The Day of the Flelfie

Day 11

Baker City, OR to Oxbow, OR

71 miles

Max Temperature: 117.6F

Another early morning to give myself ample time to pack in some more of Ivy’s wonderful food, and to have a chat with Ivy and Ernie, and scratch Rufus behind the ears, before pedalling off with tears in my eyes. Yes, crazy since I’ve only known them for two days, but they really made me feel so welcome that it was hard to leave.

Once I had eventually torn myself away, I plodded my way up the hill and past the Interpretative Centre I visited the day before. It wasn’t long before I found myself in the midst of miles and miles of sweeping plains and valleys, with a backdrop of petrel-grey-blue mountains emerging from the misty morning sun. With hardly any cars or trucks, it really was eye-wateringly beautiful. And when the Powder River started to snake alongside the road too, the sun glinting off its surface, it was difficult to think of what could top it. Then I saw a heron, which flapped its powerful wings and sadly took off as soon as it sensed I had spotted it, but really the whole experience made my heart want to burst with joy!

After the initial climb, I was treated to a long stretch of gentle downhill, rolling into the small town of Richland after around 42 miles. I stopped at a small store and sipped on an iced mocha as I tucked into the goodies that Ivy had lovingly packed for me. By the time I emerged and set out again, it was just before 12 and the sun was high in the sky. Knowing that I had a steep ascent ahead in the rising heat hung over me like a sharp pin poised on the skin of the joyful bubble, but I resolved to smile and grind through it.

A little way after the climb had started, I decided to pull over and allow my Florence of Arabia head-dress to make its first appearance. Cue Flelfie

Dousing it with cold water to maximize the effect and getting ready to set off again, I took a quick glance at the Gamine, which was reporting a temperature of 105F! Still, I stuck with the plan.

It was around half way up that I started to struggle. With no shade, and completely still, dead heat that only seemed to be increasing, I decided to stop again.  There was nothing to lean Steed against, and I felt myself shaking as I tried to steady the bike enough to get out the spare water from the panniers and douse Florence again. I almost didn’t want to look but couldn’t help checking the temperature again.

Seeing it reporting 117.6F made my stomach flip. But I still thought that, with Florence in place, and without my helmet or glasses on, I could make it to the top fairly quickly. Setting off again, I started to will cars and trucks to come along just to provide some wind as they went past. And for the only time so far on the trip, a headwind would have been welcome.

Of course, the top was slightly further away than I thought, but eventually I reached the elusive sign, and felt the air started to move as I went over the top. Although the downhill felt like someone blowing a hair drier in my face on the hot setting, as I descended further a cool breeze swept in and I heard rumbles of thunder in the distance.

Around 10 miles from Oxbow, I heard a weird siren sound coming from my handlebar bag. I ignored it initially deciding it was probably some piece of electronic equipment telling me that it had blown itself out in the crazy heat, but in fact it was an alert from the weather service warning of flash floods in my area.

All considered, I decided to pull into the café in Oxbow, out of danger. Oh, and to have a big enough meal to last me through until tomorrow morning so I could just collapse when I got to my B&B a further three miles down the road. The guys in there looked after me with gallons of waters and lemonade, and then a frosty beer with my spicy Snake Bite Half-Pound burger and fries.

And so I am now safe at my B&B, ready for an even earlier start tomorrow, in a vague attempt to deal with the crazy heat…

Me x  

Baker Day

Day 10

Rest Day

Zero miles

3 glasses of wine

I don’t know how many of you remember Baker Days. When I was a kid, they were days when the teachers had to go into school for training while the pupils had the day off in a slightly unscheduled and ad hoc fashion that somehow seemed to lead to us all being able to run amock… and so it seems a rather appropriate moniker for my rest day today in Baker City.

But I exaggerate... I started early as usual (not wanting to get out of the habit) with a huge but healthy breakfast cooked up by Ivy, including fresh melon with berries, yoghurt and granola, French toast stuffed with ham and cheese, with maple syrup, and a side of scrambled eggs, plus a raspberry turnover and a scone. OK, so I didn’t eat it all (quite) but I gave it a damn good try. As did Rufus, the Schnoodle (Schnauzer/Poodle cross) of the house who sat looking cute as a teddy bear next to my feet waiting for errant scraps of ham etc to be dropped in his general direction.   

