Day 10: John Day to Baker City (Oregon)

Waking up in a puddle of water is seldom is a positive sign and today was no exception. Apparently, exhausted from yesterday’s pedal-a-thon, I fell asleep with a 10-pound bag of ice on my knee. It goes without saying the ice bag should have been placed outside the confines of my tent before sleepy time. Fortunately, I keep most of my gear in waterproof touring bags so the only real problem was a water logged sleeping bag, which made the ultralight 2-pound sleeping bag swell to 12 pounds - not a good thing, I’m sure.


[Above: Downtown John Day]

Today was hot and humid - and with several pesky mountain passes to scale, I had set my sights quite ambitiously with nearly 5000 feet of climbing and 80+ miles of pedaling. The first stop was breakfast, 13 miles away in Prairie City, Oregon, population 1100 souls, where I dined at the only place in town serving food on Sunday. Prairie City is a lovely place, a small town with a lot of character and pride. It was evident in how well kept the streets and sidewalks looked.

[Above: The view just before entering Prairie City. I wonder where they got the inspiration from?]

[Above: Prairie City, USA]

I sat down and ordered coffee, and my conversation with the waitress began:

She: "Did ya make the party yesterday?" (referring to the 4th of July celebration I missed)
Me: "Darn it, no, I didn’t make it because of the wind was howling in my face on way into town." (she saw me pull up on my bike). "It sounds like I missed a good time, huh?"
She: "Yup, ya sure did; it’s the county’s big get-together, people come from everywhere. "
Me: "That’s nice. What’s your favorite part of the festivities?"
She: "Oh, that’s easy – it’s the Cowpie Caper."
Me: "Huh, what’s that?"
She: Well, they chalk off a multi-squared grid on a patch of grass and sell spots, kind of like they do during football games, ya know, like a football pool. The only difference though is we are betting where the cow “does its business”. "
Me: "That’s nifty. Sounds like a good amount of strategy goes into picking the spot. How did you do this year?"
She: "Not well, some gal from outside the county won it - along with $415.00." (the waitress grimaces, showing dismay at such a travesty).
Me: "Too bad, that’s just not right. "
She: "I did do quite well in the duck races though, so all was not lost."

After a large breakfast and two slices of apple pie for dessert, I lumbered out and mounted Elvis. This is where the work began.

[Above: This is not a good sign, especially for bicyclists.]

[Above: Finding the hill simply too steep for their horses, these early Oregon settlers opted to abandon their stagecoach - and ironically, created a very nice roadside rest stop.]

[Above: I didn’t knock it over, at least I don’t think I did?]

[Above: Cows love bikers, especially those that wear spandex.]

[Above: Yet another prime trout stream. This is killing me.]

After a long day on the bike, I rolled into Baker City at 9:30 pm, completely and utterly wrecked. This was undoubtedly the toughest day of riding by far. I checked into the first motel I found and grabbed a nice cold shower.