Stevenson Epic

Hood and the road we climbed, courtesy Jason

It's been nearly a year since my last blog entry. There have been some great adventures since my trip around Mount St Helen's, but nothing seemed quite epic enough to write about - until yesterday.

Let me back up two weeks. On May 21, a local bike organization called VeloDirt offered up an enticing ride called The Rapture - 68 miles of gravel and dirt roads in the coast range with 7500 feet of climbing. How could we resist? Patty, Ross, and I camped the night before and were joined by Jason, Jen, and Nick the next morning. Some of us opted for an early start, anticipating some tough road ahead. We were not disappointed. After 3000 feet of climbing we began a steep, gravelly, and slick descent. Unfortunately for us, God chose that time to rapture Ross's brakes. Disappointed but reasonable, he and I left the woods after 27 miles and found a guardian angel to drive us 2 hours back to our campsite to greet the victors that afternoon.

Jason and Patty had a spectacular adventure full of wild country, rough road, and knees that went well beyond "skinned". Fast forward to Friday, June 3. Jason offers me a chance at redemption. Via Google maps, he has scouted out a 40ish mile adventure in the Gorge, a mini-rapture or Second Coming if you will. He and Dave plan to leave in the morning, and Patty and I eagerly jump on the band wagon.

Fortunately for all involved, Jason did a little extra work Friday night to look at topo maps. Yeah, those two roads that came really close together on Google maps - they were actually separated by a waterfall. He does some rerouting and prints each of us our very own highlighted map. He and Dave also get their GPS units set up with the route.

At 9am, full of donuts and chocolate milk, we leave the comfort of the parking lot in Stevenson and begin our first climb. A small stop for a mangled chain before we're even out of town, and within 15 minutes we were in the woods and off the pavement.

The climb started out like a dream. Slow and steady, but good hard packed dirt and gravel. We climbed for a good long time, the next 10 miles or more. At around mile 10, we were stopped by a young, disoriented guy who said he'd lost his way and had been wandering around for hours. We tried to direct him back to Stevenson, but he was insistent he wanted to get back to his campsite, much farther into the forest. Patty gave him water and a candy bar, and I ceded my map and wished him luck. As we pushed forward, we placed arrows in the road to help him find his way. About 15 minutes later, a police car approached from behind. He stopped, and I asked him if he'd found the lost man on the road behind us. Turns out this wasn't any lost camper, but a criminal suspect - I didn't hear what for. I wonder if we were aiding and abetting?

The climb continued and the road began to get a bit rougher. We missed a turn and could have continued on for a shorter day but opted to turn back and complete the planned route. That's when Patty got a flat. No big deal. We patched it up and found our road in no time. "Road" is perhaps a misnomer. What we actually found was a long steep downhill of grass, logs, ditches, and creeks. At one point, we thought the road petered out entirely - in actuality it just became a creek for a short while, and we followed it carrying our bikes cross style.

Back out on "real" road, we discovered Patty's tire had gone flat again. Jason and Dave spent an hour or more painstakingly going over the tube and patching it, mostly unsuccessfully. All in all, there were 4 holes - two so close together we needed one large patch to cover them. But then again, there may have been more. Two minutes down the road, it was flat again. With no spare tubes her size, Jason, Dave, and Patty working together managed to make a mountain bike tube work, and we were flat free for the rest of the day.

Time was not on our side at this point. We'd done less than half of the ride, and it was probably close to 3. But we pushed forward making up some time going downhill before turning north to climb again. That's when we saw our first patch of snow. It was a pretty sight at first, but we were quickly walking our bikes through it. It was just a few short patches at that point, and we continued to make decent progress. By 4:30 we only had 12 miles or so to go.

That's when things got hard. More climbing - much of it unrideable for me. More snow. An hour later, we hadn't made as much progress as we'd hoped when we arrived at a radio tower with stunning views of Hood, Jefferson, Adams, Rainier, and Helen's. We were probably at our highest point there with a few thousand feet still to descend. Our road didn't really exist here - it was so narrow and covered in snow. I secretly wondered whether Jason and Dave had decided to go off GPS and just get us down the mountain faster. But now and then, the snow would clear and I could see there was some semblance of road below. Breaking trail and pushing bikes, we were making 1/2 mile an hour progress.

