Friday, August 14, 2009
60: Here There Be Cougars, Cows, and Shoe Trees, But No Dinosaurs
| Stoker's Log |
| Day Sixty |
 |
| 8/14/09 |
| From John Day, OR |
| To Mitchell, OR |
| 79.5 miles |
| 8.6 avg mph |
Even though yesterday destroyed us, we couldn't afford to take a full rest day, but we did let ourselves sleep in and enjoy a large and leisurely breakfast at the restaurant across the street. The carb overload was welcome, though we were a little disturbed when the cinnamon roll with icing came with a side of butter. We didn't get going until around 11, continuing the vicious cycle of late mornings leading to late nights leading to late mornings.
A few miles into the ride, I started to feel really dizzy, and it got bad enough that we had to stop at a park to rest. We noticed a poster on the message board warning about cougar sightings in the area and explaining what to do in the event of an encounter (look as intimidating as impossible, prepare to fight back if necessary, and never, ever, ever give into the logical urge to RUN). It was at this point that Kyle decided to tell me about the cougar the night before. I quietly flipped out over the fact that it had happened, and then over the fact that he had kept it from me, but soon I got over it and we got back on the road.
We stopped at the gas station that marked the end of town, then headed into farm and ranch country. It was a pleasant, scenic, and largely downhill ride that would have been perfect if not for the lack of bathrooms for over 3 hours. We finally made it to a park where we found bathrooms and a cyclist named Steve, a middle school math teacher also on his way West. It was still early afternoon, but he was done riding for the day, planning to spend the night at a nearby church that regularly hosted cyclists and even had showers. He suggested that we stay there too, saying that there was no way we'd make it to Mitchell. He was a nice guy, but we were really getting tired of people telling us that our plans are impossible. We couldn't justify giving up half a day of riding time at this point, so we said goodbye to him and rode on.
We were riding the Oregon Scenic Byway, which billed itself as a "Journey Through Time." The rock structures lining the road were certainly impressive.
We couldn't stop to take in the sights, however, because we really wanted to reach the Fossil Beds National Monument and Museum before it closed at 4:00. Our already fast riding transitioned into a frantic sprint with our eye on the clock as we got closer to the museum and the deadline. We went all out; I pushed harder than I ever had, with the possible exception of the time we outran storms in Kansas. With 2 miles and 5 minutes left I finally broke down, convinced that there was no way we could make it and that I was killing myself for nothing. Kyle convinced me to push it out, mostly by yelling, and we sprinted into the parking lot right at 4:00... only to find out that the museum was open until 5:30. I wanted to scream at Kyle but I didn't have the strength; I just collapsed on a bench, exhausted and mildly hysterical.
After a few minutes I pulled myself together and we went inside to see the fossils. We were very sad to discover that they dated from the Cenozoic Age, which meant there would be no dinosaurs.
Still, there were bones from a host of interesting animals, including a giraffe-horse and the "Easter bunny" (I kid you not). Their intimidating predators included a bear-dog, a giant bore,
and whatever this hungry looking guy was.
It was essentially a one-room museum, but they did well with the space they had, giving life to the bone displays with murals and sound effects.
Out in the lobby area was a glass wall that looked into the lab where the staff worked with newly discovered fossils. I was excited to see a lab tech wielding a small brush, and wondered what creature's bones she was about to dust off, but it turns out she was just reapplying her make-up. Maybe a transparent work environment isn't always a good thing.
Back outside, we checked our cell phone service -- still no bars -- and talked about whether we'd be able to find something for dinner that wasn't granola bars. A couple interrupted our forlorn conversation and asked us about our bike and our trip, and as always it was nice to be reminded that we were accomplishing something pretty amazing... assuming we pulled it off.
We got back on the road, now freer to enjoy the scenery around us (though I still took all of the photos while in motion).
We initially felt optimistic about the time, but our hope of minimizing our night-riding dwindled as we saw the climbs in front of us. We quickly realized that our last 40 miles would take us a long time and probably bring us into town well after dark. It was getting cold again too, and we still didn't have any cell service if something went wrong.
But we tried to stay optimistic, and when we stopped for a break on one of the uphills, we were greeted by an unexpected surprise. A car pulled off the road in front of us, and out jumped the couple we had met earlier at the fossil museum.
"We overheard you talking about dinner and granola bars, so we got some and came to find you," they explained as they handed us a bag of bottled water and granola bars. We had actually been complaining that we wanted anything to eat except granola bars, but it was such an amazing gesture that we accepted them wholeheartedly (and actually quite enjoyed them later). Once again, the hardest riding days introduced us to the best people.
We were also treated to two bizarre sights:
A tree covered with shoes (and remember that we're in the middle of nowhere here):
And a cow hanging out in the brush on the side of the road:
It looked slightly demonic in the twilight, and we were legitimately afraid that it would charge us, but it just glared us down as we passed by, giving it a wide berth.
At least the dogs we passed were cute and friendly.
And then, as it started to get dark, we saw another cougar. Well, Kyle saw it. Once again I literally and figuratively kept in the dark about it until the next day, and once again this may have been a good thing. With or without creatures, the night was terrifying. Our main light, at the front of the bike, was completely dead, and our headlamps were weakening. We were riding in eerie near-darkness, in the middle of nowhere, and it was cold again, a cold that slowly seeped into our bones and then blasted us unbearably on the downhills. I couldn't feel my feet, but I could feel the vibrations from Kyle's shivering behind me. How had this happened again, when today was supposed to be an "easy" day, less than 80 miles? We started wondering if we should hitch a ride, but few vehicles passed us and most may not even have realized we were there. We were beyond miserable and desperate to make it to the elusive Mitchell, but we couldn't ride any faster because of the dark and the cold. The miles stretched on and on...
We finally entered the small town and saw the illuminated Lodging sign. I yelled "It's so beautiful!" as we rolled into the silent town. We were a bit worried about whether our room would be accessible, however; without cell service we hadn't been able to call the owners to let them know that we'd be very late. We had managed to get a text through to my mom asking her to call on our behalf, but we had no idea whether it had worked until we walked in and saw a note and a key waiting for us at the otherwise empty front desk.
We fell in love with the vintage look of the place... until we realized that our room had a clawfoot bathtub, but no showerhead. We decided that drawing a bath wasn't worth it, especially since we would have to wear dirty clothing the next morning anyway, so we ate our granola bars and crawled into bed, dirty, exhausted, and relieved.
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| posted at: 06:10 |
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