The Last Pass
Vantage to Golden Gardens Park, July 4-9
Back before the dams, the town of Vantage baked in the hot sun down by the Columbia river, now it sits high up on the bluffs above the riverbed and just at the shore of a new lake, where it clings to the black basalt rock to prevent the wind from blowing it across the Palouse like the dust that gives the region its name. It still bakes but on our day to cross the Columbia gorge and start the long climb up the old Vantage Highway we enjoyed a cool morning. The wind still normally howls out of the Cascades but thankfully on our day the wind barely managed a whisper. Crossing the river on the narrow I-90 bridge also tuned out easier than expected. With my wife driving behind, flashers flashing, we started across just after 5am and because going westbound the road slopes downhill we managed a good 20 mph, only two vehicles passed us.
The old Vantage Highway crawls its way up along the foothills of Whiskey Dick Mountain on the way to Ellensburg. The wind mills ahead testify to the endemic winds that scour this area of any loose dust. Virtually no one drives on this road so Tom and I had the road to our selves, we rode up side by side chatting about this and that until overtaken by a couple of fast riders who slowed to chat for a while. The road climbs about 10 miles but not very steeply, at the top we found the entrance to the Puget Sound Power Wildhorse Wind Energy Project. Reaching Ellensburg in the early afternoon we had time to lounge around McDonalds and enjoy the internet, then catch a movie. We camped at Nites Inn Motel and RV Park. They don't seem to actually have an RV park but they have a large grassy area and despite no water or restroom facilities let us camp for $15. The management rather shamelessly suggested we use the nearby McDonalds. Highway 10 out of Ellensburg follows the beautiful Yakima River up toward Cle Elum. The road attracts more drivers than the old Vantage Highway so we need to ride in single file, alone in our selves to enjoy the lovely river and private thoughts on our long quest. As in the past, I muse about the bitter sweet contradictions composed of my excitement at finishing and sadness at the end. Leaving Ellensburg we start up the last pass of our trip, After nine coninental divide crossings and countless small passes the Snoqualmie Pass does not present a difficult barrier, not high or steep, but as the last pass it stands as the last barrier. After the pass we go down to the Pacific and back to normal lives with family and friends, movies and a familiar roof over our heads each night, diets and exercise rides. I always enjoy the beginning of a long trip but I enjoy the end too. A trip offers excitement and anxiety as part of a daily routine but ending a trip brings one back to family and friends.From Cle Elum we followed the John Wayne Pioneer Trail to Lake Easton State Park. I don't understand what John Wayne had to do with pioneering but he has a nice trail named after him anyway. The campground at Lake Easton is set in old growth fir and pine trees which give Washington state its title: the evergreen state. In the morning we kept to the bike path over Snoqualmie Pass, well, actually under the pass. A mile long tunnel opened on July 5 takes us through the mountain. It's very cold and very dark and took us about 15 minutes to traverse but on the other side we found the warm sun again. The trail down the west slope of the Snoqualmie Pass cuts through across the mountain side through beautiful forests providing stunning views of the Denny Creek valley from old train trestles. We had an easy ride, except for Tom falling, and ended up in a motel for the first time in over a month. The luxury of watching TV and sheets felt pretty exotic.
On the screen of a smart phone it looked like an easy ride from North Bend to my daughters home in Bothell, just follow the bike path most of the way to Redmond and then connect with the very familiar Burke Gillman bike path the rest of the way. Well, what do they say about the best laid plans of mice and men? Our bike path started well, right in North Bend, then turned steep, then turned rough, then turned into a foot path. As we toiled up and down we kept asking ourselves if we should cut our losses and go back to a noisy busy street route, but we kept pushing forward. I fell rather badly while trying to ride over a small log imbedded in the trail. Finally we came across a hiker with her dog who directed us down another path to a paved bike route which we followed to Issaquah without much difficulty. Traveling for the first time with a smart phone and google maps has opened up a new level of convenience in route finding and enabled us to find some shortcuts or to stay on route in ways that we could not with old fashioned maps. But, in this case the routes laid out by google turned into a dreadful detour. Having used up the morning getting to Issaquah we still had twenty miles to Bothell and my daughters home. Thankfully, we rode on either gravel or paved bike paths all the way. I wanted to arrive after the grandkids got out of day care so we relaxed at a local restaurant until we could make a grand entrance. My grandson Chase has been putting stickers on a map once a week to keep track of my progress so even at 3 1/2 years old he had some idea of what I had done. So, I had essentially finished the project I had started nearly a year earlier and reached a destination toward which I had cycled for nearly three months. As before, at the conclusion of other big trips, I felt that familiar mix of regret and satisfaction, strength and fatigue. I only needed to ride a short way to the ocean and celebrate the end by putting our wheels in the water. My daughter and grandchildren came, as did Tom's son and high school friend. Eri prepared a little ribbon for us to ride through and a three part frame with spaces for a picture of the beginning, ending, and a map of the route in the middle. My wife bought both Tom and myself a tee shirt listing all the towns on the TransAm route. Emalyn, my granddaughter, joined in the merry making in the uninhibited manner of a two year old and Chase having ridden for four hours in the trailer behind my bike was just glad to escape his mobile prison.I read that a TransAm bicycle trip celebrates small town America and I really enjoyed that aspect. I love how the icon of small town America both exists in reality and at the same time fails to fit the stereotype. I especially love the tee shirt my wife bought to commemorate the trip. Most every little town mentioned on the shirt brings up a unique memory for me, of poor towns and dying towns and wealthy towns. We met people trapped by their situation and liberated by their freedom, some ambitious to leave and some still excited by their successful escape from a big city.
Would I do it again? Of course doing my trip again would be impossible in the same way that one can never cross the same river twice. Would I cross the North American continent by bicycle again? Yes, I would, especially if I could do it again with my wife and my good friend. In addition to loving companionship, my wife helped all along the trip with lodging and food and entertainment. I can assure you that riding into a camp to find some snacks and a cool refreshing drink makes bicycle touring a lot more pleasurable, not to mention the light loads on our bikes because she carried the camping gear. I hope we continue to find adventures together. Tom made a great partner for this adventure. Not only does he patiently listen as this retired professor lists the two reasons for this or the three reasons for that but he also stoically adapts to each adversity, cheerfully confronts all conditions, and never shirks a task. Tom is a good friend and I hope we have more adventures in the future.
