How soon one forgets! My first experience with The Oregonian's eighth incarnation of their annual tour last year featured lots of climbing but short mileage; the aching eventually left my legs, and only the good memories of the wonderful people in the communities we visited remained. Even though I did last year's tour on very little training, I should have remembered that I'm much better riding the uphills than cruising the flats, (in roadie slang I'm a better "kite" than a "brick") especially if there are several days of them! My first reaction upon seeing the preview of the route for the ninth tour was, "Hey, Crater Lake! I've always wanted to ride around Crater Lake. The rest of the course looks pretty flat. Piece of cake!" I've been told that memory is the first thing to go with advanced age, so on April 1, 1996, I mailed my check and once again got a spot on Cycle Oregon: Version IX, The Great Basin Tour.

The ride passed through and skirted the Great Basin on a loop beginning and ending in Lakeview, Oregon, the first time that Cycle Oregon has ended in the same town that it started-out in. At one point we traveled right along the California border, and the tour organizers claimed that we spent a few miles in California - the first time that the tour has been in another state. I got to ride through desert, marshes, mountains, forests, and picture-postcard lakes on a bike tour where people still lived in their traditional American West surroundings. The ride had a lot of high desert - but, hey, I'm a desert rat from way back, so this was OK. I crossed the Cascades twice.

Tour Trivia

Total riders 2018 (1338 from Oregon)
Male 68%
Female 32%
Oldest 79 years
Youngest 10 years
Total miles 569
Total elevation gain 19,900'
Net elevation gain 0'
There were 35 states represented and riders from Canada, Japan, and Australia attended.

Gallons of water 120,000
Pounds of ice 9,600
Rolls of toilet paper 2,000
Clif Bars supplied 12,000
Bananas purchased 8,000
Advil tablets on hand 20,000
Disco balls on tour 1
Other Pedalers on ride David and Melissa Grill
Penny Fairfield
Wayne Kocher

Preparation and getting there

My packing for the ride was slightly different based on my experiences last year. I put everything into my old Kelty backpack and strapped my "instant" tent and sleeping bag and pad to the frame. This setup greatly simplified getting gear onto the baggage truck after breaking camp. The "instant" tent is just that; it will set up in less than a minute and can be packed in about 2-3 minutes. It's heavy and not designed for inclement weather - you could probably blow it down with a strong sneeze - but the ease of use and roominess make the risk worthwhile. All indications were that the weather would be warm, but at the last minute I tossed-in tights and a long sleeve polypro shirt with the rest of my cycling gear. This proved to be a good move. Packing was further eased by the recent acquisition of a Dodge Caravan mini-van. With the back seat out, this thing has enough space to roll the bicycle into the vehicle and toss the rest of the camping gear in after it with room to spare! Speedy it is not, but the sound system is decent (thanks again, Frank!) …

The ride started and ended in Lakeview, Oregon, a boring four-hour drive from Reno through Alturas, just across the border with California. Logistics of where to leave my transportation and packing my bike were all avoided this year, and the only driving battle was getting through the Balloon Races traffic in my neighborhood. The boredom was partly relieved by acres of yellow flowers and blooming sagebrush along the way. The adventure begins ...

Saturday, September 7: Lakeview

Upon my morning arrival in Lakeview, I was routed to a parking area in a large field. Since this was right next to the camping sites, I set up my tent to air out and, leaving everything else in the mini-van, set out on a walk around Lakeview.

Lakeview was founded over 100 years ago and calls itself the "tallest town in Oregon." It is a focal point for agriculture and tourism in the Great Basin part of Oregon; they have an annual hang gliding festival on the Fourth of July. The entire town had adopted a cowboy theme for Cycle Oregon, and the locals were out in force with a nice crafts fair, lots of goodies to eat, and a truly awful blues band. I was emphatically told that these musicians had not been drinking - that they were always this bad! The town also offered some interesting architecture in many of its older buildings.

