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El Cap and I hopped on our trusty steeds and headed up Bald Peak Rd. to Laurel. We started in Aloha and rode up 209th to Farmington. We were cruising down a descent when a truck that was coming towards made a left hand turn. I don’t think he realized we were going about 30 mph, so he turned in front of us.

Then, the driver seemed to pause like a squirrel about to be run over. I had to pull to almost the center line and begin applying brakes before he finally finished the turn, and I could resume on the shoulder again. It’s one thing to turn in front of a cyclist coming your way, but quite another to slow down during the turn like somehow you’re making amends by slowing up.

Anyway, most of the ride was uneventful. We took Farmington westbound until highway 219. Turned left (south) and then a quick right at Bald Peak Rd. We took that up the hill to Laurel Rd.  I forgot how many hills within a hill there are. Every time you crest a hill and turn a corner, there seems to be another one.

We made it to Laurel without stopping. The sign at Laurel Rd. said we just came up an 8% grade for — I think — 1.5 miles. It seemed much longer, but I never did have to stop. According to Google calculator, 1.5 miles of an 8% climb works out to 633 ft of vertical climbing. That felt about right. Anyway, the whole point to doing the ride is to ride down Laurel Rd. It’s a great straight shot down. You can see the bottom of the hill (600 feet below). Even with knobbies, I topped out at 42.9 miles per hour. El Cap got 47 mph, but he has slicks on his bike.

We then rejoined highway 219 and took it to Scholls. We then turned left at 210 and took that to Scholls Ferry Rd. We took that all the way to El Cap’s neighborhood in Tigard.

The last good event was hammering the bike down the hill towards Murray. The last time I looked at my speed, it was 37. That’s a fun hill to descend (provided the light a Murray is green).

All in all, the ride was 26 miles, and fun was had by all.

As we rolled up Crow Valley Rd. just outside of West Sound, we noticed this peppered gray haired man stoop over to his young grand-daughter (I imagine it was his grand-daughter), and cupped his mouth and said something to her. He then straightened himself and called out to us.

“Does this mean it’s Spring?”

I wear many hats, and I’ve been many things before. I’m a father, a husband, a son, and a brother. I’ve been a dishwasher, a bus-boy, a carpet-cleaner, an admin, a teacher, a webdesigner, a programmer, and a guitar-player. I’ve been a ham, a jerk, a mentor, a mentee, and I suppose even a hero (when I rushed for help to save a friend who fell into a canal at virtual flood stage), but until this moment, I never thought that I could be a portent for Spring.

Not many can say they are a sign of Spring, but El Cap, our two brides, and I can all say we signaled the arrival of Spring to Orcas Island.

Just like the year before, the weather was fairly wet in the “banana belt” of Puget Sound on the days leading up to our arrival, but the weather took a turn for the better just as Oregon schools went on Spring Break. It rained the day we arrived on Lopez Island, but just after we settled into our cozy cottage, the clouds broke up, and golden beams of sunshine descended upon the countryside. That was the last rain we would see during our trip.

We weren’t trying to be the first wave of migratory cyclists, we just had the advantage of being locked into coming to the islands during the last week of March, one week before Washington’s Spring Break. You see, once the public schools in Washington goes on break, it’s all over, because many Washingtonians know about the rain shadow created by the Olympic Mountains and know that cycling in the San Juans is choice during this time, but they typically wait until Spring Break or later.

Either way, we now have a tradition to uphold. We must make the trek to the islands during Spring Break every year, so that the Orcas Islanders will know when it’s officially Spring.

I thought I would share my thoughts after Reach the Beach, but then I had a question: Why post in prose, when you can post in haiku?

The finish line at Pacific City.

My Plea

Beach I do beseech
to your grains I may reach while
you restrain the winds

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Post Mortem

Achilles’ tendons
mighty bands of tensioned steel
relax a little

It’s almost 10:00pm, and I should be sleeping to rest for tomorrow’s Reach the Beach, but I’m stalling. My bride and I are doing the 55-mile, Amity to Pacific City route.

We’ve been biting our nails watching the weather. Weather forecasters have been predicting rain for tomorrow all week, but KPTV now says the rain should be over by tomorrow and then back on Sunday. KGW says it won’t be dry until the afternoon, but that’s for Portland, and hopefully, we’ll miss most of it.

The Mrs. is concerned about how prepared she is, but after last Saturday’s North Plains 26-miler, I’m convinced she’ll do fine. With all the food stops and big feast at the end, I’ll probably end up gaining weight. I’ll try to get some footage tomorrow if it clears up enough. I don’t like taking pictures along highway 8 because of the insane driving (it is after all, the most dangerous stretch of highway in the state (mostly due to the Casino traffic)).

The best place for photo opportunities is the section on the way to Sheridan (home of the Phil Sheridan days!). Here, I’ll attach a picture I took last year (it was just before Dave Salesky, local weather guy, cruised by and gave me a draft).