Leaving Richland (Day Five)

Part 1: Waterfront Trails and Sacajawea Park.

Out of our box in Richland we went on a tour of town; sunglasses from Goodwill, fixing unexpected flats, and stopping at Greenie's for air and an unforeseen stem replacement. Now Laura is riding in style with her tall stem. From there we crossed the Columbia again and picked up a mostly deserted waterfront path. The smooth asphalt led us to the ancient shipping and industrial district and finally to Sacajawea Park - A green oasis at the confluence of the Columbia and Snake rivers.  The WPA-built museum had us smelling dried soup and testing a buffalo scapula hoe as we were led through Lewis and Clark's journey to the Pacific Ocean. Realizing it was 4 o'clock we set out to complete the majority of our miles for the day.

Part 2: Onions, potatoes, corn, and wheat

Finding the highway out of town, we were momentarily stumped by a 'road closed' sign. Before we had a chance to attempt plowing through the ditch, a friendly construction worker in a big white truck yelled in passing -  "the detour is short, just around that green building". With this pertinent tip, we were on our way. Countless miles through smooth rolling hills bordered by hundreds of thousands of onions, millions of potatoes, and billions of wheat kernels. Our sojourn along a high ridge near the Snake River dropped us into the canyon proper as the sun sunk low. Tall, happy trees brimming with birds, placid river and golden light made for a great campsite. Till morning, only the occasional outboard motor, lumbering trains, and earwigs' passion for Kevin's personal space scratched the peace. 

ni

The Empty Road (Day Three)

It rained all through the night though we were cozy in our hobo den. From the muggy and buggy hovel we heard the log truck's approach near dawn. Up around the corner, down again fully loaded. We knew we wanted to get up the hill between loads. After a breakfast of power-gruel we spun up the hill, gaining an excellent view of our tree-packed valley nook.

Winding through fields at a quick pace the darkening skies threatened to dump their payload. With the threat of foul weather we had our first mechanical failure: Laura's rear shifter would not hold tension. We resolved to fix it in Goldendale, several miles down the road. Departing the sparsely populated highway we found a vibrant main street. After a cup of java from Coyote Coffee we took another look at the shifter. The problem was discovered to discoved to be a small break in a tiny piece of the ratchet mechanism. Dispensing with several parts the ratchet shifter was turned into a more robust friction shifter. Now Laura wouldn't have to ride up hills one handed, using the other to maintain low gear.

Raw raspberry honey from the Grist Mill and improving weather pushed on to a sunny crash-nap at the beautiful Bagder Gulch. There we met a lean, mean wild rooster we named Butterscotch (in retrospect.)  

We climbed out of the gulch and gained a view of the wavy, slanted "v" of the road. Car interruptions were scant along the tarmac as we flew through a fragrant ponderosa, scrub oak land filled with bird song. In a place where most of the land is private we searched for an acceptable campsite. We found an accommodating schoolyard in Bickleton, a town so tiny, clean, and quiet it could have been the setting for a cult or an episode of the X-Files.

Out Of The Grey (Day Four)

Again we awoke to rain but this time a true downpour battered our tarp in the Bickleton schoolyard. We lay in wetness until dawn broke behind the leaden skies. Packed up in the rain our resolve was momentarily tested as we headed back to the Bickleton Market and Cafe for some hot grub. We arrived just short of the 7am opening and huddled under the awning of a nearby building. The cafe was worth the wait - hot drinks, hot food and free cherries!
As we ate, we reviewed a pictoral history of the local area. They have a strong connection to their pioneer past. The sky cleared and locals came in, remarking on the unusually strong downpour of the past night.
Warmed, drier, and with brighter spirits, we descended to the Yakima valley and spent the next several miles jealous of the productive farmland - goats, horses, cows, chickens, hops, corn, grapes, wheat, and cherries.
One bratwurst stop later, we crossed the Yakima just before it joins the Columbia and swooped into Richland.

Up The Klickitat (Day Two)

After a high oxygen induced slumber we emerged from our hiding spot with one goal in mind: Big Horse Brewery of Hood River. 17 miles passed quick and soon we were revisiting one of our highlight from the December journey. Sweet sweet beer...

Intending to cross the Columbia at Hood River we found the bridge closed to cyclists. The idea of riding along 84 to the next bridge was not appealing so we positioned ourselves strategically and put our faith in humanity. Soon enough Heather the kiteboarder and her dog Dakota pulled over to lend a hand. She gave us a quick lift over the narrow, metal grated bridge and we were on our way again!

The rest of our day was scenic as we continued under grey skies and a delicate mist that can only be described as "cherub's piss." We wound our way up the Klickitat, a very low traffic road that unfortunately lacked a shoulder in places. A rich mix of ponderosa, white oak, and big leaf maple populates the cracks of the hills sometimes spilling over completely.

We made our hobo den before the final ascent onto the plateau preceding Goldendale with plenty of light for exploration and bean soup.