Dilly-Dallying in The Dalles (Part I)

So, Nhan wanted me to give my take on our first ride this season, called The 10th Annual Cherry of a Ride in The Dalles, OR. Um, The Where in Oregon?

I had never even heard of this place, but Nhan had painstakingly compiled a spreadsheet (that's right-- a spreadsheet, folks) of organized rides for the 2014 riding season, taking place throughout WA, OR, and BC. He wanted to chase the sun and see some new scenery since the same tired routes around Western WA struck him as repetitively-traveled and not as thrilling. This ride promised scenic route options "through blossoming cherry orchards and green wheat fields." We were intrigued.

After a brittle winter, we were anxious to get outside and pedal, but Mother Nature kept hampering our efforts as ride after ride got canceled. The prolonged bad weather scuttled most of our plans for early training due to rain, snow, and even occasional hail. I didn't dare hope that a sunny excursion to The Dalles would actually happen.....until it did, and in grand style! 

The Dalles is the county seat and the largest city in Wasco County, OR, located at the north-central border with WA along the Columbia River Gorge. The city name comes from the French word dalle, (meaning "sluice" or "flagstone"), and refers to the towering columnar basalt rocks that are typically found along either side of the river. The area is rich with geological treasures, historical significance, and mythological lore. Lewis & Clark camped here in 1805, and The Astor Expedition passed through here before founding Fort Astoria and Fort Okanogan in the years after. Iconic Sasquatch lore is seen everywhere in Portland stores. 

Sasquatch is a local celebrity in Portland

Sock designs, by Sock It To Me!

The Dalles is a 4+ hour drive from Seattle, so we came in a day early to chill before the Sunday ride.
We spent the evening hanging out in downtown, checking out the hipster Portlandia scene at the famed Powell's City of Books, which is four floors and a whole city block of brick & mortar book store to love! That's where I saw these cool Sasquatch and bicycle socks, along with some goofy Sasquatch bumper stickers.

Puppy Panhandler

We cruised the scene along the river at Tom McCall Waterfront Park, where Nhan astutely remarked, "How come all the homeless people in Portland know how to play a musical instrument?" Yes, they do know how to panhandle with panache in Portland. Even this dog was running around with a basket in its mouth asking for handouts! The sign in the basket reads, "SMILE". We saw entirely too much tie-dye clothing and smelled a whole lot of "freshly cut grass" at the park, if you catch my drift.

Why is Nhan wearing swim shorts?
Because we're by the river, duh!

We even strolled by famous Voodoo Doughnuts, but Nhan scoffed at the long line that snaked around the block where eager doughnut connoisseurs were hemmed in by velvet ropes. We walked away with only the delicious smell of doughnuts in our nostrils instead of actual doughnuts in our bellies. I masked my disappointment with, "Yeah, no one needs a doughnut for dinner." But secretly, I did! Maybe that's why there's a restaurant here that only serves salad as the main course-- so you can reward yourself with a doughnut!

Sunday morning, we headed over to St. Mary's Catholic Academy, the location of the ride sponsor and start line. Nhan and I wondered aloud why a Catholic school would hold a major event on a Sunday morning, and if any devout Catholics were skipping mass to ride their bikes instead. For us, the warm sun, open sky, and balmy winds would be our cathedral today. After grabbing some breakfast sandwiches and coffee for sustenance, we were eager to ride!


My race bib turned out to be a fortuitous number (or rather a three-two-itous number). Bad puns aside, each rider also picked up a complimentary bag of Oregon-grown, dried bing cherries. 

Nhan had a chance to try out his new twin water bottle rack that mounts at the back of his saddle. I told him those bright yellow bottles looked like missiles that he could launch from the back of his bike. He carried more water than a camel that day, but drank very little of it during the ride. 

So, I have to set the story straight about the puking incident. It really was my own fault. Unlike well-organized Cascade Bike Club events, this ride route was not clearly marked. At the start, we cruised through downtown streets, but then hit a critical highway junction with no markers. I had called out to Nhan several times to overtake me and lead since he studied the ride route beforehand, but I don't think he heard me over the traffic noise. I headed up the straightway because I saw another rider positioned there as well. It soon became clear that this hill was fast becoming a sustained 2-mile long, 8% grade climb. The air heated up fast as the morning chill burned off in a cloudless sky. I realized that I had way more coffee in my belly than water. Why is it so hot, why am I so dizzy, can the whole city below hear me breathing right now? 

I toiled up that endless hill, shifting into my low gears to maintain my cadence so that I could just get up. Having to walk up a hill in the first 5-miles of a ride would be the ultimate shame, and I wasn't about to let that happen. Nhan had already bypassed me, with his freakishly-huge calves and his two water bottle missiles, frequently looking back to make sure I was still climbing. He stopped ahead on the shoulder to wait for me, and through the dizzying climb I could see his bright-blue jacket growing into a bigger and bigger speck in my line of sight. We were only halfway up that hill, so when he asked me if I wanted to stop for a break as I cranked slowly and arduously past him, I foolishly declined out of some ill-advised notion that it was better to continue my momentum than to start again in the middle of a hill-- and so I pushed on until we finally crested that killer hill. And then this happened.......

You'll notice that Nhan was quick to pull out his camera and snap pics of me puking my guts out before rendering any aid. It's not every day you get a chance to photograph someone hunched over a highway guardrail heaving up their coffee and breakfast! See his incriminating shadow hovering over me?

I felt far too sick to swat him away even when he took video afterward. But once I stopped heaving and had a chance to blow my nose, we were enraptured by this vista of snow-capped Mt. Hood in the distance. Suddenly, that nasty hill was totally worth the payoff in panoramic views at the top!