Bike Trip / Spain Journal #5

I am so tired. I didn't sleep very well last night. I felt that I was waiting for the sun to come up more than I was sleeping. I remember turning off the light to go to sleep, and I remember really needing to pee, all of a sudden, like. I slowly realized that I'd been asleep. I opened the inner tent flap and saw snow, snow, snow around the edges of the outer entry way. I got up the second time around six am, and resolved to get the hell out of there as quick as I could. When I stood up outside of the tent, I was shocked. There was snow everywhere. I remembered where I lay my bike, but I couldn't see it under all of that. At least four inches, overnight. The prospect of coming off the mountain through all that dismayed me, but I was determined. I was thoroughly ready to get the fuck home. I was cold and tired and miserable, but hopeful. I felt like the road had been climbing for 25 miles. There had to be a strong downhill soon. I packed as quickly as I could, and wore most of my clothes. Everything on my bike was hidden under snow. It worked. The road was slushy and slow, but there was no ice. I had good traction, and it softened the abused and rutted asphalt. There was more climbing and I yelled at the weather and sang out and rode, slowly.

There was sun and then more snow, which seemed unfair. There was a small downhill, and then a tunnel and thin fog ahead, promising even worse weather. I hit that, and that's when the downhill finally started. I rode it all the way down the mountain, urging myself below the snow line with foggy breath. Soon, there was no slush on the road, and snow only on the sides. The white turned to green quickly, as though it had never snowed. I looked behind me to see a line of white, somewhat harshly melting at its edges. I couldn't feel my toes.

I made it to a diner, and had the most delicious breakfast of my life, thus far. I grimaced as my toes unfroze. It was nine am. I made it home several hours later, with the help of a Max train from Beaverton. Sweet luxury. Automation is a wonderful concept. I met a man from Kenya on the train. An election volunteer asked us if we were registered. I said yes, and he said something that was incomprehensible to me. Then he told me that he voted in Kenya, but nobody knew who won! Things got hairy there, which brought him here to work. He's a wilderness survival guide, who takes people with money on to trips into desolate and beautiful places. Montana and Mt. Kilimanjaro are two. He was in Oregon to be re certified in his profession. I helped him find his train, he gave me his business card, and I got the fuck home.