Thrills of the Oregon hills and the journey to Bend

Dan and Will only needed one day in Maupin to meet with the outfitters in the area. We rode out of the small river town at 9:30 a.m. on Friday, July 10 along Highway 197. The morning would be the hardest part of the day’s ride as temperatures reached up to the 90’s as we started off climbing a 12-mile incline leaving Maupin.

A group of cows play a game of sardines as they hide from the stifling heat.

The sun was stifling, the heat was smothering and the air was stagnant. A layer of sweat began to glisten on my forearms and my legs as beads of sweat ran down the side of my head; a sign that my body was working hard to cool down, to no avail. There was no refuge from the heat, only fields of dried grass and tiny shrubs. We passed cows in a pasture, huddled together under the one tree that provided any amount of shade. Even the bovines could not stand eating in heat this overwhelming.

As we reached the summit of the climb from Maupin, we came to a viewpoint along the highway which pointed towards every mountain peak along the horizon. We encountered an envoy of motor homes, their passengers on their way to Bend for their uncle and aunt’s 75th wedding anniversary. What a landmark event! The group was nice enough to give us each a bottle of water before they were back on the road and out of sight. After Dan did a set of pushups, Will munched down a Clif bar and I snapped a few candids, we were back on the road.

Will and Dan rest after our first summit of the morning.

Climbing hills is a thrill (I’m a poet and didn’t know it). It’s hard and tedious work to pedal constantly for miles on end, but to reach the summit of an uphill battle, with miles of a steep, downhill grade ahead, there’s no feeling more rewarding. I smile and “woop” at the air, like Rocky at the top of the steps of Philadelphia’s Museum of Art, as I let my momentum carry me faster and faster. My feet can’t keep the pedals churning fast enough as the wind rushes past, providing relief from the heat from the prior uphill climb.

The first 40 miles felt like a piece of cake. I was amazed. Only a week into this tour and I was demolishing the concrete that challenged my ride. Incline or decline, no obstacles could stand in my way the way I rode that day. Halfway through the ride and the elements were in our favor. The heat was cooling off, the wind was at our backs and we had a smooth shoulder to ride along the highway.

We were 35 miles from Bend as I crossed an expansive bridge. I looked to my right to find Dan, shirt off, waving from a picturesque scene of a deep canyon with a smooth silvery river running through it. We were only a few miles from the town of Terrebonne, home to Smith Rock National Park, one of the greatest sport climbing meccas in the country. The climate began to change again and we started to see taller trees and a few darker clouds. Cycling has taught me to appreciate my surroundings. The ride is less about reaching the destination than enjoying the scenery, the smells and the sounds that the road provides. In a car, you catch only seconds of a hawk hunting its prey along the highway, but on a bike, you can watch the powerful hunter for minutes on end.

Enjoying my surroundings and taking in the sights and sounds from an expansive canyon.

We were making good time and were paced to ride into Bend in the next two hours. I was pedaling around a turn in the road at a consistent speed, having found my groove ten miles before, when suddenly: *fssssst*. The sound of air leaving my back tire. Another flat. Fortunately, Will was only a few minutes behind me and was able to loan me a tube to replace my damaged one. I was able to fix the tire in good time and was on the road soon enough.

Once I was riding again, mother nature began to get involved. Dark clouds began to roll in from the east and a strong headwind began to press against me, limiting my speed and my ability to pedal. The first few drops of rain were a sign of more to come and instead of grumbling, I smiled and screamed to the sky to “bring it on!” Larger beads began to fall and the wind began to whip wildly. I opened my mouth to try and take a few droplets, almost taunting the weather. By this point I was drenched, the drizzle morphing into an all-out cloud burst and the sky as dark as the concrete underneath me. I kept pedaling, always moving forward.

Clouds gather in the distance before a cloud burst envelopes me in rain.

I reached the edge of Bend 40 minutes later and let out another joyous “YEOH!” (It’s amazing how much you talk to yourself while riding.) I met up with Dan and Will at a teahouse downtown, drenched and caked in dirt, salt and sweat, but proud of the 90 miles I had just ridden. What a ride it was!

The team plans to stay in Bend for the next three to four days, which means another long rest before we leave. More to come from another adventurous city!