After I sorted out a bit of admin and calls etc, Ivy gave me a lift to the Interpretative Centre, which is a museum around five miles out of town and tells the story of the people who traveled West with their wagons along the Oregon Trail in search of a new and better life, and the Native Americans who already inhabited the lands traveled. I have to say that, in a previous life, I might not have been as curious as I was today to visit, but it was so well done, honest and down to earth, and I came away thinking that nothing really changes that much in life when it comes to the human condition, emotions, challenges and the like – often they are the same fundamental stories just played out against a different backdrop.  

With these thoughts whirring through my head, I continued my day with the thoroughly modern pursuit of having a massage to try to loosen some of the muscles in my legs and back in preparation for the next few days of riding. Followed by a trip to the bike shop to pump up the tyres and buy a few essentials (thanks to Jared at Flagstaff Sports), and a long chat with Ivy as we ran some of my laundry through her machine. All in all, it was a great day.

Tonight, I eventually made it to Earth & Vine, where I sampled glass of Zhoo Zhoo Blonde Chardonnay from… Idaho.

Strictly to wash down my flatbread pizza you’ll understand. And an Oregon Pinot Gris to aid digestion of the Greek side salad. The third glass of “I don’t know what” (my name) was perhaps a step too far and so I took the unusual step of making a “Coronation Street Exit” (where they leave their drinks half drunk- who in a pub ever does that?). But it was a pleasant night speaking with the girl behind the bar, Leah, and her friends.

I walked back to the B&B marvelling at probably the most gorgeous sunset I have seen so far on this trip, which seemed a fitting end to the day.

To sum it up, though, this day was about meeting Ivy and Ernie, two of the kindest and most interesting people you could hope to meet, who have made me feel like family for the short time I have been here. They couldn’t have done more for me, and so I will set off on my travels refreshed and nurtured through their loving care.

Back in the saddle tomorrow…

Me x

Triple By-Pass

Day 9

Prairie City, OR to Baker City, OR

Distance: 69 miles

Total ascent: 4170 ft

Max speed: 43.17 mph

Services open on route: Zero

No, don’t worry, I haven’t had a coronary. Well, not yet anyway.

But I did climb over three passes today: the Dixie Pass (5,277ft), the Tipton Pass (5,124ft) and the Sumpter Pass (5,082ft). So, despite this not being the longest ride completed to date, my legs tonight tell me that it was the hardest.

And to add to the challenge, having left at the crack again, and before anywhere in Prairie City was open, I had fashioned my own breakfast from some oatmeal and a cinnamon pastry, looking forward to taking a break between passes 1 and 2 at a little café at Austin Junction. Once more, I was salivating over the idea of a plate of eggs, bacon and various accoutrements, only to roll up to a large CLOSED sign.

With a sense of déjà vu, I slumped down onto a bench outside the café to eat another cinnamon pastry (they came in a multi-pack at the supermarket) while I pondered the implications (did I have enough water even with the extra bottle I had strapped to Pan-A), when the lady from the café/store (Kristy, I later discovered) came out to ask if I needed to buy something.  Well, I could have kissed her at this point and, although all I managed to get was some more water a coffee and… a cinnamon roll (the only food available since they were actually closed) I was extremely grateful.  

This, plus the various bits and pieces of half-eaten detritus lurking in my handlebar bag kept me going nicely for the rest of the ride, which was glorious and, although pretty hot, not as bad as the last couple of days. So, with 10 miles to go, I was feeling pretty chipper about life. A strong headwind with side-wind gusts for the whole of the last 10 miles soon put paid to that and, by the time I rolled up to the B&B, I was well and truly ready to drop.

Luckily, Ivy, the lovely owner of the B&B, was extremely welcoming and the place is superbly comfortable and thoughtfully done. After showering up I wondered down to Main Street to Corner Brick, a bar/restaurant Ivy had recommended, and ate the largest plate of Fettucine Alfredo I’ve ever seen. Feeling a bit like I was on an episode of Woman vs Food, I stopped half way through the largest Caesar Salad I have ever seen (and should not have ordered) but had them box it up for me anyway for good order - the prospect of being without food for some short period of time today clearly having triggered some kind of feral, hoarding instinct.

