So many cell phones.  "Hi, Matt, it's me!"  "Hi Pete, it's me!"  "Hi Sue, it's me!"

We're moving!  The vacation begins, the preparation for the vacation ends.  I can feel the tension begin to flow from me. If I had one more day at home, I would use it.  It doesn't stop until you leave, ready or not.

I'm already planning what I can mail back.

David Fulkerson took me to the airport.  (Thanks)

The flight was excellent, on time, smooth landing, very comfortable.  Flying into Portland, I awoke from a doze, just in time to see this huge snow covered mountain peak on the left, barely a stone's throw away.  We were at the same height as this dramatic mountain.  It was Mt. Hood, 11,000 feet.

At the airport, I collected my gear, which had traveled safely and was not beat up or separated.  Finally the bike came on the belt, in its box.  I loaded it all onto a cart, went outside and took the TraveLodge shuttle to the hotel.  There I met Gary, who had arrived much earlier from Missouri.  We chatted a while, then I began to put the bike together.  It went very well except for the rear brake, which I had messed up, but it ended up OK.

Thursday evening, we went to Elmer's Restaurant for dinner.  A huge platter of chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, biscuits... more than could be eaten.  Back to the motel, where I worked solidly to finish off the bike and attempt to fit the fenders, but lacked a long bolt.  Finally at 10:40 P.M. I got in bed--12:30 A.M. Texas time.

June 8

It took me forever to pack in the morning and redistribute stuff.  Finally, I was ready, and took my first ride in the parking lot.  What a heavy load!  Hard to steer.  We headed into the road, and I pushed off but wobbled wildly across two lanes until I could get unclipped from the pedals.  I was in much too high a gear and was so lucky not to fall or to get hit.

I found that the starting off gear was critical.  It had to give me sufficient thrust to give me time to get the left foot up, so I could push like mad to maintain momentum.

Rode 50 miles from Portland to Rainier.  Stayed in a motel and ate dinner at Cornerstone Cafe, by the Columbia River. The restaurants lay tables differently from Texas: the napkin and cutlery are placed at the end if the table, so that if a customer wants only a cup of coffee, the whole place setting doesn't have to be upset.
 

June 9  Ranier to Astoria

This was a hard day with long climbs until finally I had to get off and walk the rest of one long hill.  Butt hurt.  It was just a long day on a busy road with a narrow shoulder.  Trucks and cars did not deviate as they passed at full speed.  They apparently trust bikes to stay straight, or take the consequences.  The shoulders are the bike lanes, so they are marked with "Yield to bicycles" where there is a turning to the right.

I stopped a lot.  Had a milkshake and a piece of marionberry pie a la mode that was wonderful. The marionberry is a cross between a large blackberry and a raspberry, just delicious.

We thankfully limped into Astoria found a cheap motel and warmed up.  We were cold.  I had a hot hot shower, turned up the thermostat.  After dinner we both had a lazy evening.  I watched "As Good As it Gets."  All day I had mentally catalogued what I would send back home.  My bike was too heavy so I could barely lift it.  Also, I had very little spare space.

June 10  Astoria to Cannon Beach

We planned a late start so that Gary could buy a long sleeved T-shirt.  All he had were two short sleeved cotton Ts!  And he says he hates the cold.

I left behind in the motel:

flip flops - no weight but bulky
hand cream
quickick ( a powdered sports drink)

I put my face cream in an empty ibuprofen container, threw away the jar, and consolidated the calcium and other pills into one container instead of three. Overall I must have saved maybe two pounds.

Today was much easier and I did the hills much more comfortably. The route was beautiful with narrow country roads winding through a forest of Douglas Fir and  alongside rivers.  It was so peaceful after the roar of US 30.  Flowers: deep pink foxgloves, cyclamen, crocus, tiny 1/2 inch daisies, just like England.  Masses of colorful rhododendrons.

At the town of Seaside we rode along the Esplanade, seeing the sandy beach, dunes, grass, rocks in the water, silver gray and misty.

I tried to sell my fenders to a local bike shop but no go.

