Across America by Bicycle: Alice and Bobbi's Summer on Wheels

1. Through the Columbia River Gorge: Oregon and Washington

1 Through the Columbia River Gorge Oregon and Washington 12 Oregon and Washington Where’re you headed?” a rumpled old man shouted from the sidewalk . Unshaven and uninhibited, he was watching us slowly pedal our loads through the chilly drizzle in Astoria, Oregon, that first morning. “Bar Harbor, Maine,” I answered. Without hesitating, he called after us, “God be with you.” I couldn’t think of a better way to begin. It was not the only time we would be blessed or prayed for on our odyssey from Oregon to Maine, but that first benediction set a positive tone. All would not be sunshine and tailwinds, but the balance would tip in our direction more often than we could imagine. We eventually grew used to people asking us where we were going and where we had come from—almost always their first questions— but neither of us took for granted their expressions of encouragement . The load on each of our bikes first drew their attention, but the fact that we were two fifty-something women traveling long distance without male companions contributed to their curiosity. Day 1 Monday, June 30 Astoria to St. Helens 80 miles Bikes with full panniers, otherwise known as saddlebags, handle far differently from empty bikes, and we hadn’t toured “loaded” for several years. As we pulled uphill out of the heavy Olympic mist, past lush ferns and through the dense shade of dripping evergreens, we were just beginning to relearn the skill. Mishaps could occur. After an hour or so, Alice needed to visit the woods for a “nature” break, so she called out, “I’m stopping.” Unfortunately, she didn’t stop at that exact moment because she was still peering into the woods scouting out just the right spot. But I stopped quickly. The result: Alice plowed into the back of my bike, and, bouncing off, she Oregon and Washington 13 and her bike fell sideways onto the pavement. Luckily, the loaded panniers padded her fall and no cars were nearby, so she escaped with just a few bruises, a sore knee, and some chagrin. Our first on-the-road policy discussion ensued. We agreed that whenever either of us wanted to stop we would call out, “Stopping,” as before, but then neither of us would actually stop until the other person answered, “OK.” Both of us would be looking straight ahead, aware of each other’s position. The incident gave new meaning to the concept of rear-end collisions, and we wanted no more of them. Despite that mishap, it didn’t take us long to decide that I would continue to ride in front and Alice would follow—on roads where we had to ride single file. Once in a while we switched, but we both preferred the arrangement. On our previous trips, I had been the faster rider, so I didn’t mind setting the pace. Alice, on the other hand, said she didn’t want to lead—that she would feel pushed, thinking that I wanted to go faster. We had predicted that at times we would be far apart because of our different paces, but our assumptions on this subject, as on so many others, turned out to be wrong. My Softride Solo touring bike was heavier and more heavily loaded than Alice’s Holdsworth Mistral, so we found that a usually faster rider with a larger amount of gear rode at the same speed as a slower rider with less. We would have no problem knowing where the other was because we would never be that far apart. Our second mishap involved another “bathroom” break. At Knappa Junction, a convenience store clerk denied us a restroom— some “convenience”—but told us we would find one at Pacific Gas, a little farther up the road. Pacific Gas, we discovered, was for commercial vehicles, so it wasn’t busy with regular traffic and it didn’t have a store or an attendant attached to it. So where was the restroom ? We finally spotted it—a portable toilet—at the far end of the gravel driveway. We leaned our bikes against a gas pump, one bike 14 Oregon and Washington on each side, and walked through the dust and greasy gravel, taking turns using the facility. After remounting our bikes, which still felt cumbersome and slow, we continued the uphill climb. A half hour later...