Swinging my stomach back towards the B&B, I checked out a few other establishments on the way, although the thought of eating anything else at that point made me feel distinctly green. I had intended to head out tonight to get a glass of wine at a place called Earth & Vine, which is only a couple of blocks away and looks excellent (another Ivy tip), but I fell asleep instead!

So, all that is left to be said is that I eventually managed today to take some photos of the lovely thistles I have been seeing by the roadside. With the added bonus of Mr Butterfly making an appearance – I haven’t looked up what sort of butterfly he was, but I’m sure one of you wonderful followers will know. And by the way, thanks to Valerie for identifying yesterday's birdies as a nest of Osprey!

A rest day tomorrow, I almost can’t believe it. I’m loving every minute of this, but I have to say a rest is badly needed! More then…

Me x

It's a Long Way to the Tip of Prairie

Day 8

Mitchell, OR to Prairie City, OR

Distance: 84 miles

Liquid Consumed: 7 bottles (3.5 litres) – probably still not enough

Another 5.30am alarm, and I couldn’t be happier! I woke sans headache, and was raring to go as I started my ride, climbing consistently from the hotel in Mitchell up to the Keyes Creek Pass Summit at 4,369ft. My legs were fresh as daisies, and I was at the top in a little over an hour, which surprised even me.

Coasting downhill for the next 30 miles or so, I was fantasizing about stopping at the café in the little town of Dayville for a slap up breakfast definitely involving eggs, bacon and strong black coffee. But sadly it was not to be. “Closed Monday” seems to be theme around here (of which more below), but luckily some cyclists traveling in the opposite direction to me who were also staying at my hotel told me they had eaten the day before at the gas station just a bit further down the road. The lovely lady there made me a grilled ham and cheese, and a latte, and I was a happy girl indeed.

With 40 miles under my belt by 10.30am, and the effects of the coffee and sandwich evident in my tummy hanging over the top of it, I was feeling pretty chipper. Until I noticed that the Gamine had registered a temperature of 94F, already, at 10.30am!!!

I swung my full stomach in the direction of the road and set off again with a calm exterior but a slight sense of dread at the possible levels of heat that might be heading my way. And just as I was contemplating that, I noticed a large nest by the side of the road belonging to some birds of prey…

It was enough to keep my mind off the escalating heat all the way to Mount Vernon, the next town on the route with… an open café.  I hung out in the air-conditioned loveliness for half an hour or so while I snarfed down a salad and a litre jug of lemonade, plus extra to top up the water bottles. I refused to look at the temperature again on the Gamine when I came out and simply pedaled off in the direction of a town called John Day.

John Day is a big deal around here. He has two towns named after him (John Day and Daysville), the John Day River, and the John Day Fossil Beds, to name but a few things. And to think that with just two letters different, he could have been your average John Doe.

According to Wikipedia, he was an intrepid explorer and hunter from the 1800s, who was born in Virginia, and came West through Kentucky and Missouri and up into Oregon, where he was robbed and stripped naked by Native Americans by the banks of the River that now bears his name. Sounds a bit like the TransAmerica route in reverse, just hopefully without the robbery and stripping etc.  

He also apparently went mad in the end, which I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find happening to me on this trip. I was already making up jokes to myself half the day, inspired by things I saw, and chuckling away at them (I am my own best audience). Not to let the rest of you off that easy:

Picture: loads of large black birds dancing together on an underlit floor - Murder on the Dancefloor

Q: Why did the chipmunk cross the road with a pre-glued envelope stuck between his teeth?

A: Because the road was chip and seal.

and

Q: Why did the monk cross the road?

A: He doesn’t really know, he just got into the habit.

I didn’t see a monk, but I thought this one was funnier… hmmmmm.

And so I rolled into Prairie City ready for a good rest, a dose of sanity and some more food. Only to find that every single restaurant in the town is closed on Mondays. Luckily, Julie, the manageress of my fabulous hotel (the Historic Hotel Prairie) made me a Panini and salad, which I washed down with a couple of glasses of local vino… when in Prairie City.

Finally, Happy Birthday to my amazing sister Susie for tomorrow – the best sister ever.

