Monthly Archives: August 2014

Yellowstone Tour – CODE 3, Breaking Free

May 15, 2014

I’m back the emergency room for another visit; and after being poked and prodded for a few hours I’m released. Then a week later, I go see my regular Doctor who takes me off of prescription medicine prescribed while in the emergency department. Then my doctor diagnoses me with acid reflux, aka heart burn.

A week later I see my cardiologist along with my primary care physician once again, and both exclaim that my heart is good. So on 23 May 2014 I’m in Bend, Oregon cycling up Mount Bachelor prepping for my Tour. As I was scheduled to depart on June 15^th.

May 23, 2014

Halfway up Mount Bachelor chest pains start occurring again. I stopped on the side of the road placing my head into my lap. I’m asking myself, what the fuck is happening to me?After months of fighting anxiety attacks, I finally figured out what was happening. I knew I wasn’t imagining the chest pain that would appear out of know-where. I was having muscle spasms in and/or near my incision area. I still have them today.

After all the bad noise during the spring term, I had to do this tour. I had to break the chain of anxiety that was causing the expensive, and scary, cycle of trips to the emergency room.

To Yellowstone

On my rest day in Prineville, Oregon, I was prepping myself for the following morning, and trying get myself to snap out some funky depression. Things had to get better. However, I was having a hard time getting my mind off of the past few months of going in and out of hospitals. I had three different hospital stays in a month and a half regarding my heart disease. And now, just before departure – my Mom had a scary cough lasting 8 weeks. She went in for an x-ray days before I left, and the pulmonary specialists called the next day setting up an appointment. This wasn’t going to be good.

Now there I was, sitting on the motel bed in Prineville, Oregon eating piles of fruit, and subway sandwiches, fueling my reserves for the next day. I was continuing on.

21 June 2014 my alarm went off at 5:00am. I was mostly packed and ready to roll. I tried shoving my bike out the door of my dirty motel room, yet something held me back. My stomach. Another visit to the toilet was in order. My insides were a mess. I was very nervous to say the least. Leaving the comforts of central Oregon was causing anxiety. I was comfortable in central Oregon. Having lived there previously, I knew how to get help, should I have needed it.

I finally made it back on the road and pedaled to breakfast. My power meal was served to me at the nearby twenty-four hour diner. Decaffeinated coffee, a couple poached eggs with hash-browns, wheat toast, and a short-stack. A small orange juice, and a cardiac cocktail of medicine was for dessert. After chow I was back on the road and trying to determine if I needed to visit a restroom before leaving town. Na, I’ll be fine I said.

After leaving town, and ten miles down the road, I think I see a bicycle with a flag on it. “Is that the same bike I saw outside of Subway in Sisters” I ask myself. The bike rounds a corner. I kick up my speed a little and round the same corner, the bikes gone. I keep moving a clip, then suddenly there’s the bike, and it’s closer now. It is the same bike I saw in Sisters. How can that be, I asked; I took two days off. I slow down keeping back a good stretch as I wanted to leave the fellow tourist in front of me. I wasn’t alone, my somber mood is being elevated. Then the biker pulls off to the side of the road next to Ochoco Reservoir. I follow suit, and there’s a bathroom.

“Hello fellow biker, good morning.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Yellowstone – Part 2 – Temperament

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No bowl, no problem. Ice Bucket rescue!

I woke up from a pleasant sleep in my luxurious hotel room in Sisters, Oregon. The hotel suite occupied a California King sized bed, and a full kitchen. It was just too bad that Sisters Inn and Suites checked me into a dirty un-sanitized room. And then, after complaining with a phone call to the front desk, it took nearly two hours for them to fully clean said room. Nonetheless, I slept well and was ready to hit the highway leaving my funky mood back in the cold rainy mountain passes, which I just finished traversing. Hot summer weather was awaiting me as I was heading east.

Awaking, I had breakfast cereal waiting for me to consume that remained from grocery shopping the night before; therefore, I wasn’t in the mood for a full breakfast. So I donned my pedestrian outfit and opened the door to my hotel room, where I spied two bicycle tourists over at Subway. I shuffled across the street to the Subway collecting an early morning sandwich. Without my bike, I decided not to strike up a conversation with them hoping they’d be around after eating chow when I had my touring bike with me. They weren’t. But I took note of the bikes, and gear, thinking if they were heading east, I’d probably run into one of them. Perhaps both.

