An Impenetrable Darkness

July 21, 2013

Wenatchee National Forest (Mineral Creek Campground)

It got pretty cold during the night and I woke up early to a heavy fog and two big, slimy slugs snuggled up to the entrance of my tent. Aaron, Ryan and Alex were already up preparing breakfast. After cleaning up our campsite--almost to "leave no trace" standards--Alex began riding back to Seattle alone.

Down to three, our group proceeded up the Iron Horse Trail surrounded by big, snow-capped mountains, deep valleys and vast pine forests. Then came the Snoqualmie Tunnel.

The last vestiges of the fog that had engulfed these mountains earlier in the morning.

I'm sure there is a good geological explanation for this huge rock slide, but I'd rather believe it was created by Martians.

Aaron and I at the entrance to the Snoqualmie Tunnel.

The ride through the tunnel was two-and-a-half miles of total darkness--at least it was when we turned our bike lights off. It was also very cool inside with lots of dripping water, which gives you the willies in such a dark environment. The tunnel provided not only a new bicycling experience for me, but also I had never seen such utter blackness anywhere in my life.

Just after the tunnel we met two mountain bikers. They were probably a little older than me and, after talking to them for a while, I could see they were clearly knowledgeable about the bike routes of Washington and Idaho. One of them was an Adventure Cycling Association ambassador, whatever that means. They told me that my 60 to 70 mile-per-day goal might be a little over-ambitious (they were right) and they told us about some of the things Aaron and I would encounter up ahead with stories of big winds and big climbs. Their final bit of advice for me was "never give up." And to reinforce the point, the older one of the two added, "NEVER give up."

I understood what they were getting at. I knew I was in for many challenges, both physical and emotional. I need to take them in stride and not let them get me down. I appreciated the encouragement, but I had long ago made my own personal commitment: The only reason I would ever quit would be a serious injury that caused me to be physically incapable of propelling a bicycle--like an exploded knee, a broken skull, or death. Certainly I will not quit because it's too difficult, too boring, too scary, or too uncomfortable.

At this point, Ryan turned back and it will be just Aaron and I for the next few days. I don't think I have ever met anybody as enthusiastic about bicycling as Ryan, and that even includes me. I felt some sadness as we watched him ride back toward Seattle by himself via that dark, dark tunnel.

Aaron and the bikes resting at Keechelus Lake.

I would try to pass this off as a deep wilderness setting if it weren't for the power lines.

Looking back at the mountains from where we had recently emerged.

On the east side of the mountain pass the climate is noticeably hotter, dryer, and less scenic than the west side. Don't take my word for it. My son validated that opinion as we continued on the Iron Horse. And, boy, IT WAS HOT ALL AFTERNOON! The heat and the increasingly rough gravel trail sucked all the spirit right out of us. It was especially bad for Aaron with his carbon-fiber frame and skinny tires.

At the town of Cle Elum we finally got off the trail. We had a sandwich and a beer in air-conditioning and it was painful to head back out into the blazing sun, but we did it. The pain wasn't over yet, however. One of the things that tends to get you down is when the angle and contour of the mountains in relation to the road gives you the illusion that you are going downhill when, in reality, you are pedaling UPHILL. There is a name for that phenomenon but I can't remember what it is. Nevertheless, it is very frustrating. After taking several roadside breaks on what seemed like downhills, we came to Highway 97. At least on Highway 97 the uphill climb actually LOOKED like an uphill climb.

The Wenatchee National Forest's Mineral Creek Campground was our good fortune tonight. We had mountain scenery. We had a fast moving creek for audio enjoyment. We had potable water. We had some friendly neighbors who came over with a big plate of pasta. We had a night of deep, deep sleep.

Today's ride: 47 miles (76 km)
Total: 104 miles (167 km)

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