June 19-28, days 19-27

Well, well, well. If it isn’t our new friend, climate change, rearing its ugly head. 

I’ll write about the heat and what I’ve been up to. If you’re a cyclist looking for information about the Sierra Cascades portion in southern Washington and Oregon, scroll down to the “Cycling” subhead. 

I’m stuck in Portland. While this is annoying and I’d — obviously — prefer to be on the road, there’s nothing to be done with a scenario like this. There’s no negotiating with it. It is literally hotter than it has ever been in Portland, Oregon, my home town. They’re calling it a freak “heat dome” that is melting the entire Pacific Northwest. At 3 a.m. last night it was above 90 degrees. I’m writing at 1:14 p.m. on June 28 and it is 113 degrees. This apparently breaks yesterday’s all-time high of 112. 

I’m writing from my mother’s house in Portland. It’s a big house in a nice neighborhood. The air conditioning is sort of working. It was 80 degrees inside near 10 p.m. last night when I slept on the couch downstairs, which is cooler. The unit is leaking water onto the concrete floor of the basement and we’re trying to figure out what’s wrong with it. We’d fixed it temporarily by switching out a dirty filter before the heat wave descended, but the leak is back. While this is expensive and concerning we’re still indoors in safe conditions. I’m not on the road. Nor am I living in an apartment without air conditioning, which is dangerous and can be fatal in heat like this. 

The inferno will mitigate by next week here. In central and eastern Oregon, where I’d planned to ride on the TransAm en route to Missoula, days in the 100s and 90s will persist indefinitely. I’ll have to alter my route for safety reasons. Some friends and family will give me rides to keep my dream alive, which would otherwise wilt and wither in the heat like everything else within 400 miles of this place. 

Aside from the devastating environmental impacts of this heat, I am personally faring well during this thanks to some serendipity in my squirrely route. On June 23 I popped out of a lovely stretch of forest and the Columbia River Gorge opened dramatically before me. I cycled across Bridge of the Gods into Cascade Locks, Oregon. This amounted to a homecoming for me after three weeks and 900 miles on the road. Cascade Locks is 40 miles from Portland. 

It felt strange to be back. The traffic was awful and, despite how remote I’d felt, I realized I’d actually been very close to home. I ate an overpriced meal that wasn’t any good and laid on the grass at the Bridge of the Gods trailhead. I missed the country. I hadn’t had cell service for the two days prior and spent my time blissfully watching the full moon rise and bathing in cold rivers. Now everyone was driving aggressively and hoarding ice for a cataclysmic heat wave. I was uneasy. It was cool in the shade. I listened to the breeze in the trees for an hour and laid looking up at the Douglas Fir bows. A few hikers exited the Pacific Crest Trail and walked with their packs on into town, ostensibly looking for supplies. I was satisfied and felt like I was returning home as a different person. Someone more independent, someone stronger, someone more relaxed. 

My two friends Andrew and Mike picked me up. It was great to see them. We proceeded to drive into Portland and invite friends over for a barbecue. 

I’ve since spent the days hiding from the heat during the day and hanging out with my friends at night. 

I won’t chronicle those days here because they’re in the realm of normal life, of the typical trip home to see friends and family. But I am extremely restless despite the blessings of the last few days. I feel like I shouldn’t be here and I would much prefer to be on the road. 

I have a plan to get back out there. My mom is a teacher and has the summers off. Coincidentally, she’s never been to Montana. We’re extremely close and I genuinely enjoy spending time with her, so we’re planning to road trip next week to Glacier National Park in Montana. We’ll camp and see the sights. Then I’ll cycle the park and ride down to Missoula, where I’ll intersect then with my original route. All told from this diversion I’ll lose a net of about 300 miles of riding. But I will not be a desiccated husk on the side of a blazing road near Prineville, Oregon. And I’ll get to see Glacier. 

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve family and friends such as the ones I have. 

Cycling 

From Randle, WA the southbound ACA Sierra Cascades route follows Highway 25 to Carson, WA and the Columbia River Gorge. 

Folks, the stretch was one of my favorites in all of Washington. It’s shady and secluded at first, with excellent free camping on Iron Creek (near the Iron Creek Campground, but $22 cheaper) and little, if any traffic. Elk Pass wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. Yet after the pass, when the downhill begins, the views of Mt. St. Helens are unbelievable. For an hour you’ll parallel the mountain. Pull over often to gawk at the  volcano. I then camped for free again on the Lewis River. It’s beautiful, with long beaches of grey sand. I spent an evening writing and watching an osprey hunt the bend of the river. There’s no services between Randle and Carson except for a small camp and convenience store that may or may not be open when you pedal into the dusty lot, so prepare for two nights of food in advance in Randle. 

Things are more dangerous from Carson to Cascade Locks, OR. Traffic increased dramatically. At this point you enter the regional traffic bubble of Portland. On the weekends in the summer, it’s packed. And it sucks. 

I rode this on a weekday and it was still downright unsafe. There’s a big lumber production facility in Carson and the semis are prolific heading south out of town. I was run off the road by a semi truck for the first time. There’s little to no shoulder between Carson and Stevenson. However: crossing Bridge of the Gods was safer than I expected. If you’re afraid of heights, you probably won’t enjoy crossing the bridge. It’s a grate surface and the railings are low on the side of the bridge, and there’s going to be traffic behind you. I was lucky enough to have nice people behind me. And the bridge isn’t very long to begin with.