First, let me wish all the fathers on this list a very happy Father's Day, including a special mention to my old man, Duane. The word lately is Tangerine, as that fine song by Led Zeppelin has been stuck in my head during the whole ride across Oregon (Dan Meade has alternated between "Float On" by Modest Mouse, the Hokey Pokey, and the Newport HS fight song). We're currently in Baker City, OR, and plan on camping just before the Idaho border tonight, passing through Hell's Canyon tomorrow, and camping in the yard of Holli Ogle's (a SCU friend of mine) grandmother's yard in Cambridge tomorrow.
A few pictures of us leaving the coast at Florence are attached, if anyone is interested.
The fabulous weather has continued during the 400+ miles we've ridden so far, and it's hard to believe America can get any prettier than what Oregon is like right now. A brief note on the topography of the state: contrary to popular belief (at least the popular belief of our foursome), all of eastern Oregon is not flat, as evidenced by the four mountain passes we crossed (including three on Saturday) since conquering the Cascades. It's been amazing to witness the changes in the landscape, riding from the wet, lush coast up into the steep, pine-tree covered Cascades, dropping down into the orange-red high desert near Bend, before continuing back up into the mountains of eastern Oregon (which reminds me of the Spokane area). We've witnessed the wildlife (sadly, mostly in the form of roadkill) change accordingly from racoons and birds to ground squirrels to snakes and huge caterpillars and back to squirrels and birds in the mountains.
Although nearly everyone we encounter has been nothing but kind to us, we have had a few people who, for some unknown reason, seem to not like bikers. We've had a few startling honks and hollars from passing cars, and some very unkind person threw a beer can at Harly, which fortunately missed. There are no injuries to report, although I think we all feel, as Dan Meade so aplty described it, as if we've been "kicked in the butt by a giant boot with a huge steel toe."
Mostly, the days prove to be nothing but entertaining. Riding is our one constant and evens out the wackiness we encounter in every small town we go through. For example, a 7 year old boy, fresh off his first year in elementary school, walked up to Dan Meade in the 200 person town of Mitchell and challenged him to a wrestling match (an invitation Dan politely declined), and then told me in his next breath that he didn't like me because I was "one of them city boys" (ahh, what a cute, charming kid). We've also all suffered some very minor mishaps with our bikes, but none worse than Dan Meade who has fallen off his a good four times and had a succession of three flat tires on a 17 mile stretch of highway between two towns, the last two coming only 20 yards apart (who else could that have happened to other than Dan Meade?).
Last night, we decided to set up camp somewhat illegally in the shortstop zone of a baseball field of the Baker City Sports Complex and were awakened at 3 am when the sprinklers went off, dousing our bikes, gear, and sleeping bags (we had spared ourselves the effort of setting up our tents). The doggedly pursuint sprinklers seemed to follow us to wherever we relocated on the field, including launching a very well aimed arial attack on Dan Meade who had nestled in behind the dugout wall, thinking he'd be safe there. A nice patch of concrete near the concession stand proved to be our only dry haven.
For all those thinking of meeting us in Lolo Pass, we should be there either by Saturday or Sunday, and we will call and let you know by mid-week.
Until next time,
-Nate