June 14

We camped at Cannon Beach Monday night and went out for dinner.  Beautiful sea front looking out over the haystacks---hunks of rock left standing in the sea after erosion of the shore.  The campground was set among huge douglas firs, very beautiful.  It rained during the night.  I was warm and cozy, confident that my tent would stay dry, but by morning some water had seeped from underneath so my sleeping bag was wet in places.  It was unpleasant packing a wet tent.

It rained all day!  Perfectly horrid.  My bike and I were filthy, but the fenders, which were to have deflected the mud and water, were still riding on top of the sleeping bag.

I had a flat in the rain and so did Gary.  These took a while to fix so that we were both frozen.  At Manzanita we found an excellent restaurant and ate bowls of hot clam chowder with homemade bread.  I stopped shivering violently.

We were set on reaching Tillamook, so I took off at a terrific pace and waited for Gary at a junction about 2-3 miles down the road.  He didn't show up, so I assumed he had bike trouble, and eventually, reluctantly, rode back up two hills to the restaurant.  There was absolutely no sign of him so I concluded he had quit and turned back.

I went on, of course, and reached Tillamook and the luxury of a motel, heat, and hot water, and the opportunity to do laundry  and hose down the bike.

But I learned the hard way that the restaurants in small towns close early and it's more important to eat first then do laundry, so my dinner consisted of a sandwich!  From Tillamook, I went to Rose Lodge, very steep hills, but with wonderful sights of the Pacific shoreline.

June 16

I was pretty tired this day, and soon stopped for a second breakfast.  There I met Ed, a young burly guy, who said he had started from Ohio in February and expected to meet with friends from Switzerland for a two-year bicycle tour around the world.  We ate breakfast together, and it turned out he was a bike mechanic, had all the tools, so he fixed the fenders.  At last I'm prepared for rain. (Note: it didn't rain for two more months.)

June 17

I rode up the Mackenzie Pass, rising 4000 feet in 11 miles, and felt almost every inch. At one point I stopped to pant at a trail head. I was short on water, but before I could start scouting for it, a man asked if I needed some.  I said "YES!" so he filled my Camelback AND water bottle.  Then he asked if I would like a baloney sandwich.  I said "YES!" so he gave me two, with both ketchup and mustard.  Also a piece of pizza.  It turns out he is a cyclist, too.  He and his family were traveling to visit relatives in Oregon and were glad to unload their remaining food.  I would have been in bad shape without it, as there were no restaurants, stores etc.  Bad planning on my part.

Near the top of the pass the chain got totally jammed between the hub and the cassette, so I walked to a spot off the road to fix it.  Everything had to come off the bike so I could tip it upside down.  The day before, I had POURED oil on the chain so it was coated with black grease.  I got it all over my hands and everything I touched, no matter how delicately I moved.  The only way I could free the chain was by brute strength, just yanking at it.  I was filthy - and swearing vigorously.  My hands are terrible now, black rimmed nails.

In the evening I stayed at the City Park Campground in Sisters.  I put my tent on a site next to another tent.  Almost immediately a man, Mike, came over to comment on my bike and my ride.  He offered me a beer.  It was cold, fresh, sparkling, and absolutely the best beer I've had in ages (even though it was a Bud).  Such nice people.  He and his wife Marcie drove me into town for dinner.  In the morning, Mike offered to make me coffee.  Really kind.  They were from Alaska.

The park had no showers!  It was just a public rest room, so I avoided paying the $10 over night fee, especially as the park wasn't all that clean.

Sisters is a neat town.  The equivalent of the Bass family have dolled it up, so it is very pretty with a lot of good quality tourist stores.

June 18

Today I planned an easy ride from Sisters, named after the Three Sisters volcanic peaks, which were still snow covered, to a campground about 8 miles beyond Prineville, maybe 50 miles total.

Finally I'm beginning to settle into the trip. Up to now I've given only a cursory glance at the Pacific, the haystacks off shore, the forests, and the lava beds along the MacKenzie Pass, and said uh-huh, nice.  Then returned to the sheer business of getting the bike along the road.

Packing each morning takes an hour, the rolling of the Thermarest, the stuffing of the sleeping bag into its yellow waterproof bag, the packing of the panniers (they have a total of 22 pockets and I have a list of what goes where, but still I sometimes toss out everything in a frantic search for say, clean socks), then placing it all on the bike.  It takes time.

