The Parkes and Stockham Cycle Part 2: TransAmerica

Date: Wednesday 18th August  

Route: Lolo, Montana – Hamilton, Montana 

Distance: 42 miles 

Total climb: 817ft

Net climb: 436ft 

We had limped into Lolo, by cover of darkness, the previous evening, but had fortunately wound up in an enormous room in the Days Inn.  Today was to be the day that we were meeting up with Team Heagney (Fred’s mum, Amanda and step-dad John) and in addition the bikes needed looking at to get them back in top shape (in particular my back wheel was significantly bent following the broken spoke the previous evening).  A plan was hatched that we would wait at the motel until the Heagney Mobile (a rented RV) arrived.  The only problem with the plan was that we had no idea if John and Amanda knew where we were.  Emails and texts had been sent and messages left on mobile phones, but reception for all forms of mobile communication is patchy at best and so we were in a state of limbo.

The motel kindly allowed us to stay past the check-out time and fortunately, just as we had secured the room until noon we got a text from Amanda informing us that they would be with us by 12:15.  We saw the RV approaching at a distance and as they rolled up we were both glad to see some familiar faces, so far from home. 

We loaded the bikes into the RV and drove to Missoula, the self-styled cycling capital of the US, and also the headquarters of the Adventure Cycling Association of America (the organisation that produces the maps for the TransAmerica Trail, amongst other routes).  We headed straight for the headquarters, where we had our photos taken to go on a wall along with those of other people who were cycling ACAA routes.  We also bought some front pannier racks and bags as well as an additional set of maps for John and Amanda.  We took the bikes to Hellsgate Cycles to get them fixed up and then had a few hours to kill while waiting for them to be repaired.  The four of us wandered around Missoula buying supplies and generally soaking in the atmosphere of what seemed like a very laid back town.  Fred also managed to find a shop that sold Clif Shot Blocks – the only palatable energy products that we have found (save for Haribo Starmix) and which, to us, are worth their weight in gold.

We headed back to Hellsgate Cycles at 4pm to be told that the bikes were fine, but the front pannier racks would not fit our bikes.  We needed low-rider racks instead.  After a farcical series of trips back and forth to ACCA (who were very helpful and took the original racks back even though one had been opened) we managed to get racks that fitted.   By 5pm we were heading back to Lolo in the RV; surrounded by a thunderstorm.

Undeterred by the weather and the late afternoon start time we were determined to get a few miles under our belts.  We set off from Lolo in the pouring rain and rode along an excellent cycle path for the first twenty miles or so.  The front panniers dramatically altered the handling of the bikes, but we still made good progress.  We stopped for a quick drinks break and then headed on through the towns of Stevensville and Corvallis.  We were cycling along a relatively flat valley floor and so made good time, managing to leave the thunderstorm behind.  Nonetheless, the menacing weather and imposing mountains surrounding us certainly made for a dramatic location for our ride.

We rode on into the night and finally arrived at the agreed campsite, just outside Hamilton.  Amanda had already made our dinner and so all that remained was to figure out how to convert the dining table in the RV into a bed for the evening.

Some other points of note:

–          – The extended morning stay in our motel allowed Fred to indulge his worrying addiction to “infomercials” for sporting goods.  He was disappointed not to see Chuck Norris for a second time.

–         – Having overtaken two cyclists we are now back into joint second place in our “race” to Yorktown.

JBS

Date: Tuesday 17th August  

Route: Lowell, Idaho – Lolo, Montana 

Distance: 110 miles 

Total climb: 4171ft

Net climb: 1679ft

Today was expected to present a few challenges, being 110 miles long, starting with a 75 mile uphill and having no amenities for the first 66 miles (albeit we would be riding alongside a river, if dehydration became a serious issue).  We started early on the gradual climb to our lunch stop, watching out for the logging trucks thundering up our narrow route.  With an average speed of 15 mph and achieving some La Cucarachas, we flew the first half of the day up the river, through a wooded canyon into a cool breeze and a healthy balance of sun and shade.

