Our Oregon Trail

After 7 days of riding, we are taking a day off in Baker City, Oregon. We either did not have a connection or did not have the time/energy to blog during this segment, so we are catching up with things from our previous day off in Eugene a week ago.

We left Eugene Thursday morning under threatening skies. Within an hour, we were in a light drizzle, and then the rain began to fall steadily. We put on our rain gear while waiting for a one lane road closure to allow us pass (we waited for all the cars to go by, then we rode grandly through - not sure how much longer the other direction had to wait for us after all the cars had passed through). One of the nice things about these lane closures is that the traffic comes in spurts afterwards, so we have long segments of quiet road in between.

The rain lasted about 30 minutes, then with sunshine and a tail wind we had a gorgeous day riding along the McKenzie River. Relatively flat, but with a gradual rise as we progressed towards the Cascades. About 2pm, the clouds began to form again behind us. We were hoping to reach a campground that was part way up the road to Santiam Pass, but the storm was clearly brewing around us and beginning to close in from all sides. Praying a rosary may have helped to hold back the storm for a while, because we continued for about an hour after it looked like we were going to get dumped on. As we were approaching the outskirts of the little village of McKenzie Bridge, all hell broke loose: heavy rain, wind and hail started to pound down on us. About 100 meters ahead we saw the General Store, and began pedaling for our lives, literally. We reached it just as the thunder and lightning began, parked the bike and ran inside. There, we were greeted by the owner and his mother, who provided us with a warm and dry place to sit it out. Very helpful, they called ahead to the Belknap Hot Springs Resort, where we were able to rent a cabin for the night since there was still the threat of serious weather through the night. Once the rain had passed, we rode the six remaining miles to the resort, very thankful for the roof and assistance we had received.

Also staying at Belknap that evening, and equally thankful for the safe shelter, were a couple from the UK, John and Jan Bell. They were on a 70 day tour with the aim of riding coast to coast and ending up in Washington D.C.

Our trip over Santiam Pass on Friday started out with a little steeper road than the previous day, and very little traffic. Before long we passed the campgrounds we had planned on staying at the night before, again thankful that we had found better shelter. Still riding along the McKenzie River, we rode through some lava flows that had occurred 3000 years ago, and which had passed across the river, creating several beautiful waterfalls. Second breakfast was served at the lodge at Clear Lake, fantastic pancakes with a wonderful view. The weather was not great, however, with a low ceiling and very cool. As we rode higher, the ceiling continued to get closer and closer. Our intention for the day was to camp somewhere near the top of the pass to enjoy the view and the high country, but the weather was not going to permit us to enjoy it, so we decided to push on over the pass.

As we approached the final downhill before the final uphill, we stopped to rest and a car pulled alongside. The driver asked if we had seen John and Jan, as she was carrying their things for them. Apparently they had met at breakfast and the resort, and after a nice conversation, she had offered to do baggage service for them and they had accepted (very smart). Only problem was that she had not listened carefully and so could not recall where she was to meet them. We had left before John and Jan, and had not seen them go by us, so we figured they must have passed us while we were eating at Clear Lake. We all pushed on and it wasn't long before we came upon John and Jan and the baggage sag clarifying the plan about a mile from the top.

So we crossed the Cascades over Santiam Pass (4817') on Friday, June 5 and headed down into Sisters. What a fantastic downhill ride, accompanied by ever increasing warmth and sunshine as we headed into the valley. As we came around a corner there, directly ahead, was Black Butte, an extinct volcanic cone that rises on its own about 10 miles from Sisters. Stopping at a vista point, we were able to see several of the closer mountains, but Mt. Washington and the Sisters themselves were obscured by the cloudy weather in the mountains, so we were glad with our decision to continue rather than remain in obscurity. We camped that evening in Sisters City Park, sharing a campsite and the fee ($12 total) with John and Jan. We enjoyed a couple of really good beers and a steak with them, and found the City Park to be a great location and campground.

John and Jan disappeared before we arose at 6 that morning, they are very early risers, but we were planning to meet up with then again at Ochoco Lake, east of Prineville that evening. We headed out about 8:30, using the eastern exit from the park. Unfortunately (or fortunately as will soon be revealed) we didn't realize that our road split off from the highway between the two entrances, and so we headed off towards Bend instead of Redmond. What a fantastic view we came across: the three Sisters in full view. Magnificent, snow covered volcanoes that rise above 10,000 feet, they are the third, fourth and fifth highest peaks in Oregon. They now go by the names of North, South and Middle Sister but the early settlers called them Faith, Hope and Charity - I prefer the old names.


We discovered our mistake about 3.5 miles later, when we came upon the KOA campground and Teresa said, "I think we're going the wrong way, that's supposed to be on US20". So we turned around and headed back. Lo and behold, there we were facing Mt. Jefferson, another snow covered volcano that rose 10,500 feet and is the second tallest mountain in Oregon. Only Mt. Hood is taller. So, one of the benefits of our mistake was that we were able to get great views of these fantastic peaks that we likely would not have seen.