My somber mood found me again as I saddled up pedaling east leaving Redmond, Oregon. Not only did I fail to get my bicycle looked at, I didn’t find a suitable bag for stashing items that I’d grab on the fly. I found the gas tank bag, albeit a well-made bag, was just too small for my needs. I wanted something that could house more than one or two important items, and snacks, at the same time. Plus I was feeling very lethargic. I kept telling myself that I needed to shape up. Temps were also climbing a little higher than I would have liked. And this would be my first real taste of hot weather.

My original decision was to head beyond the city limits of Prineville and camp at Ochoco Lake State Park. So as I entered town, I found a Ray’s Food Place where I stopped to load up on some much needed liquid hydration, and food. After shopping, I sat down next to my bike. I was done for the day. Hot and sweaty, I withdrew my iPhone from it’s holster and searched out the nearest motel. I gathered that, if I was meant to stay in Prineville then I’d find a room. Chances were slim because it was late-afternoon on a Friday. Most places would be booked up from travelers passing through. And, if I couldn’t find a room, I’d move on to the State Park camping in the hiker/biker section.

Whilst shopping, just minutes earlier, a guy had come up to me and asked, “Are you one of those cross country bikers that were here this morning, that large group with all them vans?” “Nope, I’m by myself, pedaled into town just now. What group is this that you speak of?” “I don’t know, I spoke to a couple of them and they’re riding clear to the east coast. They had a couple of vans following them, and they stayed at the Best Western last night. I think there is a bike race going on too.”

I put the phone away and headed over to the City Motel just down the street. “Hi, I’m the cyclist whom phoned about a room… I just decided that I’d like to stay two nights.” “We only have the room available for one night, but if you’re willing to change rooms tomorrow then we could get you two nights?” “Sounds good to me. Let’s do it.”

The day I left Prineville, I was very timid. Unbeknownst to me, my trip was about to tip the scales becoming awesome – nonstop excitement!

To Be Continued…

Cooking outside the City Motel

June 20, 2014

While eating lunch in Prineville, a group of construction workers asks, “Is there a big bicycling event going on? There’s a bunch of spandex clad bicyclists staying at the Best Western where we’re staying, and a big group is riding up the hill out of town.” Me, “I don’t know, I’m not from here. I just rode into town yesterday, and I don’t wear Lycra Spandex (as I present myself with my bike).” Construction worker replies, “Attaboy!”

June 26, 2014

Rob’s friend opened her house to Rob and I, and we’re camping in her side yard. She then brings us bags of fresh fruit from the Baker City farmers market.

Got my bike worked on today, got a new chain and cassette, it’s shifting smoothly, like butter.

Coffee Pot Oats

Rob got his new bike, and his old man mountain racks are not zipped tied to his POS eBay mountain bike anymore, they’re actually bolted to his new Surly LHT.

What a journey this has become. Loving life!

Bob the retired police officer from the mid-west, will probably be meeting us on the other side of Hells Canyon.

Party in Mitchell, Oregon.

Bicyclist only hostel.

Yellowstone Tour – The Story – Part 1

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June 16, 2014
Estacada to Detroit Lake, Oregon; All Seasons Motel
Rained pretty much all day
8:30 – 16:30 ride time.

June 17, 2014
The weather is bad. Freezing level is at 4,500 feet with snow accumulation below pass level. Staying put for the day here at All Seasons Motel

The journey to Yellowstone started off slow. The first day had the normal uneasiness. However, I had support from an acquaintance who’s interested in bicycle touring. Met up with Guy at the intersection, or should I say, bike-path crossing. Where the Springwater Trail intersects the Interstate 205 bike path in Portland, Oregon. The pedaling was pleasant, the winds were gentle, and the conversation kept my mind from wandering to dark places due to some unsettling circumstances, and family health concerns.

My plan was to camp at Milo McIver State Park, like I had done so many times before. About the time I arrived in Estacada, Oregon, the air started to smell like rain. So I found my first motel room of the journey. I hate motel rooms. And then it began to pour.

Leaving Estacada for Central Oregon, my mind was cluttered from the unsettling conversations that I’d had leading up to my departure date. The route to Central Oregon had me traversing through lonely forest roads until meeting up with OR highway 22. The lonely traveler spends time trudging through his/her memory banks in deep thought. I was no different. What would happen if I came back to hear the news, cancer. What would happen then? How would I react – what could I do? I should’ve said this, I should have not been such a pain in the ass…. I regret – shake it off Tim, nothing is certain, worry about it when it happens. Everyone is okay right now, and that’s what’s important. Ride your bike. Stay focused, Tim.