Me x

 

I've Started So I'll Finish

Day 7

Prineville, OR to Mitchell, OR

Distance: 47 miles

Top speed: 42.48 mph

Just a short blog tonight. I woke up with a headache and still have one, so I’m going to get an early night and sleep it off.

It’s not all bad though. The predicted scorcher of a day was nowhere near as bad as expected, and so my Florence of Arabia neck protector remained in my handlebar bag. Don’t worry though, I’m sure she will be needed soon and the promised “Flelfie” will be forthcoming (Valerie). The Mirror Man (my rear view helmet mirror) was also grateful, since the glue on the connections melted yesterday and had to be reset overnight!

The scenery today was, yet again, beautiful. I am now in an area called the “Painted Hills”. Tall, jagged rocks made up of layers of different hues of earth and minerals, set against hills of contrasting colours. A mix of desert and scrub on one side of the road, with sunken streams and creeks full of thistles and bulrushes on the other – even the odd Heron, and a smattering of tiny blackbirds.

This area also has more passes than an opening round of Mastermind. I cycled over another one today, the Ochoco Pass, at a mere 4,720 ft. The ascent was slow and gradual, so much so that an optical illusion persisted for most of the ride where it looked like I was going downhill, but in fact was climbing consistently – after checking and rechecking for a puncture in my back tyre or a rubbing brake pad to explain the amount of effort required, I switched the Gamine to elevation mode and all became clear. Freaky though, and eerily Escher-esque.

The downhill was glorious. A wide, quiet road, with gentle curves meant that I hardly touched the brakes for around 10 miles, and I also therefore clocked my fastest top speed so far on the trip (and it would have been faster had I not been fighting a headwind today).

Arriving into Mitchell early afternoon, I stopped at the town’s café for a BLT and a lemonade before checking into my hotel.  An early start again tomorrow. Looking forward to my first proper rest day on Wednesday!!!

Thanks again for all the emails, messages and comments etc, and sorry I haven’t answered them all yet. Roll on Wednesday…

Me x

Here Comes the Science Bit

Day 6

McKenzie Bridge, OR to Prineville, OR

Distance: 81 miles

Total ascent: 5,080 ft

Writing these blogs in the evening is sometimes tough. Not because I don’t enjoy doing it or because I don’t have 1001 things I want to share, but because I seem to spend most of my time when I’m not cycling either desperate to eat or sleep. Mostly sleep. In fact there are many times when I am cycling that I could happily curl up by the side of the road for a quick nap.

Today, the alarm went off at 5.30am so I could ship on out and up the McKenzie Pass before it got too hot or too busy. All went to plan and wheels were rolling just before 7am. Given the length and height of the climb, and my lack of fitness, I decided to take it steady. And as climbs to 5,325 ft go, I could imagine much less pleasant ways to do it. Yet again, roads were baby’s bottom smooth, I was nicely shielded from the sun by the majestic pines, and there were a whole host of birdies and chipmunks fluttering and scuttling around the woods. It was straight out of a scene from Snow White.

But it still hurt.

The scenes at the top were bizarre to say the least. Huge chunks of solidified black lava surround the pass and stretch for as far as the eye can see, while dying silver trees poke out as if in some kind of sci-fi landscape. And all of a sudden, a lone cyclist is fully and completely exposed to the sun.

Having started in temperatures of just below 50 this morning, my afternoon saw heat hazes burning up from the concrete and a hi-score of somewhere in the low 90s. With around 20 miles to go, I was fit to drop and sizzling like a Turkey at Xmas. Pulling into a Subway on the edge of the next town, I sat and sipped a 2pt cup of iced tea, and took full advantage of the air conditioning.

Then, instead of slathering on further 50+ sun-cream, I decided to try out my new scientifically designed white sun protection top. Despite being long-sleeved and apparently slightly thicker than my cycling vest top, getting back out in the sun again I felt infinitely more comfortable, and the smell of burning skin also seemed to reduce. Tomorrow, I might even have to dust off the neck and head protection in Florence of Arabia style… watch this space. 

This evening, after a long cold shower, I decided to put on the glad rags and celebrate a Saturday night in Prineville with a meal out at a nearby restaurant. Well, I put on the sparkly flip flops with one of my lightweight roll-down small dresses rather than my regular flip flops.  Club Pioneer claims to be a Prineville Tradition, and it was pretty good. More fish and vegetables, although tonight I treated myself to a baked potato instead of rice… living dangerously.

