Alpine

Short Version:
We ride up a hill, then back down it, on a truly awesome trail. Janine blitzes everyone.

Long Version:
Last time we camped near Oakridge, we were woken unceremoniously by the world's loudest noise. This time, birdsong and squirrel activity heralded the start of the new day, which is much more civilized, but made for a much later start from the red covered bridge* than we'd planned. In turn, that (plus one minor detour down and back up a side-road) meant that it was late when we reached the top of the climb and stopped to take in the views, which were pretty spectacular. We could see all three of the Three Sisters, and one close neighbor which I think was Broken-Top. Please take as a given that the climb took ages, and was strenuous, and that Janine got to the top long before me and in much better shape. A lot of people shuttle up to the trailhead, and I can see why - 2.5 hours of climbing, covering around 13 miles and eating something like 3700 vertical feet makes for tired legs, back and shoulders, although some strange people seem to arrive at the top just as they start to warm up.

One of the good things about climbing hills is that you get to study insects at length. Not so good when they're the evil mosquitoes of the Moon Point climb, but the spiky hairy caterpillars we saw on the way up the 1910 and 1912 roads to the top of Alpine were pretty cool. As were the people we met at the trailhead; local Phil and his guests Kim and Bonnie, from Washington and California respectively (Hi Phil and Kim and Bonnie!). We hit it off instantly, not least because Kim had a well cool moustache. We also met a guy from Montana, who disappeared the other way up the trail, seeking the additional seven miles he'd been told about. The rest of us set of downwards, although much to my dismay it proved to be upwards for a while first. The summit was in a high meadow, with long grass and flowers. Phil and I had been following the others at a respectful distance (ie Kim and Bonnie ride up hills at near-Janine pace), and something about the way Janine was fair bouncing around the place made me nervous when we reached them and swapped into traditional downhill ride order. Sure enough, she was glued to my wheel for the first chunk of trail, after which I abdicated point.

She disappeared pretty much instantly, and stayed gone for the rest of the ride. Riders I passed said things like:
- She's WAY ahead of you
- She's a long way ahead
- You have a lot of catching up to do
- She's riding fast
- You have a lot of ground to make up
- She's looking strong

We played leapfrog with Bonnie on the way down, and the grins on all of our faces bespoke how excellent the trail was. Both individual sections and the trail as a whole seemed to go downhill forever, with incredibly long traverse runs on good-width trail encouraging massive speeds. Occasionally these terminated in switchbacks, and there was evidence to suggest that not everyone picked the need to decelerate in time. The trail surface was mainly packed dirt with a light covering of fir needles, which are smaller and less slippery than pine needles, but there were sections of loose stuff, of roots, and of shale**. Most of the descent was wide open and fast, but there were tight, twisty bits, and dips and curves in the trail to keep you on your toes. There were a couple of small-to-medium climbs along the way, and my legs were sending clear messages about the inappropriateness of such indignities, but Janine powered up them like a greyhound fresh out of the gate and hot on the heels of the fake rabbit. Total time from where we cut off the road and onto the trail back down to the red covered bridge was just over two hours, during which we covered 14 or so miles and dropped around 4500 vertical feet. As Janine said, we'd have been down MUCH quicker if there wasn't gas-bagging to be done, but to me the opportunity to chat with interesting folks and rest my legs and back, and my now-weary forearms and hands (from all the strenuous braking I'd been doing!) was far too good to pass up.

We ate*** a picnic lunch then sallied forth to the pub, where we had a pint with Bonnie and Kim and a fluid group of arrivistes and departees (Hi Jamie and Judy and John and Stephanie and Mike and Jeff!), then we left them to it and disappeared back into the woods, ate delicious foods and went to sleep early and deeply.









* = Covered bridges served significant multi-purpose roles back in the early part of the twentieth century, and I think the reasoning behind them is wonderful. Apparently the not-particularly-rich communities of the time, faced with conflicting demands for limited resources, got all clever-like and combined their major construction projects to reduce overheads like admin, management, transportation and physical infrastructure. Thus the foundations of the much-needed bridge became also the foundations of the hall in which meetings, dances, and the like took place. Essentially, the bridge has a town hall sitting atop it, with the road running thrugh the middle, and the traditional bridge superstructure altered and co-opted into service as wall- and roof-framing. Ingenuous.

** = I wasn't entirely pleased to see this stuff looming ahead of me, as the last time I'd seen it was on the Mary's Peak trail at the spot where I crashed. In other words, my view was of it approaching my face, fast, as I fell head-first onto the trail before bouncing down the bank.

*** = Janine ate. I inhaled.