This would be my fourth day of riding all day on no sleep, and I'd really done
myself a disservice by taking a second dose of diphenhydramine at 2:30 AM,
four pills total. I was OK in the morning, but as soon as we started climbing,
I could tell I was in big trouble.
Adam's tent and bike
morning breakfast along the McKenzie River Trail
Adam on the MRT
Adam on a bridge
The lush, buff MRT
The day was proceeding in a dream-like state, for me. I was still really
dopey from the sleep pills. Adam told me there was another hot springs, on the
river. We found it, Bigelow Hot Springs. There was a couple already in it. It's
right on the river, in a little grotto / cave, bounded by some rocks. It's a
secret, I guess I'm telling you about it. We had a very nice soak, and after a
while, a gentle conversation with the couple. Turns out Adam knew the woman,
from Bend. I took a few plunges in the cold McKenzie River, and we filtered
up.
Butterflies at Bigelow Hot Springs on the MRT
a water bubbler at the Carmen-Smith Hydroelectric Powerhouse, I had a
drink
After the hydroelectric plant, we began a brutal climb, brutal for me,
at least. I had to walk a lot of it. I was deep in the hole. Adam had
originally routed us uphill on the McKenzie River Trail, but he saw how bad I
was feeling, and opted for the dirt road climb. It wasn't much easier. We made
it to the
Clear Lake Resort
Lodge. This looks like a really happy place, a family place, no cell, lots of
recreation on the water, an old-timey resort. It was about 4:00 or 4:30 PM. We
got food at the restaurant - a big burger and sweet potato fries for me, salad
with chicken for Adam. I bought a coke, then realized that I really needed to
sleep, and shouldn't drink it, so I transferred it to a water bottle and
stowed it in a pack, squeezing out the air so it wouldn't over-pressurize. I
had no appetite, and forced the burger down. An older lady tried making
conversation with me, but I was so tired, all I could get out were quiet,
brief words. I was no fun. I stashed half my fries in a bag, with some 'fry
sauce,' then lay down on a bench and closed my eyes for a bit, digesting and
resting. After a while, we saddled up and I followed Adam onto the Clear Lake
singletrack. It was very nice, smooth, picturesque, with one big tree down.
a very fatigued lunch, or dinner at Clear Lake Resort
our bikes in front of Clear Lake Resort Lodge
Names and distances from Clear Lake Lodge
a trail, and Clear Lake
It was at this point that we departed the OCVA. My time on it was good.
It's a worthy route. Adam had routed us onto Eno Road, another big, dirt road
climb. It was 10 miles to his proposed camp, continuing our climb over the
high point between the town of McKenzie Bridge and Sisters. Both Danny Boy /
Pipes and Just John had given me counsel about this climb. Danny Boy had told
me that 242 was miserably difficult, and that Sand Mountain less so. Just John
had said the opposite, that 242 was higher, but more easily executed. "It
goes," he said, unlike Sand Mountain. He said that Sand Mountain was like that
white pumice I'd done on day one, but much worse.
My body was no good. I could barely move, and I couldn't talk. But I knew, as
one of my student athletes told me years ago, with the optimism of youth, "You
have more." We can do more than we think. It's true. So, I turned the cranks
and slowly got up this next climb of Eno Road, and when I couldn't pedal, I
walked, but kept moving. At a high point, Adam was waiting, offering me a
handful of wild strawberries. I was in a foul mood, and waved him off. He told
me this might be my last chance to have any and I replied with an angry
response. I was in a bad way. I took a snack and water break, then we
continued. We reached the Santiam Wagon Road. Even in good spirits, fresh,
this would be a push. The road goes up Sand Mountain, and the name comes from
the deep, volcanic sand. It is somewhere near the consistency of the
decomposed granite of the Sierra Nevada, but different in that it does not
remain static when force is applied, instead allowing a wheel to sink, and
doing everything to impede progress. It truly feels like your wheels aren't
turning, and that they want to deviate from the forward path. The road is also
littered with head-sized volcanic rocks. It's dispiritingly difficult. But we
did see a horny toad, Adam found it and I dumbly snapped a photo of it.
The Santiam Wagon Road - you can tell by the angle of my head how dead
I was.
the Santiam Wagon Road
I think this is a greater short-horned lizard, AKA a "horny toad."
It's not a toad, according to Wikipedia.
Mount Washington, from Santiam Wagon Road
Mount Washington
arriving, completely spent, at Big Lake Youth Camp
my bike, at the PCT Center, at Big Lake Youth Camp
Adam had heard about the Big Lake Youth Camp's support for thru-hikers
on the nearby PCT, and by extension, for thru-bikers. We showed up close to 8
PM, after group dinner, and just before the PCT Center would be locked for the
night. It's a building where packages can be sent and retrieved, with a
kitchen, group dining / gathering area, washer, dryer, two bathrooms with
(three-minute) showers, lots of chairs and lots of electrical outlets. There
are outlets and a water spigot on the outside. We were directed to camp in a
couple locations, including any of three coves on the lake, and that we were
welcome to breakfast at 8AM. There was a lady from France who was nearing the
Canadian terminus of her thru-hike. She seemed delighted.
Oh my goodness. I plugged in my power bank, made a mug of bone broth, took a
shower, did some minimal laundering and just felt like a person, for the first
time in a day. We filled up on water, grabbed camp on the shore of the lake,
and set alarms for breakfast.
sunset on Big Lake, at 9:00 PM
I decided that I would never take diphenhydramine again. I would have slept
well, but one of the patches on my mattress peeled back, so I woke up to
pump the mattress back up about ten times during the night. I still got some
sleep.
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