I press the button on my headlamp and a cone of light splits the darkness. Click goes the latch on the gate as I jump on the saddle. The gravel in the alley crunches under my tires as I start pushing the pedals around. Cutting through the predawn fog I have less than a mile on pavement before I get to the trail. Wait for a minute at the highway then run the stoplight – not too many cars on the road at this hour. Hop the curb (always wish I could do that cleanly) then back on gravel. I hit the little wooden bridge with the curved deck. Funny they put that much effort into a 6-foot long bridge over a seasonal stream. Little bit of tight singletrack with berry vines grabbing at my arms until the service road. Good place to stretch the calves a little now that I’m warm. More gravel then I’m climbing with Eucalyptus trees on either side. Leaves blanket the noise of the tires and the occasional Eucalyptus pod kicks my singlespeed sideways.
Back on the road again at the top of the climb. Some panting and the occasional bark to my right from the few dogs out with their masters at this early hour. No matter how many times I ride by them they act like it’s the first. Fog thicker now, collecting on my glasses so they go into my jersey pocket. Streetlights glow eerily through the mist but hardly help to light my way. One more stoplight to run – the only people going to the University at this hour are the contractors toiling every day to add more buildings where we used to have only meadows and redwood groves. Left turn onto the bike path and I turn off the light – not too much chance of any downhill cyclists at this hour. Right away I see a doe and 2 fawns grazing only a few yards away. “Deer know where they are safe” a comment made to me by a ranger many years ago – I can’t help but think it’s true as I imagine I could reach out and pet these. The young ones are a little wary but they look to Mom to check her reaction then go back to eating the grass.
A little out-of-the-saddle push then it’s a moderate climb for another ½ mile. Rustling in the grass on the right could be a gopher or maybe some deer a little further off. Push a little harder and then out of the saddle for about 2 minutes until I top out. I flick the light back on just before the short downhill plunge into some more singletrack. Gives me a nice burst of speed for the log rollover then the roots, rocks and dips of the next mile. This is the most fun part of the climb so I forget everything else and just get into a groove. Done this trail hundreds of times but it’s forever changing and always gratifying.
As I hit the fire road I’m sweating just a little and in a good rhythm. Feeling good enough to extend the ride so head for some other singletrack and skip the easier fire road. Mostly flat, windy trail. Jeff always says it’s the perfect singlespeed singletrack. Slight climb, tight, a few fast rollovers and definitely swoopy. Pop back out on the fire road, past the water tanks (no new artwork lately – must be mid-terms at the U) and into cruise mode. The trail is almost completely flat from here with a few jumps thrown in for fun.
Check my time – 47 minutes – not bad, but not my best. About a minute into the forest I stop, turn off the light, and just listen. My breathing slows and I hear the world starting to come alive as the first rays of the sun start to light things up. First I hear the birds. Calling to each other? Defining their territory? After a while I hear water drops coming off the trees and hitting the ground. Some days it’s almost like a fine rain but today is just a little damp. Keeps the trails in almost perfect condition.
A loud truck on the road along the river below breaks the natural silence. The spell broken, I turn my light on and head back into the trees and down to the river. Ten minutes of the best singletrack around. Fast. Bermed turns. Jumps. Every time I ride this trail I think to myself “I can’t believe this is my commute to work!!” When everything else is going bad this reminds me how lucky I am right now – at this instant. Walk the last little steep section before I’m back on the road. Never skilled enough to ride this chute – definitely not without anyone around to pick up the pieces. I’m at a blind turn in the road so I have to listen for cars then sprint to the other side. Only ¼ mile on the road then I’m back on singletrack that takes me to the river.
It’s early spring – the summer footbridge won’t be in place so I walk across the old railway trestle. Almost 100 years old and showing it’s age. Hardly noticed now, but I’ll bet they had a celebration of sorts when it was finished. I wonder if the taggers who have covered almost every surface think about it or just see it as another hydrant to piss on. Great place to stop on the right morning and watch the ducks on the river or watch the fog swirl between the trees. Sometimes the water down below is swift but this morning it’s just a steady flow out to the ocean since it’s been over 2 weeks since the last rain. No need for the light as I’m back on a paved path headed for the old train yard. When the fog and sunshine mix just the right way, the debris of 100 plus years of rail transportation take me back for just a moment to the time when this valley was being settled. Grizzlies roamed the hills and if you raised livestock there was a real chance that a mountain lion would jump your fence and make off with your sheep. Now, the few mountain lions left occasionally scare a jogger or take a household cat.
Across a busy road then up to the Christian retreat. These people are up early. Some mornings it’s a little bible study before work and sometimes they’re in for a full week. Hardly any traffic on this road but at least once a month the lady in the white Volvo speeds out of her driveway without looking and then glares at me as if I was risking her life. I’m in too good a mood to worry about it. If there is any such thing as karma I figure it will apply to people like her.
End of the road – it washed out something like 10 years ago but there’s a little trail over the slide to the next road. Halfway in is a fire pit and an ever-changing collection of bottles. Usually the cheapest grocery store beer but with still-surprising frequency a micro-brew. I don’t think the homeless camp here – probably just neighborhood kids, but I get a laugh when I imagine them plunking down $10 for a six-pack when they could get the same buzz for $2. Push on through the sand then back on the road and almost at work. Spin through the park, wave to the groundskeeper then downhill past the guard. Lock up the bike, jump in the shower then I’m at my desk. I’m probably the only one who had a good commute this morning – maybe that’s why I’m the only one smiling at the 8am meeting.
I canvassed, called, texted, and helped organize events in Deschutes County. I was excited to see the volunteer support for Jamie’s message and the desire for change. There were some volunteer heroes who consistently put in 20, 30 and even more hours every week. These people give me hope. Some of these folks had jobs, families, and a lot of reasons NOT to be involved. For some, all those things WERE the reasons to be involved. They inspired me to do more.
Annoyed Cyclist 