June 15, 2019
Day Six: Virgin Valley Campground to Fields Station, Oregon
I was awakened around 4:30 by a the chirping of a monstrously loud bird that sounded like it was on top of the tent, directly above my head.
The tent floor was slightly damp. I now remembered that my wife had warned me a couple of times that she thought that the tent might be losing its waterproof properties. This is the same tent that she bought years ago, in grad school. Her loan of the tent for a bike tour I did in 2008 ultimately led to our marriage. So, the tent has sentimental value. And I'm a creature of habit who has not wanted to purchase, or learn to set up, a new tent, in all these years.
I got out of the tent to find that everyone else in the campground was still asleep. Lucky them. I started getting everything packed up, and then, as I was attempting to attach the left rear pannier, I finally determined the cause of yesterday's mysterious noise: One of the pannier straps had come loose and become deeply wedged in the rear wheel's disc brake. Shit. I worked for a while trying to remove the now shredded strap from the brake, but eventually had to remove the wheel to get it out. The strap was ruined, but my larger concern was that the brake was now rubbing.
I worked on it for 20 minutes and eventually was able to reduce the rubbing to the point where I thought I could ride it. After talking to a couple of cheerful, early-rising old men who were soaking in the waist-high "warm spring" in the campground, I rode the two miles of gravel back to the paved road and the rest area.
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A truck driver walked out of the outhouse as I arrived. He was driving one of the large milk trucks that I'd seen a few times on yesterday's long, empty ride from Adel to the campground. We talked for a while, and he was the first person who asked me what I thought about the "Doherty" climb yesterday. He told me he always takes it very slow because "I get paid by the hour anyway." He asked which towns I'd ridden through, and as I listed them, and was preparing to mention my bad impression of Bly, he told me that he'd lived there for 20 years. That was a close call!
Back on the road it was an easy ride for the next several miles. No hills of any significance.
I arrived at Denio Junction, which is a grimy restaurant/bar/campground/motel/store. It was the place referenced by the "Next Gas 100 Miles" sign back in Adel yesterday. However, I soon found out that there actually was no fuel there: The pumps had been struck by lightning a day or two before, and were broken.
I went into the restaurant, where I was the only customer, and ordered a veggie omelet, hash browns, and toast. The older lady who took my order, one of the two people working in the place, strongly resembled my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Masters. I might be turning into the kind of old man who relates everything he experiences to people and events in his childhood. Sheesh.
The omelet, which contained actual vegetables and not just cheese, was good, especially once I doused it with Tabasco sauce. I took my time with breakfast as a few customers wandered in, then left disappointed when they learned there was no fuel. They'd have to make it to Fields Station, where I was also headed.
Back on the road, it continued to be mostly flat, and I had a slight tailwind. Easy riding. I wasn't too far from Fields Station, though, when a violent gust of cold wind almost stopped me. The wind from the south had abruptly changed direction and was now pushing against me. I arrived at Fields Station knowing I was done for the day, at only 50-something miles. It was stlll early, around noon, so I decided to treat today as a semi-rest day, and use the extra time to catch up on some chores.
Fields Station is restaurant/campground/motel/store similar to Denio Junction, but nicer. Its current owners are a friendly Millennial couple who bought it from the man's parents fairly recently. Their lone employee is a similarly-aged woman. Everyone there was friendly, so after I got a room at their tiny adjacent motel - there are only four or six rooms, I think - I decided the store would be good place to hang out.
After showering in the clean but very basic motel room, I walked back to the store and sat at the counter, centrally located to observe all the activities - most of which was people driving up desperate to purchase gas. Another popular topic of conversation was the mosquitoes, which apparently were much, much worse than usual this year. Oddly, they had not bothered me at all while I was riding the bike, nor in the campground. Odd.
It was an enjoyable time sitting there, doing my usual people-watching/listening. I had a grilled cheese and fries, and later, one of the apparently regionally famous Fields Station milkshakes. It actually was a pretty great milkshake. I listened as the woman and her employee talked about potential business ideas ("I really want to bring some of those hot dogs in, and try them"). The woman was into ultra-running, so she and I talked about that for a while, and she recommended some electrolyte powder I'd never heard of, but which she swore by.
I went back to my room. Fields Station closes really early - 6:00 - and since I was the only one staying at the motel, it was a very quiet evening. I walked outside once around 6:30 when I heard voices, to find that a couple of desperate travelers were at the gas pumps. This is Oregon, though, and they couldn't pump the gas themselves. I told them the place was closed and I didn't know how to contact the owners. I don't know what they ended up doing, since the next source of fuel was many, many miles away.
I went to bed early in order, while it was still light outside.
Today's ride: 53 miles (85 km)
Total: 486 miles (782 km)
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