Since leaving Ashland after a day of R&R, several different experiences have occurred. On Wednesday (the 11th), after once again bidding adieu to my on-again-off-again traveling partners the prior day, I rested at the top of the Dead Indians Memorial Road Pass (the initial 14 mile climb/miles of the day), and knew that I had made the right decision to not head out on this route yesterday with Sarah and Alex ... no way in hell I could have made it to the pass due to the ride on I-5. Even after the day of rest my legs were warning me that they may well self-amputate unless I slow things down. Being a wise person, and recognizing how often I use my legs, I decided to heed my legs' warning and take it somewhat easier. The ensuing miles were enjoyable in that they were on a little traveled road (by cars) and were primarily down hill. As I am want to do in such cases, my mind began to wander ... to the point that I missed a turn and added 10 miles to the day's ride. Sadly, this is not uncommon; as a student Iwas often moved away from the window wall
After a restive evening camping, the next day I headed on on even a less trafficked road to the town of Prospect, OR. Ann Marie and Gus (Last-name-not-recognizable-due-to-my-hearing-loss) own a beautiful ranch out side of Prospect. Some time back Ann Marie was talking with a touring cyclist who mentioned that there is a lack of camping sites in the area. So, Ann Marie and Gus have set aside a beautiful park-like area for we touring cyclist to camp. Very nice people ... very generous to say the least. Sometimes I lump all "farm/rancher" folks into a distorted image of rural folks of less than urban qualities. How wrong I usually am. Ann Marie, who is 66 years old and was a competitive swimmer in her younger years, has been training and attending seminars in the San Francisco area to become certified as a swimming coach for top level competitive triathletes. As I say, very nice people.
The ride into Prospect had been a most beautiful day, and I was thinking that the following day's ride up to Crater Lake would be similar, and looking at the weather projections the "weatherman" seemed to agree. Only a 20% chance of rain. All seemed promising for a nice ride up to the Lake, followed by an easy day of riding the rim road around the Lake, then followed by another easy 35 mile day down towards Bend, OR. Ah, indeed, I was going to treat my legs well ...
... Well, seems 20% chance of rain means that the rain will fall only on the roadway, all 30 miles up to the Crater Lake campground. All the way ... up. Cold and wet ... all the way ... up. I arrived at the campground/restaurant area and asked about the projected weather for the coming night and following day .... cold (as in 30s and 40s) and wet (as in rain/sleet/snow). I decided that it did not make much sense to subject myself to such conditions, so decided to head on out of the Park. Problem is (was) that from where I was to the top of the Crater Lake Pass I had to climb about 1500 feet ... and it was nasty cold where I was! Being subject to making decisions deserving of additional and more well informed thought, I mistakenly headed on.
The climb was not so bad, but then it started to drizzle ... then it started to rain, ... then it started to sleet ... then it started to snow (nice soft individually designed show flakes) ,,, then the wind picked up and the soft snow flakes became individual ice bullets to my face. Visibility dropped to about 20 yards. And the climb continued ... and continued. Fingers, toes, ears and nose ... froze.
Sometimes we all find ourselves in a situation where the thought may be, "This really is not something or somewhere I should be or be doing". Another way of saying this kind of thought is, "Holy shit, what have I gotten myself into??" No turning around, so forge ahead. Eventually, and successfully, I reached the pass and descended down to a snowless area with the above mentioned body parts slowly thawing. Much relief.
The remaining ride to my projected overnight (motel) was downhill, so the riding was much easier and much more relaxing (but then facing a firing squad may be more relaxing than what I had experienced up at Crater Lake). As I was enjoying the ride, I came upon one of the roadside "summit signs" that we have been experiencing over the past 1200 miles ... and to my joy, I espied a note left by Sarah and Alex. While my heart was being filled with joy reading the note, I realized that they had left it just an hour and half earlier (I thought it was from the previous day). When I reached the motel that was fortunately located at about the same spot that my body quit on me, I sent a text to Sarah asking where they were that eventing ... 10 miles down the road closer to Bend. We decided I would ride the 10 miles to meet them in the morning, then we would do our "swan song ride" to Bend together, Ah, the joy.
So I spent the evening in a very inexpensive motel celebrating the coming day's reunion and having successfully stared death in the face and slept like a baby.
So much for respecting the threats from my legs.
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