At 7:00 we finally cleared the snow and began descending earnestly. Exhausted and jarred, I managed a few small falls - nothing spectacular. But enough to make the day stop being fun for awhile. As Patty says, it was a "three-cryer" for me. Even St Helen's only warranted one breakdown. But with the sun fading, I didn't take the time to stop - just barreled down the hill, occasionally sobbing, my face now a mix of tears and chain grease. At that point, I knew we were ok - we weren't going to be spending the night in the Oregon woods. But I just wanted to be done already.

I should have stopped and taken pictures of the pain, but you will just have to imagine it. We finished around 8:30 and headed to the nearest brew pub to refuel. I joked a lot that I'd never follow Jason into the woods again, but the truth is I know I will. A little better prepared next time. My friends are an amazing crew, and I hope there will be lots of adventures ahead. And now for the pretty pictures:

Epic Pics

Comin' Round the Mountain

Thirty miles. A year ago, I wouldn’t have considered covering this kind of distance in a day – not on two feet anyway. But I’m blessed with a lot of crazy friends, and after plenty of other adventures, a plan came together. We would attempt to circumnavigate Mount St. Helen’s on the Loowit Trail in a single day.

The instigator of this madness was Dave, who had already done this and other mountains. He was in training for an even bigger feat – a 100K run – when he dislocated his shoulder rock climbing. This canceled his plans to join us for the entire day, but he still came out to cheer us on.

Nine people and three dogs left town Friday afternoon and parked at the June Lake Trailhead on the southeast side of the mountain. After a 1.5 mile backpack in, we set up tents near the lake and settled in for the evening. Travis, Erin, and Becky started a fire while the rest of us shared our food – fruit, cheese curds, cookies, and seaweed chips to name a few items.

We planned to start at 6am the next morning, so I made an early night of it. Lisa, Becky, Jason, and I set out in a dense fog around 6:15, planning to go clockwise. Dave, Patty, and Elvira rose to see us off, while Travis and Erin stayed snug in their tent.

We started with a little more adventure than we’d planned for by taking a wrong turn out of camp and ending up on a side trail over a large field of lava rock. Each cairn was hard to make out in the mist, and by the readings on Jason’s GPS, we were fairly convinced we’d already gone wrong. We checked our maps and realized our error, but decided to move forward and up to reconnect with the trail instead of turning around.

After about 1000 feet of elevation gain, we found the Loowit Trail, but it wasn’t long before we lost it again, this time enticed by the climbers’ route heading to the summit. At around 4400’, another GPS reading told us we were at exactly the right elevation but pretty far east of where we should be. Rather than lose the altitude we’d worked so hard to gain, we turned left hoping to find the trail again. The map showed the terrain as pretty level between where we were and where we wanted to be, but it didn’t account for the 3 or 4 gullies we had to cross to get there. After a lot of scrambling, we found the trail again and stayed on it for the remainder of the day.

We reached a signpost shortly after that and were a little disappointed at the distance. In two hours, we’d gone 3.1 miles on the Loowit Trail, although the GPS told us we’d done much more. And I was already out of water. We found a creek pretty quickly, and we picked up our pace and ran whenever the terrain allowed it.

Throughout the day, we met very few others. The blast zone is north of the mountain, so the south and west sides are far less traveled. There, we encountered just a handful of backpackers who were doing the trail as most people do – in 3-4 days.

The trail was a real scramble in a number of places. For most of the day, we were traversing on sand, loose rocks and boulders with several thousand feet of elevation gain and loss. Even with our increased pace, we were barely squeaking out 2 miles per hour in the beginning. It was nearly 11am, and we still had 20 miles to go. Luckily, we hit a nice long stretch of downhill for our next section through woods and on soft trail. Aside from the last section coming back into June Lake, this was our only other significant experience with tree cover. The rest of the trail was completely exposed.

