Washington’s mountains and a day-long ride to Hood River

We left Iron Creek Campground on Sunday morning and were immediately greeted by a steady incline that didn’t stop. We rode 20+ miles from an elevation of 1500 ft., through cool breezes and shaded trees, to 3500 ft., where the sun glared down onto the hot concrete to make the climb that much more difficult as we approached the summit. Will and I never keep up with Dan as we climb hills. This gave me an opportunity to snap some shots of Will on the first part of the ride, with another excellent view of Mt. Rainier, before we slowly became separated as we found our own pace up the pass.

Will at the beginning of the first mountain pass, Mt. Rainier looming large in the background.

Before Friday, I had never ridden a road bike. Ever. My third day on this trip and I was climbing up a mountain pass. My quads burned, although I was getting accustomed to the sensation as I kept pedaling, up and down, up and down, willing my legs to press on. Every minute felt like an hour and the pass rose at a steady pace, higher and higher. At 2500 ft. I didn’t think I could go any further. Yet after a short break, I was back on my “horse” and continued to plug away.

On long climbs like this, the pace you set for yourself is important, and I found when I focused on my breathing, the agony in my legs and backside was easier to ignore. 2800 ft. and I was still pedaling up. The hill got steeper after I passed this mark, but I kept telling myself I was almost there. 700 ft. and 45 minutes later and I finally reached the summit.

As I descended the first pass, I let out a loud “YEOH!” in celebration of my battle with the road. I met Dan and Will halfway down the hill, where we rested for a few minutes and caught site of Mt. St. Helens to the west. It was awe-inspiring. Another active volcano with it’s top completely blown off after it last erupted in 1981.

Will and Dan enjoying the view of Mt. St. Helens after a grueling climb over the first pass of the day.

We continued on National Forest Road 25 before we turned onto a junction towards Carson, where we would press on to Hood River. We stopped in a small convenient store, after we crossed the Swift Creek Reservoir, that was as rickety as they come. A dimly-lit interior, a wobbly screen door and several mumbling locals in the shop made for a good place to rest, eat and enjoy the “scenery.”

Back on the road at around 2 p.m., we had another 60+ miles before we would arrive in Hood River. As we turned off NFD 90, we were faced with another uphill battle, this one steeper and more intimidating than the last, with long stretches of straight inclines and no trees to shade the road. The temperature was up close to 90 degrees for the third straight day and as we began the downhill ride into Carson, it wasn’t my legs that were bothering me, but the streams of sweat and salt that had been caking on my body for the past two days. Will was a ways behind, after I passed him where he lay on the side of the highway, burnt out from the vicious ascent we had just finished.

The last 40 miles of highway was straight and flat, which was refreshing after I exerted so much energy into the first half of the ride. From Carson, we rode down to NFD 14 with the wind at our backs as we straddled the minuscule shoulder along the road. 20 more miles and we were at our destination.

I was running on fumes, but with little incline to deal with, the ride to Hood River was rejuvenating and we made good time to the bridge that would take us into town.

The sun sets along the Hood River as we hitch across the bridge into town.

We encountered another problem when we found out that bikes and pedestrians were not allowed to cross the bridge, which meant hitching a ride from a big, white Dodge pickup truck. Exhausted, sore and incredibly sweaty, Dan, Will and I quickly found a nice yard to keep our bikes and sleep, before we set out to find grub at around 9 p.m.

The wind along the Columbia Gorge is one of the major attractions of the area and as we looked out across the water, you could see why. Dozens of kite and wind surfers were in the water. Gusts of wind tugged at the kites like leaves in a storm; up and down, side to side, as the riders pulled the strings to lift themselves up, some nearly 30 ft. into the air, before crashing down into the rolling wake of the river. This was the major reason SWAE Sports was visiting Hood River and White Salmon. This area is one of the largest places for wind and water sports on the West Coast.

The next few days will be designated to “real” work. Although we all agreed, what we were doing in town didn’t feel like work, not like the last 12 hours and 90 miles we had just ridden through mountains to get to where we were. What a glorious trip it has been! More to come as Dan and Will look to sign Hood River’s outfitters. Later in the week, we ride on to Portland!