As much as I enjoy all the sloppy mountain biking that’s been possible this spring, all this wet weather has been making me miss the road riding I could be doing. I’m really starting to crave the hiss of rubber on pavement. Finally a dry weekend!
My ride started Saturday afternoon in the river rafting town of Maupin, Oregon, wedged deep in the spectacular Deschutes River canyon. From Maupin there are five roads leading out, and and they all go straight up. I’ve chosen Bakeoven Road, one of my favorite Spring (dear God, not Summer!) training rides. 25 miles of wheat fields, power lines and sagebrush. Perfect desolation.
So I’m a "singlespeeder", right? Am I doing this big road ride, with steep climbs, in one gear? Heck no! Thanks to multiple chainrings and cogs, I’ve got three gears: 42:16 for cruising, 42:18 for rollers and moderate climbs, and 38:23 for big climbs. I might have 3 gears, but I still have no derailleurs, shifters or chain tensioners. And I still have to get off the bike, loosen the axle and move the chain to "shift", so I only do it half a dozen times on the whole ride.
The initial 1000 foot climb out of the canyon only takes half an hour, but I’m still ready for a quick break at the top. There isn’t really any good place to pull off this road and have a lunch or rest break except for the two BPA substations, so they do just fine. They’re eerie places to hang out. The electrical equipment varyingly crackles, sings, whistles, buzzes, humbs and makes "ray-gun" sounds like in the old sci-fi movies:
"Mr. Jefferson" and Mt. Adams are visible on this beautiful day, as is Mt. Hood:
It’s now a gradual climb, miles of emptiness. In 50 total miles on this road, I will be passed by a total of eight cars. Eight! The pavement is pretty coarse chip seal, but I’m riding Bianchi steel and barely notice. I also see a number of motorcycles on this ride – often traveling at way above the speed limit, yet they always wave. I always wave back, of course. There is a camaraderie among people who go out to explore quiet high-peformance highways in the open air on two wheels.
One way or the other, this road always kicks my ass. The canyon climb is easy this time, but I’ve got a lot more climbing before the summit. The rest isn’t steep like the canyon. No, it just climbs gradually for miles and miles. With a light headwind. Bakeoven Road has slammed me again. Getting to the top is maddeningly tedious but I do finally make it:
From here it’s a few miles to Shaniko, a genuine ghost town and the first sign of civilization since I started. Actually it used to be a ghost town. It was an old rail town that died when the line did, and even the traffic on US 97 wasn’t enough to keep it alive. But it’s coming back, and it now boasts a café, a couple of antique stores, and a growing population of 25.
I'm training to do a full SS century next month, so today's goal is to do at least a metric century. In order to make my goal I need to ride a few miles further out before turning back. But I got a late starttoday and it’s now 5:00. I’m not sure there’s time to ride all the way to the next town, which lies at the bottom of another steep canyon. So I decide to ride about 5 miles more and turn around at the top of the canyon, avoiding the steep climb back up and ensuring my return before sunset.
Well, yeah that seemed like a good plan at the time! I get to the top of the canyon – which again I hadn’t planned to ride down – and the plan is forgotten:
Temptation, thy name is Oregon SR 218. C'mon, I am only human. I plunge in, ramming down the straightaways and screaming with delight at the endless tight, round curves. Like all great beauties, there is far more pleasure to be had here than can be captured in a single photograph, and it seems to go on and on and on. And then, after what feels like much longer than the five minutes that it actually takes, I am spent.
The grade has carried me three miles and 1000 feet down, all at a perfect speed of 32-35 mph. There have been nearly a dozen fast curves, most of them just tight enough that I don’t quite have to touch the brakes. It doesn’t get any better than that. I will pay for these five minutes in heaven seven times over in purgatory, climbing back up. Worth every damn minute, too. One more look:
Meanwhile, I’m still carrying speed, from what may be the best road descent I’ve ever had, as I roll into the little hamlet of Antelope. Maybe they should rename it to "Horse":
Actually, Antelope has been renamed enough times already. During part of the Eighties, it was named Rajneeshpuram by a crazy cult, holed up on a nearby ranch, that took over its city government. The Rajneeshis, and the Rolls-Royce-crazed Baghwan who led them, gained international notoriety for nearly taking over the Wasco county government as well - and for committing one of the few acts of biological terrorism ever carried out on US soil. Now this tiny town is pretty sleepy again, and the Rajneeshis are long gone. But everyone on the planet who is over 30 and owns a television has heard of Antelope.
Time to climb back up the canyon. Actually, it’s not that bad, as I have learned today that steep climbs are sometimes easier than long monotonous ones. Anyway, you know you’re a long way from the Willamette Valley when you see multicolored sedimentary outcrops like this in the hills:
I get back to Shaniko at 6:30, with 27 miles yet to go. The guy at the gas station warns me to watch out for deer. Uhhhh, hadn’t thought of that. That sure would suck – probably more for me than it would for the deer. Anyway, it’s 42:16 all the way, and I make it back to the edge of the canyon right around dusk.
The descent, as always, is spectacular, though after Antelope it’s now dropped to #2 on my list of favorites. No deer, although I do almost hit a flock of quail-sized birds hanging out in the road, which I barely even see in the fading light. I’ve gone well over 40 mph many times with gears, but the 39.5 mph I hit is faster than I’ve gone before without the assistance of pedaling. A perfect end to a challenging but fantastic ride.
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