I again woke up shivering, the next morning. I think this was the coldest morning. It was damp and dark in the canyon, and it was tough getting moving again. Adam was always the first one ready, and he rolled out ahead of us.
We began the long climb up to Ocochoco Summit. We were very cold and the grade was steep. I don't like to talk when I'm climbing, so I listened, and spun up the grade. We passed many hunters, this being the first day of deer season. We stopped for a snack in the sun near the top, then began our descent. Right near the top, Adam stopped at a giant pile of viscera.
Someone had gotten their deer early that morning and gutted it right by the side of the road. The descent was a hoot, a little wild and wooly on rocky dirt. We passed many hunters on our way down. In hindsight, it's fitting to remember that Prineville is a low point of the route; you do a long descent to the reservoir and town, and a long climb out of the town.
We knew that we needed to filter water that morning, that there was another long dry stretch to Ashwood. Adam was meticulous in pointing out that there was a crossing of Trout Creek ahead of us, that the best spot for filtering was the 3rd crossing, where the creek runs left to right, and that we should not miss that opportunity. When we got to the third crossing, we just saw a muddy, still puddle in the road, and none of us were interested in filtering there at all, each of us felt we could make it to Ashwood. We went 30 yards further and realized that in fact, the creek alongside the right side of the road was running clear and had good opportunities for filtering, so we stopped in the sun, filtered water for the first time of the trip, (for me, and I think for most of all of the others) filled our tanks and bottles and washed spare riding shorts in the creek. A very big, hairy bumble bee came to visit me, keen for something. Salt?
Not Gummi bears from Haribo, but Werner, kinda like gummi peeps
From there we rode the beautiful Trout Creek Road to Ashwood. It was gorgeous, just the prettiest country, and the sun was shining. We all knew that in Ashwood there was an honor fridge run by Frankie. As we rolled up I saw a man and asked if Frankie was around, and he said yes, and soon after Frankie came out to greet us. He's an older fella, really nice, really friendly. Told us it was free ice cream day.
Morgan, Frankie, Adam
We all put money in the cash box and ate ice cream, drank soda, ate lunch items in the sun and enjoyed the moment.
Frankie asked us if we wanted to stay in the A-frame cabins in Antelope and we said yes, and he offered to call Brandy, the owner and tell her that we were coming. This made us feel much better, because we had been trying, when we found brief and intermittent cell service to make a reservation there via Hipcamp, or some other way. Knowing there were cabins possibly available in the next town gave us some inspiration, and we began the climb out of Ashwood, targeting a night in Antelope, maybe even in cabins that evening.
The climb out of Ashwood is steep, dirt, climbing up through pines and Chaparral to a high point. On the profile it doesn't look bad. It is a long series of undulating climbs and descents, high up, with amazing views. This was the first time we could clearly see the northern mountains; Mounts Hood, Jefferson, Adams etc. I have this app on my phone, Peakfinder, that uses the GPS, the compass and I guess some other wizardry in a smart phone to identify the mountain you point it at, and I used it to identify some of these mountains, high up on NE Divide Road. I had again rolled off the front, preferring to climb by myself and have a peaceful, solo ride. I enjoyed this beautiful section.
My legs were feeling the relentless climbs as I neared Antelope, but the beautiful, late afternoon sun and the amazing views, fun descents and challenging climbs just kept me motivated.
I rolled into Antelope in the late afternoon. It's a pretty little ghost town, very charming, and I found the A-frame cabins. These cabins are remnants of the thousands of cabins built by members of the Rajneesh cult that existed nearby in the 1980s, documented in the film Wild Wild Country. Brandy had purchased and retrieved them with the assistance of some local ranchers, hoisting them with a crane from the site and bringing them into town, where she's creating something called the Antelope Basecamp for visiting stargazers and travelers like us. I reached her via text and she said she had two cabins left, $25 a night, which I eagerly paid for, then texted the group behind me that I had secured them. Her Basecamp is delightful. There was freshly poured cement walkways in a common area, with chairs in a circle, a shower building with really nice bathrooms, an honor fridge, and the cabins have electricity and single mattresses, and parking, even charging stations for electric vehicles. I quickly got a shower, claimed a bed in a cabin, started charging some items, then greeted my friends when they arrived.
I had curved needles and kevlar thread, for sewing tires, in case of a bad tear. I used them to sew up the gash in my knee warmer. It held for the rest of the trip, but was not pretty.
Old man eyes make it hard to sew. I'm proud of this repair.
There were some other travelers there, Dan from Bend, who was wrapping up a 3-day riding visit, having brought his lightweight, gravel bike to ride all the local roads with friends, and David and Kieran, a father and son pair who were there to see the stars. We had nice conversations with them. We all cooked dinner together, David shared some beers with us that were... amazing, delightful, the best ever. Kieran, his son, reminded me a lot of Sam, my son. Listening to them talk to each other reminded me of my conversations with Sam. They're from Vancouver, Washington, just across the border from Portland. It was really a good spot. Monty and I agreed to share a cabin, because we both snored, and while it was a good idea, he beat me to sleep and I ended up having a really bad insomnia night. I basically lay there all night, dozing and maybe sleeping a little, but come morning I felt like a zombie.
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