Once returning to our correct path, we rode to Redmond for second breakfast. Afterwards, we took a shorter but less scenic route to Prineville to compensate somewhat for the early mileage addition. We arrived in Prineville in time for lunch, and found a nice little sandwich shop where we ate outside. While munching away, a fellow rode up to us and commented on our bike and load. We told him about our plans for the tour as well as our destination for the day, which was about 8 miles further to the east and downwind. Since it was Saturday, we had planned to go to Mass in Prineville that evening at 6pm, which would require us to ride back into town against the wind, have dinner in town, and then head back. Teresa asked him whether there was a taxi service that could pick us up for church. He asked which church, which was St. Joseph's in Prineville. He said that was his church, and why not have us stay at his house in town, it would be much easier. So, we stayed with Jim and Anna that evening, and they graciously asked us to have dinner with them, Jim took us to Mass, we used their laundry, enjoyed a couple of beers with them, and had a wonderful home stay.


Sunday morning we arose early and Jim prepared excellent coffee with beans that he roasted himself. We enjoyed first breakfast and morning prayer together, and they sent us off with several pieces of the grilled chicken from the previous night's dinner, some cherries, almonds and their blessings and newfound friendship. We hope they will get a chance to visit us in Modesto some day. And we are very thankful that we were sent in the wrong direction, because we would not have been at that sandwich shop at that time for Jim to ride up and ask us about our trip.


Sunday was slightly overcast, which was not unwelcome to keep us cool. We passed Ochoco Lake where we had planned to camp and saw that we would not have been disappointed. Our route would take us over Ochoco Pass at 4720', an 1800' climb which proved to be not too difficult as we had wind at our back and only a few steep grades. As we approached the summit, we came upon two cyclists who said "Hey, we heard about you!" I asked if it was from the Brits, which it was. They had camped at Ochoco Lake with them the night before.

Reaching the summit, we stopped to get a photo, and met a guy coming up the other side. He and three others were doing a 4-day circuit of 80-100 miles per day, carrying only a change of clothes and a credit card. As we started down, the second one came up, and then about 3 miles later we found the other two.


What a downhill! 13 miles of continuous smooth pavement and sweeping turns, accompanied by vista after vista of mountains, valleys, forests and streams. Every so often we would see cattle grazing and irrigated pastures or forage crops. It seemed like the downhill would never end. Sadly, we did find bottom but it was at the entrance to one of the John Day Fossil Beds, with a marvelous geologic striation of many colors. We thought about going to get a closer look, but it was 6 miles away on uncertain terrain, and we wanted to have a somewhat short day. So we went on to Mitchell, a small town of less than 200 that once boasted a thriving lumber industry.


Our first impression of Mitchell was a very good one, at the "Get your fix on Route 26 Espresso" drive-in coffee stand. Great espresso and a very warm and friendly proprietor. After getting our fix, we proceeded the "Route 26 Business Loop" which took us past several run-down looking shops, a couple of cafes, a general store, and the city park. We understood that we could camp in the city park, and so we checked it out. Lo and behold, the park had most of the essential services and a garden hose to rinse off with. Best of all, it was free! We setup camp, talked to some other cyclists who were leaving, saw the couple from the pass come in (Aaron and Laurenz), hit the general store for batteries and beer, met four guys who provide guided fishing tours (gourmet, with all the trimmings) on the nearby John Day River, and ate at one of the cafes where we met a waitress who had grown up in Manteca. We couldn't figure out where everyone lived until we took a walk up the hill and found the actual town, including the school (Home of the Loggers) and the First Baptist Church that was built in 1894. In one of the shop windows were some old newspaper postings and historical information, including a few obituaries from the early 1900's. We were astounded to read the beautiful language that the local writer used to describe the unfortunate death of a young girl caused by appendicitis, and felt saddened not so much by the event as by the passing of such a genteel age and way of expression.


Monday we were immediately climbing, after espresso of course, with the first 7 miles a quite steep grade. This set us up for a splendid descent along a beautiful creek for the next 30 miles or so. At times relatively flat with a broad valley, at others we found ourselves in a narrow canyon with steep and towering sides. The creek eventually emptied into the John Day River, and we rode a couple miles out of our way to see the Condon Visitor Center in the John Day Fossil Bed national historical area. The fossils found here represent the time period from 5-45 million years ago, all mammalian or plant, and are believed to be the largest and most diverse such collection in the world. The center does a fine job of providing the actual fossils along with a backdrop that shows how the living creatures would've, could've appeared in likely settings. We enjoyed lunch at the center and then headed to Dayville for the evening.