After visiting the crafts fair for gifts to take back to my friends and picking-up my rider's packet, there was plenty of time for a shower and a nap before dinner. I ran across the four other Procrastinating Pedalers members on the ride: David and Melissa Grill, who were riding their 9th Cycle Oregon, and Penny Fairfield and Wayne Kocher, doing the ride on their new tandem. The opening ceremonies began at 8:00 PM during which Jonathan Nicolas, the president of Cycle Oregon, applied every known adjective beginning with the letter "A" to the upcoming ride. Come to think of it, he did the same thing last year! I began to wonder if he knew any adjective beginning with "B" or maybe even "C"? After a performance by singer-songwriter David Wilcox, who was also doing the ride, I passed on remainder of the evening's entertainment in favor of getting to sleep early.

Sunday, September 8: Lakeview to Paisley

Breakfast came early and cold, a process which was to repeat itself for all but one morning on this tour. The early I can deal with, but the cold was a surprise, and not a welcome one. There's something about having numb toes and fingers before even getting on my bicycle that bothers me. Even the mocha habit that I picked-up from my friend, Gretchen, didn't seem to help much with the warmth my appendages desired!

With chilled feet, hands, and just about everything else, I packed up camp, loaded my gear onto the first available truck, got my bike out of the van, and was on my way to Paisley with the 2,017 other participants of Cycle Oregon IX. I hadn't even cleared town when I had to stop for an ambulance: a rider had crashed less than six blocks into the ride and broken his shoulder! How he managed to do this was beyond my comprehension given that there was no traffic and no holes in the street.

Once out of town, we followed Thomas Creek Road through miles of cattle country and then began a gradual climb through the juniper and Ponderosa pines of Fremont National Forest. Riders started to spread out quite a bit at this point and I began to notice that the Hammerhead Crowd (a.k.a. Bike Nazis) were attending this ride in full force. You have probably encountered this breed of rider, almost exclusively male, for whom the most insignificant cycling event is a life-or-death race to the finish, and an attempt to pass is a direct challenge to their Manhood. (Yes, Carol and Melinda, the Ruler Theory is true!) So here they were, on the ninth Cycle Oregon tour, bravely blasting past little old ladies on their mountain bikes without so much as a grumbled, "Good morning," and definitely not the standard, "On your left." I guess it's all part of the image. I know that it's very uncool, but with 2000+ riders a bit of courtesy is not only nice but probably essential, so Your Author greeted everyone, including the Hammerheads when I passed them on the uphills, with a ring of the bell and at least, "Hi there." We passed Cox Flat, strangely-named Shoestring Creek, Grasshopper Flat, and Coffeepot Flat (the history of how these places got their names must be fascinating) on the way to our lunch stop at Dairy Point. At the lunch stop we were entertained by a classical guitarist and educated by rangers and local ranchers who talked about ranching and riparian restoration. After an experience in southern Utah with the destruction caused by overgrazing, it was refreshing to see the cooperation between the cattle ranchers and the Feds in keeping the land under good care.

Immediately after lunch the route followed two miles of gravel road which, even though freshly graded, was a pretty exciting experience on a skinny-tired road bike. Once off the gravel we paralleled the Chewaucan River the rest of the way to Paisley. Near our final water stop was a bridge connecting part of the Fremont National Recreation Trail, part of a 200-mile route connecting the Pacific Crest Trail with the Desert Scenic Trail. Less than a mile outside of town, a sign warned us of "Congestion" and marked the location of a local swimming spot. Then it was off through town to be greeted by crepe decorations, stuffed bears, and cheerleaders welcoming us to their home.

Paisley was founded in 1870 and named by an early Scot settler in memory of his hometown in Scotland, not after the fabric pattern. The town's claim to fame is the annual Paisley Mosquito Festival, held during the last week in July. I am happy to report that the guests of honor for this "festival" were long gone by the time I arrived! The nearby J-Spear Ranch provided bus transportation to a horseshoeing demonstration and a talk about modern cattle ranching. The horse seemed bored by the whole thing; I was astounded by the cost of the machines necessary to cut and process hay.

We had chicken tortellini for dinner (excellent!) and I took a walk around town to see the few sights and the old pioneer cemetery. Linda Hornbuckle entertained not only the Cycle Oregon folks, but the town and probably most of the surrounding vicinity with high-volume soul and blues. I was in my sleeping bag early (with ear plugs in place) to rest for tomorrow's long and flat ride.

Monday, September 9: Paisley to Silver Lake

Another cold morning - the scrambled eggs were a rapidly cooling yellow mass by the time I had made it from the food line to my seat. The memory of a dip in that nice swimming hole yesterday afternoon sent chills through me!

