Saturday the 4th I decided to go for a longish ride. Shelley (my long-suffering wife) had plans to spend the day with some of her friends, and we finally got some decent weather, so what better way to spend the day.
I had Shelley drop me at a starting point along the Springwater Corridor in Portland to begin the journey. The Springwater is a Multi Use Path that runs from the Willamette river in southeast Portland eastward to the town of Boring. It is fairly flat, and car free other than where it crosses roads. It can get crowded on a nice day, and especially on a nice weekend day, but I hit it early enough to miss most of the crowds and was able use it to get out of Portland quickly and simply.
From Boring I continued east on highway 22 to hwy 26. 26 is a busier road than I usually like to ride on, but it generally has wide shoulders and good enough site lines that I felt safe among the traffic. The first goal was to get to the town of Sandy for a refuel stop at Joe's Donuts. Joe's is kind of a landmark, and you can get a little bit of real food in addition to donuts. One breakfast burrito and an old-fashioned donut later I was on my way again, almond bearclaw safely tucked away in the handlebar bag for later.
Still on hwy 26, I was soon reminded of the best thing about traveling this route:
Mt. Hood, as viewed from hwy 26
It did not take long to remember the one drawback to riding towards the highest point in the state: it is uphill from anywhere you start. I also realized that I had heard the parts of the morning's weather forecast I wanted to hear, namely "sunny and highs approaching 80 degrees", and completely disregarded the part about "winds from the east". Oops. Made for a long slog up the hill, but I kept getting closer, and the view kept getting better:
My route coincided with one of the old wagon roads from the early settlement of the west, and one of the joys of traveling by bicycle is the ease with which you can stop at anything that looks interesting. Indeed, any excuse to stop for a moment was welcome by this point. This historical marker explained the challenges faced by early travelers on this route:
By this point I wasn't thinking that current day travel by bike was that easy either. It was definitely getting time to find some lunch. Government camp was not too far away, and is home to a pretty decent brewpub. One of the many joys of bike travel is getting to eat enough to fuel the trip. I could hear the beer and a burger calling my name.
Government Camp isn't much of a town, it basically survives due to the ski areas on Mt. Hood. If you need food, beverage or ski equipment you are pretty well covered. Much of anything else, forget it. Still, history abounds here as well, enough so to merit their own wooden sign:
At this point I had covered 58 miles, and climbed about 3,800 feet. After a sizable lunch I headed on, just a few more miles on hwy 26 until I turned off on to hwy 35 headed to Hood River. The climbing part of the ride was almost done, or so I thought.
Hwy 35 has much less traffic than 26, but narrower shoulders and more gravel and debris along the edges. Despite the refuel stop, the legs were protesting the climb and I was ready to head down hill. As a cylcotourist, you learn to love the sign that promises "Right Lane Ends", as that usually means that the climb ends as well. Even more promising is the summit sign:
The Summit was welcome news, and access to Barlow Road, another old wagon route, sounded interesting as well. The pannier on the side held enough extra food, water and clothing to allow a bit of exploration, so on towards Barlow Road I went.
Not today.
That was a short lived detour. We have had an incredibly wet, cold spring and even though the main roads are snow free, this one has received no attention from the plows. In retrospect, it is probably as well that I hit the snow right away, as it minimized the miles spent backtracking to the main highway.
Back to hwy 35, but at least I was at the summit. Summit means top, right? So it should be all downhill from here. Emphasis must be placed on the SHOULD. Yes, there was a nice bit of coasting after the summit sign, but it was followed all too soon by a climb up another spur on the east side of Mt. Hood. Finally, the road did truly head down hill to the Hood River Valley, one of Oregon's major fruit producing regions. The orchards I remembered from growing up nearby are still there, but a more recent addition to local agriculture is the vineyard. Tempting as it was to avail myself of some of the tasting rooms at the wineries I passed, the time was getting late, and Shelley was expecting to meet me in the town of Hood River.
Mt. Hood was behind me, but that does not mean I was done with mountain views to draw me on along the road:
Mt. Adams from Hwy 35
The best thing about looking at Mt Adams was knowing that it is in Washington, on the other side of the Columbia river, and not on my route for today. Another time with fresh legs perhaps, but that is a ride and a story for another day.
An uneventful ride on in to Hood River where Shelley was waiting for me to load the bike up on the car (sorry, no bike ride back home on this trip), and share a meal before heading home for a well deserved nights sleep.
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