I swung by Rite-Aid on the way back to buy some 100+ sun block…  

A shorter day tomorrow. Phew.

Me x

Cooler than Coolio

Day 5: Eugene, OR to McKenzie Bridge, OR

Distance: 61.5 miles

Weather: officially awesome

Today was pretty close to perfect as cycling days go. 

I woke up bright and early at Jeanne’s and plotted today’s route while Jeanne cooked sausage patties, eggs, and English muffins for breakfast, with lovely strong coffee. By the time I and my full tummy left Jeanne and Chloe, the rush hour traffic had disappeared and I had a clean run up the West side of Eugene and out towards the McKenzie River.

The sun was out, the winds were light, and the roads were smooth. The route hugged the banks of the winding river for most of the day, as the water turned from an expanse of flat dark blue to a bubbling, churning mass of light blue and white crests, sparkles of sunlight bouncing off the rapids, with beautiful wild vines of cerise and baby pink sweet peas dotted along the edges.

Steed and I ate up the miles in the morning, stopping for grilled cheese and ham for lunch at a fabulous little café in a place called Vida (recommended by Jeanne). It was only mid-afternoon by the time I rolled into McKenzie Bridge and the cute studio that Alyssa and Gary at Horse Creek Lodge kindly agreed to let to me (it’s just behind their office so they keep it available for overflow when they are full).

After a quick shower and freshen up, I strolled up into the village to buy some goodies from the general store to cook a microwave dinner – brown rice and quinoa, with sardines, spicy tomato sauce with chillies, and organic romaine lettuce – delicious and nutritious but not quite up to the standard to which I have become accustomed (Antonio Celleri you have spoiled me!!) Although I should also admit to a packet of luminous orange Cheetos and a can of Fosters while I was cooking... 

I was also tickled to find Celebrity Wife Swap on TV involving Coolio (of 1990s music fame) who was very badly behaved (!) but it was great car-crash viewing.

Tomorrow I have mountain to climb to start the day, quite literally. We leave at daybreak!!

Me x  

Eugenius

Day 4: Corvallis, OR to Eugene, OR

Distance: 46 miles

Punctures: None (YAY)

A very short blog since I’m dog tired again after a great day’s riding and an even better afternoon and evening with Valerie’s Aunt Jeanne and her friend Marion.

Having offloaded 7lbs of surplus crap from my panniers this morning at the Corvallis Post Office and dropped in on the local bike shop to pump up my tyres and buy some more inner tubes, I set off into another misty, drizzly, morning with a headwind (despite promises to the contrary from The Weather Channel). But within an hour of cycling, the sun was out and the wind direction had changed and it was as if the Gods were smiling on me again. Or so I thought.

It was just as I stopped for a quick bite and coffee at a small and friendly cafe in a place called Harrisburg that the Gamine decided simply to turn herself off with no warning. However, when I switched her back on, she started chirruping away for the rest of the ride and was more vocal and helpful than at any time yet on this trip. I am starting to wonder if she might be BiPolar (but no, she's by Garmin...haha). Anyway...

So, with a bit of help from the iPhone, the Gamine and I made it to Jeanne’s beautiful home in North West Eugene. We sat and chatted over coffee whilst I gave her elderly but very photogenic French Bulldog, Chloe, a scratch behind the ears. 

Then it was a girls’ night out as Jeanne, Marion and I hit the town, eating dinner and drinking Margaritas at a great neighbourhood restaurant called Cornucopia – all good, except I think I may have regained the 7lbs of jettisoned weight by the amount of food consumed tonight (oops).

Heading out of the city again tomorrow - no rest for the wicked, or those who stop half way through a ride on a rainy day…

Me x

Biggest Loser

Day 3: Grand Ronde, OR to Corvallis, OR

Distance: 48.3 miles

Punctures: 1

Having stayed at the Spirit Mountain Casino Lodge in Grand Ronde last night, you’ll be glad to hear that the title to today’s blog is not an admission that I lost my shirt (or my Coyote Gambling Card), at the Black Jack table.

No, it’s s reflection of the fact that pannier weight loss scheme is in progress, and it is sorely needed.

