Scary Things

Short Version:
Mosquitoes, foxes, great coffee, things that go SNAP and CRINKLE in the night, another excellent ride.

Long Version:
Not only was my bike broken - again! - but we'd run out of gas for both of our stoves. DISASTER! NO CAFFEINE!

I suspect decaffeination as a contributing factor in our circuitous route in to Hutch's Bike Shop, along with the distraction inherent in killing off the many mosquitoes which had taken up residence in the van while we'd had the doors open for loading. We got there in the end, though, having spied a pair of foxes at a golf course on the way, and after throwing some laundry in at the laundromat we left my wheel with Connor @ Hutch's and hit Back Porch Coffee Roasters for a fix on his recommendation.

Best coffee I've had so far in North Amerika.

We caffeinated, used the interwebs, and read the paper. It was relaxing, and very pleasant.

And then we collected the clothes, and the wheel, and supplies of insect repellent and stove fuel, and delicious foods, and a replacement fuse for the defunct fridge, and then hit the road, north and north-west, past another fox, through an Indian Reservation and across the 45th parallel*, back to the Mt Hood region, where we found a primo camp site high on the face of a ridge, with exquisite views of the mountain, and the sunset.

We thought we had it made, and up until 0130, when we were woken by SOMETHING LARGE blundering around in the trees near our campsite. It was getting closer and closer, so we got up and out of the tent and into the light of the huge orange moon, where we made noise and shone lights around. This seemed to do the trick, as the noises from the darkness abated. Briefly. Then they started up again, and started working their way closer, which essentially scared the bejeebers out of us. So, into the tent went bikes and various bags and boxes of stuff, into the Reaper went mattress and pillows and us. And, feeling much more safe and secure, we dropped off to sleep again. Not for very long in my case, though, as the scurrying of small creatures was loud under the van beneath my head, and, I could have sworn, overhead and inside the van as well.

We drove to the bottom of the hill, then got on our bikes and rode up a bigger one. We hit a vista point halfway up which afforded views not only of Mt Hood looming on the other side of the valley, but also Mt Adams and Mt Rainier to the north. Once we hit Gunsight Ridge, we were all go, flying down the downhills, and blasting up the frequent short technical climbs. The trail was mostly firm dirt, and riding beautifully, through fields of wildflowers and with views in all directions. At the Gumjuac Saddle, Janine fell off on a patch of nothing-in-particular, right in front of me. I'm not entirely sure that she truly appreciated how heartily I chortled; certainly there was a distinct lack of sympathy forthcoming on the ensuing downhill each time I missed a switchback due to excessive speed and plowed straight off the trail and into bushes/trees/brambles. Even so, I loved the descent - it reminded me of Oakridge's Larison Rock Trail, only longer. Fast and furious** and lots of fun. Being somewhat more risk-averse than I, Nene wasn't so enamored of the top half, but once the penalty-for-error cliff-height reached what she considered manageable levels she too started to open out, and by the bottom we both had big grins on.







* = Halfway between the pole and the equator, as the helpful informational sign helpfully and informationally stated.

** = But with no Vin Diesel, thank goodness.