Day 7 : Clear Lake to Redmond (Oregon)

Tent camping is apparently starting to agree with me - either that, or fatigue is now running the show. By the time I roll out the sleeping bag I’m out stone cold, no more fussing about the lumpy ground I carelessly chose to set the tent up on, no bother with shooing off the droves of mosquitoes that devour sleeping tourists, and certainly no concern with those strange noises as Sasquatch circles your tent and plans your demise.

[ Above: Clear Lake campsite: No Tent Camping Allowed -- (ooops!) ]

As morning broke with another fine slumber on the books, I headed towards civilization, known locally as Clear Lake Resort, for my much needed coffee and hopefully, an electrical outlet to charge my electronic apparati. I was quickly greeted by a young gentleman named Talon, who informed me they have satellite Internet access and I would be free to log on. Oh joy, what a sweet world we live in!

[ Above: Breakfast at Tiffany’s (aka Talon’s)! ]

Talon served me up a tasty breakfast with strong black coffee, one of many pots consumed as I feverishly banged out a couple of blog posts and answered emails. He also gave me the low down on the lake, which I’m told is highly popular amongst both fisherman and divers, as the visibility is second to none. One word of caution though, the water is extremely cold so if it were me diving, I’d use a dry suit.

[ Above: Clear Lake - If it wasn’t for the breeze rippling the water, you could see the bottom, no problem. ]

Later, I received an email from Talon telling me how he checked out my website and was impressed with my dedication and determination. He also mentioned he wants to donate the following week’s tips to Jared. Thanks Talon, you’ve got a big heart!

Fueled by the caffeine jitters, I climbed back up to the highway to face the 4817’ Santiam Pass standing ominously in my way. Unfortunately, I wasn’t in the mood for any inclines because I was still feeling exhausted and nursing a tender left knee. I tried to make the best of it though, as sometimes the only thing you can control is your attitude. I plugged my way skyward, averaging an abysmal 3 miles an hour.

[ Above: Thinking that my Mom left me a note, I rode excitedly towards the message, only to realize I wasn’t loved like others. ]

“What goes up must come down” is certainly true in this case as I was (finally) treated to a long rewarding descent. While it is fun carving high speed turns down the backside of a pass, extreme caution must be exercised - a moment of inattention or an unexpected gravel patch could put you 6 feet under. And since I haven’t budgeted for my untimely death, I cautiously rode my brakes, enjoying the scenery and ultimately, living to see another day.