The route to Silver Lake included the first of three optional century rides. We started with a long and slightly downhill run through the wide open Summer Lake valley. Pace lines, officially discouraged by Cycle Oregon organizers, abounded. I hitched a ride behind a very strong couple on a tandem; we often hit 30 mph or faster along the flats. Although it looks rather barren, the valley has supported a thriving cattle economy for more than four generations, and we passed many distinctive barns. One ranch, the Withers Ranch, has been in the same family for at least 100 years. We also rode though the ZX Ranch, the largest in the United States, which runs 10,000 head of cattle over some 1.3 million acres. Because of the downhill and a tailwind, lunch at the Summer Lake Wildlife Refuge, less than 30 miles into the ride, came very quickly. After a big breakfast it was tough to stuff down lunch a bit over an hour later. Then it was up and over Picture Rock Pass (try not to upchuck that lunch!) for a view of the valley and a look at the Silver Lake Basin. But there was no lake! It seems that various reservoirs in the mountains take all the water before it manages to reach the "lake".

At the bottom of the pass and only 9 miles from our eventual destination, those of us doing the optional loop turned right onto Christmas Valley Road and headed to Fort Rock. (History trivia: John C. Fremont originally named Hart Lake, near Lakeview, Christmas Lake. A mapmaker transposed the information to the current location of Christmas Valley.) The ride from this point was nearly dead flat, and a few of us stopped to look at a kitty litter factory when we were traveling along Kitty Litter Road. Actually, the plant is owned by Oil Dry and processes diatomaceous earth, which is one of the ingredients of kitty litter. Paceline mania continued, and I often found myself at the head of groups of five or more hammerheads who would catch me, suck my wheel for miles refusing to take a turn at the front, and finally blast away when I stopped to take a picture. The tour is a non-competitive event, but you'd think that the world championship for cycling was on the line for these guys! Thirty miles later I was at Fort Rock, or "The Rock" if you were a local. It was definitely a big rock. It is a crescent-shaped saddleback profiled volcanic remnant created some 12,000 years ago and carved by wind and a long-gone lake into its present form. It was visible from 10 miles away. A sandal and other materials left by its first residents date back to 13,600 years. I walked a bit of the trail (can't do much walking in cleated cycling shoes) and looked at one plaque explaining the geology of the region and another memorializing Reub Long, "the Sage of the Sagebrush Country," who donated the 30 acres to make the park. After a few pictures, more water, and a quick snack of fresh fruit, I was on my way once again to Silver Lake.

Following the rest stop at The Rock, it was a long, hot, and windy 30 miles to Silver Lake. This was made even nastier by the omission of a promised water stop. When I finally rolled into the town of Silver Lake, both large bottles were empty! Silver Lake was founded in 1875 with the establishment of a post office. It's place in Oregon's history is marked by a tragic Christmas Eve fire that killed 43 people in 1893. Entertainment for the evening was dubbed "Disco in the Desert" - thanks, but no thanks!

Tuesday, September 10: Silver Lake to Chiloquin

An easy day of riding after the first century of the tour, a mere 74 miles of gently rolling hills. Lunch even came at a decent place in the ride.

The first 20 miles were a gradual but steady climb through the Fremont and Winema National Forests to the Klamath County line. As I started downhill into the Klamath Wildlife Refuge and marshes, I was rewarded with views of Yamsay mountain (from Klamath Indians' Yamsi, or north wind, and home of Kmukamtch, their supreme being). Lunch came almost exactly halfway into the ride and was within the Refuge. The route flattened out at this point and entered the marshes. The view was flat and, well, marshy, with a backdrop of the Cascades. Lily pad-filled channels lined the road; waterfowl and a lone hawk occupied the sky. At one point Mount Shasta was visible in the distance.

The peace of the Klamath Marshes was abruptly ended when the route made a left turn onto Highway 97. Birdsong and marsh grass were replaced with the roar of countless trucks and twenty miles of rough asphalt. The only thought at this point was to ride as fast as possible and get it over with, but a stiff headwind made that task difficult. I was tempted to stop at the Thunderbeast theme park, featuring plaster dinosaurs and an entrance guarded by a gigantic prehistoric sloth, but it was closed until next summer. The final rest stop of the day was at Collier State Park, conveniently located after a screaming downhill, and home of the world's largest logging museum. The featured entertainment was belly dancer Candice Morgan, and it pains me to admit that I was much more interested in the water and fresh strawberries at this point! From here it was a short jaunt to our night's stay in Chiloquin.