So on a lonely forest road during the second day of my journey, I was considering quitting. I was worried about me; I was worried about my family. I was worried I wouldn’t be focused. A distracted cycling tourist can easily become a dead tourist. I told myself, “I’ll just get to Bend, by then they should have the results back.” “I need to get to Bend anyhow to get my bike fixed.”

My bikes shifting was very unresponsive, to say the least. That said, I was always able to adjust the shifting to get myself somewhat happy. It was only at high downhill speeds when the chain would hop causing me to almost jump over the handlebars. It was nothing serious. Sailing over the handlebars at speeds over 40 MPH isn’t anything to worry about, especially when alone and the mind isn’t focused on the task at hand. Just get to Bend, Oregon and call it, done.

After riding through torrential rains crossing my first summit I arrived at my motel room. I called home only to be reassured that everyone is okay, and that I needed to continue my trip, and not worry. “I’m thinking about going into Bend, Oregon and having my bike looked at, something just isn’t quite right?” “Really, are you sure?” “Yeah, well maybe. I’m staying put tomorrow because the weather is supposed to get worse, and they’re predicting snow overnight. I’ll work on the bike tomorrow making my decision once I get into Redmond.”

To Be Continued…

June 18, 2014
Ride Time – 5 hours 30 minutes
57 Miles Detroit to Sisters, Oregon
Average Speed: 10.3 MPH
Maximum Speed 38.4 MPH

The motorists were aggressive today.

Planned to get to Redmond, Oregon, but only made it to Sisters. Checked in at Sisters Inn and Suites. Expensive ass room. And When I got the room, upon entering I found it dirty, the room hadn’t been cleaned since the last occupant.

I checked in in at 3:45pm after waiting a half-hour for someone to occupy the front desk. The room didn’t get finished being cleaned until 5:15. I’m exhausted!

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Sisters to Prineville, OR. @ City Motel
42 Miles, Average speed 12.3 MPH

The ride was pleasant, but the body is tired. The plan was to make it to Crook County Ochoco Lake Campground. Didn’t make it.

Stopped in Redmond at Hutches Bicycles for a “sweet roll” type handlebar bag. They didn’t have one. Plus I’m not impressed with the small shop, no touring gear in the store what so ever. This is Redmond? Not going into Bend, the bike seems to be working fine.

Lunch stop in Redmond, then continued into Prineville, OR. I’m really tired!

Rode my bike through Painted Hills Monument on the way to Mitchell, Oregon. The story when we continue, next time.

Touring – The Rest of the Story – In Due Time

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I’ve been back from my trip now for a few weeks. I haven’t quite figured out how to write about this latest tour. The trip itself was fantastic. It wasn’t easy, nor was it always fun, never was it boring. What makes writing about this tour difficult, is the basis on which I left town. Sharing the personal details isn’t an option here – respecting personal privacy is a must.

As I left on my tour, I had a feeling that I’d be returning to circumstances which would be changing the lives of whom I hold closest to my heart. The environment in our worlds, oftentimes, change very slowly that we don’t notice the minute changes taking place. However, when our environment begins shifting rapidly emotions can overcome, and control our thoughts.

The morning I climbed onto my steed, clicking into the pedals for a thousand mile journey upon the saddle of my bicycle, trepidation was felt. I’ve always felt uneasiness in the bottom of my stomach as I leave town; I feel it every single year I depart on these awesome journeys. This year though, that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach remained. It’s still alive today.

Accepting the things I cannot change, is always the hardest. I like the illusion of being in control. I like having information. I pack for the unexpected. I pack for the just in case. But I left knowing that, if I came back home to adverse news, there wouldn’t be a way I could pack for it. There would be no illusion of control, as this time, I’d be on the sidelines – an inactive participant.

Now here I sit – waiting, listening, hoping, praying, things will stay the way they’ve always been. But that’s impossible, so at this time, writing about bicycling just isn’t in the forefront of my brain.

Sometimes pictures tell a better story, it’s just too bad that I’m a terrible photographer.

Soon I will sit down and write about some of the amazing(s) that happened on the journey.

I left on a Surly Long Haul Trucker, named Black Magic.

I came home with a Disc Trucker, which has yet earned a title.