Two very cool things about Dayville, a small town of less than 150. First, the Presbyterian Church permits cyclists to stay overnight in the small church itself, which includes a shower, laundry, kitchen, dining area and the sanctuary (you are allowed to sleep in the sanctuary but not on the pew pads). It is free, but donations are appreciated and the stove and refrigerator have been purchased as a result of cyclist donations. What a blessing this was, the shower was great, the price even better, and we could cook our meals without having to break into our gear. We enjoyed a great spaghetti dinner with Aaron and Laurenz, all parties chipping in food and cooking skills.

The second cool thing about Dayville is that the Mercantile store carries an odd assortment of bicycle parts. After leaving the visitor center we had 9 miles between us and Dayville. With about 5 to go, Teresa noticed a rubbing sound coming from the rear wheel. I couldn't hear anything, so we continued. Eventually it got worse (I could hear it now, so it must really be happening) and we stopped for her to take a look. I suggested she check the spokes in case one had broken (this would cause a rubbing) and as she was doing this she noticed a bulge in the tire that ran at an angle from one side to the other. Not something you can fix on the road, so we continued with care. As we got closer to Dayville, the sound increased as the bulge got bigger. I was relieved when we got to the Mercantile store on the edge of town, which reportedly carried some bicycle parts. When I asked the owner if she carried tires, she gave a look like I was crazy, and I understood why a little later. Her mother showed me to a backroom behind the backroom, where we found a couple boxes of bicycle odds and ends and some tires of various sizes, styles and ages. Poring over them looking for a touring tire that would fit my wheels and carry our weight, I became concerned because nothing was fitting the bill. I chose one that I thought would work but, when I got a chance to try it out, it was a little off. So I went back and this time found one that I knew would fit, but it was a triathlon tire, not one for touring - very narrow which could be succeptible to flatting in rough or stony conditions. I put it on the front, since there is less weight there, and moved the good touring front tire to the rear. And prayed.

Timidly, we started Tuesday hoping to make it all the way to Austin Junction, a crossroads with a market that allowed cyclists to camp in the back. We started quite early, about 6:30, making it to Mount Vernon for second breakfast at the Silver Spur Cafe. We had a good chat with some of the locals, learning about the local lumbering and ranching industries that have either been closed down (lumber) or are in danger of extinction (ranching). We then pushed on, following the John Day River all day, arriving in the town of John Day for a late morning reststop and moring prayer and then Prairie City for lunch. After buying groceries and trying to contact the store behind which we hoped to camp (they are closed on Tuesday and Wednesday), we saw the sky darkening quickly. We had an 1800' climb over 5300' Dixie Pass to make, about 9 miles in total, so we got started. Halfway up, it started to rain, but the rain was light and sporadic. The blessing was that it cooled things off and we had a strong tail wind. We made it up the hill in less than two hours, but by the time we got to the top we were spent. So we stayed in a USFS campground just a mile past the pass, and had the entire campground to ourselves. A very nice spot with latrines but no water, so we had to make do with no shower and using our filter pump for water from a nearby stream. Pretty quiet night, but Teresa was awakened by the clump clump clump of some heavy footed beast at some point. I was oblivious.

Wednesday was to be our last day before a day off, and we only had two climbs to make, one about 1100' and the other about 800' before a 35 mile mostly downhill to Baker City. Both passes took us over 5000' again. We started with a very cold 6 mile descent to Austin Junction, then continued down another few miles before we started back up. Between the 6 previous days of riding with many ascents and the long cold downhill before getting a chance to warmup, we found the climbing to be quite difficult and it quickly became a burden. Thank goodness for the beautiful scenery and little traffic. After the second descent, we came across the ghost town of Whitney, which had once been a lumber center but now was just some dilapidated wood frame buildings and a few abandoned trailers. The second climb nearly wiped us out, the only thing keeping us going was the knowledge a day off waited for us. As we crested and started down, the wind started into our faces and only gave up when we had adequate forest cover or were going down a steep enough grade that it didn't matter. We lunched at Phillips Lake, and then followed the Powder River through a beatiful gorge and then into a valley that led us, still into the wind, the 10 miles into Baker City.

We have thoroughly enjoyed our brief day off in Baker City, which is a neat little city of about 10,000. While the weak economy shows it presence in empty storefronts here and there, the people are very pleasant and upbeat. With mountains visible on all sides of town, and pride in the early 19th century architecture that is their hallmark and has been well preserved, the setting is quite spectacular. They also take pride in the fact the Oregon Trail originates from this location, and there is an OT Interpretive Center nearby that we hope to explore a little as we head out on Friday. They are hosting their annual 3 day motorcycle ride-in this weekend, and all the motel rooms are taken as they expect several thousand bikers (not cyclists) to converge beginning Friday. Good time to head out, I think, finish Oregon and head into Idaho.