Chiloquin has been a center of activity for the Klamath Tribe for over 3000 years and is named after the Chaloquin family. The Sprague River runs right next to the town and offered a fine swimming spot to cool my heels as well as some of the finest fly fishing in Oregon according to a local high school student. Other claims to fame are that retired actress Kim Novak lives near town and that it has the highest unemployment of any town in Oregon (possibly the Unites States!): 60%. The camp was near the river, so I set up my tent as far from it as possible in an area featuring dirt and weeds instead of damp grass. The prediction was that the morning would be very cool, so I wanted every advantage to keep things dry. I caught a bit of the evening's entertainment by folksinger David Wilcox and once again headed to the tent for some much-needed rest.

Wednesday, September 11: Chiloquin to Prospect

There were many options for today's ride. If Crater Lake was completely skipped, it was a short and relatively easy 61 miles to Prospect. People could take the turnoff to Crater Lake and ride up to the Rim and return. Or, for those of us who have lost too many brain cells to hard cycling, the second century route went all around the lake. Of course, after having come this far, there was no way that I was not going to ride around Crater Lake!

It was below freezing when I got up early for what promised to be a long and difficult day of cycling. Things started badly with an almost inedible waffle breakfast. The poor waffle had started life frozen, was reheated to cardboard consistency, and then nearly refrozen by the time I had found a seat at the tables among the rest of the shivering masses. Before I packed-up, I put on every bit of cycling clothing that I had brought with me: tights, long-sleeved top, heavier windbreaker, mittens over the gloves, heavier socks. When I finally started to ride, it was a mixed blessing because the activity tended to generate heat but the motion through the cold air sucked it away! A few miles into the ride I realized that the cold had made the display on my cyclocomputer quit (it finally started working again later in the day).

Things started with a relatively flat and easy cruise along the Wood River from Chiloquin to Fort Klamath. The Wood River Valley fills with cows during the summer, but most of them were gone by now to their destinies as Big Macs. The town is named after the original fort, established in 1863 and still in use up to 1889. A museum now occupies the site of the fort. We only got about five more miles of easy riding before highway 62 began climbing towards Crater Lake. All along the tree-lined road, I saw evidence of the ring of remnants of Mount Mazama. At one point some were still visible. The lunch stop came early again for those of us doing the ride to the lake, so I had to skip this stop except to refill my water bottles. A mile later I turned off the easy 60-mile course and headed through the park entrance on a 40-mile tour around Crater Lake.

Crater Lake was created by the explosion of Mount Mazama some 7,700 years ago. The cataclysm blasted the volcanic peak from its original 12,000 feet to its current 7,500 feet and destroyed the land for hundreds of square miles. When rain and snowmelt filled the hole, it made the deepest lake in North America: 1,932 feet. This is the basic geology, but Chief Lalek of the Klamath had a much better story!

"A long time ago, the spirits that live in the mountains and in the water, in the earth and the sky, used to come and talk with the Klamath people. But the chief of the spirits that lived deep in Mount Mazama became angry with the people on the earth. He vowed he would destroy them with the Curse of Fire.

"The chief of the sky spirits came down and stood on the summit of Mount Shasta. From their mountaintops the two powerful chiefs began a furious battle. Mountains shook and crumbled. Fire poured forth from the mouth of the chief of the below world. The people rushed to Klamath Lake and prayed.

"Two old shamans offered themselves as living sacrifices. One last time the mountain that used-to-be broke open and all the earth trembled. The below-world spirits were driven back into their home and the top of the mountain crashed down upon them.

"Then came the spirit of storms. Rains fell for years filling the hole of Mount Mazama. Never again were the Klamath people visited by the chief of the below-world spirits, but this story warned them to keep away from the mountain and the new lake."

