Day Five Summary, Nuclear Winds - HOOD 300

NOTE: this bloomin' post is about the last day of my Hood 300 Bicycle Tour. Days 1-4 were posted months ago and its been a total of 798 days since the end of my tour! But, I had to get this last day in the books -slash- blog. I have not done a tour since May 2016 and I can tell you what - that ain't right! Anyway- consider this tour officially posted now!

Date: May 27^th, 2016                      

Start: Goldendale 

End: Hood River

Miles: 56.8 mi

Time: 5 hours, 43 minutes

Elevation Gain: +3201 ft

Awake! Last day. Avante! 

Easily the most exciting morning of any tour. Man, you almost have made it. All that is left is the final push, er pedal. And as I am so crafty, I always make the last day, a rendezvous with my sidekick (sweets, you know how you are) and Luna the… old now, but still… Wonder Dog. And then I throw in, this time, a sister-in-law for proper sidekick support. 

See, I say, the fun for yall… yah gotta see this place I am riding to, meet me here, we’ll just have a grand ole time! The specific bribe was they have wine tasting (great wine tasting)… and its situated on one of the most mightiest rivers, a beast of pure hydraulic forces, a tectonic North American gash of 1200 miles – big fucking darn river.

To which I need to cross on this final day – The Columbia River.

I am just shy of sixty miles to the trip’s final destination – Hood River, OR. But, my plan, as formally construed months ago, was to ride Dalles Mountain road out of Goldendale, which avoids highway 97, hit the gravel unimproved rural road and slog up Dalles Mountain and then descend down… Dalles Mountain, through Columbia Hills State Park and then to the mighty, mighty Columbia River.  Once I hit the Columbia River, my plan was to head west on WA 14 until The Dalles, then cross the river at The Dalles Dam. And then head still further west until Hood River along Historic Columbia River Highway Hwy 30. It was to be a final day of gravel, planned to cap the three earlier gravel days and allow me to say later on to friends and family- yea, that trip was 82% gravel roads! 

When I woke, the winds were already blowing steady. By the winds and slight chill in the air, I could tell that its still May and summer was not quite yet here. I loaded up the bike and headed to the grocery store a few blocks from my hotel and perused the aisles for breakfast. At the check out counter, I asked the checker about Dalles Mountain Road and its “appropriateness” for a bicycle. He looked a bit puzzled and said, hmmm, not sure about that road and bicycles. In further discuss he said he had driven up the road a few weeks ago and said he can’t imagine a bike navigating the road very easily. Well, that was enough along with the wind to make me change my route for the first part of the day. So down I went along highway 97 heading south toward the Columbia River.

Once I crested a scraggy ridge on the highway and could actually see the river, the winds started really ripping. The Burro and me were getting blasted from the west as the winds used the river gorge as a big hole in the Cascades to blow from the ocean west to east to the central basin of Washington. It was starting to get annoying and then was feeling a bit dangerous as well. But once I hit the ridge, it was all down hill to the river!

At the bottom of the hill, highway 97 made a gentle arc to the west and the more I turned west, the more the winds came directly at me. Things were now becoming what all cyclists despise – a head wind. I mean it really was sustained blowing and devilish gusting. I have 26 miles to the left turn at The Dalles dam. Worst fucking ride of my life! The wind was merciless. And it was cold. The sun was shining, but the wind chill was blasting away any solar radiation gain one could expect on that type of day.

I beared down and gnashed my teeth – grumpy I pedaled and just kept reminding myself over and over that this was the last day and I would see my Sweets soon.

Once at The Dalles, the wind eased up a bit and I could feel I was getting closer to being in Hood River. In fact the last 15 miles of the day were a real treat in terms of scenery. The Historic Columbia River Highway was the last sinew of this tour, connecting The Dalles to Hood River. The Historic Columbia River Highway stops at Mosier. It used to carry on – but by 1960, a new interstate highway had replaced nearly all of the older road. The 4.5 mile stretch of old highway between Hood River and Mosier, including the Mosier Twin Tunnels, was closed, filled with rock and abandoned. Alas, today, the old road is restored for a bike and walking trail! At the end of the trail, you are spit out in close vicinity to down town Hood River! Yah baby, I made it. I just have to find the wife. I just know she will be waiting for me with ice cold water, a ½ pound juicy burger, balloons, fireworks and a big hug. 