The climb after lunch promised greater severity, being steeper and hotter.  However, we achieved the summit of the Lolo pass and a move in to Montana (losing an hour) after a break for a third puncture for me.  35 miles of downhill now separated us from catching up on the blog and other admin.

We stopped briefly at the Lolo Springs resort, at which point our irregular dietary habits hit Jay with full force, leaving him slumping over his handlebars and in great need of a revival.  Carbohydrates were loaded and we set off again, lights and high visibility gear in action, to race against the sunset.  The temperatures dropped as low as 75 degrees, the light vanished and we ended up thrashing out the final 20 miles in the dark, guided by moonlight and the stars.  One of Jay’s spokes on the rear wheel snapped with 15 miles to go, so we held our breaths in hope that we could get to Lolo and avoid setting up a wild camp in grizzly country, with no clear idea of how to make up the mileage or carry out the maintenance in the morning.

Arriving in Lolo after 10pm came as a huge relief, pushing the bikes to the motel to avoid a wheel taco for Jay.  Good teamwork and some fierce peddling got us here, supported by some great renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody and other songs (with held breaths?!).

McDonalds provided the nourishment and a local bar provided the beer, game of pool and quick Golden Tee fix that Jay needed, leaving some ‘blog work to be done before hitting the pillow in the early hours.

Tomorrow, we are in real need of some bike kit before ticking off some more miles.

Idaho is a state we’ll remember for hard climbs, hot weather, fun and more changing landscapes.

FP

Date: Monday 16th August 

Route: Riggins, Idaho – Lowell, Idaho

Distance: 98 miles

Total climb: 4527 ft

Net climb: -228ft

Having opted to make use of our motel room in Riggins for our second night there we woke up in rather more prosaic surroundings.  For once we also woke up early.  So early, in fact, that we were the first customers in the diner, next door to our motel.  We were greeted by Pam, our enthusiastic (if somewhat eccentric) waitress from the night before.  “I bet you boys didn’t expect to see me here again” exclaimed Pam.  We hadn’t, but then in truth we hadn’t really given a great deal of thought to the matter in advance.

We were out on the bikes by 8am and got an hour back as we crossed back into Pacific time as we rolled out of Riggins.  Just as we were setting off we had a brief conversation with a fellow guest at the motel – he was interested in our exploits but informed us that we did not have a chance of completing the ride unless we were Lance Armstrong.  With this ringing endorsement in our ears we stopped to take a few photos of the town and then we were off again.  Our mood was mixed: excited to be back out on the road, but rather sad at leaving the first town for which we had developed a genuine sense of affection.

We followed the road down the Salmon River on our rafting route for the first hour or so before turning off at the town of White Bird in order to climb the infamous White Bird Hill.  We had been warned by the locals that this was a horrendous climb of epic proportions – one had even offered us a lift to the top.  Somewhat perturbed by these sentiments we stopped at a cafe in the town to fortify ourselves with some cookies and tea/coffee (and to take photos of Fred wrestling the wooden bear outside).  Procrastination would only get us so far though, and all too soon we had to take on the challenge.    

The climb itself proved to be fairly straightforward, although the searing heat made what would otherwise have been a straightforward ascent rather more difficult.  We were so hot that we stopped at a lodge at what we thought was half way up the hill to try to buy water.  We were told to head up to the house where we were informed that we were in fact at the summit of White Bird Hill (in truth the name of the lodge “White Bird Summit Lodge” should have been a clue).   After hearing this news the water from the lodge tasted particularly refreshing.

From the summit we had a long and winding downhill into Grangeville where we stopped for lunch.  We ate at a “bistro” which ranks as one of the oddest places we have been.  Despite purporting to be an Italian restaurant it offered no Italian food whatsoever on its menu.  It also seemed as if it was run by a group of people all under the age of 14 and most of the conversation concerned people from the town with an addiction to crystal meth.  The food was a good standard of diner fare though and so we had no grounds for complaint.