Regardless of how you choose to believe that Crater Lake was created, it is a phenomenal view from just about any point around the Rim if you can survive the tough climbing necessary to get around it. There are no flat spots! Even with cloud cover keeping conditions a bit on the cool side, I had to hit every water stop to keep hydrated; the final rest stop of the day had bananas, fresh strawberries, and granola bars which had to do to make my lunch. Discovery Point and the Rim Village mark the location where John Wesley Hillman and a party of gold seekers became the first white men to see the lake in 1853. The prominent Wizard Island can be clearly seen from here. The "postcard perfect" view was just that, and the Crater Lake Lodge provided the postcards, so I took advantage of the stop to catch up on my writing as well as my eating. As I proceded clockwise along the Rim Drive, I soon came to The Watchman, nearly on top of the island and the starting point for the annual Crater Lake Marathon. Almost half way around the lake was Cleetwood Cove and the only trail to down to the lake. From the same point I could see Mount Thielsen and other Cascade peaks. Kerr Notch came at the end of a 1,000 foot descent and afforded a view of Phantom Ship, the oldest section (400,000 years) of exposed rock inside Mazama's caldera. The parting view of Crater Lake was the rest stop near Sun Notch. At this point the Rim Drive turned away from the lake and returned to the park entrance.

One more short climb and I was off on a 30-mile/3,500-foot descent to Prospect. My legs certainly needed the rest! Even with the steady downhill, I managed to pick up several fridge magnets (wheel suckers) for most of the ride to Prospect. Why some huge guys need to tuck-in behind my 120-pound body on a downhill will always baffle me. The highway soon began to parallel the scenic Rogue River near the tiny town of Union Creek and continued to do so until I arrived in Prospect. There were a surprising number of good campsites left, so I didn't have to trudge too far with my bike and backpack to a decent location for my collapse. A shower and a nap refreshed me enough to stroll around town later in the afternoon, watch a logging demonstration, look at the Prospect Hotel (President Herbert Hoover slept here), and finally take a short hike through old growth forest to Pearsony Falls. Then I took another nap until dinner: pit barbecue roast and corn on the cob topped off with a handful of ibuprofen.

It was quite a day of cycling. I crossed the Cascades from the west to the east side and managed to make it around Crater Lake to boot. Tomorrow was another century …

Thursday, September 12: Prospect to Klamath Falls

Just when I thought it was safe to get back on my bicycle, I was confronted with another cold morning (not as cold as Chiloquin, though) and another 100 miles to ride. Even if I chose not to ride the century option, I was faced with 95 miles so what's another 5 miles at that point? Oh yeah, it was cloudy and there was a chance of rain, too.

Today Cycle Oregon crossed the Cascades again from west to east for another 5,200 feet of serious climbing. Or 9,800 feet if you measure with more care. It seems that the GIS used for our route maps ignore elevation gains of less than 20 feet, and these little bumps add up over the miles. Any way you look at it, I was a sore puppy on Thursday morning, and even my friend Gretchen's 2000mg Advil™ wouldn't have helped much! There was little chance to warm up easily as the course started climbing only a couple of miles outside of Prospect.

The first rest stop was at Butte Falls, named after a waterfall on Big Butte Creek. So many people had left early that it was impossible to get through the crowd to the rest stop itself, so I had to be content with refilling my water bottles and listening to the Journey's End jazz band for a few minutes. Then it was up, UP, and UP past Fish Lake (one of at least 11 of this name in Oregon) to lunch at Lake of the Woods. The view here was easily the best of any lunch stop on the tour with the lake in the foreground and Mount McLoughlin in the distance. It was nice to walk out on the pier and sit down for a rest before finishing the second half of the ride.

As I continued east along Dead Indian Memorial Highway, the terrain flattened (but only a little!) and I re-entered the higher and dryer climate of the Great Basin. The forests began to transition from Douglas fir to an ecosystem dominated by Ponderosa and Lodgepole pine. By this time the riders had stretched-out to the point that I spent many miles riding by myself, an unusual situation in a ride where I was seldom out of sight of another cyclist. As I passed through the Mountain Lakes Wilderness Area, the road straightened and became slightly downhill with some occasional rollers. It is a stark but beautiful landscape created by the dissection of four ancient overlapping volcanoes.

