no discount for cyclists). After delivering the bad news of the cost, the campground managers took pity on me and invited me to stay in their private site for free. I set up my tent and was invited to dinner in their luxurious RV: chef's salad with ham and boiled eggs. Ahhh, protein.
They were sweet, retired, and talked easily over dessert. "The hippies who come up to use the hotsprings... oh my", said my hostess, wide-eyed at the memory, "Those girls all want to go in there naked, and I've seen some of everything. I tell you what, I've really had my eyes opened this summer". She looked meaningfully at her husband, who shook his head.
"Yep," he replied, "they had some kinda... uh... I don't know. A 'hippie fest' I guess you'd call it. 'Bout three weeks ago. And the hotsprings was just crawlin' with them".
I was about to say "You mean the Country Fair?" but then decided to pretend I was as innocent about naked hippies as they were. It seemed prudent at the time. :)
The breakfast they insisted on feeding me the next morning was only slightly dampened by their parting gift: a leaflet emblazoned with "The Bible: You Have God's Word on It". I guess my vibrant tie-dyed T shirt had given me away, and they knew I'd been naked in a hotspring at one time or another. I smiled, thanked them, and agreed to read the leaflet. (Which I did... and it put me to sleep very quickly the next night).
That afternoon I rolled into a campground about 11 miles below McKenzie Pass, with shaking, sweaty legs and a concerned look, as it appeared the campround was full and there were no more to be found this side of the Pass. A tiny woman with curly red hair bounded over to greet me (I'm sure she'd enjoy this description) with a wide smile and even wider eyes. "You can share this campsite with us if you'd like! There's plenty of room for two tents here".
They were fresh from a three day vacation at Breitenbush Hot Springs, where they were fed delicious organic, vegetarian meals and soaked to their hearts' content. They shared dinner with me: sweet potato stir fry with organic coconut oil (Wow, and that's camping food?!) The affection that this couple of 17 years showed to eachother (and to me) was inspiring. I'll miss them dearly, even after knowing them for only 1 day.
(Much thanks to Amy and Ivan, for a wonderful evening among newfound friends and great food. I'll be visiting you in Seattle sometime soon!)
Thank goodness for hippies who'll go naked in hotsprings... and for the kindness of the campground managers who reprimand them. I guess it takes all kinds to get a novice cyclist up a mountain pass. :D
Monday, August 1, 2011
First day on tour
Thirty miles later I'm sitting on a shady sidewalk in McMinnville, sticking my feet into the path of a stray sprinkler and feeling accomplished. It wasn't the mileage, certainly, or my luck at avoiding several logging trucks: it was the fact that I got out at all.
As I wrote the goodbye note for my housemates and dear friends,I felt increasingly doubtful about this entire expedition. It's hard to convince yourself that the world is worth exploring when it seems like the best people in it are the ones you're leaving behind
But after buying blueberries from a roadside stand and scoring a couch from some wonderful folks on Couchsurfing.org, things are looking up. Thank you for all your support,and happy August.
As I wrote the goodbye note for my housemates and dear friends,I felt increasingly doubtful about this entire expedition. It's hard to convince yourself that the world is worth exploring when it seems like the best people in it are the ones you're leaving behind
But after buying blueberries from a roadside stand and scoring a couch from some wonderful folks on Couchsurfing.org, things are looking up. Thank you for all your support,and happy August.
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