We descended into a gully where the Toutle River flowed. The crossing was a little hairier than I was expecting, and I ended up with two wet feet on the other side. I pulled out my change of socks, and we restocked our water before our steep ascent out of the canyon on the other side.

As we rounded the north side of the mountain, the views were astounding. We were entering the blast zone, and the land became stark and desolate. The trees were gone, leaving little sign of life for miles. Then to our left, Spirit Lake came into view. This was a popular tourist destination before the eruption, which raised the lake and deposited thousands of fallen trees into it. On our right, we could see the snow-covered mountain and past the site of the blast, a long-cascading waterfall.

When we reached the Northeast side near Windy Pass, we started to see day-hikers mixed in with the backpackers coming in from Windy Ridge on the Truman Trail. Most of them were headed to Loowit Falls, a 9-mile round trip hike. The Falls were an extra .7 miles off-trail for us, so we continued on without the view. We still had 10 miles to go and about 5 hours of daylight left.

We crossed into the Plains of Abraham, a popular area for mountain bikers that many describe as a moonscape. We made some decent time running through the Plains, though I was beginning to tire and couldn’t keep pace with the others. As we were leaving the Plains and approaching the Ape Canyon Trail, we got the inspiration we needed. Two backpackers stopped and asked if we were the ones running around the mountain. They’d run in to Dave and Patty a short time earlier, who’d hiked all the way to the falls and were on their way back. Lisa took off in a sprint to catch them, and we all followed suit. I kept up for about 45 seconds, and then told the others to go on. I’d catch up when I could.

A few minutes later, I was crossing a muddy trickle of a stream and found a message from our friends – our names written in mud. In another 10 minutes or so, I heard a shout far off in the distance ahead of me. I was sure it was Patty, and picked up my pace. But the trail began to climb quickly, and I couldn’t see far enough ahead to make out any other people. I began to think I’d imagined the whole thing when the view finally opened up to a canyon. I was on one side, and my friends, including Patty and Dave were on the other. A quick down and up and we were reunited with 4.5 miles to go.

The worst for me was yet to come though. Shortly after that, we approached another ravine. Steep and comprised of mostly loose sand, it looked to be a long fall to the rocks and creek below. I was tired and unsure on my feet, so I sat down and zig-zagged my way down painfully slowly, with Patty helping me through a couple of difficult spots. Even Dave’s dog Sam had no interest in coming down and had to be prodded and helped. A beautiful stream awaited us at the bottom, and I took off my shoes to empty out the loose sand and rocks that had deposited in them. I took note of the number of blisters that had formed over the course of the day, but didn’t think to treat them. I just wanted to finish.

The last 4 miles took probably 2 hours, but it seemed like an eternity. The others went ahead, but Patty stuck with me and helped to take my mind off the pain with the “Four Letter Word” game and “Catagories”. I got to hear about her day of hiking with Dave. They had planned on going only as far as Ape Canyon, about 5.5 miles from June Lake. But they’d started early and were feeling strong, so they continued to Loowit Falls, making it a 20+ mile day through some pretty tough terrain. The pads on Sam’s feet had gotten pretty torn up, and Patty had to carry him part of the time. Sam, incidentally, had run the Loowit Trail with Dave in 2007, but the rocks had gotten to him then too. Dave had to carry Sam on his back for the last few miles of the trail.

I was nearing complete exhaustion when we descended back down to the treeline and the softer ground that came with it. When we finally reached the .3 mile side trail into June Lake, my energy rebounded a bit. I started to run, but even then couldn’t keep up with Patty’s walking pace. On the steepest parts, she stopped and let me lean on her shoulder to descend. Now that’s what Bill Withers was singing about.

I could see the campsite ahead, and started running a little faster just to make a show of it. It was nearly 14 hours after we’d started. I don’t have a final count of the miles run, but I know it was somewhere between 30 and 69 (according to Jason’s malfunctioning GPS). Travis and Erin presented me with an amazing finisher’s prize – a tiny gummy cheeseburger. I’d been talking about cheeseburgers for the last 5 miles, so it was like they’d read my mind.

