Flinging back the curtains, I peered out into – SUN! Fully functional, completely unadulterated by cloud SUN! My time in purgatory was at an end.
Hurling my stuff on myself or in my bag, I thundered downstairs to greet the new day and stand astride my bicycle with unbridled glee, waiting to proceed full steam ahead (well I would have if my bicycle hadn't been affixed to the roof of the van). Of course, this enthusiasm was instantly cut down in its prime – apparently we are vanning for some ungodly duration to our starting off point! I contemplate climbing up on the van, chaining myself to the roof, and refusing to move until my brave and robust protest is rewarded with a special dispensation to ride.
Whilst I am contemplating, others have been to and finished breakfast and are piling their bags around the van – no-one gives a rat's about my puny protest: they are eager to get into the van so they may drive to the start point, get off the van and start riding! Good point.
I cram down some brekky and 'get with the program', clambering aboard the bus and waiting for our departure. Well, before I de-clamber off the bus and go and give my room key back...
Soon we are off, and I check out Skamania Lodge for the first and likely last time. It's nice in a sort of golfy, immaculate-grass, even-the-worms-are-manicured way but it's not my style – too picture perfect.
After a ride of whatever duration (I invoke my powers of an induced vegetable state), we arrive at a nice little parking lot overlooking the Columbia Gorge, and prep for the days ride (some
82 kms) up to Mt Hood. There is a little add-on ride originating from here which a handful of us do – a short but sweet 14kms along a wonderful bike path high on the sides of the valley overlooking the Columbia Gorge. Below are a couple of pics:
It's a great day – sunny, pretty much cloudless and warm to boot - and the out-and-back is lovely. Perfect start! And topped off with a great little set of sharply downhill switchbacks right at the start of the journey proper!
The first 10 miles or so is a twisty, more-than-a-few turns affair so I follow Derek the guide coz he knows his way right? Errr – wrong. He inspects every intersection and fade-away like it is brand new to him: well of course, it may be as he hasn't been at this stuff long. Still, if it was me I'd likely be going anywhere except where I should be so I can't complain. Soon after the start we run thru' Hood River, which has a nasty little hill in it – after the cresting of the first nasty little hill, it becomes a much longer nasty hill! Still, at least it's the start of the day, and my energy levels are up.
Mind you, at the end of the day is a 10km climb up the lower slopes of Mt Hood which is also a nice little climb – 'unequivocally harder' than the climb to Paradise Inn according to Head Guide Diane, so that should be fun!
As we twist and turn in the general direction of where we are going, things heat up and it becomes a very pleasant day indeed. Rolling along a semi-rural road, at one point I hear Charis behind me shouting something out about "Look, it's Mark Adams". I am wondering who the hell is Mark Adams? For some reason I have this impression that he's a quarterback (I have NO idea why). Charis shouts that he's behind me, so I take a peek, but there is nothing even remotely resembling a quarterback hovering nearby, so I start to think it's delirium on her part and ignore all further rantings about this guy. Later at lunch I learn that she was kindly trying to draw my attention to 'Mt Adams' behind us in the distance. It's the second tallest mountain in the State of Washington and pretty much stands by itself, i.e. sticks out like a sore thumb – of course, I entirely miss it!
Tootling along some nice back roads, we come to another series of hills and mountain goat Derek scoots up them, leaving me to hope that this road leads to lunch. Well it doesn't, and as I'm now pretty much by myself, I decide that I'd better consult my map. At some curvy multi-junction it says 'stay right but don't turn right'. What the hell? OK, so I stay right but don't turn right – turns out I should've stayed right by going straight. Amazingly, I don't get lost – all I do is travel a few extra kms, as when I come to a crossroads, I see a bunch of riders up ahead. Pfftt – navigating is easy!
Rejoining Lynn, Richard and Charis, I then spy Mt Hood in the distance. Just like Mt Adams, it stands proud of the landscape, and looks wonderful: I grab some snaps at various intervals as we slowly wend our way toward it.
At the 50 km mark, it's the pulloff to lunch at Sherwood Campground. After another superb lunch, I wander off to checkout Sherwood's claim-to-fame – it has a pit toilet. Well, it's a fame of sorts – the toilet is indeed 'the pits'. Bleh!
