Day 56 Daunted Courage, August 24, 2013

We spent the day enjoying the hospitality of friends new and old.  Steve and Cath treated us to a leisurely breakfast and wowed us with photos from their travels around this beautiful part of the Pacific Northwest: a bald eagle with wings extended and talons embedded in a fish it was pulling out of the sea, glistening snows on Mt. Hood, the winding path up Beacon Rock, a panorama of the mist-covered Columbia River Gorge, etc.  Not only do Steve and Cath live in a remarkably beautiful part of the world, they take the time to appreciate their surroundings.  That is a quality I am trying to cultivate in myself and my children. 

In the late morning, Steve and Cath drove my sister Becky, Sho, Saya and me (and our bikes – see pic) from Vancouver to NW Skyline Drive just west of Portland.  That is where my good friends Brad and Lisa Graff live.  They are hosting us for two nights before we cycle away on Monday morning on the final leg of our trip.  We hope to reach the Pacific Ocean on Tuesday or Wednesday.

And waiting at Brad and Lisa’s for us was my wife Eiko, whom we had not seen since July 5!  Watching Sho and Saya hug their mommy and hold on to her was touching.  It felt so good to be reunited as a family again.  Eiko was not able to join our bike trip until now because of commitments at her job at the United Nations and because she took off two weeks last month to fly to Japan to be with Arisa, her 22-year-old niece who is battling Leukemia and just received a bone marrow transplant.  Sho, Saya and I have talked about Arisa every day of this bike trip, how cruel cancer is, how frustrating to be confined to a hospital room for eight months (and counting).  Arisa rode with us for two weeks when we cycled the circumference of Iceland in 2011, and we can’t wait for her to hurry up and kick cancer’s butt so that she can join us on our next bike adventure.

Brad and Lisa live in an exquisite home with stunning views of Mount Adams, St. Helens and Rainier.  We hiked through their property, identifying elk, deer and coyote tracks, and picked blackberries to put in a cobbler.  As I stared out at the fir tree covered vista and regal mountains, I thought about how much of this scene resembles what Lewis & Clark saw as they struggled through over 200 years ago.  And how that scene was similar to what the Native Americans had witnessed for 10,000 years prior.  Despite industrialization and the tremendous explosion of the human population across the planet, so much wilderness remains, beckoning each of us to listen to sounds that are billions of years old, reconnect with the wild that resides in us all, and reminding us that it is our unique responsibility to preserve all that we can.

Here are some pics:

Steve, Saya, Cath, me, Sho

Our bikes on Steve's trailer

Reunited with Mommy!

Sho picking blackberries

Lisa picking blackberries

Eiko picking blackberries

The view from Brad and Lisa Graff's home

Day 55 Daunted Courage, August 23, 2013

Route: Hood River to Multnomah Falls, OR (by bike); Multnomah Falls to Vancouver, WA (by car)

Saya's (age 6) conversation of the day:

 Saya: "Daddy, do you think the bad guys will attack us some day?"

 Me: "I doubt it.  And I bet the bad guys may even change into good guys.  We all have the ability to change."

 Saya: "Wait, so that means we might turn into bad guys?"

Pedaling out of Hood River, I knew we had officially left behind the hot, arid terrain we’ve experienced over the past week when Saya asked for extra long pants, a jacket and ear warmers.  After some necessary but unpleasant miles riding on the broad shoulder of I-84, we left the booming noise of the traffic and rode on peaceful back roads.  We took a break from cycling to eat wild blackberries and pet some friendly goats.  Sho looked for poisonous berries using his book on edible and medicinal plants, and we savored the moist, earthy smell of a dense fir tree forest as we cycled on the comfortable, paved trails through Sheridan State Park.  Sho and Saya were particularly excited by the Cascade Fish Hatchery, where we watched young salmon attempt to jump through an impressively difficult chute of flowing water. 

