Oregon is crazy for cycling

In early June we packed up our stuff and our bikes and headed south to the Oregon coast for a camping trip.  Along Highway 30, we saw the first of many cyclists on this trip -- among the many long-distance cyclists we saw heading east were at least five different tandem bikes.  I've never seen so many tandems in one day.

We stayed at Cape Lookout, which is basically west of Tillamook.  After settling into our cabin, we hopped on our bikes and rode on the trails to the nearby beach (although not on the beach), then we headed off to explore the campground on our bikes.  As usual, I loved peeking into everyone's living situation while riding around.  I was impressed at how many other campers also had bikes with them.

During our trip we encountered many long-distance cyclists (randonneurs?) with pannier racks stuffed full of stuff on the back and often the front wheels, too.  I was amazed at how they were able to climb the pretty steep coastal highways on their bikes.  I wanted to shout encouragement out the window, but didn't - maybe next time.  I'm nowhere near being able to ride the miles they do (yet), but I think I'm adding an Oregon coast bike trip to my bucket list.

Later during our trip, we again rode through the campground, then followed a road until it was no longer paved, and was basically a 4x4 packed path over gravel, sand, and vegetation.  I loved "off-roading" on my bike.  It felt like we were exploring an area lots of people wouldn't.  We also rode around the trails near our cabin, and basically just acted like kids.

Oregon inspired me to get into cycling even more.  It takes a different mentality to decide to explore a hilly coastline on your own power, and I suspect that the sights you see while cycling the coast are even more wondrous than what we see from our cars and short hikes.

Gearing Up

On Friday we were warned that it would be sunny for most of the day Saturday, then it would start to rain again.  So when we saw how nice it was yesterday, we headed out for another ride - this time to someplace new to us, the Soos Creek Trail in Kent.

The trail began in a wooded area with lots of small hills.  I wasn't used to using my gears as much as I needed to in order to gain speed on the downhills and immediately switch to the right lower gear to pedal uphill.  As a result, at one point, I was about halfway up a very small but steep hill on too high of a gear, couldn't pedal anymore, and had to stop and walk my bike just a few steps to the top.  An embarrassing lesson to learn - get in the right gear before the hill.

Soon the path leveled out into what looked like a valley, and we rode under large power transformers for a while.

Here, we took a break to catch our breath, drink some water, and watch people pass us.  Mostly runners and other recreational cyclists, but a couple faster cyclists rode past us in their spendex, as well.

At times, we had to cross various roads, some busier than others.  I still haven't mastered the quick start, especially when my bike is in a somewhat higher gear, and can be slow to get going.  A couple of times, drivers who I'm sure thought they were being courteous drove me nutty because they held up traffic (one even though they had the green and I had the red) waiting for me to cross.  I would have much preferred that they just went, so I could decide myself when to cross.  Instead, I struggled to get my bike going in too high of a gear with an audience of impatient car drivers watching.

After leaving the flat area, we rode through some skunk cabbage in full bloom (not pleasant), then past some horse pastures (much better).

There were even a couple bridges to ride over (which I love).

I was worried that on the way back, I'd have the same trouble with getting in the right gear for the small hills, but I switched to my lowest gear in the front when we got there, and found it much easier to get in the right gear (especially for hills), although I probably gave up some speed on the downhills.  But I made it over all the little hills with little effort, and only had to walk up the last very steep hill that J walked up, too (although I made it farther than he did :) ). 

Moms on Bikes

Today we headed to Seattle to ride on Lake Washington Blvd with J's parents.  They ride Dahon folding bikes, and had already unpacked them when we got there.

This stretch of Lake Washington Blvd was closed to cars today because it was a Bicycle Sunday, so we had the road to ourselves.  As did all the other families, moms, kids, and cyclists.  The road follows Lake Washington, and is lined with flowering trees.  It's about three miles to the Seward Park entrance.  For a while I rode with J's dad while J rode with his mom.

