Part 11: Cycling Volcanoes of Washington – Day 3

After the swelter that was Day 2, the light rose onto a different Day 3: slightly chilly (well, compared to yesterday) and overcast, and with the chance of some light rain as we progressed along the Naches River into Cliffdell. From the lows of Yakima, we'd slowly make some elevation to the endpoint of Whistlin' Jack Lodge, with a hump in the middle to ascend and descend.

Slept like a log – all the swimming and spa'ing of the previous afternoon had worn me out – so woke raring to go. Fueled up and ready, most of the group decided to forgo the short 13 km van ride into Yakima proper and instead get there via cycle power along the route that some of us had traversed the day before, a relaxing and peaceful bike path by the river, followed by a few kms along Yakima streets.

There was a bike shop along the way that was a planned stop – a house converted into a cool little place which was stocked (and soon unstocked) with various treats: power gels, lip balm etc etc. The owner kindly offered to check out my bike's bottom bracket – it had seemed to acquire a little gap on the crank side between the bearing shell and the BB itself – but it turned out to be an non-issue. Meanwhile, I'm pretty sure he had the busiest Monday morning ever sales-wise!

Rolling into the Fred Meyer ( I dunno – a department store maybe?) parking lot, the official start of the day's short ride (60kms), most people unrolled into the nearby Starbucks to – go to the bathroom! Don't think anyone purchased coffee...

The day was definitely cooler than the previous one, and in fact looked a little like rain, so my choice of a warmer, long sleeved jersey felt good. I guessed (correctly as it turned out) that it wouldn't rain before lunch, so I was set. As was everyone else.

The first part of the day was fairly low-key, with us trundling along the valley on roads cut high into the sides – they offered some great views of the surrounding countryside. We slowly started to ascend up to the plain above the valley - on the route map at the 4.2 mile mark a left turn started us on "a 3 mile two-stage hill climb" which ended at the 6.1 mile mark. Huh??!!! Well, route maps aren't always dead accurate. Anyway, it was a nice little climb, which was indeed about 3 miles up a windy road with a nice little kicker at the end. I was accompanied up the hill by Derek, the young guide, whose turn it was to ride today. Great, friendly guy who was built like a lean greyhound: perfect riding physique. He chatted whilst I wheezed and we made it up the climb – he scooted up the last bit ahead of me as I think he was afraid he was going to start going backwards if he stayed with me!

Along the climb we came into orchard country – apples to be precise. Rows and rows of trees greeted us, but unfortunately no fruit. We traveled thru' these for the next couple of miles along some fairly dodgey roads – either very bumpy asphalt, or extremely thick and loose stone. I'd left Derek at the top of the hill so he could do his 'shepherd of the flock' thing, and tootled after Lynn and Richard who'd passed us as we'd stopped.

Cycling along behind Richard on the loose stone, I copped a rock right on the end of my nose, so decided I'd drop back a bit. Which I duly did – only to be pelted by a bunch of stones flung up by a truck passing in the opposite direction! Bleh! This loose rock was really shitting me!

Thankfully it was over soon, and we got back onto some semi decent road, including a nice steepish swoop down a twisty section. After that it was a short blat up to the lunch spot at the 40-odd km mark - a pullout alongside the Naches River.

Lunch was lovely as per usual, but I didn't like the spot at all: sure the river was nice, but we were parked alongside an almost vertical cutout into the cliff, which seemed to be composed of VERY loose rock, dry dusty soil, and nothing holding it together. Even on the far side of the road from it, it loomed very near, and the fact that there were some fairly hefty boulders at its foot which had decided they liked resting on the ground rather than clinging to a cliff face didn't re-assure me. I spent the entire lunch with one eye cocked toward the inevitable avalanche! Here's some pics of this appallingly unstable region.



That is seriously LOOMING!



Further away looming!

After lunch it was a very straightforward slightly ascending 22km trundle to our next point of call: Whistlin' Jack Lodge. Apparently 'Whistling Jacks' is another name for a Marmot – whatever that is? I didn't see one, either here or elsewhere but others apparently did: consensus is they are hairy and dark?

