What you want, and what you get

Promises on Puget Sound

Mike, Chris and I at the Pacfic, in Fort Stevens, at the wreck of the merchant ship Peter Iredale, from 1906. 

Well, we aren't setting any land speed records. Bruce and I are in Scappoose, Oregon, west of Portland, having managed about 90 miles in three days. Mike and Chris, who signed on for just the weekend, had to go back to work today, sigh. They were great companions, easily the strongest riders and yet had the patience for us less prepared. I am, clearly, the weak link.

Day 1, Friday, outside of Astoria, we had to climb a couple hills you wouldn't find in Wisconsin -- ruler-straight inclined planks to the sky. One was two miles long, and one was three. By mile 30, I was creeping along on flat pavement at 8 miles an hour. At a break, I lay down on the lawn of a state fish hatchery, in the shade of a big pine, and immediately fell asleep. My legs were dead. We discussed options, got water, and a rode a couple miles back to camp at Gnat Creek Campground -- no services at all, but it was good enough for us.

I had prepared for this ride, but I was shaken by how unprepared I really was.

Day 2 was better. I took to riding far ahead of the others, or far behind, so I could set my own pace without reference to them.  However fast or slow, it was comfortable. There were still hills, but they weren't the monsters of the day before. We rode along Highway 30 much of the day, catching glimpses of the Columbia River, off to the left, and riding through its breathtaking valley. At a little town called Clatskanie, our route took us up to the north on a winding side road, above the Beaver Falls River gorge, a dizzying height with a waterfall and rushing water flashing in the greenery below. Bruce called it one of the best rides he'd ever had.

Campground options were few, and the Hudson Parcher campground outside the town of Rainier was really nice and made sense. So, it ended at another 30-mile day.

Today, we packed up at a leisurely pace, then descended a frighteningly steep hill to the edge of Rainier. We got coffee and a sweet roll at a stand and pressed on through towns that have dots on the map but no actual presence -- Prescott, Goble -- and into St. Helens. This was the end of the road for Chris and Mike, and, at the Dari (sic) Delish, Kristi picked them up and they were gone.

Bruce and I rode here, Scappoose, about another 9 miles. Portland lays another 25 miles ahead, and, while he would have done it, I wanted wi-fi and a little time for this, so we'll end up in a campground here.

Bruce, Chris, Mike, at Hudson Parcher Campground

Breakfast at the Berry Patch, Westport, Oregon. Probably a little much.

Bruce's goofy bike set-up

Collecting water. Someone has to do it. 

Chris in camp

The big valley

Chris, a "siesta master," as people who know him say

Crazy!

Pretty much ready

A fine set of knees.

Been here in Seattle for a week and will leave tomorrow for Astoria, and the big ride starts Friday. Brother-in-law Jimmy and I have taken four big rides here and done some hills, and I feel as ready as I'll be, which may not be saying anything. I am sure there will be desperate moments ahead. We had fun yesterday riding around Puget Sound and back, with a stop midway at the Ballard Locks, where big ships inch their way through narrow little canals, like camels though the eye of a needle. Had great hamburgers at the Red Mill Totem House. There was a haze all day the locals call the "Marine Layer." Learn something new every day.

We had a kind of frenzied 24 hours searching by phone and foot for a couple new wheels for my bike. Recycled Cycles came through, and I hope I have what I need. My aging bike had a couple of worn-out rims, making braking a long, slow thing. (I had to look this up to believe it, that rims can wear out.) We will know for sure when we get to the Astoria bike store. Like I said, learn something new every day.

So, by the end of today, I'll be ready to go. Infinite gratitude to the in-laws here in Seattle -- Jimmy, Mimi, Sarah -- who have put me up and fed me and let me ride with J without complaint. I deeply appreciate it.

Onward!

Old problems, new problems

At Boeing, inspecting the fleet

I'm in Seattle, getting in some big-hill riding with my bother-in-law, Jim V. It's a week till I actually head east, I'm in a long countdown. I have regular clothes, and riding clothes, and it's all in a tumble in the little spare room I occupy. I keep losing things, then finding them again, then losing them again, and I think the whole trip will be like that -- did I leave that map in The Dalles?

I've been waiting, kind of, for months, and it's driving me a little mad. Once I start, I think I will be cured -- but then  I'll have a whole other set of problems to confront. It's like applying for a job you really want. You get it -- then what?

I shipped my bike to a bike store in Astoria. They put it together, and I called them. We discussed the brakes and the tires, and lots of money later I'm getting new wheels and tires. The reason I couldn't STOP THE BIKE was that, after, what? 12, 15 years? the rims had been polished smooth and were thinning, and there was nothing for the brakes to grab onto. So they say. I guess I'll believe it. I need brakes.

Packed

I'm closer to ready to go. Spent hours and hours on this display, cutting out half the cooking gear I showed last time and a number of things I was fond of but weren't strictly necessary. It weighs in at 41 pounds, more than I would like. And there will be a few additions (tied on the rack, such as tent poles and sandals). If you add 35 pounds for the bike, my total weight will top 75 pounds. Then add me -- at 14 "stone," as Daenerys Targaryen might say -- well, it'll be like driving a truck.

I did some online looking and found one reassuring site that put the typical bike-and-cargo weight range for long-distance bikers at between 60 and 100 or more pounds (like, for example, if you bring your St. Bernard and its kennel), so by that scale I'll be not quite midway.

