Part THREE
Amity High School, mile 50. Hundreds of bicycles and their riders are strewn about the parking lot. I find a tree that has only one bike leaned up against it. I almost knock over a $2000 bike while I place my unicycle there. Then I get in line. I haven’t been in so many lines in one day since we took the kids to Disney Land. There are about a hundred people waiting to get lunch. I remember reading something about “gourmet food”, and “prepared by a Chef” in the online registration. So I bypass the “Grab and Go” table filled with hardboiled eggs and cookies and get in the big line. After 10 minutes I make it inside to see that I’m only halfway to the lunch buffet. Yep, just like Disney Land, the old “hide-most-of-the-line-so-that-people-can’t-see-how-long-it-is-so-that-they-get-in-the-line-anyway” trick. I fall for it every time. But what a buffet it is! So worth the wait. Turkey and ham cold cuts, square slices of orange cheese, bread and packets of mayonnaise and yellow mustard. All prepared by the illustrious Chef Boyardee. But wait there’s more. Yes! Hardboiled eggs and cookies. It’s going to be all right. I load up my plate sit down on a cafeteria bench. Yeah, my butt hurts. My back hurts. I’m tired and creaky. I need to sit on something that’s not a unicycle seat. Grab and Go wasn’t a good idea anyway. I need the rest. 50 miles in one day is a big day. I still have 54 miles to go and I’m no Sam Wakeling. I grab more cookies on the way out. I’m provisioned. I avoid the crowd of Bad Elements in the corner snorting lines of Emergen-C off of the table and instead I slap on another protective layer of SPF 50. I’ve got legs as white as a priest’s.
The crowd of bicycles hasn’t seemed to thin. I extricate my trusty wheel and roll out toward the road. Lo! There’s Brycer in his skin-tight frog suit. Apparently the pink tandem tall bike piloted by Ross and Dizzy has been a bit of a drag, for that matter, Brycer’s tandem tall bike with only one pair of feet to power it has been a bit pokey, too. As we’re talking, a small gaggle of girls comes up to Brycer “Can we take a picture with you?” Do they care about the guy who just rode this super awesome unicycle 50 miles? Do they want to get a picture with the guy who has the cool skeleton jersey? Noooo! They want a picture with the guy in head-to-toe GREEN spandex and the fur thong. Oh yeah, the fur thong. A sure fire hit with high school girls. Picture snapped, we part ways, Brycer to refuel, me to reach, reach, reach the beach. Looking back, I realize that that’s the last time I’ll see him. What happened, I’ll never know.
The wind has picked up a bit by now. While we’re riding through towns it’s not so bad, but when we hit the straight open roads heading West, it can be taxing. By now, high gear with the head wind, even on flat ground takes considerable effort, but still, it’s easier than low gear. After spending that much time smoothly cruising along in high gear, wiggling about in low gear seems somehow demeaning. I won’t stoop that low, even if it means trashing my legs.
As we’re meandering through another patch of farmers’ fields I pass a couple of guys parked at an intersection. One guy has gotten out of his truck and walked over to the other guy’s truck to discuss the latest in farm politics. They catch sight of me and half a dozen bikers. One of them calls out his best imitation of a sheep “BAAAA-AA-AAAA!”. I’m used to the “Where’s your other wheel” and all, but “Baa-aa-aaa?” And again, a crisp piercing “BAAAA-AA-AAA!” Wait a second. That WAS a sheep, in the back of the truck.
The next stop is Sheridan High School at mile 64. Sheridan is an old rural logging and farming town, except that there’s no logging anymore. It has seen better days. Adolescent cats sit on the curbs smoking their cigarettes. I ignore them. They are too far gone already. It’s the kittens I’m trying to save today. The Sheridan rest stop is replete with water, cookies and hard boiled eggs. I’m starting to feel like Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke. 50 eggs in 100 miles? No problem, that’s only one egg every other mile. Piece of cake. While I’m at it, I’ll have one of those too.
By now I realize that I’ve got to get my average speed up a bit. I wasted too much time in line at the Amity stop. I keep the Sheridan stop as brief as possible. The temperature is rising. I need a break and I need to hydrate, but what I really need is too start making some time. Back on that wheel. Within a few miles I ride through Willamina. There’s a head wind that is bordering on hot, but not quite. It’s enough to make my forehead sweat and eyes water. My eyes start stinging. I have to slow down to wipe them a few times. My vision cleared, what do I see? It can’t be true. No way! Cheer leaders. Half a dozen of them. Not scantily clad, but high school girls waving pom poms and yelling “Yea! Woo Hooo! All Right!” Inspired, I pick up some speed. I’m going to make it in less than 10 hours! I just know it.
After some meandering through some curvy roads we meet up with the highway. Two lanes in each direction, traffic moving along at at least 55 mph. To make it worse, the shoulder is about 2 feet wide. Semi’s are passing me just off my left elbow. But no, that’s not bad enough. The head wind has picked up considerably now that the road is heading due west and the valley has widened up a bit. But wait, that’s not bad enough. No. What’s really bad is that the engineers of this road, in their infinite wisdom, decided to put in a rumble strip on the side of the road so that drunks, sleepy people and Helen Keller can know when they are driving off the road and thereby take corrective measures before they end up in the ditch. So now the entire 2 foot-wide shoulder is the consistency of a giant washboard with lateral divots an inch deep, two inches long interspersed every six inches. I think this is just about my worst unicycling nightmare. Well, at least it’s not pissing down rain. I’m relying on the “safety in numbers” factor. There are so many bicyclists that the traffic can’t help but see us.
Within a half mile the shoulder widens to about 10 feet. Pure luxury. The traffic slows to a crawl as they prepare to merge down to one lane. We start passing them now. I must have passed one or two hundred cars. I’m liking this. Another mile or two and we turn off of the highway, get on to a little winding road alongside a creek. A few more miles and we’re at the Grande Ronde Pow Wow grounds rest stop for our second lunch. After the last lunch, I’m already drooling.
Below: Brycer with the gaggle.
I enjoyed every minute of reading that!