Today’s most unusual experience came shortly after leaving the fishery, where the bike trail presented us with 60 steps up a set of concrete stairs.  We unloaded our panniers, unhooked the trailer and carefully carried everything to the top of the stairs before re-loading the bikes.  I'm not complaining -- this was nothing compared to the typical portage Lewis & Clark faced.  After returning to the truck tire-strewn shoulder of I-84 for five miles, we spent the rest of today’s ride enjoying the Historic Columbia River Highway until we reached the sparkling white waters of Multnomah Falls.  There, we met Steve Getsinger who drove us to his home in Vancouver, Washington.  

My good friend Brad Graff, who will host us in Portland, called this switch to a car “cheating,” but I’d prefer to think of it as good manners.  We met Steve eleven days ago on the top of Lolo Pass (he took the photo of us celebrating our successful crossing of the Rockies), and he invited us to have dinner and spend the night at his home.  We accepted and estimated that we would arrive in Vancouver tonight.  But because of Becky’s many flat tires yesterday, we couldn’t make it all the way.  Rather than leave Steve and his wife Cath with a large Chinook salmon to split between the two of them, I accepted his offer to pick us up. 

Steve and Cath were excellent hosts, and the meal was outrageously delicious.  As we ate, Cath asked Sho to share his happiest, saddest, scariest and funniest experiences on our ride.  Sho answered:

Happiest: making it over the Rocky Mountains

Saddest: learning that our cat Boo Boo had died

Scariest: when a truck passed very close to our bikes on the descent from Lolo Pass

Funniest: that we call farts while cycling “turbo boosts”

I’ve mentioned several times in this blog that the best part of our trip has been the kindness of strangers.  We had the pleasure of spending time with two more strangers today, and they have already become friends.

Here are some pics:  

On the road

My sister Becky's new boyfriend

Eating wild blackberries

Sheridan State Park

Baby salmon practicing

Portaging my bike up steps on the bike path

Family pic

Laying down to capture the perfect shot at Multnomah Falls

The remarkably beautiful Columbia River Gorge

Steve, Cath and Saya with our Chinook salmon dinner.  Life is good.

Day 54 Daunted Courage, August 22, 2013

Route: The Dalles to Hood River, OR

Since she started riding with us in Walla Walla, my sister Becky has had eight flats on the rear tire of her bike.  We patched some tubes, replaced others, looked for embedded glass or goatheads in the tire, but could not figure out what was going on.  Before leaving The Dalles this morning, we brought her bike to Salmon Cyclery, where the owner Dave (who is a competitive Master’s cyclist and a volcanologist – how cool is he?) injected sealant into the rear tube that would automatically fill any small puncture.  We were only a few miles out of town when the tire got another flat, despite the sealant.  Frustrated, we made our way back to Salmon Cyclery, where Dave diagnosed the problem: with the extra weight of the panniers, the rim tape was not strong enough to protect the tube from the heads of the spokes, which punctured the tube when the wheel when over bumps.  We replaced the rim tape, and finally got under way at 1:30 p.m.   

We only cycled about 25 miles today, but they were among the most beautiful miles of this entire trip.  We followed the Historic Columbia River Highway, which was completed in 1922, the first paved highway in the Pacific Northwest.  The route has been designated a National Scenic Byway, meaning the road itself is considered a destination.  Most motorists take the flat, efficient I-84 that runs beside the Columbia River.  We were passed only occasionally by vehicles as we made our way up the long, winding climb in the shadows of towering basalt cliffs.  The climb was physically taxing, but we were rewarded for our effort with stunning views of the Columbia River Gorge from Rowena Crest.  From this viewpoint, we could easily discern the transition from the rocky, arid countryside we’ve been cycling through for the past week to lush, wet tree-covered landscapes typical of the Pacific Northwest.  It was almost as if someone had drawn a crooked line down the steep slopes to delineate the two radically different climates.  The dry bunchgrass prairies to the east were replaced with lush grasslands, dense fir trees and trickling waterfalls to the west. 

