Know when to fold, right? Sometimes the universe don’t ask too politely. That’s how I felt as I tucked into a groaning ball and my stomach turned and churned nothingness. Two days go by and the sun rolls across the sky. Redwoods, firs, aspens, these trees between me and the burning ball. For what’s it worth, the heat wave never made it through to my resting place by the whispering creek and it was reasonably peaceful.
When strength somewhat returned and I could eat most of a meal, I was dirty and tired of sleeping in a tent. Still weak and hurting, the pack up process seemed endless. With an initial plan to set off before 7:00 AM—in order to beat the heat—reality had me rolling out at 9:00 AM. I began averaging 6mph. Within an hour, the sun was high and beaming down upon the valley. Thermometers hit 90 and kept climbing.
I hung out in my low gears, gently spinning, pausing in every patch of shade. The state of Oregon believes a bicycle is just as much a vehicle as a car and therefore has similar rights on all roads. Apart from a few sections, Interstate 5 is fair game. It follows the creek bed between ridges and rumbles along the ravine at a gentle incline. If I weren’t so feeble, I’d be making sweet time! In the end, after 5 hours, I make it 22 miles to Canyonville.
It’s a lovely little town. I stop by the laundromat, the grocer, and enjoy a much needed shower. The sheets are clean, the pillows soft, and I drift off to sleep by 9:00 PM. I’m up before 4:00 AM, once again, raring to beat the heat. By the time I’ve made breakfast, my energy levels are no longer replete and the only thing calling my name is sleep. I worry I’m losing another day but don’t see another way.
When I leave the hotel, I make it a mile to a coffee shop. And that’s where I stay. Waiting for a storm to arrive wondering how far I’ll really make it. It’s a beautiful day. There’d be nothing better than hitting the road but boy do these bones ache. I’ll make a push here soon, but it won’t be the far flung dreams of last night. I keep thinking maybe tomorrow but who knows the truth. I’m eating, sleeping, and healing. What else can be done?
I’m not late for nothing, just playing games with thoughts and feelings. The good news will come soon enough. My desire to clip in and ride on grows ever stronger. I’ll be moving further than before in no time. Guess it just ain’t no time to move right now. If that’s the message, I’ll listen and be a little patient while waiting to hear something different.
I catch wind of a bus. A few hours later, I’m welcomed aboard. It ain’t perfect but it’s 25 miles north and we’ll call it progress. The bike itself doesn’t fit in the front rack but I’m granted permission to load her where the wheelchairs go. This line has very few riders so my excessive baggage goes unnoticed. The next bus won’t have the same luxury. My options are simple: remove the front rack and fender or get on the damn thing and get it moving.
Hotels abound and there’s always tomorrow but methinks there’s hope for an hour ride. Besides, there’s plenty of daylight and I have yet to hear a peep from the beckoning thunder. Luck may seem distant but it’s time I test it again. See what these lighthearted roads have to offer. Whatever ain’t done today lingers in the morning and an extra few miles ain’t something I want to deal with.
In the end, the bus driver makes a detour and a special stop for me. This cuts the journey in half and leads to a gentle 30 minute ride. It’s tacos, consomé, and horchata, a $65 hotel room, and a whole lot of hoping that tomorrow looks different. Glad to make it somewhere. Let’s see what fruits rain upon us after nightfall.
Lemons are sour;
Melons are sweet;
When they bloom unripe,
Just wait and see.
IsIt5am 
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