Eugene to Sisters
Today I rode from Eugene to Sisters, Oregon, around 110 miles, including two mountain passes, one approximately 2000 feet of climbing, the other another 1800 or so beyond that. It took me ten hours and right now, I’m so tired I can’t even make it to my hotel’s hot tub even though I’m sure it’s just what I need.
As usual on a long ride, I did a lot of thinking and as usual, most of that thinking was entirely mundane, like “Why is my rack squeaking so much?” and “Where’s the next place I can pee?”
The last thirty miles were particularly exhausting, first due to the aforementioned second mountain pass, and then second, because for the last 20 miles (most of which was mostly downhill) I was deafened by the incessant passing of innumerable cars. At least 30 vehicles passed me every minute, one every second or so, usually in bunches, all going at least 60 miles an hour.
So, one of the thoughts I had was to reflect on what may happen to our country when the gas runs out. How will all these people, in their SUVs, motorhomes towing SUVs, and giant pickup trucks pulling motorboats, jet skis, and all-terrain vehicles get from one place to another? And what will happen to a town like this one, Sisters, way up in the woods, accessible only—unless you’re willing to spend 10 hours on a bike—via the internal combustion engine?
The other thing I thought about a lot was the hundreds of dead and dying moths I saw. Orange with black spots, about as big as a half dollar, they littered the road for the middle forty miles of the ride. I guess it it’s just time, late August their life cycle coming to an end. I put a carcass in my handlebar bag’s clear plastic map holder where I could admire it.
A dead moth makes it to Sisters; me, I’m dead-tired.
As usual on a long ride, I did a lot of thinking and as usual, most of that thinking was entirely mundane, like “Why is my rack squeaking so much?” and “Where’s the next place I can pee?”
The last thirty miles were particularly exhausting, first due to the aforementioned second mountain pass, and then second, because for the last 20 miles (most of which was mostly downhill) I was deafened by the incessant passing of innumerable cars. At least 30 vehicles passed me every minute, one every second or so, usually in bunches, all going at least 60 miles an hour.
So, one of the thoughts I had was to reflect on what may happen to our country when the gas runs out. How will all these people, in their SUVs, motorhomes towing SUVs, and giant pickup trucks pulling motorboats, jet skis, and all-terrain vehicles get from one place to another? And what will happen to a town like this one, Sisters, way up in the woods, accessible only—unless you’re willing to spend 10 hours on a bike—via the internal combustion engine?
The other thing I thought about a lot was the hundreds of dead and dying moths I saw. Orange with black spots, about as big as a half dollar, they littered the road for the middle forty miles of the ride. I guess it it’s just time, late August their life cycle coming to an end. I put a carcass in my handlebar bag’s clear plastic map holder where I could admire it.
A dead moth makes it to Sisters; me, I’m dead-tired.
posted by Professor Dave at 10:30 AM
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