This morning started quite well, all considered. It was peeing it down with rain, my legs and arse were ridiculously sore from yesterday, but the terrain was gently rolling and the roads smooth as a baby’s bottom. I was feeling pretty chipper having 27 miles under my belt by 11am as I sat in the Burgerville in Monmouth, snarfing down a pot of oatmeal and coffee. It was a few miles further on that it started to go wrong.

I’d been battling a steady headwind since turning South around 6 miles before and, on the schlep out of Monmouth, the wind speed kicked up a notch. I plodded on despite, managing a small chuckle at a sign advertising “BJ’s Quilts and Fabrics” thinking this might be a level of diversification too far, until I returned to cursing the panniers again with every pedal turn. And then the inevitable happened: puncture numero uno of this trip.

Punctures and rain go hand in hand. Not just because it’s sod’s law that you get pissed on as you struggle with wet hands and slippery tyres to change the tube, but because the rain kicks up a load of crap onto the road surface and hides all manner of sharp-edged nasties in every puddle you fail to avoid. So I wasn’t entirely shocked.

And so I slipped on the attractive blue surgical glove to protect the already filthy Band-Aids hanging off the ends of my fingers, and proceeded to attempt to change the tube without opening up the cuts again. Mission accomplished, I took the opportunity to change the Band-Aids again in celebration, only for them to be sodden again within another few miles.

It was at that point that I made the decision to cut short my planned 90-miler into Eugene and instead checked into the Holiday Inn Express in Corvallis with a spring in my step (metaphorically anyway). Nestling against the banks of the Willamette River, the HIE was blissfully equipped with a power hose to wash down Steed and the filthy, gritty panniers; a guest laundry for my filthy, gritty clothes; and a post office just a few blocks away for… you guessed it… Operation Biggest Loser.

Mustering up a level of raw ruthlessness, I pruned and repacked, generating a large box of gubbins for posting back (sorry Valerie). The Gamine has survived, for now. Mainly so I can whinge on about how useless she is.

With the rain stopped and the sun trying to sneak through the clouds, I wandered into town this evening for sushi and jasmine tea, and a copy of The Oregonian - partly because I keep seeing adverts for it and wonder what it's like, but mainly because I needed something to stuff into my cycling shoes to dry them overnight. Oh, and I also picked some wild blueberries growing along the banks of the Willamette River on my way back.

Eugene tomorrow.

Me x

P.S. Link to photos should now be working if you click on the photo of Steed to the right of this blog (fingers crossed).

Fully Loaded

Day 2: Rockaway Beach, OR to Grand Ronde, OR

Distance: 84 miles

Climbing: 4,110 ft

Max speed: 40.62 mph

I rode off into a misty morning in Rockaway, with the wind in my wheels, and a slightly light feeling from having ditched the sad sandals. It was perhaps the only feeling of lightness of the day…

As I made my way down the beautiful Oregon coast, with its dark stacks of rock and its deep blue ocean, past the famous cheese-making town of Tillamook and its damp, fetid aroma of cow dung, it wasn’t long before the climbing started. And I suddenly remembered how different it is going uphill with fully packed panniers on board, to regret a number of the luxury and duplicative items in my bags (though not the straighteners of course).

And while I allowed my brain to plot and plan the pannier weight reduction scheme, and the Gamine remained sullen and silent, I started to question even her presence on this trip. Which was presumably enough to ensure that she at least stayed awake today to deliver the stats.

It was around 60 miles in, with my knees and hips in some considerable pain, and my feet swelling in their shoes, that I started seriously to question whether I would complete the day. Things looked pretty dire until I rolled into a gas station a few miles later. Having sat in the shade for 30 minutes with a bottle of Melon Gatorade and a mildly down-hearted disposition, I took a deep breath and stepped back inside to buy some more Band-Aids for my fingers, when my beady little eyes happened upon a small pack Advil on the same shelf, and the deal was done.

So, I’m not going to make a “Tour de France” habit of it, but I have to say that those little blighters saw me through the last 16 miles to my hotel, and some well-needed rest…

Photos of the beautifully painful ride uploaded – setting up link to make them available to the right of this blog but wifi slow. For now, here is an example…

Me x

The First Cut

Day 1: Astoria, OR to Rockaway Beach, OR

Distance: 57 miles

Other stats: hmmmm, only the new Garmin knows

Those of you on FB will know that the day didn’t start too well, suffice to say that in an encounter between an extremely sharp knife and the tips of my index and middle fingers on my right hand, the knife won. Indeed, it left a splatter pattern across Valerie and Paul’s kitchen worthy of an episode of Dexter, who would have struggled as much as I did to understand how this happened. But it did.

