Day Three : A long day up the Columbia
 |
The Columbia had proven itself a formidable foe in day two and, as predicted, not a wall I wanted to bang my head or my Pedal-Paddle against. We prepared Columbia for the day and cooked out on a campfire Patrick had made for us. After a good old-fashioned camp breakfast all scrambled together, I kissed Vicki good-bye, and hugged Jesse my son and Patrick. They had been |
| indispensable in getting this shindig kicked off, but they were flying back to Amarillo after a day of bike shops and water heater searching. They and the motor home and trailer headed west while Columbia and I headed east. I was actually amazed to see it was just as beautiful a trek as the day before I had left it. Breathtaking beauty everywhere, and at 20 mph and 180 degree visibility I seem to see it all and take it all in. I wear a full face motorcycle helmet with a visor but I do not like glasses or goggles unless absolutely necessary because I want to see all of nature totally unobstructed if possible. My first `jumpstart of the heart' came only a few miles from camp with another tunnel. Here I am on an interstate and here's a tunnel that narrows to only two lanes wide! Now remember, traffic is flowing at 70 miles an hour. I repeated what worked last time. I looked back to check my flashing strobes, waved my arm to indicate to approaching traffic I needed a lane, and hit the tunnel in the right lane 45 miles per hour slower than traffic! Traffic was light and I made it again but I hated the feeling of entering these tunnels depending on traffic to see me, change lanes, or slow down. Not a good feeling. As the day goes by the wind is howling 30+ miles per hour and the river actually has three to four foot whitecaps on it. The wind is at my back up the gorge, but the gorge widens to a steep valley more and more. Again, at construction of a bridge, I have to raise my arm and take possession of the only lane depending on the fast approaching car to slow down for me. He does as does the diesel truck behind him. I get out of their way as fast as I can and wave my thanks to the driver, hoping he waves back with all his fingers. He does and we all move along. At 110 miles on the day, I pull off of I-84 for fuel and a stretch. My back is really sore and spasming a bit. I've been on the bike for almost 5 hours straight. My fill up is .75 gallons. That's 3 quarts of regular gas on 110 miles or just over 145 miles a gallon while traveling up river! Wow! In the first three days if there is a hero emerging, it's this `little engine that could.' It hardly ever lets me help, it only asks for quarts of fuel, and hasn't missed a beat in months of testing or since we started, going hours at a time. We fill up, stretch, get a bottle of juice and were off again. You wouldn't believe how quickly the vegetation changes as you head east up the gorge and into the valleys. It happens so fast it's like you rode and slept for a time. The valleys suddenly have no trees at all, more desert -like bushes and rocks. The only thing that remained constant was the wind, and it was the cause of another close call. More to come……….. |
|
| << back |