The day had got increasingly cloudy, and as we bopped along the gradual incline to the Lodge, it also got increasingly dark. Pretty soon, it started to spit and the road got damp, and then wet. Traveling again with Lynn and Richard, the three of us were slowly heading into the tail of a rain storm going in the same direction, so whilst there wasn't a deluge falling from the sky, the roads were definitely getting wet, and so was I. Along with the water on the road came a flow of a milky white substance – oil and petrol dried on the road started to emulsify and blend with the moisture, and turned things slippery as well. Getting out of the saddle up a rise, my back wheel spun for about half a revolution and tweeked sideways and I smacked my knee into my elbow.

Now, I love cycling but I HATE getting wet – OK, not hardcore I know, but I ride for pleasure so this was starting to get me feeling shirty! After all, it was a holiday! And I come from Australia where rain is still greeted with wonderment and a sense of novelty!

I decided that I was going to get into the Lodge ASAP, and eased to the front of our little group to speed things up. After a few moments, Lynn and Richard had dropped back a little so I thought I'd tone it down a bit and let them catch up – glancing around after a short while they still were behind, so I grudgingly slowed a little more. Ok, third glance behind and now we are definitely crawling along. Richard then politely informs me that they are trying to keep out of the rooster tail of water I'm spraying up! Oops! Feeling like a true dick, I scuttle off to an acceptable distance forward and let them travel along at a decent pace as well! As further days will prove, both Lynn and Richard can handle anything thrown at them and lap it up, and as long as they aren't being sprayed by some knob's rooster tail, seem to love getting soaked!

Arriving at the Lodge, I tear into the carpark and get the key to my room in record time - whilst I'm pretty wet, my bike is wet AND dirty: horrors! I immediately cadge a towel off guide Diane and drag the poor beast (my bike, not Diane) into my room where I spend the next hour or so drying it off! Only a rather violent bout of the shivers clues me up to the fact that I'm slightly wet as well, so it's into the hot shower and then some dry clothes.

It's still only early afternoon, so I hit the Lodge bar for a few cold beers and a quick catch-up of the Olympics. It's horsey stuff – dressage and jumping: not my style, but at least it's not volleyball!

A quick toddle around the Lodge itself – a nice little place situated alongside the lovely river (pic below) - and then back to my room for a read before dinner at the Lodge's restaurant. Strangely enough, marmot wasn't on the menu?



Some of the others had partaken of the hot tub somewhere on the premises soon after arrival and spoke well of it, but I'd seen enough water already and so skipped it. Snug in my bed that night, little did I know that various forms of water (drizzle, sprinkles, showers and rain) still had somethings planned for me...

Part 10: Cycling Volcanoes of Washington – Day 2

Day 2 of the tour, and the promise was for more hot weather – VERY hot!

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!

Part 9: Cycling Volcanoes of Washington – Day 1

Part 9 and onwards of the blog will cover my tour of the Volcanoes of Washington running from the 16th-23rd August.

Once again, all my pics can be found at:

Volcanoes of Washington Tour 2008 Photos.

And for details of the trip itself, please visit:

Bicycle Adventures.

Friday 15th was the final day of my previous Tour, and there was a fair bit of travelling involved in order to make the start of the Volcanoes trip the next day! Luckily for me, Bicycle Adventures had been extremely co-operative in getting this to happen: it involved riding back in the van from our finish point of the Crater Lake Tour all the way back to Olympia, Washington (the headquarters of Bicycle Adventures) and an overnight stay there before being picked up bright and early by the new van and guides, and making our way to Seattle, the start proper of the tour! Phew!

The van ride back from the Crater Lake Tour to Olympia was spent in the company of Head Guide Mark. Contrary to my early instincts of Mark, he proved to be a great personality and guy – clearly my issues with him were more of my own doing: I'm not big on planning to the nth degree (at least not whilst ON tour!). He and I chatted pretty much not stop for the 5 or so hours the trip took. This included a stop off a a fast-food Mexican place somewhere (the names escape me – both the locale AND the food-place!) which was wonderfully clean, and had great food. Pity I can't give 'em a plug by name!

