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August 5, 1999 |
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With the overcast skies came rain and lightning in the distance. In places the road was wet and I was wondering when my luck was going run out. Well, I ran out of luck with the wind as a headwind picked up. After about 5 miles, I broke through the wind and calmer breezes returned. Lightning bolts crashed off in the distance and I still didn't have a plan if it got closer. Fortunately, I arrived in camp dry and thanked the heavens for my good fortunes.
Joan's Version I lost the trail near the dam and had to ride back to camp on the same road taken by Brian. My inability to right my course on the trail cost me a horrendous hill which zapped all of my energy and I arrived back at camp wiped out. Approaching our campsite, I noticed Brian was horizontal on the picnic seat -- did I arrive too late to perform CPR? Thankfully, he was just dozing after dinner number 1. We went to bed early, after sharing the highlights of each of our days. While we are on the same trip, we have incredibly varied experiences since our form of locomotion is so different, so it's interesting to compare notes. We awoke to the crisp clean Oregon air and by 7:30 Brian was on the saddle. I got it together early, so I could explore Sumpter, a gold-mining town about 5 miles away. Making my way into town, I stopped for gas at a quaint gas station where the fifty-something proprietor, Ken, took the pump from my hand and said, "Please, this is Oregon!" Washing 3 states worth of bugs from the windshield, he explained how 2 years ago, he chucked his upper management job, cellular phone, laptop, on-board modem and all of the perks for the tranquil life in Sumpter. He wished he'd done it years earlier. He clued me in about the gold-mining nearby and I brought out my gold-pan (yes, it was indeed authentic) and showed me the gold flakes he had panned. Without any delay, I drove to the gold-mining camp and saw how much work is entailed in shoveling the rocks, sifting the dirt and scouring the silt for flakes. This hobby took tons of patience, effort and perseverance for a few flecks of gold dust. My gold mining pan instantly became an antique flower-pot as I contemplated which flowers to plant in it and where it would look best at home. Moving on, I met Brian for a quick lunch. As we were finishing up, a huge 18-wheeler stopped in front of the RV and quizzically looked at the banner. The couple Paul and Joyce, from nearby LaGrande, OR, were avid cyclists, the tandem bicycle being their preferred mode. They are preparing for the upcoming ride across the state, with hundreds of cyclists, starting and finishing in their hometown. We bonded instantly as they are planning their own cross country trek next summer. We offered maps and ideas and they invited us to stay at their home when our trip is complete and we drive back to Atlanta! Prairie City was next for a grocery run. Stopping for iced coffee, I met Dan from Nebraska, his wife and daughters ages 4 and 7, who were visiting relatives (the owners of the coffee shop) and getting directions for fossil hunting in the Strawberry Mountains nearby. As I eavesdropped, I heard about the incredible mountain biking in this sweet town. Soon, we were all sharing stories of favorite biking destinations. Outside, Brian appeared and we oogled over Dan's serious mountain bike and vintage Jeep Cherokee. A discussion erupted about caloric intake. Dan donated Slim-fast (did he notice I was getting chubbier?) and some high calorie "Gu". As he and his family drove from town, he shouted "GO BRIAN" and waved his hands vigorously, cheering my champion. As Brian and I were filling water bottles on the outskirts of town, a lone cyclist appeared, loaded with enough stuff for a cross-country endeavor. Curious or just plain nosy, I wondered what his deal was, and before I could ask it aloud, he turned his bike around. I went outside to greet him and pump him for answers. Eight days into a Oregon-to-Virginia cycling trip, he and 2 friends were riding bikes to raise money for a memorial foundation for one of the cyclist's fiances, who was killed in an automobile accident in June. Hearing this sad tale sent chills up and down my spine. Soon, the three cyclists were re-united in front of our 29-ft.supply vehicle and my instinct was to stoke up the grill and cook for these guys. Instead, we provided insights into the road ahead, a donation to the fund and our well wishes for a safe journey. Brian claims these are the real champions of bicycling, the ones who carry what they need on the frames of their bikes, rather than in a support van. Brian mounted the bike and I drove toward our destination, the Clyde Holiday State Park about 22 miles away. In the distance, I saw dark clouds and lightening bolts. As I drove closer to the campsite, drops of rain started to pelt the RV. I contemplated doubling back to bring the rain gear to Brian, but I couldn't see the road too well in the torrential rain nor could I find a place to turn around. Driving into the State Park, the rain turned into pea- sized hail. I swiftly veered the RV toward Brian. The black clouds eerily vanished and splotches of blue sky peaked through. It was not raining at all when I found Brian 5 miles away so I turned around again and headed to camp, without even a single drop of moisture. Brian had a telephone interview with a reporter from the Atlanta Journal Constitution for an article on biking vacations. Never boasting about his own accomplishments, he talked of ways to help others plan their own cross-country journeys. He selflessly spoke about the purpose of the ride, the mentally ill, their caregivers and NAMI. He told how he derived the idea for the bike ride, a challenge and gift to himself for his 40th birthday. As he wrapped up the 40-minute interview,
I felt so proud and I hope the readers of the article are as
inspired as I. |
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