TransAm Day #58 Dayville, OR - Mitchell, OR
TransAm Day #58
July 24, 2018
Dayville, OR - Mitchell, OR
43 Miles
Ride Time 3:45 Hours
Tour Total Miles 4087
I slept well in my tent, pitched out back of the Dayville Community Church. Last night all six westbounders traded adventure stories in the community room. I lubed and cleaned my chain, took a shower, and did laundry.
It was warm out when I went to bed, and I left my fly entrance wide open. Both my pairs of underwear were in the washer, and I was 99% sure that no one would see me buck naked in my tent. It got a little chilly as the night wore on, and I progressed to my silk liner, and later my sleeping bag. Early in the morning I kept waking up thinking I needed to put the wet laundry into the dryer. Once the sun came up I could hear traffic on the highway, so I got up. Eileen had put our wash in the dryer before she went to bed, so all my clothes were clean and ready. I folded my everyone's’ clothing.
The grocery store was closed. The Mini Mart was closed. The cafe is closed on Tuesday. So I went back to the gift shop for an egg sandwich, cappuccino, and orange juice. While I sat out back and ate my breakfast, I met Charlie the dog. The proprietor told me that the forest fire smoke is supposed to be bad after the pass into Mitchell.
Part of me is really tired of looking at all the desert scrub, nothingness, and emptiness. I need to appreciate it, because it’s grand, beautiful, and there’s nothing like it in the east. I’m looking forward to the coast, but that will spell the end of my trip.
There are no services, towns, food, nothing on my route today until I get to Mitchell. The way the towns are spaced here I have to either do forty mile days or eighty mile days, plus off route excursions. This is the desert and it gets hot in the afternoon. Eileen is meeting her husband Klaus in Bend on Thursday. Therefore my team is doing the forty mile a day option.
The surrounding valley hills changed from rounded and curvy to flattops and buttes. It was a welcome change but odd. Why would they just break like that? I followed the river fork and rode through Picture Gorge. I could see the scarred entrance, where the earth had been torn apart for miles. It was a pleasure and treat to ride right through the middle of it.
This area is part of the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument. I went three miles off route to go to the visitor center. I was glad to be doing this ride early in the morning, instead of the afternoon when it would be unbearable.
The hills have dark banded stripes from various volcanic eruptions. Other formations looked like soft serve ice cream. It was absolutely beautiful and I could see why they call it Picture Gorge. I got to the visitor center thirty minutes before it opened. The air was already hazy. It’s got to be blistering here when the sun is overhead. I could hear coyotes howling in the distance.
I collected fossils as a kid and was excited to see the exhibit. Their calcified remains were all mammals, and much more recent than what I was accustomed to. While looking at all the calcified megafauna in the display cases, it was satisfying to know that I was carrying my very own deer skull in my handlebar bag.
It was a large well-staffed center with exhibits and research labs. The learning objective focused on evolution and climate change. I couldn’t help but draw a parallel to two years ago when I visited the Creationism Museum in Northern Kentucky. There the parking lot was jammed packed, and the admission was $20. The John Day Fossil Beds National Monument visitor center was free, government funded, presented interesting scientific facts, and was empty. If president Dotard gets word of this place he’ll have it shut down immediately. Why do greedy destructive snake oil salesmen have any influence?
As I was rounding Table Mountain, halfway to Keys Creek Summit, I passed a ginormous shoe tree which was startling, creepy, and straight out of ‘Breaking Bad’. I’m accustomed to shoes hanging from street lamps in Brooklyn, but this was in the middle of nowhere. It was shocking and impressive.
Yesterday at the Mini Mart a pair of motorcyclists were complaining about the heat. I thought to myself, ‘What do you have to complain about?’. Cyclists and motorcyclists pass each other all the time out here, yet live in two different worlds. Sometimes they give me the two finger salute. We see each other on the road, at gas stations, and in convenient stores. There’s little interaction and I have to be honest. I don’t fully respect a cross country trip on a motorcycle. Their machines are loud, and a lot of them are rednecks.
I climbed up out of Picture Gorge and found myself In another wide grassy valley with tree-filled hills to the left and barren scrub to the right. It still feels like the west, and not the Pacific Northwest. The ranch gates have diminished down to wooden poles with pieces of wire strung across the top with large bones dangling in the middle.
There’s nothing like a headwind in the prairie. I’ve had a lot of that on this trip. Nearing Keys Creek summit I once again had evergreen trees to either side of the highway. I’ve been following Mountain Creek.
Coming down the pass I flew thirty miles an hour. In the distance I saw golden dome-shaped hills covered with grass and scrub and speckled with trees. My total climb today was 3200’.
In Mitchell I went straight to the Little Pine Cafe for taco Tuesday, all you can eat for $11. It was filled with jolly cyclists from the UK doing a supported eastbound TransAm tour. Their support van got tagged with a #RustyCrank sticker. Scott and Eileen eventually met up with me.
I went to the post office and shipped my dear skull back to Brooklyn. I met my companions at Tiger Town, where bartender Licious served me several OMR Red Amber Ales. The name Tiger Town Valley refers to back in the day when there were miners, loggers, cowboys, bars, strip clubs, and brothels.
We had been looking forward to the infamous Spoke-n Hostel that Steve and many others had raved about. Unfortunately a film crew had booked the entire place, and we had to camp in the park. I was so tired (and somewhat inebriated), and fell asleep on a picnic table.
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