T+10: The Adventure Begins

ST. HELENS, OR: We mounted our bikes about 2pm yesterday afternoon, and after a few wobbles getting used to our loaded BOB trailers, zoomed down the hill to the river, then over the Hawthorne Bridge, and through downtown.  The north end of Portland is an industrial zone, with no trees and blazing sun.  We were starting our day in exactly the wrong time of day: when the sun is hottest and the holiday traffic most intense.

However, we just buckled down and pushed forward, so glad to finally be underway.  Everything is going swimmingly until about mile 16.5, when I feel a funny clunk in my tire.  I slow down, and sure enough, I have picked up a roofing nail in my front tire.  We have to cross the busy highway, which is not so easy with the bike trailers. 

On the other side of the road, blessedly in the shade, we remove the bike wheel, then spend at least 30 minutes trying to get the tire off the wheel, so we can fix the flat.  Three tools and a few cuss words later, we have the inner tube out.  The hole is a double piercing on the side of tube.  Fixing it permanently is going to be a challenge.  I get the patch kit from my bike and discover the glue is completely hardened.  Thank goodness, I had the foresight to put another patch kit on Wes’ bike. 
We patch the holes, get the tube and tire back on the bike with less difficulty than getting it off, pump the tire, and remount the wheel.  It has taken us at least an hour to do this, during which the road has emptied and entered the shadow of the trees to a greater degree.

It is another 5 miles to the first little town.  We are out of water and pretty darn dehydrated by the time we pull into the Fred Meyers in the little town of Scappouse, OR.  In the store, we drink an iced tea while shopping, order smoothies, get more glue, and pick up a few supplies for dinner.   It is a bad sign, we note, that my tube in not available at this store and I regret not getting one when we were at the bike shop.  While drinking a smoothie, still feeling dehydrated, we call the only camping nearby. 

The camp host is friendly and lets us know that there is lots of room, but that we have to go another 5 miles to get to the camp.  We’re beat, but looking forward to our first camp of the trip.  We get there about 30 minutes before sunset. Setting up camp goes very well.  We eat a good dinner of pumpkin soup, hummus, and hot tea.  We are tired and can feel strain in various muscles. 

In the tent, we stretch out, adjust our blow-up pillows.  After a good rub down with Aspercreme, the sore bicyclist’s friend, we conk out.  We sleep soundly, only waking up to the chorus of two owls hooting away in the giant Douglas firs above our tent.  

The next morning, we are creaky, but not terribly sore, but our moods are right on the edge of cranky.  Little glitches in the packing seem downright irritating, and we are still learning the easy and smooth way to deal with the equipment.

However, we are on the road by 8 am.  It is beautiful and cool.  We zip along until we find a Starbucks, where we will charge our electronics, satisfy Wes’ coffee addiction, and see how our first filming on the bike went.

We feel so glad to be out…proud of ourselves for changing the tire…already feeling the effects of taking an adventure.  Wes keeps saying: “You know what is great about being on the bike….just being in the moment.”  He is right.  We are in this moment, in a small town in Oregon, on the Columbia River, about to take in the 4^th of July festivities.  Our adventure begins.