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…