Day 2: St. Helens to Welches

Paul and I have made it through two days. Paul is very tired. That gives me great pleasure. Paul seems to do the rides almost effortlessly, especially riding up hills (of which there are a lot). He pedals past other riders and smiles cheerfully and says, "Hey. How's it going?' The other riders, most of whom are old enough to be Paul's parents and a few of whom could have been grandparents had they started early, look at Paul, smile weakly, and say "Fine," or "Surviving," or something like that. But they look defeated. These exceptionally fit people (for their ages) are facing the ravages of age, and it is smiling at them with generous condescension. I've promised myself that from now on, when I pass people, I'll just say, "On your left."

Were I not Paul's father, I would surely be one of his victims. I am fit for my age, but the 29 year difference in age is telling. On the flats, I can ride with my son at a pace that works for both of us, but on the hills, he has to hold back. Occasionally, I work up the energy to pass him near the crest and speed ahead for a little while, but I know that would not have been possible had he been distancing himself from me all the way up.

The only way that age seems to work for me is that I seem to have more energy left at the end of the day. I'm not sure why, but it could be that the same thing that prevents me from sprinting up hills prevents me from leaving it all on the highway. Maybe that is the one (very small) advantage of age. However, I'd bet that even that small advantage will dissipate as Paul gets stronger and stronger.

Yesterday (day 1--Astoria to St. Helens) was a beautiful day. We mostly rode on busy roads (especially as we neared Portland), but there were some respites from traffic and spectacular views. There was a lot of climbing--about 3,100 feet--but mostly at a pretty gentle pitch and also a lot of very nice downhill runs. Though there was a lot of traffic, it was mostly friendly. Three or four times, people honked their horns and cheered us on. (We were all wearing our flag-themed America by Bicycle jerseys, so I guess some locals knew we were starting a cross-country trek.) On a few occasions, we ran into locals and they asked us where we were going. The general response to "New Hampshire" was incredulity, followed by "Are you crazy?" (to which the answer is, of course, yes), or expressions of admiration, about equally split. The people at the bike shop where I had some last-minute repairs done were full of awe and envy.

As we rode on, Mt. St. Helens got bigger and bigger. It is weird looking, flat on top where the volcano exploded and iced like a messy birthday cake with snow. I had hoped to take a picture when we got close, but afternoon clouds hid the mountain. We also sometimes saw Mt. Rainier and Mt. Hood farther in the distance.

Today we approached Mt. Hood, but could never see it because it was overcast all day. Our ride leader promises us that we will at least be able to see the back side of Mt. Hood as we ride into drier eastern Oregon. We spent a little more time today on less traveled roads, although we started and ended on busy highways. The highways are not dangerous because they invariably have wide shoulders that are easily navigable by bike, and often bike lanes as well, but the constant lines of trucks (especially monster logging trucks) is disconcerting. Tomorrow, we’re promised some much more rural roads.

Most of the ride staff is attracted by the opportunity to cycle themselves. They cycle one day and drive one of the support vehicles the next. They are incredibly fit. The ride leader is Mike Munk, a 57-year-old ex-military guy who is almost surely the fastest rider in our group. He is also an avid photographer, and uses his bike skills to sprint back and forth for the best action shots of cyclists and scenery. (There's a link to his web page and photos to the right of this blog.) We'll be riding along and all of a sudden, he will fly by and either jump off his bike to photograph us coming by, or take a behind-the-back shot of us coming up from behind. After he remounts, he will sprint past again.

Between rest stop 1 and 2, Paul and I rode with Mike and his young protégé, Karen. It started out at a reasonable pace as Mike was scooting back and forth lining up the right picture angle, but after about 10 miles, Mike was done taking pictures and settled into a comfortable riding cadence to chat with Karen. I decided to draft off of them and Paul was in my slip stream, followed by a couple of other strong young riders. For the last 5 miles or so, we were averaging over 25 miles per hour. It was kind of fun, but for the first time during the ride, I actually felt my thighs burning from the exertion. Even Paul seemed to have spent a lot of energy on our pursuit. We had reason to doubt the wisdom of that game when we left the rest stop and had to tackle a 10-mile long hill.

Nonetheless, we did okay and after ice and ibuprofen seem to have survived fully intact. We also found the best hamburgers in the greater metro Portland area at a restaurant called Calamity Jane's in Sandy, OR. It turns out that a large iced tea is the size of a pitcher. I was never so grateful to be served anything at a restaurant (and was almost as grateful for the refill). The hamburgers and fries were also incredibly good.

Well, I have to sign off now. They pick up our luggage at 6:30am and we need a lot of sleep. Tomorrow is a 40 mile climb (followed by another 25 miles of rollers for fun). One of us will try to muster the energy to write about that.

Cheers,

Len

PS, We did not lose any more riders today. The rider with the separated shoulder went home today. The one with a broken collarbone is hanging on, at least for a while, providing moral support.