Two short rides

November 11, 2020 to November 12, 2020

It feels like it’s time. We were lucky enough to get out on our bikes for each of the last two days, but looking ahead it could be quite awhile before the next one. Unless you count Rachael sweating over the handlebars of the Straggler on her indoor trainer, riding opportunities are going to be few and far between here in Portland for the foreseeable future. This is a biking website after all, so it must be time to shut this thing down until conditions change.

Thank you once more for following along, keeping us company and giving us encouragement through this uniquely stressful time. Before we leave for now, let’s have a last look at the colors of autumn before they wash away.

Wednesday

Rachael decides to make full use of what looks like the last dry day for a fortnight, and zips off to the Columbia River on her Bike Friday for a 43 miler. I don’t do quite so much, logging a mere 35 miles on a ride down to Oregon City to see if the sea lions are in town (they aren’t). In Rockymetrics, 35 miles is barely respectable, only 5/6 of a normal 42 mile ride. But then, she’s only about 5/6 of my age, so maybe we should institute some Scootermetrics also. (61 * 42) / 73 = 35. Perfect. We each put in a full ride today - I in Scooter units, she in Rocky units.

From Waterfront Park: geese, red maples, and the Hawthorne Bridge.

From Willamette Park: a goose touches down, with the newly painted Ross Island Bridge ahead.

A closer look at the Ross Island Bridge. It’s really attractive, now that the last of the paint scaffolding and wrap has been removed.

Ross Island, and a cormorant of some sort.

Double crested, of course. It’s the only cormorant species you normally see in the interior here.

In Willamette Park, parked against one of my favorite trees in town. It was brilliant in the sun when I arrived, but clouds immediately got in the way. I waited around for about five minutes for it to peek through again and brighten things up before losing patience.

The view downriver from Meldrum Bar, just north of Oregon City. I think the towers on the left are at Council Crest and the large building on the right is OHSU, but I’m not sure.

The small Oregon City marina. In the right season I’ve seen this dock groaning under the weight of sea lions, but not today.

Thursday

I had a bit of a scare last night. After turning off the TV at the conclusion of the latest episode of our current miniseries (Frankie Drake), I rubbed my eyes and suddenly experienced a wierd, scintillating flashing in my eyes. It immediately reminded me of the early symptoms after one of my cataract surgeries went awry - I’d sprung a leak, and my eye was gradually losing pressure until I went back in for emergency surgery and they stitched it up. A flat tire, the surgeon colorfully described it as. I hate flat tires.

It alarmed me enough that I read up quickly on detached retinas - for some reason a condition that came to mind as a possibility. Triggering conditions linked to this include advanced age (✔️) and prior cataract surgery (✔️✔️). The article also described this as a medical emergency that required prompt medical attention.

I logged on to the Kaiser website to check for available optometry appointments, and was stunned to find an opening at 7:30 just the next morning, at my normal hospital - Interstate, just 3 miles away. The next available appointment isn’t for nearly two weeks, so there must have been a cancellation.

I made an appointment, and then booked a taxi pickup since it looks likely to be raining in the morning. Almost immediately afterwards the flashing went away, but I keep the appointment. I’m overdue for an eye checkup anyway.

Conditions improved overnight, and when I woke up today the onset of rain has pushed out until late morning. I might as well bike then, so I cancel the taxi pickup. When I leave home at a bit before 7, I see a gorgeous rosy sunrise in the east. I forgot the camera though, and by the time I’ve dashed back upstairs to get it the color has already faded. By the time I reach the Broadway Bridge it’s passed on; but trust me, it was spectacular while it lasted.

The Steel Bridge from the Broadway Bridge, 7 AM. It’s foggy to the west over downtown, and you can see it hanging over the west half of the river. I’ll bet it was amazing just ten minutes ago.

So my eyes are fine. I get a thorough exam, and Dr. Schultz sees no evidence of tears or damage. She finds that my prescription has changed a bit though, so I order up a new set of glasses. I need a new pair anyway since I’ve been without a backup ever since that broken set that was repaired last summer rebroke back in Croatia.

By the time I hop back on my bike again, the weather has continued to improve and is surprisingly nice out. I bike across the street to Overlook Park to have a look at two of my other favorite trees in town, and then head downtown to Caffe Umbria and my belated morning coffee, biking cautiously since my eyes are still dilated.

