Day 3 – Green to Golden Brown

Mount Hood from my BnB in White Salmon, WA

Today was a shortish day due to the apparent unavailability of accommodation where I really wanted it further east. The fact is, it’s a desert out there. So I settled for a short day today and a long one tomorrow. But it was still long enough to fill an afternoon with great cycling through more epic scenery.

Today the world slowly changed from mostly green and forested bluffs to almost completely treeless hills covered with golden brown, dry grass. The east side of the Cascades range has a very different climate. I was told that for every mile you travel east of Cascade Locks, you lose an inch in annual rainfall. Even if that is not literally true, since I am now about 75 miles further up the Columbia River gorge, it should come as no surprise that everywhere here looks dry and arid.

I allowed myself a lazy start to the day, enjoying the lovely, lofty surroundings of White Salmon, a small town I think I could happily live in. It seems to have just about everything you could want on its doorstep for every season. It is home to healthy looking, outdoor loving people, many of whom seemed to have congregated at the superb bakery, where you could watch bread being kneaded and baked before your eyes. I phoned home in between two separate, equally delicious brunch sittings, with excellent tea, and reluctantly tore myself away when I felt I had probably overstayed my welcome.

For the first hour I shared a table with Stephen, a retired native of Boulder, Colorado (which is a sister city of Hood River, Oregon, just over the water). Stephen was well travelled and knew plenty about the world. He was recently at his son’s wedding in a Scottish castle that must have been close to Dull! We chatted amicably about different places and he told me he was just recovering from an infected leg that had required an operation and 30 days in hospital. He was going to a local Buddhist monastery to rehabilitate in peace. Luckily he had good medical insurance and – partly due to a hospital administration error – all of the cost of his treatment had been covered. His 30 day bill was an eye-watering 187,000 US dollars. It is no wonder that inability to pay medical bills is the single biggest reason people lose their homes in this country, and why having a job with good “benefits” is so important to everyone here. It made me more grateful than ever for our National Health Service, without which I could not so easily be living this privileged, adventurous life. Never take it for granted!

Mount Hood and the Columbia River

Descending swiftly to the banks of the Columbia River, I resumed my journey easy alongside the freight trains and the wind surfers. It was a bright, breezy day, and the wind was in my favour. It created waves and white horses on the broad river and a lot of people were out enjoying the conditions. The cycling was good and I made swift progress to the next bridge, 20 miles upriver at The Dalles (“Dals”), where I crossed another Meccano bridge to re-enter Oregon. I thought, correctly, this might be my last chance for refreshment, so I pulled into Big Jim’s Burgers, principally because the large sign declared them to be made “with love”. It was a good move. This establishment was close to the Interstate Highway, and it’s clientele were, in general, not at all like those I had seen earlier in White Salmon. This was a different America; but nevertheless one that serves excellent burgers and fries with a smile.

Big Jim’s in The Dalles

Now in Oregon, Google maps sent me on a promising route that wound its way gently through dry, grassy hills up a small valley just out of sight of the Columbia River. It was traffic free and for several miles I celebrated my good fortune. It felt like I was finally in the middle of nowhere, USA, on an excellent road surface and all alone. I was happy.

Then it got interesting. Google maps wanted to send me up a hilly, unsurfaced road next to an old wooden school building. I double-checked: there was no doubt about it. It looked pretty dicey. But there wasn’t another viable way I could take. Which explained why the road I had been following was so quiet: it went nowhere!

Navigation is an issue for the trans-continental adventure cyclist. The paper maps here just don’t go to the level of detail I would like. I didn’t want to retrace my steps all those extra miles. So I gave it a go. The gravel ran for several miles. I saw few cars. I actually saw some tumbleweed blow past me. The road crested the hill and provided spectacular views of the Columbia River above a train bridge, and I could see my destination away in the distance. I rode gingerly with my loaded panniers, mindful of the possible consequences of over-confidence, especially on the steep downhill sections. On a mountain bike it would have been fun. But not in my situation. And then, just like that, I was back on the smoothest, straightest and emptiest of wide tarmac highways, all the way to Biggs Junction, Oregon. Thanks Google maps.

View from my gravel road

Biggs Junction is an odd place. It is where one of the few road bridges crosses the Columbia River, intersecting with the Interstate highway on the south bank. It is more a collection of gas stations, motels and fast food restaurants than a settlement. But, tonight, it is home to me and my bike. My motel is so close to McDonalds that I am using their free Wi-Fi. But this place is something of a relic of a bygone era, now surrounded by huge truck stops and enormous neon signs. I hope it hangs on amidst all this ugly modernity.

Yet despite all the traffic noise and surrounding oddness, from my window I am treated to the most spectacular of view west along the Columbia River, with Mount Hood still dominating the horizon. I will leave it behind tomorrow. And I’ll miss it.