After Grangeville we had a fast, winding and, to Fred’s mind, incredible downhill (I prefer rather more sedate downhills) to the Clearwater River.   The road then followed the river along the Clearwater and into the Nez Prece Indian Reservation.  We raced through the towns of Stites and Harpster and into Kooskia, where we stopped for a drink and, in my case, some apple pie and ice cream.  Although it was 6pm by this time the temperature was still 35 degrees outside and so we were glad just to get into an air-conditioned room.

The rest of our day was spent meandering along the Clearwater and finally arriving at the town of Lowell, where we secured a log cabin at the Three Rivers Resort.  After the usual routine of stretching, showering and dinner (in an empty restaurant) it was time for bed.

Other points of note:

–          The first instance of dropping “Greta the Garmin” GPS system, just outside White Bird.  She survived intact, if slightly shaken by the experience.

–          Our waitress in Kooskia who, although friendly, appeared to have possibly had one cooking sherry too many and proceeded to make a very strange rasping noise with her throat with great regularity.

–          Lowell is notable for its welcome sign which includes reference to the population of the town.  It currently has “24” crossed out and replaced by “23”. 

JBS

Date: Sunday 15th August 

After nine days on the road and a good night chatting to the folk of Riggins, we had decided to take up an offer of a guided white water rafting trip today.  Having stayed overnight on a riverside beach, we woke to see the sun rising over the mountains surrounding the canyon.  The morning was cool, prompting agreement to set off on the bikes very early on Monday.

We raced around Riggins, sourcing food and rafting equipment.  I was assigned the task of sandwich making, which proved a mighty challenge in a pressure-cooker environment – who needs to worry about multiple-thousand feet climbs on the bikes when you have Jay telling the rafting group that you are a former runner-up in the sandwich-making world championships (it’s strange what becomes amusing when wider human interaction is limited for such long periods of time…).

The rafting team comprised the experienced Heather, Mary, Jocelyn and Ina, together with two people whose background in the adventure sport extended to having seen the man-made setup at the Tees barrage from afar.  We had a good safety briefing from Heather and some practice strokes, before launching into the first rapid, Timezone (so-called since it sits on the threshold between Pacific and Mountain time).  Jay and I were both looking forward to the run, if a little apprehensive about sustaining any injuries that might stop us cycling.

The day turned out to be a perfect break from the riding, finding the balance between a lot of fun and a good chance to relax by swimming in the cool waters of the Salmon River.  Our fellow rafters were great company and, importantly, led a smooth run through some interesting rapids.  Both Jay and I had a go at ‘running the bull’ on the front of the raft and carried out a useful reconnaissance mission for the first 15 miles of riding to follow tomorrow.

Once the rafting was over, we stopped at an amazing organic store on the way back to Riggins, for a fresh huckleberry milkshake (fruit grown onsite), had a look through the rafting photos for the day (someone takes them from the river bank, a little like for the rides at UK theme parks) and thanked our hosts for an excellent day off.  All that was left to do was eat, watch the Legend of Seeker on tv and sleep, ready for a hot and long day to follow.

We’ll probably not be rafting again on any rest days we may take, due to bike maintenance and other tasks, but today has left us in high spirits and feeling fresh, if a little behind on ‘blogging. 

Some bullet points for consistency:

–           A new name has been given to my holdall for money, cards, sentimental items and travel documents – the’ European hand sack’.  After over a week of mocking from Jay and the general public (including one girl asking another if it was their purse), I feel my dignity is restored.

–           You may have noticed the beard (in Jay’s case) and miss-tache and neckbeard in my case gradually developing, possibly with some interest or confusion.  We have agreed, in the same way as we did for JOGLE in 2007, to keep growing for a while.  I’ve suggested no shaving until we get over the 11,000+ foot Hoosier Pass and Jay seems to like the idea.  However, they do frustrate in the heat.

FP  

Date: Saturday 14th August 

Route: Gateway Motel, Idaho – Riggins, Idaho

Distance: 96 miles

Total climb: 4671ft

Net climb: -488ft

Having turned down the option to watch a VHS copy of Tom Cruise’s magnum opus “Cocktail” the night before (which came free with the room) we had both managed to get a pretty good night’s sleep in our “cosy” motel room.  It is safe to say though that the humble beginnings of our day gave no forewarning of how the day would pan out. 