Lunch demolished, it's back on the bike for the rolling cruise to the bottom of Mt Hood. The route follows a couple of Highways – Hwy 35 and then Hwy 26. Fairly major roads size-wise, but not all that busy, so the surface is good and the cycling very pleasant. The rolling nature gives a good spread of out-of-saddle pumping up rises, followed by streamlined tucks downwards – my favourite type of road. Somewhere along the way we pass back into Oregon - Hood is Oregon's tallest Peak. Here's the Wikipedia info:
Wikipedia – Mt Hood
Arriving at the bottom of Mt Hood, I start the climb: 10 km at around 7%. Almost immediately, I'm confronted by lots of official looking cars by the side of the road, and soon a small but increasingly steady flow of people running down the other side of the road. They are suitably attired for running, and hence I assume it isn't some involuntary mad scramble from an impending eruption, but nevertheless it's still weird. Soon, the trickle becomes a flood.
Whilst I'm definitely having to haul up the climb in my next to lowest gear (34/23) and getting more than a little sweaty, my exertion is clearly nothing to those who are running down the hill. Most of the runners look pretty fit, but they are definitely in pain, with contorted faces being the order of the day. One guy approaches me with what sounds like little whimpers of agony emanting from his mouth at every footfall – as he gets closer they become screams, and they aren't that little! Is it really that hard to run down a hill?
Of course, the answer is yes: it's clearly friggin' painful! Turns out that this is the annual 'Hood to Coast' relay – some bizarre 317 km 12 person tag-team relay of torture an amazing number of people from all over the States and indeed the world come to each year, either as competitors or spectators. Check out the Wikipedia entry below:
Wikipedia – Hood to Coast
I was told later that teams who have done the relay before and who have acquired a new member or two always let the 'new meat' do the first leg of the relay – which just happens to be the 10km run down from Timberline Lodge, Mt Hood. Crafty buggas!
So, as I'm toiling up the hill, a multitude of runners are suffering down it, so I'm actually feeling quite buoyed by all this! Along with the runners are large quantities of spectators cheering them on, with all manner of shouting, music, instruments, whistles etc. It's really cool!
Guide Derek cruises up alongside and cunningly pushes me into the red by talking to me and making me respond. His treacherous deed completed he scoots off up the hill! I scoot after him and manage to keep him in sight – mainly because at this stage around half way up, the climb levels back for a couple of kms to a less steep 4-5%. Rounding a bend, a bunch of spectators by the side of the road cheer on Derek as he passes them, and then turn their attention on me, urging me to chase him (they are clearly under the misapprehension that I am catching him!) Feeling that this is a close as I'm ever going to get to acquiring a bunch of fanbois, I oblige them by knocking it back a cog, getting out of the saddle and trundling past them at a stirring 15km/h. They rise as one in a huge cheer! Simultaneously, the road rises back to 7%, and 50 meters further on I crap out and plant my bum back in the saddle – their disparaging boo's and foul utterances fade in the distance.
From there to the summit it's a grind – the last portion of the climb is indeed the steepest, but still quite enjoyable. Sadly, the runners up this high on the course aren't suffering as much – they've only just started – so their non-agony isn't providing the panacea that the lower courses did for me.
Passing the exit to Timberline Lodge is a bummer – but you only realize afterwards. The Lodge is pretty much there, but the entrance curves past, and then around and up, so it's still another 800meters to the final parking area. Finally made it having to thread my way through all manner of people still milling around – as it was mid-afternoon, I assume some runners still had to leave on their journey.
Found the van right outside the lodge and downed a well-earned beer, and then sat back to cheer on others as they arrived. Lynn arrived straight after me, but she looked like she could do it again. Hubby Richard waltzed in later – he commented that he'd had to "take Granny out of the cupboard and give her a whipping": I spat my beer out through my nose with laughter!
As we gathered around the van, Derek re-appeared, having changed into some more casual gear (shorts, t-shirt, flip-flops) and proceeded to practice his track stands near the van. He was extremely impressive - I eagerly kept my camera ready to grab a snap in case he hit the deck, but it was not to be. At one point an older gentleman came up and stood a couple of feet away observing this. He seemed mesmerized and stayed for several minutes. By the way he was swaying, I was willing to bet he'd bite the dust before Derek! Anyway, it turns out he was less fascinated with Derek's track stands and more absorbed with his attire: he seemed to think that Derek had ridden up in nothing more exotic than shorts, a T, and a set of flip-flops! Here's a pic:
Everyone who completed the climb rolled in fairly soon, and we all wandered off to our various rooms after collecting our keys. I had a lovely little room at the end of one wing – it overlooked the pool and a stand of pines. It also had a hot shower, and I luxuriated in it for the next 15 minutes before dressing and heading off to the restaurant for a great meal with the crew.
Derek had remarked on several occasions in the days prior to our arrival here that Timberline had the best beds. He was right! I'd planned to watch a little TV before sleep, but I don't think I even reached for the remote after I lay down: it was lights out on a great days ride and a great climb!
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