It was after 8:00, so we packed up our camps quickly and hiked back to the trailhead. I decided not to look at the damage done to my feet until I could get to the car and put on flip-flops permanently. The final count of blisters is 13 – 8 on my left foot and 5 on my right. This ties the record for me incidentally, although the previous 13 were created in two days of walking, not one.

We were lucky enough to find a bar open late in the town of Cougar 15 miles away. One bacon cheeseburger and a beer later, and I was ready to pass out in the back of Travis’s truck for the ride home. 13 blisters and a bathtub full of silt. I can’t imagine a better weekend.

Video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4GGJjVmRCQ

Pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/amy.e.yates/CominRoundTheMountain#

My nephew

I had a wonderful trip to Florida recently to visit my brother and his family, see my mom, and meet my nephew for the first time. Here he is!

Aiden Hawk

Summer Picture Extravaganza

I realize I haven't posted anything in about 4 months. There are stories to tell, but I don't think I have the energy to recount them now. I'm still biking lots and have added running to the mix as well, training for my first half-marathon in September. I spent 10 days or so in Virginia in June visiting friends and family and attending a reunion of my Peace Corps training group. I still see Patience most every week, and we are enjoying the summer weather a lot. I just celebrated one year in my townhouse yesterday too! In short, life is good.

And here are some pictures to prove it:

June-July 2009

De Ronde van Oeste Portlandia

Saturday was the day of reckoning. After three months of training, it was time to mount up and give those west hills a go. We'd been doing three rides a week, but until Saturday we'd never done more than half of the Ronde course.

Ten of us met at Ken's Artisan Bakery in the morning to drop off our bike locks for the after-party and down some quiche. It promised to be a shockingly beautiful April day, but at 45 degrees, we were off to a chilly start.

We dawdled a bit at the bakery, and by the time we arrived at the starting point, the crowd of 600 or more was already moving forward. We met up with two others there and headed out St. Helen's Road for the first ascent - Saltzman. I've described this road before, but I've never seen it like this. There were hundreds of riders making their way through the mud, most of them on road bikes with skinny tires. OPB was filming, so we smiled pretty for the camera as we ascended. I was feeling strong, actually managing to pass a few people here and there, though none among my crew.

We regrouped at the top and took the rolling hills of Skyline to our next monster climb - Brynwood. The grade is rumored to be somewhere around 26% on this short narrow road. In times past, I've come close to doing half of it by winding back and forth from driveway to driveway. But with so many people trying to conquer the hill at once, heading straight up was the only option. I was close to throwing in the towel when a woman came down in front of me and brought Dave down with her. From there, I walked it up. So did Patty, as you can see in the picture above. Some of our crew hammered through it, and we were all rewarded with a long downhill on Skyline and Cornell heading to the next beast - Pittock Mansion. On my way down, I had my first glimpse of the tandem rider - a man with his son who was about three years old. They had made it up Brynwood without stopping, and as far as I know completed the ride.

Pittock is another famously steep climb in Portland, but I handled it surprisingly well. I think climbing it 4 times in one week, once with a flat tire, must have really made a difference. I was still feeling pretty energetic when we reached the top. About that time, Josh and Nick texted me. They had avoided the pageantry and conquered the back half of the Ronde at the break of dawn. After a rest in town for new brake pads, they wanted to meet up with the rest of us.

The next climb from Pittock was Barnes, and we did it pretty quickly and easily. Our original plan was to stop for lunch after the next climb to the zoo. This would be the halfway point, and Jason's wife had offered to deliver food to the picnic shelter there, so we could get some calories in us for the rest of the ride. When we got to the top of Barnes, it was only 11:50. We were 40 minutes ahead of schedule for getting to the zoo. After a bomb down Burnside, and another climb up to the zoo, we got to the shelter at 12:20. Jason's wife had rushed to get everything ready and try to meet us, but she had trouble finding the place, and the riders were anxious to move on. We decided to fill up on water and rely on Dave's oatmeal fudge bars to see us through.