Then I've been working on various problems such as getting the computer set to my tire size, etc.

But finally I'm really enjoying the ride.

Today I stopped in Redmond to visit the bike shop.  I wanted something to clean the filthy chain.  Also more tube patches.  I asked the bike shop owner if he would pump up my tires as my little hand pump doesn't do a good job.  I said I thought one tire could hold 95-125 lbs. psi.  He didn't check the tire to make sure I was right, but aired it up.  He suggested a restaurant for lunch.

At the restaurant I propped the bike outside and went in to wash my filthy paws.  A waitress announced, as I came out of the washroom, "Your tire has exploded, everyone wondered what it was."  So I ate my lunch, then began to change the tube.  One of the customers came to offer help, but I said I was OK.  As I stood by my bike, looking like a bicyclist with all this touring stuff, an older woman popped out of the restaurant, cigarette in hand, looked at me indignantly and asked, "When did they change to nonsmoking?"  Anyway, I replaced the tube, which was in shreds. Another customer offered help to drive me to a gas station to air the tires.  She took the old tube, for what purpose I have no idea.  I decided to go back to the bike shop to check the tire as it seemed so easy to slip it on the wheel now.

I couldn't fully blame the guy because I had said 95-125 psi, but on the other hand, he should have checked, but I didn't want to demand a new tube even so.

Anyway, I selected a new tube and he wouldn't let me pay for it.

Idaho

Idaho is very beautiful.  The route followed the Salmon River for a day or two-- sparkling clean, fresh water, rushing over rocks, with mountains all around covered with these tall green pointed fir trees--probably Douglas firs, and with a bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds.  What an idyllic setting
.
But, I'm not really a forest person, so when the route began to follow the Lochsa River, on a duller day, I actually found it monotonous.  Two nights ago I camped at Powell.  This is not actually a place, just a name.  There is a US National Forest campground there, but it had no showers, no water at the campsite, had to be toted from the rest room area.  Can you imagine biking all day in quite warm weather, and no shower at the end?  I know, the pioneers didn't have showers either, and generally had a much harder time of it, but I felt claustrophobic, the trees were everywhere!  It was a great relief to say good bye to the Lochsa River--nothing personal-- and climb yet another mountain pass--1500 feet in about 13 miles so it could have been worse, and enter Montana and finally have a view again.

Saddle
My saddle suddenly became a hostile place.  After ten days of being fairly comfortable, my bones began to feel very sore.  I'm taking mega doses of Ibuprofen every day.  No matter how I tweak my rear end around, there is no good spot on that saddle.  I'm hoping the bike shop in Missoula can make some subtle adjustments.

June 30  Lowell to Powell, Idaho,
This was a 66-mile day, with NO services from point to point.  I carried a lot of water and snacks.  Over the 66 miles I gained 2000 feet in elevation, so although this was very gradual, nevertheless it was pretty tiring.  I was totaled when I reached Powell.  About 15 miles before Powell, the Disabled Vets Association had set up a coffee stop, and their ice cold lemonade just about saved my life, as I had drunk almost every drop of water.  I do have iodine tablets so could have scooped some from the Lochsa if desperate.

July 2  Missoula
Today  is a rest day.  I slept late, then went downtown to the Adventure Cycling organization, the one that developed the bike route that I am following.  My bike has a 1:00 pm appointment for a minor tune-up.  It makes a horrible clank from time to time and the brakes are really cruddy.  I'm also hoping that they can adjust the saddle for me.  Maybe I just need to develop a leather butt.

I've also had my hair cut, feels great.  Its REALLY short and I hope will look smooth when I remove my helmet.  (Of course, I haven't used a blow dryer since I left home, nor any makeup because I'm pretty tanned by now, so generally I look a homely soul.)  Then after my bike is fixed, I plan to read and snooze by my tent.  We're at a KOA campground.  It is so big, it's like a miniature city but very nice in its way.  Showers of course! and laundry.  Geoff, who flew in from Scotland, joined me in Baker City.  He hurt his knee a week before leaving and it is still a problem, but I think he plans to continue and ignore the pain.  We are planning curried shrimp for dinner, with rice and wine.  Like to join us?