Californy Way: July 29 to August 4

It was a cool morning when we left Dayville. We all left on our own terms from the old, white church on the hill and at our own pace so that there was at least a mile or two between each of us. Steadily, we made our way through fossil fields and shaded ravines.  The landscape was desert-beautiful. High painted hills in the distance surrounded by fenced-off cattle fields and sparse fruit trees growing next to nearly-dried stream beds. The cool air gave the desert a temporarily benign quality which heightened the senses like being next to an anesthetized grizzly bear breathing at your feet. It was quiet with little traffic.

Under one of the few large oak trees on the side of the road sat a couple from New York who we met at the Presbyterian church the night before. Joel worked as an attorney in New York and when his firm took cuts he opted to go. His wife, Rose is Columbian. They talked to their daughter (Emily) in their respective home languages.  It was fun to listen to their conversations while at the Presbyterian church. Rose responded to every sound out of her daughter's mouth:

Ma.
Si?
Mama
Si mi amor?
...
Tu estas perdida?
Dime.

They had left before us and were taking it slow and steady up the pass. I waved and smiled and said it was a great day to be biking.  Joel cried, "Water, Water!" and I laughed and kept going on the empty road.

The climb up the first pass was almost unnoticeable. There was little traffic and we found ourselves alone much of the way. Near the top of the first pass we came around a bend in the road and were able to see up the road. Far up was a lone dead tree--it's bleached white branches sprawled upwards towards the sky. But this tree was covered in some unnatural material. From a mile off it looked as though there was garbage hanging all over it. At one point I thought it was hundreds of pairs of shoes strung from the branches lolling dumbly back and forth in the light wind. But that couldn't be it, we were miles from any town in the middle of the Oregon desert. As I approached the tree the words "What the fuck?" fell out of my mouth. It was a lone tree in the middle of nowhere covered in hundreds of pairs of shoes. I stopped to take pictures and eat a granola bar just looking at the various kicks attached to it. Roy pulled up, laughed hard, and went to attach his crappy Wal-Mart sandals I bought him back in North Dakota. He kept going. Brady made his way up and I heard him say exactly what I said when I rolled up to it. Down the road another 12 miles we were braking and I asked Jess what she thought of the shoe tree. She hadn't even noticed it--just rode right on past. I asked her if she had seen the bear with a pair of pants on eating a moose on the side of the road, too.

After the first pass we descended into a valley to a town called Mitchell.  The town had one paved street but it had a nice grocery store and a bar. The steep hillsides on either side made it feel isolated. We ate on the boardwalk outside the grocery store. An old man plodded by us slow and deliberately. "Up hill both ways from here," he said smiling with his whole face. We laughed and said we knew. We sat there and talked with the next pass heavy on our conscience.  Soon, the family from New York caught up with us. "Didn't think I would see you guys again!" Said Joel. We showed him the elevation of the next 30 miles on our fancy A.C.A maps. Wow, he said. He went to show it to Rose, his wife. Soon, we heard what sounded like a gunshot. Roy ripped off the Schrader valve of his back tire while pumping it up. Bad luck. In 40 minutes we were saying goodbye to the adventurous young family and heading for our second pass.

Ochoco turned out to be the son-of-a-bitch we expected it be. I started getting dizzy after the first few miles and had to pull over to chug kool-aid and breathe. A huge part of the eastern side of the mountain had burned in a forest fire a couple days previous. A see-through and blackened forest stood smoldering on either side of the road. The forest floor was made of light grey ash and smoke and burnt things filled your nose. There were two or three spots that looked like the summit but then the road started to climb again. Everybody had to dig deep to get over this one. My mantra was: "I'll quit up there. I'll quit up there." We stopped at a rest stop just after the summit. We weren't supposed to stay as the mountain was still on fire in places but we didn't care. We laid on the cement happy to be done with Ochoco. Not far off, flames breached the green canopy lapping at the wide blue sky. It was time to go. We hopped on our bikes and started down the other side.

It was prettier on the other side. Green, un-burnt forests and farms lined the road. We stopped to check out a small, rattlesnake that had been run over that morning. It was cute.  We camped at an rv park on a reservoir that night.

The next day we made it to Bend. We hung out at a bike shop that served beer and coffee and overlooked the river. Very Bendy. Then we took a tour of Deschutes Brewery, a popular craft brewery centered in Bend.  Oregon is home to almost 170 craft breweries and hundreds more microbrews.  People love their beer culture out here.