She’s nowhere to be seen! Well dad gummit! I flip the flippin’ flip phone flippin’ open! Hey babe, I’m here. Where are you? Oh, me Marilyn (my sister in law) are having a drink at the Hood River Hotel. I say, I thought you were going to meet me at the end – of – my – long journey?? 

Ok, we had a disconnect, but I pedaled just a mile and half more and rolled up on the Burro, gave her a big kiss and I was done!

Overall Hood 300 Stats:

5 days total

284 miles

8941 feet of elevation gain

40% gravel

Some besties from the trip:

• Had a stare down with a bear cub on the John Wayne Trail!
• Rode a 2.6 mile pitch black one railroad tunnel.
• Too much gravel riding.
• Nuclear winds ripping' up the Columbia.
• Meeting my side kick, her sister in law (a special gal!) and Luna the Wonder Pup for three days wine tasting in Hood River!

Mount Rainier

The beauty of central Washington leading to the Columbia River Gorge

Lookin' down gorge!

So close to Hood River! But, if you're paying attention Hood River is behind me and this photo is looking up river.

The wind was whipping' up a furry!

Day Four Summary, First Big Pass - HOOD 300

Date: May 26, 2016
Start: Yakima

End: Goldendale

Miles: 68.7 mi

Time: 6 hours, 01 minute

Elevation Gain: +3229 ft

This day’s morning was preceded by a night’s night in a hotel. If you’re keeping statistics, last night was my first motel of the trip. Before that, two nights in a durn rip-stop nylon shelter (tent), and last night, a bit better, I lied prone in a measly 50 thread count top sheet and blanket with a popcorn ceiling overhead. But, hey, last night I enjoyed a cocktail, a beer and a burger – the night’s highlight. And the bed was not too bad as well. Well rested, today would be the LONGEST day of my tour and to add insult to a slap in my wind burned face, a major mountain pass was planning on lording its haunches and shoulders over me the entire day. I’m referring to Satus Pass. In the scheme of things not a beast of a pass, I’ve seen worse, but a steady grind up to 3107 feet. And, to arrive at Goldendale, the ride was approximately 70 miles.

This trip has had its share of wind. Never fun on a bike - unless it’s a 100% pure, unadulterated tail wind. And most of the time on a bicycle, as fate would have it, the wind hammers you from the front. As I woke, I was worried today would be a windy, slog-fest struggle. I glanced out of the windows of the motel’s continental breakfast room, and as I rubbed sleepy elbows with my fellow motel travelers over Sterno warmed stainless steel trays full of dried hash browns and runny eggs, with Fox news on the T.V., Yakima’s morning seemed calm.

I like Yakima. The Palm Springs of Washington!

My Love, me and our sweet pup Luna have recently stumbled across this town, going from town A to town B, with Yakima in the middle, not really worthy of a stop, just a town, basic, not-much-going-on, rural, dry, but it’s a nice gem really. I love the importance of the agriculture of the area, the Native American history and the Hispanic culture that is so part and parcel of many agriculture areas in this country. Did I mention hops? What about wine? Well, both, in quite a "hop-yard", vineyard, beer and wine producing tour-de-force. Very impressive as you drive around the Yakima Valley and realize just what the heck is going on here.

Hops. The Yakima Valley contains approximately 75 percent of the total United States hop acreage, with an average farm size of 450 acres (182 hectares) accounting for over 77 percent of the total United States hop crop. The second place producer is Oregon at a measly 15%. Hah Oreeegone! You just don’t mess with Yakima and its trellised 15 foot hop vines!

And wine is big too. Washington is the second largest premium wine producer in the United States. Yakima has four American Viticultural Areas (AVA) that produce very exceptional wines.

But I digress.

My overall ride today was divided into four subsections.

1.     Yakima proper

2.     Yakima Valley

3.     Satus Pass accent

4.     Satus Pass decent

Enough of Fox "news" on the hotel’s "continental" dining room. Time to mount up.

I worked my way through Yakima proper and targeted Union Gap to merge with U.S. highway 97 that would spit me out past the eastern end of Ahtanum Ridge and into Yakima valley and its namesake river. The gap is quite a geological feature.

At this point I had 15 miles down the wide shouldered hwy 97 past flat lands of the valley, paced by tough looking rural shacks and an occasional well-established farm. It was still morning. I was making good time and at times wondered when I saw beat up parked cars and pickups and single-wide trailers with faded blue roof tarps weighted down with used tires to guard against the infrequent rains of this dry valley, do these folks ever have a chance to ride a bicycle – for fun?

In Toppenish, I stopped for a granola bar at a gas station at a cross roads to 97. Across the street was a meat packing plant.