So, after a long journey and amusing stories from Mark re: the life of a guide (and he's been doing this sort of thing a long time hence there were plenty!), he deposited a grateful me at my overnight place of the Phoenix Inn in Olympia. Thanks Mark!

It was getting on by this time, so a shower, a quick organisation of my stuff etc, and I was ready to hit the sack for the early rise tomorrow. I rose a LOT earlier than needed – just couldn't get back to sleep after waking in the early am's. So, it was a little wait before I trundled downstairs with my gear and the Dean in tow in preparation for pickup.

On the dot of when it was meant to (7am? Maybe), a familiar silver van pulled up, and I met Diane and Derek, the Guides for Volcanoes. Only two guides and 1 van this time, as travel size restrictions within some of the parks means only a max of 10 people can do the Tour.

Now, I could be wrong, but I think there were 2 couples – Lynn and Richard, and Ron and Barbara – also aboard/boarding at this time. My lack of clarity says nothing about their memorableness, and everything about my somewhat brain-addled state!

So, myself plus an indeterminate number of others (but I'm guessing 6!) piled in (us and the luggage) and on (the bikes) the van for the 90-odd minute trip to a hotel in Seattle where we would pick up the remaining 5 (or thereabouts) guests. I'm confused now, but it improves! Let's just say by the end of the trip to Seattle and just prior to us heading off to our first point of call, there were definitely 10 guests (Judy and Nick, Randy and Cheris, and Kathy rounding out the guest numbers) and 2 guides in one van towing one trailer!

Our destination was our accommodation of that night – the Iron Horse Inn at Cle Elum, Washington. From there it would be an out-and-back cycle thru' the town and along the Teanaway River.

The Iron Horse is a historical house with a railway theme: the house itself is chock-full of interesting train memorabilia, and further in service of the theme, has a number of train carriages spread throughout the property which serve as lodgings.

Here's some pics of the place, including one of the carriages:







Pretty cool – I wanted one, but given that I was to be rooming by myself this tour, I was in the house itself (still extremely nice!)

So, after an excellent and much needed lunch (I'd skipped brekky!) and socialising (I painstakingly put to memory all relevant names by incessantly repeating them in my head ad-nauseum), we got set up to hit the roads. But first – the route talk! I skilfully appeared to listen whilst having a little nap – why stop now? Pretty difficult to get lost on an out-and-back, even for me!

One little hitch about the day – it was warm: REALLY warm. And getting warmer. MUCH warmer. Apparently it had been high-ish 30's Celsius the day before, and was tipped to go even hotter! Hmmm! Just to be safe, I backed off the tire pressures a bit whilst the tyres were cool, and filled up the water bottles with ice and water.

Tootling out of the Inn, we set off through downtime Cle Elum, which looked and felt surprisingly like some of the country towns in my State's wheatbelt where I'd spent some years as a kid: 1 large, wide main street, square layout, railway tracks tracing one edge of the built up area, etc.

This day, Cle Elum was host to a car show, so the main drag was closed off to traffic, and lots of cars of various vintages lined the street. We figured the closure didn't count for bikes, so ambled up the middle of the drag, checking out some excellent rods, mods and restores as we went. At one point there was a really loud bang, and I assumed it was a firecracker, backfire, celebratory gunshot! or something – I later found out that it was the inner tube of one of our party's bikes exploding! On checking, Nick found not only his tube dead, but a rip in the tire carcass as well – luckily a bike shop was nearby so repairs were effected eventually! This was the start of a run of flats for Nick and his wife Judy throughout the tour.

Once thru' the cars, we picked up pace along the route – I was doing the usual 'I don't have my route map visible so follow others' trick. At some point I knew we'd get onto a road which simply went 'out-and-back' and then I was safe – as long as I remembered the route back from that point.

Because basically everyone else on the tour was a couple, I felt a bit weird about crowding them. It was also clear that the riders on this tour were used to riding in groups, but weren't sure about others, so they weren't all that keen on mixing it immediately with unknown quantities, which is fair enough. So I did the old hover around but not too close thing – depending on the pace I could stay in gaps or get out front and hang by myself.

As we got into some nicer rural horse ranch type stuff, the road became a little rougher (but still OK) and the temperatures became hot: hot enough that I decided that, rather than let the water in one of my bottles superheat, I was going to drink it now! Which is fine, except for when you still have a way to go before the return! But thinking is not my strong point.

