REST DAY

The descent from Crater Lake was a process. Like a day and a half process through forest land, grazing land, back into the mountains, uphill and downhill. We were expecting just a straight down descent since we had been riding our bikes uphill for a week, but that wasn't the case. 

Finally we reached the sign that we always look forward to: the runaway truck sign. This one showed a truck on a decline that said "9 Miles". Hell. Yes. The descent was wild. Ashland is in a desert valley, so we blew past sagebrush, scrubby oaks, and most of all withered grass as far as the eye could see. Hot desert wind whooshed past us in a tangible force. The landscape had the coloration of a Cezanne painting, with dark green conifers still dotting the hills, orange soil showing through the patchy vegetation, and bright blue sky. These are the times I wish I had a GoPro, because the valley stretched out for miles in the blue hazy distance, and the dry golden hills seemed to swallow us as we descended lower and lower. Of course I would have loved to video what I saw, but we were rolling at 42.5 mph. We didn't touch our pedals until we reached Ashland.

You know what happens after you ride your bike uphill for a week? You get to take a rest day. A REAL rest day where you don't have to ride your bike unless you want to. I got everything I wanted. We got a room in a motel. It had a bed. I hadn't slept in a bed since July. I ate great hippie food. The next day I ate a burger. I drank a margarita. I took two showers. I browsed a bookstore. I saw the sights of downtown Ashland. 

There are also classic Oregon caricatures, like the woman in the Hawaiian wrap dress wearing fishnets out with her friend, the pregnant lady with dreadlocks wearing a long skirt with a lacy vest thingy; the girl in the Tevas with the paperboy cap and a coyote tail hanging on her keychain; the young hobo revivalists who have chosen to be homeless and beg for money all day on the sidewalks with their dogs. We happened upon the local cable access channel in the motel and watched an interview with a woman who claimed that when she had a miscarriage, she was visited by the spirit being of her child in a vision, who spoke to her and helped her find her path toward her divine feminine essence. 

I told this to my friend Lexi, who is an artist and general groundbreaker back home, and she replied that people in the Pacific Northwest don't need us like they do in Florida. I TOTALLY agree. 

In any case. Ashland was great. So was our motel. And then (sigh) we ventured back into the realm of two wheels and tents. 

Crater Lake

We left sea level five days and five thousand feet ago. FINALLY it was the day to climb the last 2500 feet to the top of a giant collapsed volcano filled with 7000 years worth of precipitation. 

Crater Lake is the result of a dead volcano. Mt. Mazama was estimated to be 12,000 feet high before it exploded around 5500 BC. It spewed massive amounts of debris and gas into the surrounding landscape, filling valleys to make flat deserts.

The volcano then collapsed in on itself and was sealed. It now collects water in a lake that's 1900 feet deep. 

I guess that's worth the climb.

So we made it. After breaking up the climb from sea level over the course of almost a week, the final push to the top wasn't as bad as we thought.

Unfortunately, it was impossible for Travis to cannonball into Crater Lake because there's only one way down to the water and it's a vertical footpath. Also, the water remains 39 degrees year round. So instead, we took the afternoon the enjoy the view. 

Climbing Mount Bailey

Just kidding! We couldn't go to Crater Lake today because we had to climb a mountain instead!! After a morning's riding, pulled into Diamond Lake Park and noticed Mt. Bailey. 

Mt. Bailey towers over 8000 feet over Diamond Lake, and since this is one of our last days in the mountains, we figured we had no choice but to attempt the summit. Turned out to not only be a good mountain spot, but a good cannonball spot too. 

And then we started climbing the five miles to the summit, except this time it was by foot, not by bike. All in all it was an unremarkable hike: there were very few species of plants in the forest and not a lot of animal activity. We ran out of water and time to make it to the summit, but the view of the lake from 7000 feet was spectacular.

If anything, hiking at a two mile an hour pace as opposed to biking at an eleven mile an hour pace gives you plenty of time to think. We only have two more weeks left in this journey, so that means only two more weeks before I have to come back to reality. 

I've had a decent amount of introspection over the past few years, and one of my most helpful conclusions is that I need four things in life to feel content: be near family, have a good boyfriend, find a close a group of friends, and do work that I am proud of. When even just one of these needs is out of balance, my feefees also get out of balance too. 

Travis doesn't need these things. In ecological terms (this is a quote), he said that I am a niche species that not only survives but thrives when certain conditions are right, while he is more of a generalist, and can make due in diverse circumstances. He left home in South Florida without looking back, doesn't flinch when he doesn't have tons of friends to call, and likes to feel like he does good work without basing too much of his indentity in it. He DOES think I'm important, so it's probably a good move that we're moving in together.

So where does that leave me when I return to Florida lacking many of the pillars that keep me supported? Every so often that terrifying thought cracks through to my reality, and it's paralyzing. But there's nothing I can do right now but keep riding on. 

Secret Hot Springs and Unsettling Forest Hippies

I wouldn't ever have imagined the surprises this river route had in store for us. We some big excursions today, the first being Toketee Falls. This landscape was shaped by volcanic eruptions, and when the lava cooled it formed vertical columns in the rocks that the water passes through. We debated for a good 15 minuted whether Travis should scramble down to the edge of the falls to take a cannonball picture, but in the end he decided it was too steep to attempt.

We continued on up another few miles to check out these hot springs that are clearly marked on all maps, but not described in any detail in any official pamphlets, nor is there a sign pointing their direction off the road. We rode down a gravel road for a few miles, then stopped when we saw about 20 cars just pulled off to the side of the road. 

After riding through deserted forest for half an hour, we came face to face first thing with a group of two dozen hippie kids, dirty enough to almost be crusty but hybrid dressed as steampunks. Is there a name for this subculture yet? I turned 30 this year so I'm out of the loop. In any case, all these kids were hooting and hollering and their dogs were scruffling and fighting and they were making me uncomfortable, though I couldn't put my finger on WHY other than I'm becoming more and more of a square in my old age.

We left them behind (quickly) and started up to the springs. The path is straight up the hillside, and it ends at a plateaued ledge that drops off over the river. And on that plateau are seven beautifully steamy pools.

Did you ever wonder what makes bike touring legs feel better? Sitting in 110 degree water in naturally forming pools overlooking a free flowing river, surrounded by towering trees. 

There were only two naked old dudes with their junk out, and everyone seemed to look pretty normal. There was even a trio of single moms on vacation with their eight kids hanging out having a soak and a picnic. None of the steampunk hippies had ventured the climb. Some hippies of days of yore had built a little shelter over one of the pools, painted the Grateful Dead head on it and hung some Tibetan prayer flags. Someone else tied a "safety rope" so folks can rappel down the slippery path alongside the pool plateau slope to the rivers edge, where there is one more hot pool under the ledge of a cave. That one was probably the best because you could switch back and forth between the hot pool water and the icy river water. 

These hot springs are on Forest Service land, but the Forest Service has obviously given up on trying to manage the place. The spring site itself was precarious enough, with poorly maintained paths and no infrastructure like tables or stairs or platforms. Other hot springs we've visited have strict rules about alcohol since its dangerous to thin your blood and boil it at the same time, but there were people drinking and also leaving glass shards in the path. 

Additionally, when we made our way back to the main road it became clear that the steampunk hippies are living in the woods, either in their broke ass vans or slovenly campsites. There was garbage everywhere, right next to piles of cardboard begging signs. And that's why I was so squicked out before: the roaming gang of homeless youth dropped totally out of society is classically frightening. How did these people fall through the cracks? What do they live for? How did they get so dirty?? WHO KNOWS!

We live for riding our bikes right now. Crater Lake tomorrow.