Day 4, Thursday, July 3.
Marblemount, WA to Mazama, WA
Daily Mileage: 82.24 miles
Total Mileage: 302.3 miles
Daily Time on Bike: 7:30 hours
Average Speed: 10.9 mph
Maximum Speed: 36.8 mph
Today was the first of our many days spent in the mountains. We left the rabbit-infested campsite nestled in the foothills of the Cascades and proceeded up into the mountains for a day of agonizingly slow travel. It took seemingly forever to climb, especially after we’d breezed along for the first three days. It was a situation where just five extra pounds meant a noticeable reduction in climbing capacity, and we were carrying an additional 25 pounds of gear. We quickly exhausted our bike’s twenty-one gears and for hours on end my speedometer display alternated between 0 mph–2 mph–0 mph, as we trudged slowly uphill. It was one of those instances where if you slowed too much you were likely to topple over, and it took a great deal of effort to get going again. There were many times during the trip that I got a song stuck in my head for days or weeks on end, and today’s tune was “The Old Gray Mare”. On the first and third beats of each slow bar I would press down the alternating pedal, each and every foot up the mountain.
We took one sightseeing detour today to Diablo Dam. The loss in altitude down to the dam was more than made up for by the beautiful view of crystal-clear green water and the surrounding mountains. Later in our journey, we’d make fewer and fewer sightseeing side-trips like this one, having to bypass such hotspots as the actual Field of Dreams in Iowa and the Pennsylvania Little Grand Canyon, neither of which I’ve ever seen to this day. However, I think we made a good choice taking in Diablo Dam.
Back on the bikes, and just when we thought that we were approaching Washington Pass, we’d turn a corner and be forced to descend several hundred feet only to then turn another corner and bike upwards again. After six hours of ascending, we finally made it to Washington Pass (5,477 ft) and the view was worth it. We took a few photos and then suited up in our raingear for the chilly ride down the other side of the mountain. It started with a large hairpin turn, quite scary at 30 mph and in the frigid temperatures. We eventually coasted at speeds approaching 40 mph for 16 miles!!! David actually let loose and hit 40 mph a few times while I rode my breaks in many spots along the way. Growing up in Indiana, this was the type of coasting that you never could even imagine. We had to stop several times because our arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably from staying in a crouched position for so long after having spent the previous hours straining to get up over the mountain. David described it as a really great amusement park ride that went on way too long.
When we finally rolled into camp—our first with vault toilets (wonderful smelling things)—we put up the tent and unloaded our gear before biking a mile or so to the only restaurant in the area at a lodge nearby. Now, usually we wouldn’t just drop our gear and bike away, but we were tired of carrying it all day and had faith in the people staying next to us that they’d keep an eye on it (which they did, whoever they were).
(Left Photo: Tim at Diablo Dam; Right Photo: Tim by Washington Pass sign)
Daily Mileage: 82.24 miles
Total Mileage: 302.3 miles
Daily Time on Bike: 7:30 hours
Average Speed: 10.9 mph
Maximum Speed: 36.8 mph
Today was the first of our many days spent in the mountains. We left the rabbit-infested campsite nestled in the foothills of the Cascades and proceeded up into the mountains for a day of agonizingly slow travel. It took seemingly forever to climb, especially after we’d breezed along for the first three days. It was a situation where just five extra pounds meant a noticeable reduction in climbing capacity, and we were carrying an additional 25 pounds of gear. We quickly exhausted our bike’s twenty-one gears and for hours on end my speedometer display alternated between 0 mph–2 mph–0 mph, as we trudged slowly uphill. It was one of those instances where if you slowed too much you were likely to topple over, and it took a great deal of effort to get going again. There were many times during the trip that I got a song stuck in my head for days or weeks on end, and today’s tune was “The Old Gray Mare”. On the first and third beats of each slow bar I would press down the alternating pedal, each and every foot up the mountain.
We took one sightseeing detour today to Diablo Dam. The loss in altitude down to the dam was more than made up for by the beautiful view of crystal-clear green water and the surrounding mountains. Later in our journey, we’d make fewer and fewer sightseeing side-trips like this one, having to bypass such hotspots as the actual Field of Dreams in Iowa and the Pennsylvania Little Grand Canyon, neither of which I’ve ever seen to this day. However, I think we made a good choice taking in Diablo Dam.
Back on the bikes, and just when we thought that we were approaching Washington Pass, we’d turn a corner and be forced to descend several hundred feet only to then turn another corner and bike upwards again. After six hours of ascending, we finally made it to Washington Pass (5,477 ft) and the view was worth it. We took a few photos and then suited up in our raingear for the chilly ride down the other side of the mountain. It started with a large hairpin turn, quite scary at 30 mph and in the frigid temperatures. We eventually coasted at speeds approaching 40 mph for 16 miles!!! David actually let loose and hit 40 mph a few times while I rode my breaks in many spots along the way. Growing up in Indiana, this was the type of coasting that you never could even imagine. We had to stop several times because our arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably from staying in a crouched position for so long after having spent the previous hours straining to get up over the mountain. David described it as a really great amusement park ride that went on way too long.
When we finally rolled into camp—our first with vault toilets (wonderful smelling things)—we put up the tent and unloaded our gear before biking a mile or so to the only restaurant in the area at a lodge nearby. Now, usually we wouldn’t just drop our gear and bike away, but we were tired of carrying it all day and had faith in the people staying next to us that they’d keep an eye on it (which they did, whoever they were).
(Left Photo: Tim at Diablo Dam; Right Photo: Tim by Washington Pass sign)