The final rest stop was the tiny community of Keno. The town was not named after the popular casino game but after a Captain D. J. Ferree's bird dog. I have no idea how the dog got his name. It looked like most of the town had turned out to see 2000+ cyclists ride through, and the stop at the Keno Open Bible Church featured ICE CREAM! They had every sort of ice cream bar imaginable there for us to eat - some of which I hadn't seen since I was a little kid growing up in Arizona! After many long and hard hours of riding, this really made my day. Did I mention red licorice ropes? They had those as well. This was probably one of the two nicest rest stops on the tour just by having the right goodies at the right time.

A mere 8 miles later brought us to the city limits of Klamath Falls and I started to encounter other riders and lots of traffic. The Klamath Police were out in force to direct riders once I started to wind my way through the back streets to the campsite at Moore Park. The addition of 2,000 cyclists to the park caused quite a stir with the locals, and the police had traffic backed-up for blocks explaining what was happening. Century riders were directed past the park entrance to ride along the shore of Upper Klamath Lake to a turnaround to collect the final "dogtag" of the tour and return to camp.

Moore Park is located at the south end of Klamath Lake, spans 435 acres, and was donated to the city of Klamath Falls by the Moore family. Although it has tennis courts, archery ranges, play areas, and several soccer fields (where the cyclists were directed to camp), most of the place is still undeveloped forest. I got unpacked and my tent set up and a large dose of Advil ingested just as the first rain drops started to fall. By the time I got out of the shower it had turned to a steady drizzle but I was too tired to care. The rain quit as quickly as it started and left everything damp except for the enthusiasm of a junior high school marching band that circled the soccer fields playing the theme from Mission: Impossible and what must have been their school song. I was asleep before they had completed the loop. I awoke around 6:30 PM in time for a late dinner and noticed that people were still straggling into Moore Park. Reports from the Cycle Oregon staff were that over 130 riders had sagged to the finish and that they were currently sweeping the course to pick up others.

Dinner this evening next to the lake was special. Not for the food, which featured spagetti and meatballs, but for the entertainment, which featured a large bald eagle. As I sat there consuming calories I noticed that the permanent collection of seagulls that circled near the shore had started to make room for a visitor. Soon a beautiful bald eagle had joined their holding pattern. "This is pretty neat," I thought. But that was just the beginning. After a moment of circling, the eagle executed a perfect wingover and dove into the water, emerging seconds later with a fish dinner! As the bird flapped away back into the forest with his snack, I realized that these last few seconds were my highlight of Cycle Oregon IX and would be the one memory of this tour that I would keep with me as the others faded.

Friday, September 13: Klamath Falls to Bonanza

There was no rain during the night, but the day started cool and cloudy. At least the cloud cover prevented it from getting down to "bone chilling" overnight. The scrambled eggs remained warm and edible long enough to eat them. Fortunately today's ride was a short one, a mere 57 very flat miles, and I was able to sleep-in for a change. The combination of drugs, extra sleep, and the promise of an easy day in the saddle had me feeling more rested than at any other time on the tour. I was ready for even the Hammerheads today!

I headed south out of Klamath Falls at an easy pace, passing Tingley Lake and miles of levees and fields. It's said that many bald eagles winter around here, lining up in rows for the easy pickings from the hundreds of thousands of migratory waterfowl that stop during their flights along the Pacific Flyway. The threatening overcast finally delivered a light rain for several miles, but it was barely enough to make the road surface damp. Far to the south, Mount Shasta was barely visible through the clouds. I caught up with a lady from Palo Alto, and we noodled along trading turns at the front of our two-person paceline. We passed Liskey Farms, where the area's abundant geothermal energy is used to heat acres of greenhouses, and the old shoreline of Lower Klamath Lake which was drained in 1905 to create all the farmland.

At 24 miles we turned east onto State Line Road, and it was here that Julie and I picked up two fridge magnets as we passed them on a small uphill. My friend Carol can relate to how it looks when two huge dudes are sucking the wheels of two tiny people, whose combined mass might barely equal one of the guys'. We tried pulling out and slowing down to let one of them take a turn; they refused. We tried speeding up; they hung on. We tried to embarrass them: "Don't you feel embarrassed drafting behind such petite riders?" No comment. One gentleman (?) finally dropped off, the other said that he was, "Too darned tired to be embarrassed!" and stuck with us until the next rest stop. We kept following the state line, and the organizers mentioned that we probably rode a few miles in California. This is the first time that Cycle Oregon has left the state.