And so I set off to catch the bus to Astoria for the start of my ride not only feeling like a complete idiot, but also sporting a rather fetching blue surgical glove to stop the blood dripping…

So, just a couple of observations about the day, since it’s late and I’m shattered.

The natty cycling sandals with cleats on the bottom to clip into the pedals, which I had hoped would become my footwear of choice for the trip, were shit. Although they did allow me to show off my pedicure...

...it was certainly not worth the feeling that each of my three middle toes on both feet had been gripped by six separate rusty pairs of pliers, and then pulled as far apart from each other as possible. Nuff said. They will not be accompanying me and the team as we depart Rockaway Beach tomorrow. The traditional cycling shoes are in pole.

Second, the Garmin. Perhaps as a protest for not naming her yet, the Gamine decided she wasn’t going to talk to me for the first quarter of the ride, requiring me to move her mount from the stem of the bike to the handlebars for better viewing, and of course opening up the wounds on my finger tips as I grappled with the plastic bands that keep the mount in place. And then the experience of me sharing not only sweat but actual blood drops onto the screen seemed to trigger something in her and she chirruped up for the next half of the ride, shutting up shop towards the end just around the time when my legs were ready to do the same. 

But in any event, I got here in one piece and despite being fit to drop, it was a beautiful ride, on lovely roads and in perfect weather. Photos will be uploaded tomorrow once I’ve worked out how to use the camera.

83 miles tomorrow means an early start…good night zzzzzzz

Me x

Meet the Team

It’s a warm, overcast day in Portland, OR, and my first day of cycling is less than 24 hours away.

The bike has been checked over and serviced, the first month’s motels are booked, and all the admin is done. A new mini lap top has been purchased and left overnight with my old heavy laptop to communicate, compare scars and birth marks, share stories of teenage japes, first kisses and other secrets, and beep to say that the data transfer is complete.

There are still a few things to do, including the small matter of jettisoning the non-essentials from the pile of possessions before the final pack of the panniers (the hot pink hair straightners are still and always will be essential), and the downloading and tweaking of the route for Day 1.

And yet I’m feeling strangely calm.

Perhaps it’s because over the last few days I have realized that, although I am doing this tour from the West Coast of the US to the East Coast solo and unsupported, I am not really going to be alone. And I’m not just talking about the friends and family dotted all around the world who I know are cheering me on.

It’s also the non-human characters that will be accompanying me on my trip, without whom I would not be able to complete it. It is they to whom I will be nattering away when I roll into these small US towns and villages over the next few weeks and hear the locals muttering about these mad women cyclists who talk to themselves.

So… let’s meet the team.

Steed: the main player, this solid, reliable beast has already covered over 13,000 miles in the US on a previous trip, so he is an old-timer, and a faithful one at that.

Panni-A and Pann-B: two more veterans who have lived to tell the tale, albeit a little worn and faded by the sun, they are more than up to the job.

Annette: a late joiner, useful in an emergency when the panniers are full to the brim.

Oscar:  the earnest handlebar bag “a hhhhandlebar bag?”

Not to forget the Mirror Man, to show me the huge logging trucks approaching at high-speed from behind in time for me to get the f*** out of the way.

And the youngest member of the team, my brand spanking new Garmin, who is yet to be named… watch this space.

To find out about my route, click on the interactive map to the right of this blog and select "TransAmerica Trail". 

If you want to know more about what led me to want to undertake this crazy trip on my own, and try to raise some money for charity along the way, then click on one of the charity links also to the right of this blog, and please donate if you would like to do so. 

So, a proper action blog tomorrow… I hope you will keep reading and join me on my adventure. 

In the meantime, a huge, massive, bigger-than-you-can-possibly-imagine thank you to Valerie and Paul for their wonderful hospitality with all the added extras of getting me fully prepared for the trip, feeding me and entertaining me and generally being the best hosts ever… I’ll be back in October!!!

Me x