My foul mood of last night followed me into today. OK, I was downright miserable. I rode a few smoky miles, reflecting on the trip, not wanting it to end, anticipating goodbyes and re-entry into civilized life. Patrick caught up with me and rode alongside, trying to get me to talk and laugh, but I was pretty bad company and felt like crying. I paid enough attention to the scenery to notice roadside waterfalls, but I climbed with my head down a good part of the morning.
I camped under this tree by this little pond. Oh, and that's smoke, not fog...
This poor little guy got separated from his mom who crossed the road just ahead of me. He was making all sorts of pitiful sounds. I told him I'd be a crossing guard for him, but he wouldn't come...hope they got reconnected safely : (
Santiam is my last big pass of the trip, and it wasn't as difficult as I'd expected. By the time I got to the top, I was in a slightly better mood, having read messages from the riders ahead of me taunting the climb. I celebrated at the top with Pepsi and a bunch of the group who seemed reluctant to leave the pass.
After that, I felt a little better but let people go ahead of me, catching up with and passing them in a long construction zone where they'd had to wait for a pilot car to take everyone through. After the construction, Patrick told me to keep an eye out for a good spot for lunch, and a bunch of roadside waterfalls became just the place. We wondered how everyone else could just ride past them without noticing, even on a slight downhill, but Alvin finally came by and ate with us, he and Patrick both trying to cheer me up.
I caught up with a bunch of people at the construction zone
But it was Alvin's bike, Donkey, that provided me with some much-needed laughter. Alvin had laid Donkey on his side along the broad shoulder to come eat with me and Patrick in the shade. The guys were discussing post-ride life when Patrick asked Alvin if he planned on racing again anytime soon now that he was back in shape, to which Alvin replied that he didn't have a race bike and didn't really want to go back to that. But what did him in was saying that Donkey wasn't fast enough to race. Just then, Donkey decided to tip further over and bucked Alvin's helmet pretty far down a steep incline. Patrick and I were watching when it happened and just started laughing. We couldn't even get out the words to tell Alvin where his helmet had disappeared to, so I used sign language of patting my head, pointing Alvin, and pointing down the embankment.
Patrick and I derrived great fun from watching Donkey buck Alvin's helmet down a steep, steep slope. I needed a laugh today...
Pretty soon, we regained our ability to speak and recognized this as a potentially serious problem, but I was enjoying it nonetheless. I thought the bank was steep enough that maybe Alvin wouldn't even attempt to go retrieve the lost item, but he struggled through the massed vegetation toward his lost lid. I wasn't sure how he was going to get back up, but he got to the helmet and started climbing. He struggled up the embankment, holding the helmet in one hand and the trees in the other before I told him to strap the helmet on his head and pull himself out of there! The entertainment was priceless!
Alvin emerges from the jungle slope, helmet firmly attached to his head.
I finally let about everyone ahead of me and rode alone for a while after taking a little walk in the woods. The road was really gorgeous and I was still feeling down, so I took my time.
Not that I was any faster after lunch, but I had plenty of time to finish the miles and decided to take a walk through a bit of the woods before finishing the day. The campground at McKenzie Bridge was overgrown with damp, old forest growth but only had pit toilets. But someone who had arrived much earlier found a nearby RV park with showers for a buck. And they were wonderful.
As did this...Alvin in his sexy Yogi pants rolled up for riding back to camp from the shower location
Camp felt expectant as group gear was divided up after the riders cooked their last supper together. I helped with dishes (part of the responsibility of being adopted) and enjoyed beer and marshmallows around a campfire before succumbing to sleep.
Last supper the group has to cook for themselves (Patrick, why do you always look like a dork when I take a picture of you eating?)