The great elm tree in Overlook Park is stripped bare already.

This impressive black walnut is leafless already also. It’s great this way though, exposing those fantastic, sprawling branches.

Surprisingly, the weather outlook just keeps improving. Now it looks to stay dry until dinner time, so Rachael heads off toward Gresham and returns a boring, predictable 43 miles later. Stuck in a rut, she is. She comes back a bit downcast though, saying she won’t bike out that way again for awhile. The homeless situation is getting out of hand there again, and the loos are all locked up for the duration of the pandemic.

Sad, but then in this weather she’s not likely to be riding anywhere outdoors for weeks anyway.

I bike back from the coffee shop thinking through the places I might ride myself, and settle on Sauvie Island for a chance to see the cranes. That, together with the 7 miles to my eye appointment and back this morning will bring me up to a full RBU (Rocky Biking Unit) for the day. Rachael will be so proud of me, thinks me.

When I get home and check the mail though, there’s an item from my sister Elizabeth. She’s been watching the weather also, and thinks today might be our last chance for awhile to meet for a safe, distanced outdoor visit in Jamieson Park. We haven’t met yet since returning to town, so of course I want to do that. I shorten my sights and just ride out to the end of Leif Erickson Drive. This is a great little unpaved road running along the base of Washington Park, and it’s really pretty today with the road layered with a five mile long unbroken band of decaying broadleaf maple leaves.

I get back in time for a shower before my visit with Elizabeth. We enjoy a good visit, shivering a bit out in the open. About four, the wind picks up and yellow leaves start showering from the trees. I make it back to the apartment just before the first rains hit. I only log 28 miles for the day: .67 RBU or .80 SBU, depending on the standard. I can at least claim credit for good intentions though - If I hadn’t been summoned by Elizabeth I’d have gone out to Sauvie Island, for sure.

Later in the night the first real winter storm will blow through, bringing heavy winds, pounding rain, and power outages. Now, it really does feel like the end of the season, and time to end the blog. We’ll see you whenever.

Along Thurman Street. This part of the street, for the final few blocks before it dead ends at Leif Erickson Drive, is quite beautiful now.

Along Thurman Street. What is this? Some variety of eucalyptus?

The trunk of the same tree. Beautiful above, beautiful below.

Leif Erickson Drive is such a peaceful spot to ride - or run or walk, I’m sure. It goes on like this for about six miles.

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Tricia GrahamI know this is a cycling blog but I have found it very enlightening reading what is going on I your country written by someone who lives in a place we knew so well and has such a similar view of the world as us. We will miss our morning fix as the glorious summer weather is now upon us and our only inconvenience is that we have to check in using our Covid tracing app if we go anywhere - we appreciate our good fortune. Our wishes are that the US wakes to a glorious spring with the healing that Joe Biden and that magnificent Kamala Harris have promised
💕
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4 years ago

Suzanne GibsonThanks, Scott and Rachael, for blogging as long as you did. I'll miss your bicycle rides... But I have a hunch that unexpectedly you will get some nice days, you will get on your bikes, and you will write and film. I hope so anyway. No winter is all cold and rainy, just as no summer is all warm and sunny.
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4 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Suzanne GibsonHuh. You’re so intuitive, Suzanne. What sort of track record do you have with your hunches?
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4 years ago

Carolyn van HoeveAwww! Take care you two. I will also miss my daily dose of delving into your life. It's been such a wonderful distraction from the pandemic. Very much hope to see the beginning of a new journal before too long.
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4 years ago

Bill ShaneyfeltKeep on dreaming! I'll keep on watching.
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4 years ago

Patrick O'HaraThanks Scott. As always, I travel on my arm chair through your words. Sue and I are hopeful about our travels this summer. Cautiously, however.
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4 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Tricia GrahamThanks, Tricia. I’m excited about the coming inauguration also. I was surprised at how inspiring and upbeat both of their victory speeches were. Our country seems such a wreck now, but there’s reason to hope.
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4 years ago

Jen RahnI predict another blog about another adventure!

(Insider knowledge?)

Grumby Biking Unit* calculation:
(42*35)/(50+58)=13.61.

GBU not to be confused with GBO!
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4 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Jen RahnYou and Suzanne. So clairvoyant!
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4 years ago