A few more miles down the road and we cruised into Malin, the lunch stop for the day. The park where lunch was served was one of the most beautiful on the tour, made even more so by the townsfolk who had turned-out on this rainy day in their Czechoslovakian finest. The town was originally settled in 1909 by Czechs who named it after Malin, Czechoslovakia. The area is famous for its horseradish roots and potatoes. During lunch the cyclists got to see dancers doing the traditional Beseda and a wagon drawn by two of the biggest horses I've ever seen. Clydesdales?

Once I had completed a relaxing lunch, I was on the road again doing the only climb of the day (see how they always seem to schedule them right after lunch?). It was then an easy ten mile cruise into Bonanza. This community of 350 had some great activities lined-up for Cycle Oregon participants. The schools were out since we had taken-over their athletic fields and cafeterias, so the buses were pressed into service to run tours to several of the area's attractions.

I chose the tour to a wetlands restoration project. The Circle 5 Ranch was originally a marsh along the Lost River that got drained to plant hay and wheat. The owner finally decided to return a big part of the ranch to its original state and embarked upon the restoration project. Today, this restored wetlands is home to marmots, muskrats, many varieties of waterfowl, and numerous red-tailed hawks. Once again I was impressed by the cooperation between the ranchers and the environmentalists to lessen the impact of cattle ranching and agriculture on the land.

As soon as the sun went down, the wind increased, the clouds increased, and it started to get cold quickly. I had dinner sitting on a hay bale with some shelter and then retired for the evening to update my trip notes by flashlight.

Saturday, September 14: Bonanza to Lakeview

This was it! The last day of bone-chilling cold in the morning, the last day of wolfing down a cold breakfast from a paper plate balanced between my knees just because I need the calories, the last day of numb fingers from stuffing a wet tent into its sack, the last day of trying to arrange everything to fit into my ancient backpack. And also the last day of the warm friendliness of the communities that I ride through, the last day of true Big Sky Country.

This time the clouds held in the cold, so starting early or late would make little difference in the temperature - I got going early in the futile hope that the activity would warm my toes. Just one mile out of Bonanza the route turned uphill over Bly Mountain for the first 1,000 foot climb of the day. The Hammerheads were out blasting to the top, blocking the occasional traffic, trying to see how close they could get to the other riders. Maybe the idea is to see if they can really surprise someone? Yainax Butte was visible to the south. The chilly descent put me in an even colder valley, but help was just down the road in Beatty. The community church had opened their doors and invited all cyclists inside to warm feet, hands, and other appendages by a hot wood stove. They also had hot soup and hot coffee for those that wanted it. The nearby Beatty Store is said to be known for its impressive collection of pinups in the ladies' restroom; I did not check this out personally, but one of the female riders reported that the selection was indeed memorable. I reluctantly left Beatty and the route paralleled the Sprague River nearly all the way to our lunch stop in Bly. About halfway there I passed the River Springs Ranch and was treated to a field of "Oreo Cookie Cows" (Belted Galloways).

Bly, another Klamath Indian name meaning "up" or "high", is home of the Mitchell Monument, a World War II memorial. In May, 1945, a picnic group found a Japanese balloon carrying incendiary bombs that had landed in the forest northeast of town. The bombs exploded, killing one woman and five children. These were the only enemy-caused deaths in the United States during the war. We had lunch at the town's elementary school; the sun came out for the first time today!

Right after lunch - you guessed it - we got to climb some 1,500 feet up to the top of Quartz Mountain for the next rest stop. I could finally take of my tights and windbreaker and get a little of the "scattered sun" on my skin. The next descent brought me past Drews Reservoir. The far end of the reservoir marked the last climb of the day and of Cycle Oregon IX. The remaining 15 miles were flat or slightly downhill through the familiar fields and pastures of Lakeview.

Lakeview had undergone a radical transformation since I left town 7 days ago. The western heritage theme had been replaced by a 1950s motif. As I crossed the finish line I was greeted by residents in duck tails and poodle skirts and a display of '50s automobiles. The Hardtops were warming up. I was handed my "finisher packet" full of postcards and a pin. I sort of missed not getting a coffee mug to add to my "collection" of one from last year's finish in Fossil.