That night we met up with one of Jess's friends at the Deschutes brewery restaurant for some good burgers and more beer. We slept at Tumalo campground just Northwest of Bend so we were primed to make it to Sisters and McKenzie Pass the next day.

It showered that morning so the desert had a crisp refined look to it as we made our way to Sisters. Sisters is a budding touristy town with breweries and ranches that butt up to the cascade mountains. It is named for the three volcanic mountains the people call the "three Sisters". We hung out at a café and had biscuits and gravy and drank kombucha before heading up McKenzie Pass.

The climb over McKenzie Pass was a unique ride.  McKenzie on the East side gets 5 inches of rain a year while the West Side gets 100. As we climbed the pass the sage gave way to orange trunked ponderosa pine, to fields of jagged, blackened lava rock at the summit. The descent on the other side of the cascades yielded the coniferous rainforest I formerly imagined covering the whole state of Oregon. The road switchbacked down into the piney kingdom. Hemlocks and cedar towered above. The underbrush, mainly ferns, salal and huckleberry got thicker as we descended. All kinds of moss, fungus and lichens hung from the trees. Breathing was enjoyable again compared to the dry pine-needle-y air on the east side. We camped in Paradise campground that night in a cozy spot amidst a stand of large hemlock. The ground was mossy and springy to the step. After we got camp situated, Ryan and I headed down to the stream that ran through the campground. It was rushing and had a light cerulean hue to it similar to the blue ribbons that decorate the valleys of glacier park. The river was the coldest yet. The air around it was cold and it smelled cold. People kept watermelons and six packs of beer in between the rocks close to shore. It was as if someone opened a giant freezer door in the middle of this humid, mossy forest we found ourselves in. The water was sobering. We stayed in long enough to get ourselves clean with our beer soap and got out.

The next day we continued our descent of the cascades into the Umpqua valley toward Eugene, Oregon. There, we would be staying with Paul Nicholson and Virginia Lo, a couple we met while passing through hot spring territory in Idaho. The road to Eugene was almost all downhill and hugged those deathly-cold, blue rivers from the cascades. Blackberry bushes lined the roads. At first I was greedy and filled my Nalgene full of them but soon noticed I didn't need to as they lined the roads and still do. They make for perfect snack breaks. Ryan got another flat that day. Usually, we let the guy in back have the pump just in case a flat happens but we didn't do that this time so Ryan drew up a sign and stuck it to his back and walked his bike down the road. It read:

Got Space?
Have Flat
Can't Fix

Ryan got picked up by a couple church boys and made it to Eugene before we did. Upon arriving in Eugene we swam in the Willamette River and got in contact with Paul. He met us downtown atop his fixed-gear Raleigh road bike. He told us to follow him and we did. We would learn that Paul is almost 70 but he bikes like he is much younger. We had to try to keep up with him as he lead us over bike paths, down alley-ways and foot trails while commenting on the politics and architecture of Eugene. After a few miles and multiple turns we ended up in Paul's secluded yard underneath a great jazzy oak tree. Their house is stacked like decks of cards one on top of another to fit the contour of the sloping land. It's a great house. That night we had spaghetti with sauce made from Paul's garden and talked about Eugene and Paul and Virginias' kids. After dinner we showered and retired to their library/office. The next morning we had Virginia's granola and Paul made us omelets.

Paul and Virginia are retired academics, their respective fields being psycholinguistics and computer science, but they are also politically active, write, and, on a $5 dollar bet made in the 70's, have since owned and operated bicycle shops. Our trip reminded Paul of their bike touring days in Taiwan when they spent less than $50 on a couple fixed gear bikes and minimal gear and made it around the mountainous island.

That day we checked out Eugene for a bit. We visited Bicycle Way of Life (Paul's shop), road around the park, spent time reading in coffee shops and drinking at pubs around the Whiteaker neighborhood. It was our first non-cycling day after two weeks and we had averaged 65 miles a day--all through the mountains. We were tired.

The next day we had breakfast at the house and took pictures with the hippie oak. Paul saw us off by leading us out of Eugene to the road to Corvalis. Meeting Paul and Virginia was the best part of Eugene. We thoroughly enjoyed their wonderful home, food, showers, and their interesting conversation, stories, and opinions. They gave us the boost we needed for our push to Portland. Expect a postcard in a few weeks, Paul and Virginia! We hope to see you again sometime. We cannot thank you enough :)

P.S. We ran out of land on Monday--we're at the coast! Right now we're in Newport, Oregon having traveled over 3,000 miles in about 2 months. We will have a post about Portland and our introduction to the Pacific up soon. Thanks for reading!

Three Billies