Day 6, McKenzie Pass to Sisters- 47 miles

I slept like a baby in my one person coffin of a tent. The powerful yet tranquil sounds of the river flowing just feet away from my head lulled me into a hypnotic trance and the morning light arrived to soon.

The evening before, after I posted the days blog, I met Jack. He was hanging around his trailer at the RV park watching me from a distance with a Sasquatch like demurer. He approached in the clubhouse and we engaged in a wonderful conversation for about two hours. Jack,  a mid fifties rugged looking gentleman lived in his trailer and worked as the resort's handyman. About two years earlier, he became fed up with people and moved into the park to disappear. A ex-wife here, a daughter there and a complete disdain for the people running this country and, in his words, also about 7 to 10% of the entire human population. He was easily engaging and his vocabulary and speaking structure told of a vastly different lifestyle during the younger years. We shared many an opinion on things(hard to get me to out of my shell I know!)and I dozed off that night imagining how easy Jack coul have been me under just a few different circumstances.

Today was climb Mckenzie Pass Day. A 22 mile, 4,000 foot elevation increase and the possibility of some snow made the challenge intriguing due to my heavy bike load and weather potentials.
I began the climb around 8:30 in the morning and assumed I would summit and be down in the town of Sisters by early afternoon.

After just a few miles the climb became a little steeper then I figured it would be but I maintained a modest pace and kept the ponies in the barn, I was completely alone with the exception of a forestry crew setting up along the road to go out and plant trees. A short time later, two cyclists doing a workout caught me and we exchanged conversation for a spell. One had done a week long tour the year before and other was planning one in the near future. They wished me luck and rode on out of sight.

The gate to perdition

At a little over 3,000 feet in elevation I started to see some small snow piles along the roadside. How cool I thought. I kept chugging.

At 4,000 feet the snow began covering portions of the road and I had to ride around them. I kept chugging.

At 4,500 feet the snow was covering most of the road in some areas of shade and the slush and ice was making traction more dicey. The two guys that passed me earlier came back toward me and stopped. They told me it got much worse up ahead and I may have to walk in some spots. They suggested I turn around, go back to the bottom and take the Santiam re-route around the mountain. I felt I had come too far and I was intent on seeing the top of the pass. I told them I would continue and if I needed to walk some, then so be it. They gave me look I've seen before and wished me all the best.

I was alone now with the entire mountain to myself. A little further up the pass things got a little more serious. The snow became more pervasive and the road had turned into fairly steep cut backs, which made corning in the ice and snow very tricky.

Easy now

Bad became worse when the snow completely covered the entire road and my tires would no longer track.  I came to sudden halt. By my calculations I had about 7 more miles to the summit and it looked like I would be walking.

I walked with my bike cleats clawing for traction in the snow while pulling an 82 pond bike along with me. After roughly 40 minutes of walking without even covering a mile I became a little concerned. I figured the higher I got the deeper the snow, and therefore the harder the effort. I was in the process of taking in the situation and doing some time calculations when I turned around to see how much ground I had covered over the last several minutes. I could not believe my eyes but It looked like down the hill, far into the distance was another person coming in my direction and it looked like that person was also pushing a bike! What an IDIOT! I almost refused to believe my eyes for a minute and figured I was looking at an illusion of some type. I slowed my pace, and looked back every thirty seconds or so and it was definitely a male pushing a bike and he was catching up to me.

The tale of two walkers

There was a feeling of relief and comfort seeing another human out in the snow sharing the same predicament. As he got closer I could see he was smallish older man with a long grey beard, wearing a cycling cap and a button down short sleeve shirt! At least he wasn't wearing a hooded robe and carrying a sickle. He caught me and we exchanged intros. he offered that he was going just a short distance more then turning around due to the snow. His name was Wayne and I was glad for some company.

Wayne and i walked, and walked, and walked. My feet froze in the snow and ice and the cleats on the cycling shoes broke off on the snow and roadway. I could no longer clip my shoes into the pedals. The bike was heavy liability at that point and pushing it uphill was exhausting. We sloshed through the snow for another two miles, or about two hours. he never turned around for some reason and I wasn't about to remind him! Wayne had completed the climb under nicer conditions several times and knew the mile markers and our relative position on the mountain. I was tiring rapidly from the effort and started wondering  what I would do if I got stranded up here.

A break  to celebrate concrete!

Some where during our fourth mile we saw clear roadway in the distance and wasted no time getting there. We took a break to gather ourselves and express relief at our good fortune. Wayne thought that it may go back to snow a little ways further but wasn't sure. Fortunately he was wrong. We were able to get back on our bikes for the remaining three and half miles and reach the summit. He never turned around.

The descent down the other side into Sisters was fast and easy. I stopped into a bike store called, "Blazing Saddles" and they put new cleats on my shoes. They also knew the hosts I would be staying with that night, Steve and Karen Howery. I collapsed into a brewey and carbo loaded for an hour, after which I biked the remaining 6 miles to the beautiful home of Steve and Karen. I also had the pleasure of meeting their daughter Stephanie and dog Ezekiel. I will talk more about these great people in the next posting because they deserve much more here then a passing notice.

My guardian angel?

Today was a grand adventure that almost went sideways. The old man with the grey beard seemed to come out of the nowhere and he would not admit it, but I believe he stayed with me to help me. He knew the mountain and what was up there and I am grateful for his companionship during a rough bit out there. At the summit we pulled our bikes up to the observation deck and took this picture, which proved once and for all to me that this small mysterious grey bearded man was real, and not an angel sent to save my tukus. Or was he?

Lord knows I need one sometimes...............