We popped across to the shop/restaurant for what turned out to be a really good breakfast and some pointers as to how our route would be for the next couple of days.  We also stocked up on drinks and snacks for what we knew would be a long climb out of Hell’s Canyon.  Long and hot as it turned out.  Although we were on the road for 8:30 it was already seriously hot as we began to climb out of the canyon.  By the time we had reached the top, sweat was pouring from our foreheads.  Dispiritingly we had only travelled 8 miles in our first hour of cycling; but we were out of Hell’s Canyon.

Our labours were rewarded with a long downhill stretch into Cambridge.  Lacking the dreaming spires of its more high profile namesake, Cambridge, Idaho is blessed with a diner with far better fare than the average college meal.  As ever, I ate about twice as much as Fred, but we both felt much better (and cooler) after the break.  We paused again for a drink a few miles later in Council, before heading on for the 15 mile climb up to New Meadows.  That small, logging town had become my target for the day as the maps showed that from then on in the route was downhill.  New Meadows itself was unremarkable as a town, we ate in the gas station (Americanisms are noticeably creeping into our speech) and bought some more supplies.  We did however run into a fellow cyclist who was exceedingly keen to expound the virtues of the hot springs resorts of Idaho.  It was unclear whether he had some form of investment at stake in the hot springs industry, but he certainly was a fan.  We had a schedule to stick to though and so sadly we had to pass by a number of these geological marvels on route to our final destination – Riggins.

We had a long fight into the wind as we left New Meadows, but we were more than compensated for that by a downhill of about 25 miles during which we barely had to pedal.  Running along the side of the Salmon River our only concerns were dodging any rattle snakes that may have slid out onto the road and hoping that there would be a motel room available for us to stay in.

We dived into the first motel in town, which fortunately had a room.  After a quick shower and change we then passed up the recommendations of our host regarding food and headed to the Summerville Restaurant and Bar for dinner.  We had made it just in time for dinner and were informed by our waitress that the bar would be open until two and that Riggins is considered by some to be the Vegas of Idaho.  We thought that it would be rude not to pop next door for a quiet drink. 

At this stage we had completed 9 days of cycling and as the barmaid asked us if we fancied a third bottle of Budweiser the inescapable conclusion was that the following day would be perfect for a rest day.  Once that executive decision had been taken we decided that it was time to bring the party to Riggins.  I managed to secure multiple plays of Journey’s classic “Don’t Stop Believing” on the jukebox; we got chatting to a number of the locals and tourists who were thronging the bar; the barmaid began to give us free drinks and, towards the end of the night, we met a group of girls who were white water rafting the following day and had some space in their raft.  This seemed like the perfect way to spend a rest day (exertion; a distinct chance of injury and allowing no time to get any of our organisational tasks done) and so we accepted the offer.

The rest of the evening was spent in a whirl of explaining exactly why we were in the process of cycling across the US, leaving the bar and collecting stuff from our motel room (swimming trunks and sleeping bags) and heading to the girls’ rafting base camp on a beach a few miles downriver from the town.  Having been so worried about finding a room in town, it was rather amusing that we ended the night sleeping on a beach, at the bottom of a canyon looking up at the most incredible night’s sky that I have seen in years.  The most surprising things come about when you rely on serendipity to do its work.  We were a far cry from our Hell’s Canyon motel.

Some other notable points:

– Fred’s altercation with a man driving one of the largest SUV’s we’ve ever seen; without any provocation the guy practically crashed his car into Fred’sbike. Classic small man’s syndrome.

– A message on the hand drier in the Council public toilets “Press this button for a message from our President”.

JBS

Just a quick note to apologise to all those of you who are keeping up with the ‘blog.  You may have noticed that we have fallen somewhat behind in recent days.  This has been due to a lack of internet access and a few late night finishes.  We are both well; have now finished cycling Day 11 (and taken one rest day) and are ensconced in the Day’s Inn Motel, Lolo, Montana.  We aim to have the ‘blog fully up to date in a couple of days.

