August 8, 2013 – We purposefully slept in today, and went for a late-ish breakfast, before getting underway. White Salmon is such a cool little place, so laid back. Last night when we were out walking there as open mike night and spoken word going on at one of the places on the “main strip”, such as it is.
The Inn of the White Salmon
We rode back down through Bingen and stopped to take a photo of that sphincter tightening bridge – The Bridge of the Gods – Loki, God of Mischief perhaps! At the intersection Kirk put his blinker on to turn left and I was just shaking my head, there was no possible way I was riding back across that nightmare! He was being a brat in suggesting it with that turn signal.
Windsurfers on the Columbia River below Hood River
Bit breezy out
We thought about visiting the Bonneville Dam, but the winds were so nutty that we opted out and headed up towards Carson and into the park towards Mount Saint Helen’s. We weren’t exactly sure where the road up was, and as we pored over the map, the most wonderfully crusty fellow stopped and asked if we were lost. When we showed him the map and where we wanted to go, he was totally helpful, gave us some directions, then hopped in his rickety old Winnebago and waved at us as he went on his way. With his directions we found our way into the park and onto the right roads and along the way, crossed the 45th parallel, halfway between the equator and the North Pole.
A peaceful stop along the way
The road was initially wonderful, it wound through fabulous forests that were full of massive maples decorated with thick soft mosses. There is no word to describe it better than peaceful. As we rounded a bend after an hour or so, we were presented with a wonderful view of the volcano. Of course we totally overshot the viewpoint and a U-turn was out of the question on the twisty winding road, so as we rounded the next bend Kirk pulled off and we put the kickstands down. . . and dropped the bikes WAY down onto them on the banked corner. All I said was, “I may need a bit of a push to help me get this thing upright again!”
Mount St Helens
Four cyclists were just up-road from us, taking a break and enjoying the view, and when we got off the called down to us “Hey, the view is better up here!” So we trudged up the hill, and they were right! We chatted with them for a bit, asked where they were off to – One of them said “We are heading South until we run out of America”. They were off to Mexico, eight weeks. They asked were we were headed and we said back home to Vancouver. Leavenworth tomorrow night. He rolled his head and said “Leavenworth, tomorrow, Jesus Christ! What’s that like, traveling that fast?!” They were a fun crowd, and made sure we were going to head up to Windy Ridge on our way through – absolutely, that’s where we were headed right now! They wished us safe rides, and we did the same, and we went our separate, and very different ways. And after our conversation, I have decided that I will wave to cyclists on major treks. I have so much respect for their mode of travel.
Mount St. Helens
We rode down into the valley, and then on through some challenging roads. We were bounced about, tossed around, and questioned our sanity in this route choice. Every corner seemed to be chewed up and crappy, and every shadow contained ruts, divots, and heaved up pavement. When we finally reached the turnoff to the peak the road got better, and more challenging, all at the same time. Now there were no guardrails, and the edge was right there with cliffs falling away from it. To add to the excitement, in many places the edge was falling away, sometimes extending right into the middle of the road. On some blind corners there was rock debris strewn across the road and you had to quickly find a safe line through it. You had to really keep an eye on where your wheels were going, it was impossible to really settle into any sort of rhythm.
We pulled into a viewpoint and wondered how far we were from the end when a park worker wandered into view, we had a fun conversation with her and she told us there were 7 viewpoint stops on the way to Windy Ridge, and that all of them offered beautiful views. She suggested we hike down to Spirit Lake, but with all the gear, we opted out.
Heading for the next viewpoint we pulled around a tight corner and then crossed the road to the pullout. As we did, I could hear engines other than our own and looked behind to see two black sport bikes zoom in behind us, then I did a double, and then a triple take. A black Aprilia Tuono and a black Honda CBR stopped behind us, and we all started laughing! Unbelievable to have a third encounter with these two, five days later!
Meeting up again, after five days we didn’t think we’d run into these riders again!
Noel hopped off and said “You guys are awesome, three of the best roads in Washington and you’ve done them all in one trip!”
I’m not sure I agree that this one was such a great “road” but it certainly provides some amazing views. We sat and had lunch there, and their chase car with Noel’s girlfriend and her friend showed up, and we chatted about bikes, roads, rides, and such, before heading on up to the top.
Noel’s girlfriend (can’t recall her name) is the tiniest little thing (4’9″ – I don’t consider myself tall, but I was 11″ taller than her!), and full of spunk. They ride two up because she is too short for her own ride. I suggested a couple of bikes that could be lowered and Noel just shook his head and said “Can’t go down enough, she has a 26″ inseam and can’t stand, even when they are lowered. I mentioned the Suzuki Boulevard S40, a great little bike a woman I once knew had, and she was pretty small too, when I’d stood over it I had about 6” clearance. She looked so excited that there might be a bike out there for her, and tonight google searches were apparently on the agenda for them 🙂 She said “Maybe I’ll get to ride up here?!?!” and patted the front seat. Meanwhile, Noel was doing a sales pitch to buy my bike come winter. Not a chance. . .
