June 6, 2022
Rose City, Rose City
The sky is blue.
That is the most important truth.
For me.
Shoulda left sooner, but ...
The gustatory delights of a motel breakfast buffet
and the comforts of updating the journal in bed proved insurmountable.
I didn't get away until 9:00.
Invested in a new pool noodle to replace the one left behind in Cathlamet.
Hopefully someone else will use it. It's a great safety feature.
A short ride on Old Portland Road and then US 30 ... bleah.
At least the morning rush is over. Wide shoulder.
Still, the road of traffic is deafening.
Finally arrived at the historic St. Johns Bridge over the Willamette River.
I have want to cycle across this bridge for years and now have the chance.
What's more, there is very little late morning traffic, plus sunshine.
Stopped by the old Carnegie library in the St. Johns neighborhood.
It's one of the nicest neighborhoods in Portland -
with a small commercial district and century-old bungalows,
trimmed lawns, shade trees, and rhododendrons in bloom.
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Yet, only blocks away there are many homeless encampments.
Most of the city's bike trail have become homeless camps.
Yes, there are serious issues of housing affordability and mental illness,
but drug and alcohol use is wide open and sanitation almost nonexistent.
As a person with 32 years of recovery and who has worked with others,
I question the ethics of letting people continue in their addiction
in conditions you wouldn't even allow for stray dogs or cats.
There was even a city bus that had been "liberated" -
flat tires, windows missing, surrounded by trash.
I visited Portland in 1987 at the start of my first cros-country tour.
Residents claimed that Portland was America's most beautiful city.
They weren't bragging. They were right.
But Portland is no longer beautiful.
The Marine Drive bike trail runs along the Columbia River.
At one point you are on top of the levee with a great view
of planes taking off from Portland International Airport.
Just as if we were watching planes from the observation deck
at San Juan airport in the 1960s.
Whenever the bike trail dropped down on the landward side of the levee
it was often filled with tents, junked cars, and trash.
I learned to stay on the road, instead. Minding my own business.
Just putting the miles in by now.
By mid-afternoon I had a decision to make.
A serious moral decision for a puritanical touring cyclist.
I wasn't going to make it to Cascade Locks to see Jeff & Lisa,
unless I opted out of the Old Columbia River Highway.
With its spectacular views from Crown Point and Multnomah Falls.
I know Jeff would be heading back towards Stevenson soon,
so I called him and he agree to pick me up at the Sandy River park.
In this case, time with friends is more important.
We loaded the bike on the flatbed truck, zoomed down I-84,
crossed the Bridge of the Gods, and sat on his front porch.
Eating taco truck Mexican and reconnecting some more.
Lisa was having a girls night out, so it was just the boys for now.
But when she got home, we had some time to catch up, too.
Today's ride: 50 miles (80 km)
Total: 197 miles (317 km)
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