All of the messages we have received (and comments on the blog) have been great and have cheered us up at times when we have been tired/weary/fed up of being sat on a bike.  Please keep them coming, they really are appreciated.  

JBS 

Date: Friday 13th August 

Route: Baker City, Oregon – Gateway Motel, Idaho

Distance: 87.5 miles

Total climb: 4103ft

Net climb: -1216ft

Having taken full advantage of our second all-you-can-eat breakfast in two days (Parkes living it up with bowls of Cheerios – just like his teenage years), the task was to get hold of some front panniers for Diana and Rosie.  We arrived at Dick’s Cycles, a few blocks down from the Bridge Street Inn, for opening at 9am.  Dick decided to lie in today.  I went on a short skirmish to find an ATM, which was quickly abandoned after surviving a race with a golden retriever that seemed hell-bent on chewing my ankles – good sprint work on the small cleat pedals when wearing my flip flops.

After a dismissive stop at Flagstaff Sports, where we were to learn that Baker City was all out of front panniers, we conceded that it was time to hit the road.  Since we expected to cross into Idaho today and jump forward an hour, our effective leaving time was 11.45am.  This was not good, with the mileage ahead, the heat and the wasted time looking for kit.

However, after a short climb out of Baker City, we were rewarded with the most incredible 30-or-so mile downhill, rolling gradually at north of 20mph through a mountainous and sunny scrubland – absolutely stunning.

We finished up 45 miles before ‘lunch’ in Richland, starting effectively at 3pm at the Short Horn restaurant.  Fantastic service, great chilli for me and Jay seemed to like his sandwich followed by a slice of pie.  In searing heat, we also drank what seemed like our own bodyweights in water and refill sodas.  This was to prepare for a long climb in c.95 degree heat immediately after lunch.

We made it up the climb, drinking vast amounts of Gatorade and water, leaving us with a downhill into Hell’s Canyon… on Friday 13^th, 10 degrees hotter than Richland.   I write this from the valley, which is unbelievably hot – we both had makeshift headscarves to avoid sunstroke this afternoon and never seemed to stop drinking.

After a long downhill into the valley, we missed out on an expected meal at Oxbow to charge onward for our B&B, just over the state border in Idaho.  When you’ve been on a bike for over 65 miles and all you are going to get for supper is a bag of peanuts and some Haribo from your pannier, it doesn’t exactly motivate for a further 18 miles uphill (which is where the fundraising kicks in, along with some teamwork).  Goodbye to Oregon, which has proven to be a beautiful and varied state, with great people (and a few hills here and there!).

Finally, having been told thatfood stopped at our B&B at 8pm this evening, I cannot describe the feeling of arriving at 8.30pm to discover they were willing to put on a couple of sandwiches for us, to give us a third meal for the day and set us up well for tomorrow morning’s big climb (yes, again!).

Loosely noteworthy matters:

–         –  Further talk of cougars, bears, rattlesnakes, bobcats and elk by the lady at lunchtime, yet all I’ve seen are deer, various birds of prey and chipmunks (still quite good)

–          – Concern that we write too much about food and food stops, although when using up 6,000 calories or so per day this is quite important to us.  It is also satisfying to know that we can get away with it for once!

–          – No tv or mobile signal in this valley

–         –  A sign on the door of our room stating that gutting fish and birds in the room is not permitted.  This is not something I have seen regularly, not even in Crianlarich.

–          – Looking like I had a shawl on amusing Jay for most of the afternoon.  I thought I worked it well.

