A week ago today I was pedaling out of Clarkston, Washington, along the Snake River, through rocky canyon walls and barren hillsides. I wasn't quite prepared for the desert-like environment through which I was about to pass.
Soon the Snake was behind me and I was climbing out of its valley to the Alpowa Summit. My shirt was dripping with sweat when I reached the top. I stopped briefly at the rest area to eat a quick snack and drink a bottle of water. Within minutes my shirt was as dry as the air around me. Stretched out ahead of me were many miles of amber grains running into azure sky.
The grains began waving and my lips began chapping. The water in my bottles was evaporating faster than I could drink it. The temperature was approaching 90 degrees and the relative humidity had to have been down around twenty-five percent. I plowed up and over the rolling hills wondering if I'd ever see the color green again.
At long last I reached an oasis at the Lewis & Clark Trail State Park, a dense mini-jungle of plants and pines surviving on 37 acres of riparian land along the Touchet River. I set up camp in the shade and consumed a giant sports drink that I had purchased in Dayton, a few miles prior.
Later that afternoon an even thirstier looking cyclist rolled into the campground. Brian Keeley had covered the exact route as I, though he had done it later in the day when it was even hotter. We spent that evening talking about our tours. I discovered that he grew up in Rockford, Michigan, only about 100 miles from my hometown. We were both headed for Portland and then the Oregon coast, so we decided to ride together. It turned out to be the smartest decision we could have made.
Moving west out of Walla Walla the next day, we met our nemesis. Though it was still thirty miles away, the Columbia River's headwinds were already coming to attack us on that arid land.
We quickly formed a working plan whereby one of us would lead while the other drafted (and rested) in the leader's wake. Every two miles we switched places. It was the best we could hope to do.
Our accomplishments came slowly. First we celebrated reaching the river, then the Oregon state line and eventually the McNary Dam near Umatilla.
The winds, angered by our achievements, doubled forces the next day. Our route followed the Washington side of the Columbia and remained a barren semi-desert.
It was hard work, but 8 hours of riding time got us the 80 miles we wanted and we both agreed that it would have been impossible to battle the winds alone for so long. Just before reaching our campground we were treated to a tremendous roadside attraction: an accurately-sized cement replica of Stone Henge built by Samuel Hill as a monument to World War I veterans.
Though the winds still blew, on Wednesday we crossed back into Oregon, rode through The Dalles and onto the Historic Columbia River Highway.
Trees and rocky cliffs began to block some of the gusts and the views became more scenic. The restored highway is a treasure for bicycle riders, even with steep climbs such as the Rowena Loops.
The view from Rowena Crest was an amazing panoramic over the Columbia's millions of gallons.
Parts of the Historic Highway have been converted to State Trails which are restricted to non-motor vehicle use.
As we began entering into the true Columbia River Gorge which cuts through the Cascade Mountain Range, we found the trail was full of fun obstacles. A two story flight of stairs equipped with a wheel groove required some heavy pushing.
There were also a few tunnels that had been revitalized.
Among the Cascades our eyes once again saw a land filled with green and trickling with numerous icy creeks.
Many of these creeks formed beautiful waterfalls such as the Horsetail Falls.
Multnomah Falls is the hot attraction, with a drop measuring 620 feet, over three times the height of Niagara Falls. I couldn't even get the entire length in one photograph.
From Multnomah it was only a short distance into Portland. Though I wasn't greeted with the tunnel of cheering spectators and the spray of champagne for which I was hoping, I couldn't have felt more accomplished and proud to ride down the streets of the city which had long been my destination.
Of course I won't say the trip is over until I ride out to the Oregon coast today and tomorrow and touch the chilly waters of the Pacific with my treads. However, for all intents and purposes, my mission is complete and I can scratch that one off my bucket list. Stay tuned for the epilogue...
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