August 2, 2006
Day 62: John Day, OR to Mitchell, OR
69.5 Miles, 5:26:06 Ride Time, 12.98 Average Speed, 29.7 Maximum Speed
It was chilly again this morning, so I wasn't in a hurry to get outside. I still couldn't find the missing arm warmer, so I wore the rain jacket when I rode out at 8:00.
I decided I would stop for breakfast in Mt. Vernon, 8.5 miles down the road. When I arrived in the little town (pop. 595), I was surprised to see a bunch of bicycles, in a variety of sizes and types, parked outside the two cafes.
I had walked into the restaurant that seemed least busy, and was looking around for an empty table, when three cyclists (a married couple and a woman) called out for me to join them. I sat down at their table, and they explained that they were part of a group of around 40 cyclists doing a 400 mile (several day) loop. The group, which included families (I noticed several children and teenagers) were members of an Oregon bicycle club, and the three people I sat with seemed like pretty serious cyclists; they were a lot more experienced and knowledgeable than me, and, not for the first time, I felt a little sheepish explaining that I had only decided to do the TransAmerica earlier this year (and didn't even know it existed until Christmas), after doing mostly small to medium distance rides in the last year.
I ordered my usual stack of pancakes while the others finished their heartier, more substantial breakfasts, as we talked about bicycling (with a brief software-related interlude - the guy worked at Hewlett Packard). Their stories were interesting, especially the ones about touring in France. Their group was taking a different route than me after the next town, so we wished each other luck as they left ahead of me.
It was 23 miles to Dayville, which was an easy, mostly flat ride. It had gotten warmer by now, and I took off the rain jacket well before I rode into the town. Dayville (pop. 138) was a nice enough little town, notable for having the smallest city hall I'd ever seen (a good match for the "nation's smallest jail" back in Haswell, Colorado).
There was a small town park near the city hall, and as I walked over to check out the restroom facilities, an elderly couple standing by their car said hello and started asking the usual questions about what I was doing; they seemed especially intrigued by my clipless pedals. Amusingly, when I lifted my shoe to show the lady the cleat, she grabbed my foot and twisted it around so her husband could see: "Look at this thing!" She wasn't exactly shy, I thought...
As I said goodbye to the old couple and walked toward the restroom in the park, the man called out, "You better put a clothespin on your nose if you go in there." Sadly, I found that I should have heeded his advice...
It was another forty miles from Dayville to Mitchell, my destination for the day, and there were no services between the towns. I made sure I had enough water, and rode off. I briefly caught up with some of the young (14 or 15 years old) boys in the group doing the 400 mile loop; they were just finishing changing a flat tire, and soon zoomed past me.
After riding 6 or 7 miles, I entered Picture Gorge: Another twisty, ruggedly gorgeous canyon.
It was a gradual climb the next 25 or so miles to Keyes Creek Pass. I fell into sort of a sluggish daze for a while during the first half of this section; it was hot, there was no shade, and I almost had to remind myself to pedal - I kept slowing almost to a stop. At some point, though, I snapped out of this lethargy, and returned to my usual decent pace.
Six or seven miles before I reached Keyes Creek Pass, I met Chris, a TransAm Eastbounder starting fairly late in the year. We talked for a while, and it felt strange to be the "experienced" one now - I thought back to Day 7 in Virginia, when I talked to Steve, the first Eastbounder I met on the trip. I'd marvelled at the time at how far he'd come, and now I was in the same position...
Chris and I talked for a while, and I wished him luck as I rode on towards Keyes Creek Pass. I kept waiting for a hill to climb, and was surprised when I rode up to the sign announcing the "pass" - it was undoubtedly the easiest "mountain pass" so far.
It was a nice, 6.5 mile downhill ride to Mitchell (pop. 170). I rode through the small "downtown" (a few thriving businesses, several closed ones) until I found the Post Office. I had decided to mail a bunch of stuff home, now that I was close to the coast. I stopped long enough to find out that the Post Office closed in an hour and a half, and decided to check into my motel, decide what to send back, then return to the Post Office.
I had reserved a room at the Skyhook Motel, which turned out to be at the top of a steep, gravelly driveway. I checked into my room (old, small, but clean - reminiscent of the spare bedroom of my Grandparents' house when I was very young). I quickly decided what to send back - all the camping gear which I had been hauling around pointlessly for weeks, extra clothes, miscellaneous stuff I had accumulated.
I went back to the Post Office and packaged up the stuff (which I learned weighed 23 pounds!) and mailed it home. For the rest of the trip, I would be carrying only the two small panniers (on the rear rack, now) and the handlebar bag.
After a stop at the Wheeler County Trading Co., where I picked up chocolate milk, Diet Pepsi and Power Ade (and called home from the store's phone - a local character was using the payphone outside, and the people at the store told me he sometimes dominated it for hours), I returned to my old-timey motel room and cleaned up.
I rested for a while, then rode back down to the town, did some laundry, and had dinner at the Little Pine Cafe. A local guy at the table next to mine was talking about all the rattlesnakes he and his wife had killed around their house recently - he said he had killed two, and his wife had killed six this month. I suspected he was exaggerating (it was only the second day of the month!), but I enjoyed hearing about their exterminating technique: He said they hit them on the head with a stick, but "you don't have to hit them hard, 'cos their heads are so soft." Interesting.
Before I went back to the motel for the night, I stopped to check out Henry the bear, who lives in a (large, rather nice, actually) cage across the street from the Little Pine Cafe. The cage was covered with wire mesh, so I wasn't tempted to reach in and pat Henry (probably for the best, as it would be inconvenient to lose a hand when I was so close to reaching the coast...)
I stayed up for a while, reading the three-year-old Readers Digest I found in my room, then went to bed as soon as it was dark outside.
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Today's ride: 70 miles (113 km)
Total: 3,981 miles (6,407 km)
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