The folding bikes are single gear bicycles, so I found that if I stayed in my middle gear we traveled at the same speed.  I enjoyed not having to have to worry about getting out of the way of people because we had the whole road to ourselves.  Car-free days are genius, and I wish there were more of them in more places.  The freedom of being able to ride on the road was fantastic, especially for someone like me who's still not comfortable sharing the road with cars (not that they share much).

Soon we arrived at the Seward Park entrance.  I didn't realize it, but there's a bike path that follows the waterfront of the park, which is a peninsula that juts out into the lake.  We found great places to stop along the way with docks and views of the city in the distance.

Here, since we were riding on a smaller bike path and more moms were at the park riding with their families, I got to use my new bell more often.  Rather than yelling "On your left!", it's much more cheerful to let people know you're coming up on their left to ring a bell.

I loved watching J's parents ride their folding bikes.  The proportions of their bikes are different from ours with our big wheels and frames - their wheels are smaller, their seat posts and handle bar tubes much taller.  I love that there are so many different types of bikes out there for different people.

On our trip back to Mt. Baker Park, we was saw more and more cyclists on the road, including a large group of road cyclists all wearing the same jerseys who hogged the middle of the road.  I guess even on car-free days there's still someone who thinks they own the road.

The later it got in the morning, the more families joined us on the road.  I saw a dad who looked like he was accustomed to riding very fast riding very very slowly behind his son on a very small bicycle, who was pedalling as hard as he could.

We made it back to the car after riding over 11 miles (again!), then took off for lunch.  I look forward to spending more days riding with moms on bikes.

Bridge Number Four

Today was a gift – a blue sky, sunny gift of a day.  After a couple weeks without cycling, we ventured out to explore another part of the trail we rode on our first day with our bicycles – the Foothills Trail.  Last time we rode over one bridge on our ride; this time J wanted to ride over three.

With Mt. Rainier huge and white in the distance, we started in Orting, heading out of town and along the Carbon River.  Another couple, older and fully geared out with jerseys, bike shorts, and clip-on pedals left just ahead of us.  They looked much more experienced than me in my workout pants and tennis shoes.

There were people on the trail of all ages, experience levels, shapes, and sizes.  Little kids on their miniature bikes, parents towing toddlers in trailers, people on recumbent bikes and trikes, and us.  We maneuvered through them all – the kids wobbling all over the trail, and the speeding road cyclists coming at us at what seemed like 40 mph.

We rode past the cows, along the river, across the first bridge, then into the trees and past the emu – quickly getting to new ground.  The purple wildflowers were in bloom, and we could smell skunk cabbage. 

We rode along a creek, and passed over a second bridge.  This one looked like it used to be a railroad bridge, trestle and all.  I still don’t know what the best way to maneuver these is when I’m behind  slow/stopping pedestrians, and other cyclists are speeding toward me.  I just slow waaay down, and wait until it’s completely clear to pass.

Soon we saw a turnoff with a barbecue next to a picnic table, and pulled off at the stop created by REI at the halfway point of the trail. I walked out to the end of the paved walkway, and the creek spread out to my left and right.  A lone duck paddled toward me (the sign said it was a wood duck).  It let me take its picture, then flew off down the creek.

We continued along the path, which followed the creek.  We saw the geared up couple heading back already.  I saw the woman get on her bike and she wobbled and didn't look confident getting started - much like me a few weeks ago.  You just can't tell by looking at people whether they're truly experienced or not.  I find that reassuring.

The path met up with the river again for a while, and we rode over a third bridge, then bridge number four.  We rode a little longer, but soon turned around, not wanting to leave too little in the tank for the return trip.

Turns out we didn’t need to be worried about being too tired to get back because it’s mostly a very slight decline going that direction – we sped back, I finally got to use my higher gears, and I loved the feel of speeding along on my own power.  On the straightaways I swerved back and forth and felt like a kid.

We maneuvered our way through the families, kids, pedestrians and dogs on leashes when we got closer to town, then reached the truck.  Not sure how far we rode, but we made it over four bridges this time – three more than last time.

On our way out of town we stopped for a dipped cone (the ultimate reward).  FYI - in Orting, they're almost twice as expensive as normal.  Still worth it!