I was anxious to get home, so headed over to pick up my gear, put everything in the Caravan, and visit the portable showers one last time. I treated myself to a massage by the massage therapists who were traveling with the tour - no problem with long waits now that the ride was over.

Going home

The trip back home was boring once the sun went down, but before that I was treated to impressive vistas of fields, clouds, and an awesome sunset. A fitting end to my tour of the Great Basin.

Comments and Impressions

The one word that describes Cycle Oregon IX is, "Grinding." Because of the smaller amount of climbing compared to last year's ride, the organizers piled-on the distance. There were three century rides, all optional, and the two most difficult of them back-to-back. I've never spent so much time riding my Airstryke aerobars! The different body position took its toll, not on my neck and shoulders as you might imagine, but on my knees. The slightly different position was the cause of a mild tendonitis. The long hours in the saddle meant not being fully rested and recovered by the next day even with 8-9 hours of sleep, and not having the time to enjoy some of the evening entertainment. Sleep was much more important.

The food provided on the ride was pretty much the same fare as last year: plenty of it, but not too imaginative. Breakfast always consisted of granola, bagels, fruit, various condiments, juice, coffee, and one main dish. The box lunches included fruit, a turkey or beef sandwich, and salads in Styrofoam cups. Once again, the "recycle" boxes were a popular destination for most of the lunch contents. The main problem is that lunch had to be planned around a location that would handle the large crowd rather than a logical point in the ride to eat it. As a consequence, lunch often came right before a big climb and/or very early into the ride. Since I couldn't afford to skip any of these calories, I had to learn to ride with the discomfort of a full stomach for up to an hour. Dinner still suffered a lack of greens and other salads, but a couple of the meals were quite good, especially the evening we had tortellini. As usual there was plenty to drink, with the water stops situated 10-15 miles apart. Allsport was a sponsor this year, but the stuff tasted pretty awful to me and I stuck to sodas, tea, and my Max energy drink. Clif Bar was also a sponsor; I got to try just about every flavor that they make and can report that Expresso, Dark Chocolate, and Peanut Butter are excellent. Last year a common complaint was that the actual menus seldom matched the ones published in the tour book; this year it was much closer (a much-anticipated cherry pie dessert was replaced with banana cream but that was about it).

One technical detail that some of you may be interested in is how I could have mocha with breakfast when all that the staff supplied was plain old coffee (and not very good coffee at that). The lines at the expresso stand that followed the tour were darned long on those cold mornings (I remembered that from last year), so I brought bags of Swiss Miss and dumped them into the standard brew. Made the stuff palatable at least, and the potent combination of caffeine and sugar was a sure winner in the "wake up" department!

Preparation for the ride this year? Hey, we don't need no stinking preparation! I only had two century rides under my belt before this event, and it definitely showed. Once I got tired, my recovery was much slower and I pretty much stayed tired for the duration of the tour.

Once again the highlight of the tour was the people: Over 2,000 participants and no apparent altercations, the bicycle techs who worked late into the nights keeping people on the road (and loaning Trek or Softride bikes when they couldn't fix the problem), the paramedics who had to treat and transport several relatively serious injuries and handle the daily aches and pains as well, the Cycle Oregon Resource Center staff (used to be Rider Services - ever notice how everything these days has been renamed "resource"?), and the wonderful people who opened their communities to us.

I wasn't quite as impressed with the route this year, probably because most of it looked just like the land around Reno. It wasn't bad, it was just different compared to last year's tour. Whereas Cycle Oregon VIII offered tree-lined mountains, IX offered the wide-open vistas of the Great Basin.

There were a larger number of rude riders this year; there's no excuse for this behavior. I even saw a number of the folks who were with the shops on the tour taking rides over the tough parts of the course. Maybe a future requirement should be proof of passing a "Miss Manners" class in bicycling etiquette? These Hammerhead guys need to lighten-up! This is a tour, not a race.

My favorite communities were Paisley and Lakeview; the attitude of the townspeople was great.

You already know the high point of the trip - nothing could match that eagle's fishing demonstration! The low point was grinding out the miles from Fort Rock to Silver Lake in the heat and headwinds.

Next year is Cycle Oregon X, and the organizers say that something special is planned. Will I be doing the ride on it's 10th anniversary? No promises right now, but if I can get a bit more training done this coming spring...

Ride on back to my reviews.