Clothing was the most difficult thing. It could be darn cold, and it could be searing hot. It could rain, or snow, or not.  I have a light insulated jacket, a raincoat and rain pants -- all packably small -- and a small  assortment of top wear and bottom wear. Probably within days I'll be wearing just one thing day in and day out, changing socks and undies once in a while.

To keep track of it all, I am working on an index. Thus:

It's an index card. When I get a good draft, I'll laminate it with tape and put a string on it so I don't lose it, cuz my memory just can't go there.

I leave for Seattle next Tuesday night and will hang around bothering my relatives until May 30, when Jimmy V will take me and a cousin, Chris, and his friend, Mike, to Astoria. We'll start off Friday May 31, and meet up with old friend Bruce (riding a small folding "clown bike" and pulling a trailer) a day or two later in or near Portland.

I shipped my bike a week ago, and this stuff goes out today. It'll be nice to have that done.

I'm really looking forward to that first mile. And, in my absence, Julie can watch "Say Yes to the Dress" and "Chopped" all she wants.

The camp kitchen

What a mess.

This is the latest version of my cooking setup for the big ride. I've spent hours on it, and it is still likely to change. In the past I have been woefully unprepared to eat, as hungry as I've been. Last summer, I sat at a campsite in the late afternoon realizing I had no food for dinner, and nothing for breakfast, and poor tools even if I had had anything to cook. And I certainly didn't have a few miles left in me to go in search of something. The neighboring campers, grilling a big meal for the family, took pity and offered me a plate of steak, corn and potato salad. I thanked them and wolfed it down. Best meal I've ever had.

So I want to do a better job of that. The other day I found among my camping stuff a 10-year-old freeze-dried meal -- spaghetti and meat sauce, literally 10 years old -- and cooked it up, and it was great. And a lot -- enough for two. So I'm going to get a few of those, and of course, ramen and instant oatmeal, besides my normal snack foods, just to get started.

So what we have here in the picture are fork, knife and spoon; "spatula" (this will change); scrubbers; a salt/pepper shaker; a firestarter stick; a little brass stove (just $15!); an aluminum wind screen; soap, cooking oil, and stove fuel (the yellow Heet); a little funnel; matches as a backup; and pots and pans. It seems like lot, and doesn't pack very smoothly, but, mostly, it's what I had, and I didn't want to spend and arm and a leg for the latest thing.

And now I'm thinking I could leave half of that stuff at home if I give up any kind of frying -- think eggs -- and just boil water for the instant foods. Like I said, a work in progress.

We shall see.

To Vegas and back

Poolside
(Photographer in the sunglasses!)

March dragged on and on, and we finally had to make it end. We went to Las Vegas. Cheap airbnb, one blowout meal, no gambling and a sunny 72 degrees. Perfect. Julia the Sun Goddess spent most of her time in a lounge chair by the pool, I was rather more bookish, inside-ish. We walked all over.

As a former municipal reporter, I had to wonder about Vegas zoning practices. Consider:

Does it meet setback requirements? Do they consider aesthetic fit? What about the density? All these issues would certainly be raised by members of your average suburban zoning board. Can't we spread those buildings out a little bit? No thrill rides allowed! And, TAKE THAT STATUE DOWN!

One might wonder,  thematically: Is it an amusement park? A tribute to liberty? A lesson in Gotham architecture? Or could it possibly be about commerce?

I wonder.

Here's the one picture we took of me:

I and my friend the Sphinx look like we belong somewhere else.

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Lately I've been carrying four gallons of water on my rides. Crazy, I know.  But it adds about 34 pounds, roughly what I will carry on my coast-to-coast trip. My Tosa route has several pretty good hills, including a 1.5 mile uphill (Swan Boulevard), and it's a -- excuse the expression -- sonumbitch. The mountains out west will be bigger, badder and more frequent. Even if it makes me only a little more ready legwise, it gives me the feel and balance of the weight, and prepares me psychologically for what's to come.

Yesterday, holding the bike, standing on the sidewalk, the bike tipped backwards and a kindly pedestrian who thought I was nuts helped me put it back to rights. Geez.

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I've almost reached by MDA fund drive goal of $5,000! Thanks so much to everyone who contributed! A little more will put us over the top, and we can go beyond that if we like. If you want to give, go to  JON'S MDA DRIVE.

The bike store experience

This is the latest stop in my quest to put my bike to rights for this big trip. I have tolerated little eccentricities in its operation for years, but they are no longer charming, and I'm going to make my bike work right if it kills me. Why, I would even spend a little money.

It's my low front gear that really bugs me. The derailleur doesn't reach the small chainwheel consistently and I'll surely need that for mountain climbs. 

I am not an adventuresome bike-fixer myself, would rather have a professional do it, but many of your bike fixers are not socially supple. They are generally youthful, sometimes with ponytails, and they don't look you in eye sympathetically while you try to explain why your bike is not working right. Instead they look into the distance or idly at the bike while you explain the problem, and by the end of what you have to say you are nearly pleading and are convinced that it's not the bike but YOU that is not working right. 

Somebody should offer a course in how to connect with the afflicted middle-aged biker. Or, elder biker.

There -- I've managed to sound like a cranky old man.  

One way or another I will get this fixed and we will leave Astoria, Oregon, Thursday, May 30, and ride east. 

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My fund drive has almost reached the goal of $5,000 -- just $215 to go!

Claim the crown at JON'S MDA DRIVE.

Thanks many times over to those who have given!