First Decade

Today we rode 11 miles, and it felt fantastic.  We also used our bike rack for the first time, even on the freeway, and the bikes and rack didn’t fall off onto the road and get smashed by a big rig.  Success!

We decided to ride the very flat (my favorite!) Chehalis Western Trail. We saw that it was grey out, but not raining, so we  ventured out, in hopes we wouldn’t end up getting soaked.  We got the bikes loaded on our brand new rack, and were nervous on the freeway, and over bumps, but everything stayed where it was supposed to.

We parked at a trailhead in Lacey, and unloaded the bikes.  Another cyclist walked by, smiled, and said, “Nice bikes!”  I was really proud because I happen to love them.

We took off near the 7 mile marker on the trail, heading east.  Again for the first maybe half mile I kept thinking that this was harder than I remember, but quickly I forgot about the effort, and instead focused on the scenery.  At first, it felt like we were riding through people’s backyards.  Homes backed right up to the path, and I got to see in all their backyards.  You know, most people are not neat freaks.  Their yards weren’t super messy, but they weren’t immaculate either.  It was reassuring.

We crossed a few roads, and each time I approached one, I was a little apprehensive.  I’m still worried that a car isn’t going to see me and I’ll get creamed.  But each time, I crossed with no problem, and no falls.

Soon our path was no longer paved, and became muddy and rocky.  I was certain I would slip in the mud and fall.  I tried to stay to the edge of the puddles, but couldn’t avoid them all.  At one point, an oncoming cyclist and I were separated by a huge puddle.  There was a little space on my side to ride around the puddle, and I wasn’t sure whether I or the oncoming cyclist had the right of way.  I apologized for making him stop and rode past.  (J told me later that since the way around the puddle was on my side, I had the right of way.  Who knew?)

The muddy path took us to a busy road, where the trail joins the road for 600 hundred feet.  We rode under a train trestle and with the traffic, then followed the trail when it separated from the road and headed up a short steep hill.  At the top, we had to stop for a second to catch our breath.  We rode a couple more miles on the trail, then started to tire out, so we turned around at the 12.5 mile marker.

On the way back, I was worried about crossing the busy road where the trail follows the road.  But when I got to the bottom of the hill, I made it across easy, rode under the trestle and through a huge puddle no problem, then back across the road and over the muddy, rocky part of the trail.  The adrenaline rush of riding over an uneven path and making it through is pretty fantastic.

About half the way back, we got rained on.  Just a light shower, and we were able to pull over into a covered rest area.  Not bad for the Pacific Northwest.

As we arrived back at our truck, the sun came out, and we ate our lunch in the sunshine.

Rest Day

The day after I got my first bike and went for my first ride, my hubs wanted to go for another ride – this time the Five Mile loop at Point Defiance.  It’s closed for motorized vehicles on weekend mornings, and J was really excited to finally be able to ride it on a bike (we’ve walked around the park many times, watching as cyclists zoomed past us).

We got to the park at around 11am, and set off.  My butt immediately reminded me that I wasn’t accustomed to riding a bike for as long as we had the day before.  It hurt.  A lot.

It was colder than it had been the day before, but I figured we’d be working harder on the hillier ride, so that would probably keep me warm, and as a result I just wore a hoodie, no coat or gloves (mistake).  Unfortunately for me, the ride starts with a flat, then a big slow downhill where you just keep picking up speed.  Fun on a sunny day, but yesterday I froze my tail off (and ears, and fingers).

The downhill was followed by a pretty easy climb.  At least, on a normal day it'll be easy.  Yesterday day it was anything but.  My quads screamed at me, and I was quickly running out of what little energy I had when the day started.  I shifted down to a lower gear and barely made it to the top (learning along the way that shifting the front chain ring isn't easy, especially when you're going uphill - which seems to defeat its purpose).

We pulled over at a viewpoint, and I couldn’t enjoy it, I was panting so hard.

On the next climb, a midsize one, I ran out of juice.  I barely passed a couple slowly walking their dog, and another cyclist sped past me on the left.  I was in granny gear (which is what I've learned the lowest gear is called), breathing hard, and couldn’t muster the energy to keep pedalling.