FP

Date: Thursday 12th August 

Route: John Day, Oregon – Baker City, Oregon

Distance: 84 miles

Total climb: 4865ft

Net climb: 445ft

 We managed to haul ourselves out of the exceedingly comfy beds at our motel (I note in passing that Best Western have not paid us in any way for their mentions in this blog, it’s just that the motel was excellent) and after Fred’s mechanical issues the previous day we were desperate to find a bike shop in John Day as soon as possible.  We popped next door to the chamber of commerce to be told that, unfortunately the Strawberry Mount Bike Cooperative was not going to be open, as the proprietor had been taken ill.  Fortunately for us one of the members of the co-op was available to help us, so we wheeled (and in Fred’s case carried) our bikes round to the home of Mytchell Mead.  What followed was a hugely enjoyable couple of hours.  Mytchell worked a miracle with Fred’s rear tire which was truly “tacoed” (horribly bent out of shape) as well as tuning both of our bikes up.  He also regailed us with stories of the tours that he done in the past, his previous career in the high-tech industry before opening a bike shop in Seattle and then moving into metal sculpture (his work is available to view at www.Mytchell.com) and also about his book which is in the process of being published (“The Importance of Flying”).  A huge thank you to Mytchell, not just for sorting the bikes out but also for a few hours of engaging and enjoyable company.

With the bikes fixed, and being given an extra half-hour to check out of the motel, we were back on the road by 11:30, which was great news.   We had adjusted the route to account for the lost time, but this still meant that we had 84 miles to ride, with three significant passes to climb in onlhy two thirds of a day.   We raced to Prairie City – which was our intended destination for the previous day and stopped for supplies before heading on to the first, and largest of our climbs.  Fully stocked we set off toward the Dixie Pass.  Delayed somewhat by two Parkes punctures in the space of two miles, and the awful state of the roads, we still made good time and rolled down the other side of the pass for some lunch in a diner at Austin Junction.  There were a bunch of other cyclists who had also stopped there and whilst we were rather shunned at first we eventually ended up swapping tales about our respective rides to date, albeit in stilted manner.

After lunch we churned our way up both the Tipton and Sumpter Passes and were then rewarded with a long downhill ride into Baker City, the largest town in the area (and the site of the first multi-story building we had seen since our ride began). We made it into town just as the sun was setting and happened almost immediately upon the Bridge Street Inn.  Our evening was spent in the Barley Brown “brew pub” which served up the best meal on the trip to date as well as some authentic and award winner beers, brewed in house.  All in all an excellent result for a day which otherwise could have been wasted.

JBS        

Date: Wednesday 11th August 

Route: Mitchell, Oregon – John Day, Oregon

 Distance: 70 miles

Total climb: 3297ft

Net climb: 364ft

This morning’s start set the tone for the day.  After a debate last night about whether or not to take our one permitted muffin each for breakfast to the room, to avoid them being stolen by other residents, I was disappointed to find that someone had taken one of ours.  Despite the fact that all others staying there were cycling most of the day downhill and had shorter mileage to tackle than us, they clearly felt justified in a second toffee muffin before the off.  Ordinarily, this would be a minor blow, but Mitchell is a small place and food a scarce resource.  I was therefore grateful that Jay could rise above his moral victory and spare some crumbs.

We headed down to the only ‘open’ diner for breakfast to find it was closed – a big hit, given the c.1,700ft climb that separated us from further facilities. Out came the reserves – Nutrigrains for Jay and Clif Bars for me (not very tasty).  I then remembered that there was an espresso drive through, a short downhill ride from where we came yesterday.  Our first silver lining for the day came in the form of hot drinks, sausage and egg sandwiches and a further muffin each.

The climb went well, over Keyes Creek Pass, leading to a massive downhill for many miles towards Dayville and lunch, rolling between fossil-filled cliffs.  Then came the storms.  At first, we were met with a light drizzle and views of fork lightning striking the rocks ahead (somewhat unnerving).  This quickly turned to heavy downpours and the first call for jackets and overshoes on the trip.  At least we were but a few miles from lunch and heading downhill, unlike a group of other cyclists we passed heading in the opposite direction.

Dayville lunch was uneventful, but we knew the storms would be picking up for the afternoon.  We raced on for the next target stop in Mt Vernon, charging up for a final 22 miles to Prairie City.  However, it quickly became apparent that I’d broken a rear wheel spoke again, leading to a delicate ride into some heavy easterlies, fingers crossed for a bike shop in John Day.

On arrival, the bike shop was closed, my wheel was clearly not fit to ride a further 50+ miles to the next shop, so we had to cut the day short.  For those questioning our maintenance skills (probably fairly, given their limits), the issue is having the kit to remove the cassette on the rear wheel and to true it properly – not easy on the road.  First setback of the trip – falling short of target for the day.

