Had a great breakfast at the Iron Horse – it's amazing the quantity of trinkets, memorabilia, etc this place has re: trains specific to the area.
Today was a longish one in the saddle – around 120-odd kms in all, so we started off fairly early. It was also a ride with lots of turns and direction changes, which for me meant keeping someone in sight who knew where they were going!
I'm struggling to remember any specific details of the morning's ride: I recall it being a little cloudy, not too hot, and over rolling terrain, but that's about it. No pics in my camera, so I'm guessing the terrain was fairly unremarkable!
I do recall tootling along and having a nice chat with Charis – during which we tootlingly managed to get off the official route and do an extra little loop of around 8 miles or so. It was pleasant enough – thru open green farm fields. Charis is a very charming and intelligent lady, so the time passed quickly as we chatted. We both pestered a farmer about where the hell we were, and both times he muttered something which distilled down to "over there a ways – and stop bothering me!" We rejoined the offical route just behind Nick and Judy – we'd caught a glimpse of them crossing the road some distance ahead, and so did a little team time trial to catch them.
We stopped for lunch after around 55km – apparently! *shrug*
I do remember the afternoon ride to our night's destination of Birchfield Manor – it was HOT! Erm – 105 degrees F I believe!
Most of the afternoon's ride followed the Yakima River, which flows through the Yakima Valley - here's some pics below:
The Yakima Valley snakes its way through rather sandy and dusty terrain for what I can attest is a considerable distance. The valley is a sizeable 'V' trench at which whose bottom the river resides. The road follows the valley, cut into its side. On a sunny and generally windless day, one would imagine that the heat inside the valley floor would rise up and generate air movements which, flowing across the river surface and taking up its life-giving moisture, would be cooler than the surrounding air. You can imagine that all you like, but apparently things in the Yakima Valley work differently... Here, the entire energy of the sun concentrates into the narrow space of the valley, compresses the air into an impenetrable barrier, and then proceeds to cook all that dwells within: plants, animals, man-made structures etc. Brown was the prevailing colour – except for the river, which appeared to be a molten-lava red, and the road surface, which was a shiny liquid black.
At first the group comprised a nice little pace line – but that wasn't going to last long. It soon became apparent to me that the only chance of survival was if one got out of there as soon as possible – i.e. pedal for your life. So I did.
Lynn and Richard, a stellar pair of cyclists, had also independently arrived at that conclusion and started to draw away into the distance, so I quickly decided that they were salvation and must be followed at all costs. Best decision I made all tour – we rolled along together winningly, and soon were progressing out of this hellish landscape, dodging molten pools of asphalt as we went.
At one point, it was decided a short trip down to the river was required in order to get wet. We duly scooted down to the next parking area, ignoring the many 'Yakimarians' doing laps of the parking lot in their huge trucks, lying about on the small river bank searing their flesh, or bobbing about in the river on tire tubes which appeared to be being swiftly carried away by the rapid flow. Parking my bike beside the brick structure which was presumably a toilet - well it was, coz the toxic fumes emitting from it proceeded to melt my jersey! - I slid down to the river and dunked what remained of it into the water and drenched myself. Walking back to my bike I dried nicely, and by the time I'd remounted and made my way back to the road I was moisture-free and unhindered by whatever cooling effects I may have experienced! Truly frikkin' pointless!
Saddled up, we squinted our eyes, hunched over our bikes, and commenced the slog to a mythical 'Fruit and Cider' Shop, which apparently signaled the end of the torture. This shop was, on paper, some 55 kms from our lunchstop: in hindsight, I think they meant 'light-kilometres', as in how far light travels in said distance. It just seemed to take forever: the road was sticky and the air heavy. Luckily, at one point the van materialised out of the haze ahead (it passed us?) and I salvaged some cool water out of the back and dumped it on my head! Not being totally brain-fried, I also drank and refilled my bottle.
Eventually, after many years of toil, we reached the 'Fruit and Cider' Shop and retreated into its shaded and air conditioned interior. Lynn, being the gracious and kind-hearted person she is, bought me a cold can of Coke, which saved my life, and fueled me up for the final 16 km journey to Birchfield Manor.
Yes, this wasn't our stopping point – we'd been told the van wouldn't be here for a considerable period of time, as its role today was one of saving lives (an admirable goal), and so we decided to make our own way to the Manor as it possessed the Holy Grail of the parched cyclist – A POOL!!!!
Running on autopilot, I followed Lynn and Richard as they navigated their way along a bunch of twists and turns to the Manor. At one point we cruised on a bike path alongside a river – it was under 100 degrees I'm sure, so really pleasant!
Turning into the drive of the Manor, my senses were on high alert looking for any indication as to the direction and distance of the pool. And then, it appeared! And then, I was in it! Amazingly enough, I'd actually taken the time to get off my bike and remove most of my gear before I crept in. I say crept because the pool was comparatively cold, and required the 'centimetre by centimetre' entry technique – if I'd have jumped in in one hit, I'm fairly certain my heart would have exploded through my chest and fled. As it was I reached a 'certain' level (round about one's waist) and then just went for it. Here's a pic:
It was Nirvana! Later, as others started to filter in, and then the van with its all important cargo of beer arrived, it was Nirvana plus Beer! We alternately swam and sat for what seemed like hours – it was just so good!
At one point, we were joined by the Manor's dog – a young Rottweiler who's name I've forgotten - who was a charming brute, and mooched around stealing food, playing and eating ice!: the beast loved ice.
I took a pic of a number of the bikes (mine included) acting as clothes hangers whilst their parched owners frolicked about in and around the pool. There were more titanium bikes in this group than I'd seen in my entire life – half a dozen, which I thought was noteworthy.
After hours in the pool, I eventually decided to make my way to my room, a wonderful second story one with view over the pool, and a SPA! So, I spent another hour or so in it!
Dinner that night was at the Manor itself. An award winning dining establishment, the food was magnificent: the Manor was an absolute god-send after a scorching hot day. Everyone was in good spirits – I guess you get grateful when you travel through Hell and survive!
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