After around 16km, we hit the road that went out-and-back, so I thought I'd take off. It was a nice road – undulating with a decent surface, and shade in places. From here it was going to be a 36km or so return to the same spot, which seemed fairly short to me. Apparently the road turned to gravel at some point, so I wasn't going to get lost!

It was a nice ride out – hot but not hugely so, and with enough rises and dips to get a good rolling pace going, plus some nice farm-and-fields type views. And bugga all traffic! Plonking along, I was enjoying myself, although the heat was noticeable, particularly when a couple of bits of the tarmac got a little wet and softish looking!

Reaching the gravel, I dutifully turned round and grabbed a quick drink from my remaining bottle, which I just as dutifully spat out: it was hot as! Hmmm, 34km back to the accommodations with boiled water and not much else. Oh well, best take it slightly easier! I'll just stay in the shadier parts of the road.

Fine in theory, but this was real-life, and in this realm, the sun changes angle in the sky and past shade on the road disappears! As I cycled back, passing others on their way out, it got increasingly hot, decreasingly shady, and suspiciously head-windy! Plus my sunscreen felt like it was about to give out!

OK – dilemma: do I take it easy and slug it out, or try and run like a vampire from the rising sun? After another tentative taste of my water bottle, I decided I'd rather die of exertion than exposure, so I doused myself with half of the hot water that remained in my bottle and made a run for it!

Suffice to say that I made it with dry bottles, mega-sweaty clothes, a killer thirst, and my sunscreen on its absolute last legs! The day had turned into a bit of a scorcher! But, as per usual, the saving grace at the end was a cold beer: well, coldish. There were a bunch of bikes already stored in the gazebo, so it looked like some people had smartly turned around earlier at a point just short of irradiation: not-so-smart-me plopped my bike in with the rest of the herd (see below) and scooted upstairs to my shower!



After a chillingly cold shower (I hope we weren't meant to be observing water restrictions!) and a nice read on the bed, I put on my sartorial best (which is pretty shabby!) and headed off with the rest of the guests - apparently all had survived - to the eatery of the night.

Post a lovely meal, Head Guide Diane suggested we crash a little cafe which had great icecream. Drooling in anticipation (it was still very warmish) we shuffled off to the cafe – which was closed! Well, according to the sign on its door it was open until 9pm, but clearly no sign was going to stop this place from closing at 8:40pm!

So, given that pretty much everything else in the place seemed to follow the same convention, we were resigned to going without icecream.

Until someone suggested Dairy Queen – or 'DQ' as it seems to wish to be known as now. I think the corporation shortened the name so as to remove the spurious mention of the word 'Dairy', because as far as I could tell, there was nothing remotely resembling dairy products in what squeezed out of their dispensers!

I've never had 'DQ' before – I never will again. If I was roasting in the fires of hell and in unspeakable agony, and someone offered me a 'DQ' to chill out, I'd refuse it. Quite apart from the fact that it doesn't taste like any icecream I've ever had, I'm pretty sure that icecream isn't meant to taste anything like it does!

Having all purchased some variation of the same white stuff, we'd wandered outside to consume it (which soon proved to be a grand folly!). Richard, an older chap with a killer sense of humour, and an awesome rider to boot, set off a chain of witticisms which had me choking with laughter, on top of choking on this stuff. He spoke about 're-purposing', which appeared to be a naval term for resurrecting something past its use-by date for another purpose, and it went from there. We arrived at a plausible theory about why there was no-one alive who knew the formula for making this stuff, ergo, there was no longer a need to know, as the huge bin outside the place (which was full of 'DQ's' in various states of unconsumed decay) had a pump and piping at the bottom of it which sucked the sorry mass back into a tank where it was chilled, it multiplied and was re-dispensed! Richard was to have us all laughing many more times throughout the tour.

We ambled back to the Iron Horse and went off to our respective abodes. After a very hot first-day ride we were all interested in sleep. I hit the sack and nodded off to images of robot cows hooked to massive machines extruding lines of a substance whose ingredients are forever a mystery...