Day 2 (6/6): questionable decision-making

I awoke about 30 minutes before my alarm went off and wasn't sure where I was for just a minute. As things came into focus I realized that one, I could have slept another 30 minutes (longer actually as it will become evident in just a bit). Two, I already had the beginnings of a saddle store...no fun...so had to jump on that. Long day ahead and I was at a 20 mile deficit, distance-wise, for my plan - was supposed to be in Corvallis end of day one. Obviously that wasn't the case and so I planned an earlier start to make up the time.

So, note the title of day 2...perfect example this decision to leave early. It was still raining but as yesterday's rain wasn't super cold I figured that I could put up with it for a 20 mile ride. But no...this rain was cold, very cold and by the time I got to Corvallis I was non-mission capable; had to sit in the McDonald's for over an hour to recover. This essentially wiped out any benefit that leaving early might have given me. A 20 minute nav error after I left the McDonald's put me further behind the 8-ball, schedule-wise. If I had just waited 45 minutes or so before leaving the nice, warm, dry hotel room the rain would have passed...lessons learned.

Finally recovered, I headed out towards Coburg and utlimately the McKenzie Highway. My original plan to make Redmond or maybe even Prineville by end of day 2 was in the toilet but if I could get over McKenzie Pass today then Sisters was still doable. Weather was still dreary but was looking to improve and by the time I got onto McKenzie View Rd the sun was out...finally.

The ride leading up to McKenzie Highway proper is very scenic. Classic West Coast mountain views and topography - really one of the more attractive parts of the ride, at least in Oregon.

 I cruised along the road, spending a lot of time down on the aero bars which seemed to ease the workload. Eventually I ended up at McKenzie Highway where I managed to turn the wrong way, resulting in another 15 minute nav error...ugh.

This area suffered through huge wildfires in 2020 - I had actually mentioned them on Facebook during my failed attempt in 2021. While it was still clear that there had been a fire here the areas that had been burned out in 2020 seemed to be recovering, both the flora and the houses / businesses lost in the inferno. In 2021 when I came through here there were heavy logging operations underway to remove burned trees and much of the area still appeared a bit scorched. This year only the traces of those operations...piles of cut trees here, a modular office there, etc remained and everything was much greener and alive than in 2021 - nature always seems to recover if given a chance.

It took longer than I had planned to get to McKenzie Bridge (the gateway to the pass) and I was debating whether or not I was going up that evening. As I was pondering it, a westbound touring rider pulled in and almost convinced me that I should not go up due to the conditions near the summit. I almost listened to him and was actually heading to a campground near the start of the climb when Chris, one of our UK riders, pulled up alongside me. I told him about the warning from the touring cyclist but he was going to "take a crack at it" anyway. I waved at him as he left...which led me to my next foray into questionable decision-making. By the time I got to the cutoff for the pass I was going up. I never saw Chris on the climb but he's strong and his bike is light so I'm sure he flew up that climb.

Oregon has around 16 hours of useable daylight this time of year. It was 1845 and the summit was about 19 miles from the start of the climb. Now I knew that there would be some time spent in darkness but I have lights so it'll be ok, right? Well I'm alive so it turned out ok but it was a little freaky being up there in the dark. For most of the climb I still had some light and the fading glow allowed for some beautiful vistas.

Around 2130...still quite bright.

 There is still significant snow on the ground up there this time of year and as such clearing operations were ongoing during the day. As anyone who lives in snow knows snow removal is not a clean process...you don't just clear all of the snow off of the road in one step and there is always detritus left over from clearing.

Just above 3500 feet

As such there were places all along the climb with piles of snow and gravel to be avoided. While not a big deal with daylight it got increasingly dicey the closer that I got to the summit and the darker it got. All I could think about was how I would manage a blown tire in the dark, in the snow. Now, I've lived in NC all of my adult life and grew up in CA. While I had heard that there were places in the US that still had snow in June I had never seen that until this climb... blew my mind!

This towered over my bike...

Finally reached the summit around 2315...yeah took me 4+ hours to get there...it's a steep, long climb. While I was really happy to be at the summit my joy in getting there was greatly "tempered" by the fact that I was now freezing. During the last couple of miles there was this freezing mist that made everything wet and cold. My shoes were already wet from fording a foot deep stream of melt water that ran across the road and I was generally ready to get off the pass and down warmer air. I spent a few minutes getting out some additional snivel gear - I hadn't put my jacket on during the climb and now was borderline shivering. While I unpacked and packed my seatpost bag I came to notice two things beyond the cold. The first thing was that the stars were incredible up at the summit. There was no moon that night and I can't remember the last time I had seen so many stars... amazing. The second thing I noticed...or more accurately realized...was that I was not alone up there. All around me were the sounds of animals. I was able to identify fox moving around the rocks just off the road but there were other sounds...bigger sounds and it was time to get out of there.

As I wondered what the best approach to the descent would be the familiar sound of a free hub rolled in behind me. Stephan, a Swedish rider, had started the climb a little bit after me and after a moment of discussion we were off, barrelling down the mountain. Well, "barrelling" may be the wrong word as we were having to stay very aware of and navigate around patches of frost that were forming on the road before our eyes. It was like a dementor was floating over our area...looked literally just like that scene in the "Prisoner of Azkaban" when the dementor came to get Sirius Black!

A 20 minute descent (coldest I've been in forever) and we arrived in Sisters. As I was pondering what to do sleep-wise, Stephan said "let's try the Post Office". Many a TransAm racer has bivvy'd in post office lobbies across the US so lacking a better plan we headed over to the local post office. Lobby was unlocked and so in we went - it was 70 degrees in there - score!

A quick bivvy setup and that's the last thing I remember until around 430. I was going to sleep longer but post office staff started arriving and we didn't want to tempt fate that someone might have a problem with two hobos in the post office lobby.

hobo mode

Stephan

Long day