We Like the McKenzie River

Short version:
The McKenzie River trail is a must-do for anyone who likes to ride bikes in forests, and is fit enough to ride for a few hours. Seriously, go do it.

Long version:
Woke bright and early, apart from the bright part. I'd been awake off and on all night, what with the downpour going on outside and the random firearms discharges coming from somewhere to our northwest, and relatively close by. I'd not been much concerned when the first barrage was unleashed in the evening, but the sustained fire at 00:45 had me awake for a while, just in case I needed to go out in the rain in my underwear to face people who were blowing stuff to bits with a variety of weapons in the middle of the night. When I eventually went to sleep I woke repeatedly, for reasons I couldn't determine at the time but which turned out to have most likely been the rain that was falling inside the tent. On me. Not on Janine. I finally got to sleep properly at around the time we had to get up to break camp and go catch our shuttle. I blame sleep deprivation for looking the wrong way at the roundabout twenty feet from our destination and almost collecting the chap in the Jeep. Sorry, chap in the Jeep!

Loaded bikes onto the shuttle's roof and rear racks and piled in alongside two blokes from Vancouver Island and one from Alberta (Hi, Nelson, Paul and Garth!). Stopped at a town called Sisters for baked goods* and caffeine, then back on the road, over a couple of mountain passes and in to the trailhead for map briefing with driver Sarah**. And then we were off, in the pouring rain, blasting down muddy forest trails, loving every minute***.

Our first navigation responsibility transfer came after Janine directed us back up the eastern, difficult-riding side of Clear Lake after we'd ridden down the western, wetter-but-easier side. Cool to see the blatantly volcanic terrain - lava fields reminiscent of Rangitoto - and to ride some of the tough stuff, but adding 40 minutes to an already-lengthy expedition wasn't in the original plan. Second transfer came when I took us down to the Sahallie Falls instead of over the narrow bridge to the other side of the river. Not a major detour, and not only our Canadians but also the couple from Vancouver we met on our way back up to the bridge (Hi Callum and Nadia!) had made the same error. Nonetheless, error it was, and the map was back in Janine's hands, where it stayed for the rest of the journey.

And what a journey it was! The first half was a mix of flowing forest singletrack and technically challenging rockpiles and rooty sections, the second more of the former and pretty much none of the latter. Both parts had bridged stream-crossings galore, and a mix of climbing and descending, but the lower section was flatter overall. There were some sweeping descents in the upper section which had us grinning big, as did some of the successes we had on technical sections. The scenery was spectacular. The trail follows the river for much of its length, and the heavy rains of the last few weeks meant that the river was high, and powerful. One of its tributaries had broken its banks and co-opted a section of trail, which made for interesting riding.

Not sure the terrain change was responsible, but not far past the halfway point Janine passed me on an uphill, and was gone. I caught glimpses of her up ahead, getting sideways on muddy sections or leaning nonchalantly on trees, waiting for me to get back within visual contact. No chance of catching her - all my go was gone, and she somehow had energy to burn. Cow.

When we reached the lower trailhead, it was all-too-soon for our ride-loving brains, but not-soon-enough for my weary legs, arms and back****. We were walking mudpiles, so followed the Canadian example and strode into the river to rinse. It was a bit cold.

Warm, dry clothes donned, bikes and people loaded, back over the Santiam Pass we went. To Bend, to our weekly night of luxuriating in a luxurious place. With beer. And, this time, with beards...







* = No-one bought the Georgia O'Keefe pastry, but it was certainly eye-catching

** = Competitive XC racer now studying to be a teacher. Normally uses the time between drop-off and pick-up to get some riding in, but succumbed to rain- and imminent-test-pressure and studied in the shuttle instead

*** = Except maybe the minutes in which mud and other things were lodged in eyes. Those minutes were unloved, like orphans.

**** = Janine, of course, wanted to keep going.