The smell of the plant was a test of my senses and sensibilities. The rancid, meaty, almost sweet like industrial smell assaulted me and I had to gasp. I ducked into the convenience store, grabbed a protein bar and got out of Dodge as fast as I could.

Back on highway 97, and still flat terrain, I had a mile until the highway went to the right at a 45-degree turn and vanished off toward the Simcoe Mountains. Satus pass was not apparent but I know it loomed, behind undulating, ever higher barren ridges, about 30 miles from my right hand signal and eased braking for the traffic light.

The day just got a lot more serious. At this point 97 became much more of a long grind with a vanishing point butted into some imposing treeless ridge - and the road arching to the right and up; just five miles more and its time to start climbing.

Hill at 12 o’clock and closing fast I thought.

As soon as I shifted the Burro down a few notches, the road’s wide shoulders, went away. As the two-lane road was now climbing quite an incline, the state DOT appropriated the break-down lane and made it a slow truck lane! I have about 8 inches of riding room. The Burro with touring bags is at least two feet wide.

Well, here we go I thought. Climbing. Climbing. Climbing.

At about two and half miles up the road peaked. Something was amiss. I thought this was the start of Satus pass. Um, no. False Summit! But, I get to ride down hill for a while. Nice.

At the bottom, after two miles downhill I stopped at the bottom of a bridge crossing Satus Creek. Nice to take a break.

Time to get moving. Now the real climbing can commence! Wait, I said that before.

At about mile 39 of today’s ride, I run into road construction. Single lane, flagger man with pointy goatee, wait time 20 minutes.

I have a nice conversation with the guy. I’m at the front and a few cars are pulling up on us and stopping their autos and waiting – just like me. The flagger actually offered me one of his Power Bars and some water if I needed it!

“Let me call the pilot car and we’ll give you a lift the friendly goatee-ed man says.

About ten minutes later the pilot car appears – flashing lights and all. Well, I don’t know many pilots that smoke on the job, but this gal was puffing a dangling cigarette as she whipped the truck around with both hands (pilot “car” is not actually accurate) and she put ‘er in reverse and backed up to me and promptly evacuated the left side of the truck as if she had pulled the emergency egress lever on the ejection seat kicking her ass out onto south bound highway 97 – door still open.

It took all three of us to load the burrow, all 100 plus pounds onto this steel extenda-how'd they come up with that-ledge that was welded onto the pilot truck’s back bumper.  I hopped into the passenger seat – making sure I had an emergency egress cord within reach.

The gal at the wheel was named Mel. What a treat. I get a lift and some nice conversation. She was full of questions about my ride - puffing on her cig the whole time. In return, I wondered allowed about the road construction life – she openly shared past highway projects and sorted tidbits of flagging cars, crusty union state DOT workers, anvil shaped thunder clouds shortening the day and various "flat cat" and "bovine centerline" road kills she's seen. My transit time was about 12 minutes and five miles. Hey, I’ll take it. Record one construction invoked assist on my 300-mile trip.

I still had fifteen miles to the top of Satus Pass. But here is the rub. Those cars that were delayed by the construction are now impatient, grumpy, zoom zoom drivers who are going to be harassing me as I trudge up the pass. And since I’m moving slow, as bikes do up a 6% grade, things came in nauseous waves as the pilot car released its "freight train". I had several waves on the way up Satus - peaceful, brilliant no-cars calmness and then frightening Elon Musk-ness Hyper-Loop, car to car, semi-to-semi, Pinto to Corvette to mini-van sheer terror barrages over my left shoulder.

I even jumped lanes and faced the opposing traffic and road uphill to get the hell out of the way of the highway buzz bombs in my lane. That was fun.

At 54.7 miles on the day, I reached the top of Satus Pass! Elevation 3107 feet.

Ok, mostly down hill now. But the wind was starting to pick up. Of course. I’m now pointed due south and down to the mighty Columbia River and as such exposing myself to the nuclear winds that funnel up river from the ocean and blast the central scablands of our lovely state. Fifteen miles, winds and a 250-foot minor hump are between beautiful G-dale and me!

I’m five hours into today’s trek. But, feel we’re going to deliver on the plan – I just need to keep my focus and handlebars square to the fog line of the road. At six hours, 46 minutes I roll into Goldendale and un-click from my pedals at the lobby sign for the Ponderosa Motel. Made it.