Nick and Josh met us at the shelter after climbing Pittock and Barnes and rode with us a ways. By this time, the weather was sunny and in the 60's. Harrison started to cramp up on the hills, and he and Nick slowed down to help him recover. We got our first view of our final destination, Council Crest around mile 25, but the painted lions in the road told us to head back down, and we obeyed. Around then, we got word from Harrison that he was stopping to nurse his leg cramps.

Next was the brutal climb of College, going the wrong way on a narrow street no less. The car trying to descend was none too happy with the crew of riders trying to get up it. Dave and Jason S were far ahead of our group at this point, having forged ahead from the zoo, and they managed to make it up without walking. The rest of us were only too happy to dismount for a bit. We caught Dave and Jason at the top where the route had circled back down for another gnarly climb.

Twice more, we wound our way up quiet neighborhoods to just below Council Crest. Twice more, the lions directed us back down. Around mile 35, we encountered ride angels, a group of people handing out Gatorade, cookies, and fresh fruit. We filled our bottles, thanked them profusely, and pressed on. Short of the second ascent, Harrison sent a text: "I'm going to finish." I replied, telling him I'd just finished the last climb to Fairmount, the road below Council Crest. The crew was ahead of me, anxious to reach the top. I expect they were as surprised as me to see yet another arrow pointing down the hill. And instead of leading to a road, this one pointed to a goat trail, just wide enough for a bike. I called Patty to make sure I was on the right route.

We regrouped at the bottom and began our final ascent of Council Crest. By that time, my supplies were limited. Almost no water, and a little of the oatmeal fudge bar Dave had given me at the start. I started to falter. Everyone pressed ahead. I rested a few times, drank the last of my water, and kept going. Just short of Fairmount for the last time, I hit the wall. Dehydrated and disoriented, I dismounted and began walking slowly up the hill, which wasn't particularly steep. Not more than a few hundred feet away, Patty called me from the top of Fairmount to see if I was ok. I told her I needed water. She sent the rest of the crew to finish, and walked down the hill to find me. As soon as I saw her, I threw my bike to the ground and laid down on the side of the road. She gave me the little bit of water she had left, and a chocolate protein bar. I ate it while laying down until I felt like myself again. She had to wipe the melted chocolate off my face. How lucky am I to have friends like that?

After 30 minutes or so, I was able to get on my bike again. Patty helped me push it up the final final hill to Council Crest Drive, and we reached the park without fanfare after 6 1/2 hours of riding. The others had already headed into town to celebrate, so we circled the park and kept going. A slice of pizza and two beers later, and I was completely recovered. It was probably the most amazing day of riding I've ever done, much harder than the centuries I completed last year and more rewarding being among so many friends and bike enthusiasts.

And the fun doesn't stop here. We're already planning a century ride in 3 weeks in the Dalles. Life is sweet.

Some Pictures to Share

I will keep this short, since it's Friday afternoon and I am headed to Beer and Blog in a few minutes. This is a gathering of people who like technology and/or beer. It's only my second time going, but they are having it at East Burn, the site of my birthday party, and I can't resist a little skee ball.

We've continued our regular bike rides. One of our crew has a GPS and has been nice enough to post the routes and elevations for us after our rides. The one seen here was our attempt a few weeks ago to do the beginning portion of the April ride. All but one of us walked a portion of Brynwood. As if that weren't demoralizing enough, while we were huffing and puffing up the hill stopping for rests in various driveways, an elderly gentleman breezed past us on a Bike Friday with a large basket and a generator light.

Tomorrow, we are doing "The Tour of Harrison's Childhood". We'll go up and down the hills in Southwest where he grew up passing by every place he ever lived or was educated.

I've also managed to post a few pictures from the last several months on Kodakgallery for those of you who aren't hip enough to have Facebook accounts yet.

Fall-Winter Pictures

3 Perfect Rides in 8 Days

The snow has melted throughout most of Portland, and we have been blessed recently with a long rain-free streak. The last four days have been cold, but we've had lots of sunshine to soak into our Vitamin-D deprived bodies. We are continuing our training for the April hill ride and have managed to bring a few others into our harebrained scheme. It's January, and everyone is going in for self-improvement. On Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, you can see much of the IT department running stairs at the corporate building next door. It's quite a sight.

Our training started in earnest on January 1 when Harrison and I bundled up on a cold, wet day to attempt 3 of the 17 or so hills we'll be expected to climb. The conditions outside were miserable, and the rain was flying sideways as we made our way across the Broadway Bridge and headed north. Before we'd even reached the first hill, I took a spill going over some train tracks, doing some minor damage to the bike and my left side. But I got squared away, and we continued, heading first for Saltzman Road.

Saltzman is one of my favorite climbs in Portland, because it winds its way on unpaved road through Forest Park, and you're unlikely to see more than a few souls along the way. Unfortunately, the road had seen some damage from the recent storm. Branches littered our way and parts of it were still covered in slush. We were grateful to finally reach Skyline and paved road, but that turned out to be no better. Instead of plowing, the snow along Skyline had just been pushed to the side to uncover half of our lane. The rest of the lane was dusted with gravel. Skyline isn't a high traffic road, but it is windy and the cars that pass aren't going slow. It's also a steep downhill to Burnside, and my brakes paid the price.

Once on Burnside, the ride only got worse. We tried snaking our way back down to Portland on minor roads, but the downhills were too much for my weary arms and worn-out brakes, and we made the very unwise decision to get down as quickly as we could by taking Burnside, a very steep, very heavily used, and very gravelly road. It was downright terrifying, and we were frozen to the bone by the time we reached the bottom. We rode to the closest bar to soothe our souls with pizza, beer, and a shot.

Since then, our luck has been much better, though we still end most of our rides with a beer and a shot just for the sake of tradition. Last Saturday, five of us met downtown to do a 33 mile ride hitting 3 of the major high points in Portland. We first climbed Council Crest on the West side, then Mt. Tabor and Rocky Butte on the West side. It turned out to be a frigid day, and Patty had to race home after the first hill to get some gloves and hot tea. Luckily, she's faster than all of us, and we didn't have to wait long for her to catch up. We ended the day at McMenamin's Kennedy School with food, a beer, and a shot of course.

If I haven't mentioned McMenamin's before to the non-Portlanders, they are sort of the McDonald's of entertainment around here. Every McMenamin's is different, but most are large complexes that include a restaurant, brew pub, theater, concert venue, hotel, etc. The Scottish brothers who own the chain buy up historic, unused buildings and estates and make them grand again. Kennedy School was, as you would guess, a school that sat vacant for more than 2 decades before it was bought and renovated by the McMenamin's. They have turned classrooms into intimate barrooms, made a restaurant out of the cafeteria, and installed a movie theater and soaking pool.

My next ride was this past Thursday before work. My coworker Nick is finally recovering enough from the surgery he had on his Achilles to join us on our training rides. Four of us met at 6:30 am to climb Mt. Tabor just before sunrise. It was another frigid day, but the view from the top was like nothing I've ever seen. We were looking west toward the city, and a layer of fog had settled over it. You could see the skyscrapers poking out above the white line and the sunlit hills in the background. On the way down, we got a view of the east side too, the outline of Mt. Hood with the sun rising behind it turning the sky orange and pink.

Yesterday was my third perfect ride. Patty and I hopped the Max train as far west as we could go to Hillsboro, OR, about a 45-minute ride. From there we rode west another 6 miles to Forest Grove and then turned south down country roads to Hagg Lake. There's a 12 mile loop around the lake, nestled among rolling hills, green pastures, and forest. On our way back, we stopped at another McMenamin's, The Grand Lodge in Forest Grove. This one also has a soaking pool, a hotel, and a disc golf course. We got back to Portland just as it was getting dark after 45 miles of riding.

Tomorrow morning, we're hitting Mt. Tabor again. Maybe this time I'll think to bring my camera!