Silver lining… some quick thinking by Jay secured us the final hotel room in John Day this evening, which happens to be a Best Western with a pool, jacuzzi and laundry facilities (not much more expensive than the other motels we have been staying in, bizarrely.  It is a little luxurious, but useful to ease a few niggles and prepare for some long catch up days ahead.  We then discovered that our planned residence in Prairie City was without food, adding to the good feeling about being stuck here tonight.

I’m hoping the shop opens early tomorrow, so we can sort the wheel and play catch up.  Speaking of which, we are still placed fourth in ‘the race’ by our calculations, having only been overtaken by three other bikes since Astoria (two of which I think were taking shopping home from the grocery store – any overtaking counts as a place change, whether touring or not). 

Other loosely notable matters:

– front panniers are now the plan, to balance out the weight and try to minimise spoke breakage

– I’ve become a little obsessed with the threat of rattlesnakes, reinforced in Mt Vernon by locals talking of pits of them and how they all come out onto the roads for the warmth in the late afternoons

– being served three courses at once in the restaurant this evening (not at our request), which may lead to some indigestion

– HBO on the tv in this motel, probably resulting in Jay staying up beyond midnight again

– confirmation that the bear in Mitchell did exist, but left when one of the stores in town shut and the owners moved on (Ace seems to be infamous in the badlands)

We’d love to keep hearing from you all and the offer is still open to fly out or head over and join the ride.

FP 

Date: Monday 9th August 

Route: Redmond, Oregon – Mitchell, Oregon

Distance: 69 miles

Total climb: 2716ft

Net climb: -241ft

The day began (after the usual breakfast routine – is it possible to be addicted to French toast?) with a trip to Trinity Bikes in Redmond who managed to sort out Fred’s Diadora shoes free of charge.  Many thanks to them.  They also informed us that the town of Mitchell – where we are currently staying – was the proud host of a caged bear and a man named Ace who would wrestle with it on command.  Despite the obvious cruelty involved in such an exhibition the image was undeniably funny and one that spurred us on throughout the rest of the day.

By this stage of the trip we were clearly in cowboy country with horses in the fields on both sides of the road.  It is unlikely that these noble beasts marvelled at the speed of our progress, but we certainly made good time to our first stop at Prineville – the first town we had been through in 25 miles.  We stopped at the local pizzeria for an early lunch and noted what has been a recurring theme of apparently family oriented restaurants in these parts – a door barring “minors” from entering and then a dark, some might say seedy, drinking den behind.  I assume that this layout recalls the days of Prohibition, but it is an unusual combination nonetheless.  Resisting the temptation for a couple of lunchtime relaxants we headed out on the climb up to the Ochoco Pass (4720 feet).  At stretches of the climb Fred pulled well ahead as I sat in my lower gears to rest my knee and Achilles tendon which have been causing me grief for the last few days.  After a short rest stop, though, we climbed the final 1000 feet together.  Perhaps it was the heat or maybe the opposing wind as we climbed, but as we neared the summit Fred uncharacteristically lashed out at our poor, defenceless Garmin GPS system – “it said the final climb was about four miles ago”.  I can now say in the Garmin’s defence that the error was all mine, and I can only apologise to both Fred and the inanimate object that he maligned.

After reaching the summit we were rewarded with a glorious 11 mile downhill which led us into the badlands of Eastern Oregon.  The landscape is now incredibly dry with steep rocky outcrops all around us.  To either side of us are “Painted Hills” and world renowned fossil deposits.  There is very little civilisation.  The town that we are staying in – Mitchell – could have been taken straight off the set of a Western; the very image of a “frontier” town.  There is one street with a diner/saloon, a hotel and a few shops.  Sadly most of the businesses in the town have recently gone bust and so it was good to see that a large number of cyclists are keeping the hotel and diner afloat.  The food in the diner was great and the owners seemed genuinely grateful that we had paid them a visit.  As for bears, caged or otherwise, the only one we have seen so far is nailed to the wall above Freddie’s bed.