I'm checked in and take a nice little cat nap. When its time for dinner, just down the road is a grocery store. Get the usual salami, wine, cheese and cookies for desert.

The wind has not let up. Tomorrow will be interesting if this keeps up!

Map / distance of the days ride:

Day Three Summary, Finally an End to the Gravel - HOOD 300!

Start: Lake Easton State Park

End: Yakima

Miles: 76

Time: 6 hours, 01 minute

Elevation Gain: -1126 (Predominately DOWN HILL!)
Date: Wed, May 25th, 2016

So this day was going to be the first long day on the trip. 76 miles. I also needed to close out the John Wayne Trail (JWT) portion of my tour, which saw me riding the gravel grade for 68 miles total yesterday and the day before. Upon the first pedal stroke that morning, I had 29 miles of gravel remaining.

The trail, all things considered, is fairly fair in how it treats bicycle riders. The surface is mostly even, mostly firm pack and mostly fun. But, I was starting to get beat up by the constant gravel and rattle. I was looking forward to black pavement again.

I raised the campsite.

I headed back over the highway 90 bridge to the Parkside Café for breakfast.

I ran into a fellow bicycle traveler at the café. He was heading from Seattle to the George Concert venue by none other than a Long John cargo bike. This was the type of bike he was pedaling. Replace box with cycle gear and camping equipment and this was his conveyance.

It was quite a sight. He asked me about riding on Bluett pass to get to Leavenworth and I said it could be done, really, most of it is wide shoulders (I did it in 2012 on my first tour ... none other than the 2012 Cascade Traverse Bi-Pedal Expedition to Save Human Folly). But this was the conversation at the breakfast table and I had not yet seen his weapon of touring choice. I sure hope all went well. 

The weather that morning was blue sky clear but the gusts were kicking up and I knew where I was heading was to be very windy. Most of central Washington is peppered with renewable energy wind farms. Reason: most winds blow W to E as the warmer air of the central part of the state creates convective lift and the cooler air is sucked in from the west through the Cascades and pummels the center part of the state. 

The good thing is it turned out to be a tailwind. As soon as I rejoined the JWT, I picked up the gusts like I had a spinnaker sail on the front of the bike.

So the 28 miles of gravel seemed to go pretty quick. It was flat or slightly downhill and I even hit a couple more train tunnels. This is one of the Thorp Tunnels (tunnels #46 and #47) on Chicago-Milwaukee-St. Paul-Pacific Railroad on the JWT. The tunnels were closed in 2009 due to hazardous conditions. One has since been fortified and repaired, but the other is still in bad shape, but you can enter at your own risk - if you sign a waiver!

This was posted at the entrance.

“Public safety notifications for Tunnels 46 and 47 (near Thorp) if you enter these tunnels you do so at your own risk. Prior to entering the tunnels visitors are required to fill out a waiver form and place it in the drop box located at the entrance of each tunnel.”

But, the tunnels are only about 75 yards long and I ventured into the rough one and did so sans waiver. Take that!

As I rode further east I was getting closer to the town of Thorp. I could see the iconic fruit stand off in the distance. I figured this would be my jump off point and get back to pavement riding. I’d stop at the stand for lunch.

I was feeling pretty good after lunch. I only had 48 more miles to Yakima and it was for all intent and purposes all down hill – and on pavement!

Leaving Thorp I skirted highway 90 on the south side and I arrived in Ellensburg in about 20 minutes. Weaved my way through some industrial side roads to move through E-burg and soon I was on hwy 821 entering the Yakima River Canyon.

Let me give you a high level look at why I love this road so much (have ridden it many times on my motorcycle). Meandering and curvy - all the while though canyon land.

On its way to join the Columbia River, the Yakima River cuts from the Kittitas Valley (Ellensburg) southward through four major ridges: the Manastash Ridge, the Umtanum Ridge, the Yakima Ridge, and the Ahtanum Ridge to reach the Yakima Valley. This makes for some striking scenery.

The canyon is about 22 miles long and it’s a lovely afternoon. The wind has died down and the best part as I rode closer to my destination, I would be in a bed tonight! See, last night, a bit tired from camping for two nights, I called a trip route "audible" in Easton and rather than camp again for the 3^rd night outside of Yakima, I booked a hotel for the night. Brilliant!

I road into town after about 75 miles and found the hotel, took a cat nap, showered and headed out for dinner at one of me and Jen’s favorite places - Cowiche Canyon Kitchen and Icehouse. Not too shabby for a bicycle tour!

A few other pics from the day:

Map/distance of the days ride: