70.14 miles (Total: 4028.12) Avg Speed: 11.6mph Max Speed: 35.5mph
Some of us woke with sore heads this morning, Jessica was hungover but I had just slept head on concrete after my inflatable pillow was punctured. We road just out of town to the only place to get breakfast. One woman was running the show and was getting so stressed with the amount of people to serve (about eight people) she told us to inform other cyclist they cannot get breakfast there because she can’t cope. She then rambled about how the government punishes you too much for earning more which is why she didn’t want to work any harder than she had too.
Asleep on the floor without a pillow.
Not cyclist friendly.
Once on the road we made our way through fossil beds and canyons, Oregon seems to have every landscape rolled into one state, similar to California. One large climb was the order of the day as usual so I hooked up some Simon & Garfunkel happily spinning away up the mountain. I got excited at one stage thinking I had seen a bear for sure. I pulled over when a black creature with legs meandered through the trees, then I caught a full glimpse, it was a cow. :(
Still going, but I enjoy climbs remember.
After a descent back down into the valley we stopped for an all-you-can-eat salad and soup bar. A few bowls later I was feeling refreshed and ready to ride the others were maybe still recuperating from last nights free wine, a 40 mile haul to Sisters seemed pretty big for Terry too who wanted to spend some time in the library so me, Wim and Jessica headed towards Redmond. Riding with a hangover, a ‘Rideover’ was the phrase I coined. Siemen had decided he was definitely going to Sisters today so pressed on ahead of us as storm clouds came in and lightning crack the mountain sides in the distance.
We got a room at the Village Squire Inn, a pretty shabby motel but we didn’t feel like hunting around town. After Terry caught up we went to do laundry then grabbed some dinner whilst discussing tomorrows ride. There is no rush to get to the coast as we all have plenty of time but its so tangibly close now we are all getting restless. Therefore we hatched a plan to make it the day after tomorrow meaning a 115 mile day to Eugene and then an 85 mile day to the coast rather than splitting the ride up over 3 days.
Some heads were sorer than others that morning — Jessica nursing a proper hangover, while I’d simply slept with my head against concrete after the pillow finally gave up the ghost the night before. We rode just out of town to the only breakfast option around, run entirely by one woman who was very obviously drowning under the demands of maybe eight customers. She asked us, with real exasperation, to tell any cyclists we passed not to bother stopping, because she couldn’t cope with any more of us. Then, unprompted, she launched into a rant about how the government punished anyone for earning too much, which was exactly why she had no intention of working any harder than she already did.
Asleep on the floor without a pillow.
Not cyclist friendly.
Out on the road we rode through fossil beds and canyons — Oregon seems determined to cram every landscape it owns into one state, California-style. One big climb was on the agenda, same as most days by now, so I put on some Simon & Garfunkel and spun happily up the mountain. For one thrilling second I was sure I’d spotted a bear, a dark shape working its way through the trees on four legs. It was a cow.
Still going, but I enjoy climbs remember.
The descent dropped us back into the valley for an all-you-can-eat salad and soup bar, and a few bowls in I felt entirely restored — more than most of the others, who were still nursing the previous night’s free wine. Forty miles to Sisters looked too much for Terry, who wanted library time instead, so Wim, Jessica and I peeled off toward Redmond on our own. Riding hungover, I decided, deserved its own word: a Rideover. Siemen had made up his mind he was reaching Sisters that day regardless and pressed on ahead of us as storm clouds gathered and lightning began cracking against the distant mountainsides. By day’s end we’d covered seventy careful miles, enough to push the running total past four thousand for the trip — a milestone none of us thought to mention out loud.
We took a room at the Village Squire Inn, a shabby little place we settled on mainly because none of us felt like shopping around town for anything better. Terry rolled in eventually, and between us we did laundry, found dinner, and got to talking about the days ahead. There’s no real rush to the coast when you’ve got time to spare, but it’s close enough now — properly, tangibly close — that all of us are getting restless for it. So instead of stretching the last stretch over three easy days, we settled on two: a hundred and fifteen miles to Eugene tomorrow, then eighty-five more to the water itself.
2 comments from 2010
The last few updates have been great Rye, everyone is looking forward to seeing you x
A bloody cow! Ryan, I've been rooting for a bear encounter since you hit grizzly country... now it seems the closest you've come is a stuffed-specimen and a mistaken bovine. Bah! Next time you've got a couple of weeks to kill, head my way: I'll bag you your bear :-) Btw, the laundromat pic is fantastic.