I yelled out to J, “This isn’t fun anymore!”  I got off the bike, and walked it the rest of the way up the hill.  The couple with the dog passed me.

At the top of the hill, J could see that I was ready to be done and told me we could take a shortcut back to the car.  I couldn’t have been happier (but I was too tired to express it).

We rode back to the truck and put the bikes away.  Next time, we’ll be taking a rest day after a long ride.

Too Slow, Too Fast

On Daffodil Parade Day, I went for my first ride on the first bicycle I’ve owned as a grown-up.

When I rode my bike for the first time, I huffed and puffed my way down the flat path.  I probably didn’t exceed 15 mph (not that I know for sure because we don’t have a computer to tell us how fast we’re going yet).  I was a little embarrassed that the other bicycle riders were much more expert – riding a straight path, closely following each other to draft, wearing their spandex gear.  I, on the other had, do not ride in a straight line (J says I ride like I'm drunk), was always about 20-30 feet ahead of or behind J, and had to fold up my workout pants so they didn’t get caught in the chain.

At the beginning of the ride, I complained that we'd bitten off more than we could chew for our first outing.  The path followed the road for what seemed like forever before getting to the town (probably only 1 mile or so).  Cars zoomed past us, and oncoming cyclists seemed to go twice as fast as us.  At every stop sign and light, I slowed waaaaay down for fear of getting hit by a car turning right into me.


Finally we got to town, where we could smell people preparing for the parade with a barbecue.  We stopped to drink water at the water fountain, then we continued on where the path left the town and passed cows grazing in a pasture.  They seemed happy that it wasn’t raining.  We rode past a few homes where children played outside (also happy it wasn’t raining).  

A man running with his small dog apologized when the dog barked at me as I rode past, saying “He’s not used to wheels.”  I responded, “It’s ok, neither am I!”

We stopped when the path met up with the river.  We ate a picnic lunch of tuna sandwiches and chips that J packed that morning while I slept in and were impressed with ourselves for having ridden so far on just our first ride.  The river rushed past us, a muddy grey color – probably glacial melt.  We saw the Cascades in the distance.  People we’d passed walked past us, and said hello – again.  We took pictures of our bicycles, proud to be beginner cyclists.  Then we headed off on the path, now following the river.

The path passed over a narrow bridge, on which I was unsure who to yield to, if anyone.  A pedestrian entered the bridge ahead of me, and I could see two (expert) cyclists heading my way.  Maybe someday I’ll know the rules of these roads, but that day I didn’t.  I slowed as I approached, unsure whether to stop or speed over the bridge.  The pedestrian saw me, paused in the middle and scooted over for me, and I had passed over the bridge before the oncoming cyclists got there.  It was all very civilized.

The path left the river, and we rode through a small forest.  A couple – one on a bike timing the other who was running – headed toward us.  The runner was probablyfaster than me on my bike.

After leaving the forest, I looked up to see a large fenced-in pasture, and back from the fence a ways was a really big bird.  I laughed under my breath.  What a surprise– out in the middle of nowhere, what looked like an ostrich (but was probably an emu).  I stopped to get a better look, and as I approached the fence, the bird approached me.  He was taller than me, and his feathers looked new and fluffy – like maybe he wasn’t full-grown yet.  Before I could get our camera turned on, he bored of me and slowly walked away.

We turned around to head back, leaving more to explore next time.  The return trip seemed easier and smoother.  We even rode side by side for a bit.  When we loaded our bikes back into the truck, I saw a couple taking their bikes out of their truck.  They wore jeans and tennis shoes, and didn’t seem terribly confident on their bikes,and I waved at them as they left the parking lot.

On our drive home, we wondered if the blinking lights and stopped cars ahead of us in the oncoming lanes were because of the parade.  As we drove past, and saw the body of a young person covered with a blanket, we knew that they weren’t stopped for the parade.  A motorcyclist had hit an oncoming car at speeds estimated at 100 mph.  He died.  There’s no way to wrap that up nicely.

I was sad for the guy who'd gone too fast, and glad that we’d spent our day going our own speed.