Forest slowly reappearing after 33 years
Kirk and I stopped a few more times and they went flying by us – we are looky-loos, they are hard core riders. Spirit Lake was fabulous looking, and the end it totally chocked with the skeletons of trees killed in the blast 33 years ago. Thirty three years! Where did THAT go?!? I remember watching this on TV when I was a teenager. Volcanoes held a terrifying fascination for me back then, today I was standing on the edge of one that had exploded in my lifetime. And we had spent the last three days riding through a ring of volcanoes. I wonder what that kid would have felt coming here, because as an adult I am just fascinated, the terror of a childhood imagination long gone.
Spirit Lake, the far end still choked with dead trees
Blast zone
Eventually we had to leave, and we bounced our way back out and down, and saw Mount Hood in the distance. On one corner we saw a major slide that had taken a section of forest down with it, and in another corner, at a pull out, we encountered a helicopter. That has to be one amazing bush pilot to have put a helicopter down there!
Mount Hood in the distance
It rained heavily last night, here’s some fo the aftermath. A fresh slide. We had no idea that we would be lucky in missing more ahead
I had one encounter with a rut in the road that made me understand how riders could launch themselves off a road and to their death if they reacted wrong. In a fairly gentle corner, in the shadows, the road heaved up a couple of inches. I had just seen Kirk bounce up over it and loosened up and gripped the tank to prepare for it. But where I nailed it, there was a small hole that was wedge shaped and almost perfectly ate my front tire. It stood the bike straight up and threw me wildly. Kirk said all he saw was the headlight flash and bob and he wondered if this was where I was going to go down, but that after a few wild weaves it settled down and I was safe. It was a crazy hard hit and I can see how someone could get killed if they gripped the bars instead of putting their grip down low. A death grip at that point would possibly hit the throttle when the bike went upright, and the bike could just launch across and over the cliff. Luckily that’s not my usual response. After years of driving in snow and ice, of spending time driving on active logging roads, of drifting a truck around corners in all sorts of shitty conditions, my response to momentary loss of control is throttle off. It usually (not always though) the best method of regaining control and letting the vehicle come back to you.
The road was so bouncy, that I can’t imagine doing it on a cruiser where you can’t hang on with your knees. As Kirk pointed out, the compression it would create on your back. . . ouch!
We rode into Randal for fuel, and then cecided to take a side road, instead of the main highway, into Packwood, where we were staying the night. But we overshot the road and instead headed along another road into another edge of the park. No big deal, we decided to run it for 10-15 miles before turning back out. The road was fabulous, except for a section of gravel in the shade that we both thought was pavement until we hit it – moment of excitement.
Back in Gifford Pinchot National Forest.
We backtracked out and found the right road, and it was a poor choice that shouldn’t be in the book. If it was repaved it would be stellar, but as t stands, there is so much loose rock on the entire surface for the first 5 miles, that it might as well be called a gravel road. The last 5 miles were better, but still needed resurfacing. When we finally popped out on the main highway, Kirk just looked at me and said “That was 70km I just didn’t need to do, I’m done!” I was too. That just took the last of my energy and sucked it out.
We found Packwood, and it is a quaint place. We pulled up to the motel (Cowlitz River Lodge), parked the bikes, and practially fell off them. Kirk flopped onto a bench and just looked beat. We got our room key, moved the bikes, and had a conversation with a woman sitting and reading outside her room. She asked us where we were from, where we had been, and where we were going. She asked us what we thought of the road to Mt St Helens and I said that I thought the scenery was wonderful, but that the road was horrible. She said that they had an ATV in the trailer of their truck and has gone in on it. She said her husband had been complaining of the heaves in the shadows where they were invisible, and that she’d been bounced around on the back like crazy, and that she couldn’t imagine it on a motorcycle. We could, but didn’t want to anymore!
When I entered the room I found a bottle of wine chilling on ice, and a bouquet of wildflowers. Kirk said “Happy Anniversary!” Awwww, he’d set this up ahead of time, my guy! Although we only were married 4 years ago, and in February, we call August 8th our personal anniversary, and today was our 27th year together.
Elk herd in Packwood
Kirk and the Giant Bicycle!
No place for a fancy dinner here, so wandered down the highway, past a herd of elk, and had a really good pizza at one of the local grub stops – Cruisers, which on entry, we are pretty sure is an old church.
So here is today’s track, 280 km of jolting road. Ranier tomorrow, I’m hoping it won’t be so rough.
9 comments
wow! It looks like something from the movie Waterworld….We see strange things like this going by on the sound every once in awhile, and you just have to wonder about them.