Tag Archives: Mount Batchelor

Central Oregon 385

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I fibbed the timing of The Central Oregon 500 which was last week because when you’re a famous blogger you have to take your security carefully, or more accurately, your GalPal’s security.

Phil Mickelson has hired a full-time security guard for the U.S. Open this week because there’s a lot of scary mother (expletive-plural form) out there. That’s prob my next move. Consider submitting an application if you’re experienced kicking ass.

Monday—5 mile run, drive to Bend. Tuesday, McKenzie Pass, 100.5 miles. Wednesday, around Batchelor, 100.5 miles. Thursday, Crooked River Canyon, 104 miles. Friday, La Pine gravel solo with Lava Butte thrown in, 80 miles. Saturday, drive home/rest day.

When I got home I checked my training log to see what my longest cycling week was. . . 390. When you’re old and slow you can only set volume-based personal records so on Sunday I rode 22 miles to shatter the old record with a total of 407 miles.

The most memorable 20 miles were miles 65-85 on Day 1 atop McKenzie Pass and then down to the West Gate and back. I took off across the lava strewn plateau not knowing my posse had decided against it due to reports of snow and water on the road. Dodging large chunks of snow and crossing a lengthy 6-8″ river of water two times was a hoot. The world class scenery never disappoints either.

In sum, I rode well and had fun, but I’m ready for a return to the cross-training normal.

There was one unfortunate development. Due to a bad accident a few months ago, at times, I found myself thinking about what I was doing, instead of just reacting. Like an infielder who suddenly can’t make the throw to first base or the golfer who can’t make a short putt to save her life, I sometimes thought about what could go wrong. As a result, I had a death grip on the bars and didn’t descend as confidently or fast as normal. I hope I can shake that and return to riding less consciously.

As per usual, I was a little too zealous deleting the pictures I took, but here are a couple.

Only One Border

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Imagine everyone in the world agreeing to limit their long-distance travel to mitigate the problems associated with climate change. Specifically, imagine everyone agreeing to only cross one border whether state, provincial, or national, in their remaining days on earth.

For example, living in Western Washington State, I could choose to travel only to one of the following places for the rest of my life: Oregon; Idaho; or British Columbia, Canada.

Even though I was born in Idaho, I’m more familiar with and fond of Oregon and British Columbia. Which brings me to a very difficult decision. Oregon has an abundance of beautiful terrain to recommend it. And I still haven’t played Bandon Dunes or any of the adjacent courses. And of course there’s Shakespeare outdoors under the stars in Ashland, cycling in the high desert, running the Deschutes River trail, Batchelor, Hood, the Three Sisters, Crater Lake. Don’t just take my word for it, give this guy’s work a look-see.

Despite the difficulty knowing I will never cross the Columbia River again, I’m going north to British Columbia. For the rest of my life. As much as I like Oregon, I love British Columbia. Victoria, Vancouver, Whistler, the Okanogan Valley, Penticton. Barely scraping the surface of the southernmost part of the province has been enough to tip the balance.

The GalPal and I will stay here a few nights. Here too. And we’ll make regular visits to our private suite at the Hotel Grand Pacific in Victoria.

Part of it is a feeling I get in B.C. I’m sure I idealize it, but I like knowing there’s less gun violence, a progressive head of state, a single payer health care system, and often a self-deprecating sense of humor. I hope some of my Washington State friends are down with my decision. It would be a lot more fun to have some company along for the many, many ferry and border crossings in my future.