As planned, I got off at 4am and the one thing that I hadn't calculated was how dark it is pre-dawn. I had a bike light, but for some reason it didn't occur to me very strongly that it would be pitch black out until 6:30. In town, obviously, there are street lights and car lights and visibility is pretty good. But once I was out on hwy 26, with no ambient light at all, it was very, very dark. I was using a headlamp which reflected onto my glasses, causing blindness. If I flipped the headlamp, then the light was pointing up and of no value. I took off my glasses and eventually did adjust fairly well. The main problem it caused was I was expecting to make my best time coming out of town, but wound up pedaling at about 9mph, the fastest speed I could achieve without risking running over something and crashing, one of the great horrors.
It was fairly interesting how the temperature would change every quarter mile or so as I made my way over the terrain. One second I would be quite comfortable and the next I would be shivering. In fact, as I was packing up at home, I was sweating, which caused several last minute changes, including what shirt to wear and leaving behind a cooking pot which suddenly felt 20 pounds. In the remotest portions of the journey, some paranoia lurked as I searched the darkness fearing for an unseen creature to give me a sudden pounce and eat my face off.
I was just passed Sandy, about 25 miles out, when the sun started coming up. It took a long time for full lightness to be achieved and by this time I had begun the interminable climb towards Mount Hood. I was surprised at how well I remembered the route from the two or three times I had ridden out that way. Of course, I've been that way in a car many times, but on a bicycle, it's a whole different universe.
In the first few miles of the climb I was fairly smug with my progress and with how I was feeling. I'd never traveled that far with that much weight. I had steeled myself in advance with how much slower I would be forced to go, though as it turned out, it was even slower than I had planned.
Then the road took a turn for the steeper and I soon realized that while I had remembered it being hard, my selective survival amnesia had made me forget how hard it really was and pretty soon I was slogging away at 6mph and for periods, slowing to 4 and 5mph, which I really, really don't like. When I can walk faster than I can pedal, I start to wonder why, in fact, I don't just walk. But they call that a hike and that's not what I was out there for.
At one point I had broken out of the trees and there was a long horizon view with a cliff on the left. It created the illusion of relative flatness and I was much encourage until my furious pedaling didn't subside and I realized I'd been tricked, like a thirsting man running towards a pond only to realize it's only a piece of belly button lint.
Already, I'm forgetting what misery getting up to Government Camp was, but I'm pretty sure I was groaning pathetically when I had to stand up to pedal and then groaning even more pathetically when I had to sit back down on my long-suffering butt. I would look around just prior to these groanings to make sure no one could hear them, because someone who chooses to bike up a mountain should not be heard mewling like a new-born calf who just got stepped on by its mother for the first time.
My neck, shoulders and lower back were all suffering in equal measure, but changing position would provide to relief to one or the other but never to all. And then, there was the sign to Government Camp, which is actually off the highway and up a hill that certainly isn't substantial, but felt punishing all the same.
As I shopped at the tiny grocery store, I asked the store clerk how far it was to Clear Creek Campground and what the ride was like. "Oh, it's about 20 miles."
"How's the terrain?" I asked.
"Oh, you have maybe one more hill, but nothing like what you just came up." He said reassuringly.
And of course, this was a very big, very fat deception (or lie, if you will).
The redeeming fact was that, if he was to be believed at least that far, that it was only 20 miles. That sounds like nothing after you've already done 50. But as it turns out, those were about the most brutal part of the whole ride. It was straight down out of Government Camp for about 5 miles, but then almost immediately, the climbing began again, and I may have been tired, but it sure felt even steeper than the approach to Government Camp. I actually stopped shortly after the start of the climb and cursed bitterly for about ten minutes, which always makes me feel better because I wind up laughing at myself and looking around to make sure no one can see me in my vulnerable, more humiliating moments.
So off I went for about six miles more of climbing, the slowest riding of the trip. And of course, I did forget to mention that I'm at this point loaded up with what was probably 20 more pounds, to include food and a new coffee pot. I got two pounds of steak, three cans of ravioli, some ramen, pasta, a jar of tomato sauce, Cheese-its, a potato, onion and frozen package of Jimmy Dean Sausage, (which I would later combine with the potato and onion wrapped in some aluminum foil and cooked on the fire. Culinary dynamite was what that was). I was figuring for three nights and as it turns out, it was the right amount of food, though I only stayed two nights.
Finally, I reached the pass and I went down for a couple of miles. I was relieved because surely the store clerk only mentioned one hill. So when I encountered a second hill (read: mountain), I was perplexed. Irked even. But I knew I was close, about ten miles to go, so I good-naturedly resumed the bitter cursing and groaning.
And finally I started going downhill and continued going downhill for a solid eight miles on into the camping area and I was downright giddy with joy that I had such a nice conclusion to what was without a doubt the most challenging ride I'd ever been on. I had traveled 72 miles in almost exactly 7 hours and 45 minutes, arriving at noon.
End of Part 1.
No comments:
Post a Comment