We pedaled through the small town of Mosier with plans to take the Historic Columbia River Highway State Trail, which is designated for cyclists and pedestrians only.  However, I missed the turnoff for the trail and led our hardy crew up a steep, 2-mile dirt road climb to nowhere.  I finally realized my mistake, and we walked our bikes back down the steep, slippery slope.  Becky, Sho and Saya did not complain about the wasted effort, but I was annoyed at myself for missing the turn -- it was pretty obvious once we found it.  Today was one of those days when you just don’t cover much distance, despite your best efforts.

The views of the Columbia River Gorge from the trail were breathtaking, but Sho and Saya decided that their favorite part of the ride were the Mosier Twin Tunnels.  Near the tunnel entrance, the wall is engraved with the words: “Snowbound: Nov 19 – 27, 1921” next to the names of people trapped in the tunnel by a blizzard and avalanche.  Locals from Mosier eventually rescued the people, arriving with flasks of brandy to lift their spirits.   

I chose to lift my spirits with a Belgian blonde beer in Hood River, where we spent the night, hoping for more efficient travel in the morning.

Here are some pics:

With Dave after diagnosing the flat tire drama

Sho

Saya

With my sister Becky at Rowena Crest

Sho, Saya, Becky

Snowbound!

Day 53 Daunted Courage, August 21, 2013

Route: Roosevelt, WA to The Dalles, OR

Saya’s (age 6) quote of the day: “Daddy, this is my happiest day.  I blew a bubblegum bubble for the first time.”

I awoke just as the sun was starting to climb over the riverside bluffs beneath thin drifts of clouds, gentle brush strokes in the sky.  I stood by the glistening, quietly lapping waters of the Columbia River, appreciating the scene, and vowed to watch the sun rise more often.  If you can slow down long enough and lose yourself in a sunrise, I swear you can hear the universe breathing. 

Last night’s full moon was special.  It had appeared over the bluffs not far from where the sun was now rising, a full glowing orb demanding your attention.  The moon had just been at perigee, the closest point it would get to earth this cycle, when its circumference is noticeably larger than normal, and when it exerts maximum gravitational pull.  It was also a blue moon, meaning it was the third of four full moons in a season.  That’s rare, as the phrase “once in a blue moon” implies.  The next blue moon won’t happen until 2015. 

As I stood quietly by the water’s edge, appreciating this beautiful scene, I felt privileged.  Not just to enjoy a gorgeous sunrise, but to have spent nearly two months cycling with my children, slowing down time before they grow up and leave home.  Our ride will soon end, and I’ve started to savor the fleeting moments that remain.

Sho, Saya and my sister Becky were soon up, and after disassembling our tents and loading gear on our bikes, we shared breakfast with Jim, the other cyclist with whom we had bonded during last night’s battle, which I decided to call “Sprinklermageddon.”  Jim, who had recently retired, was headed east, riding solo for a few months across the U.S.  He had been diagnosed three years ago with Type 1 diabetes, but didn’t let that keep him from taking this ambitious trek.  I love people like that – no excuses.  Just figure out how to do what you set out to do.

Becky, Sho, Saya and I cycled around 55 miles today through the Columbia Gorge, spoiled by a series of beautiful vistas.  The conical, snow-covered form of Mount Hood came into view, the first mountain in the Cascade chain we’ve seen, drawing appreciative oohs and ahhs from Sho and Saya.  We made it to The Dalles, the end of the overland Oregon Trail and where Lewis & Clark set up camp in 1805 and again in 1806.  Before then, Native Americans had lived and traded in this area for some ten thousand years.

We were treated to a dramatic sunset, ruddy clouds glowing for a few minutes before finally fading to gray.  It was a fitting end to a day that was full of reminders to slow down, quiet your mind and appreciate each moment like a gift. 

Here are some pics:

Sunrise over the Columbia River

Sho starting to disassemble the tent

Sho, Saya and I with Jim, our fellow soldier in Sprinklermageddon

View from the road

My sister Becky, Saya and Sho

With Saya and a passing train.  Mt. Hood in the distance.

The cycling crew

Sunset from The Dalles