Weekend Riding In The Valley

Steve-O came down for an afternoon ride yesterday. We used to live about 50 yards away from each other, now it’s more like 50 miles. Getting together for a ride takes a little more coordinating than it used to, but we’re figuring it out. Our spouses continue to be good friends, so while they spent the afternoon together, Steve-O and I rolled.


For our route I wanted good scenery, some distance, and some climbing. We got all that plus more: no more than a block from my house we got hit with a shot of cold, pelting rain. For the better part of the ride, headwinds and crosswinds added to the overall fun. We always manage to get a headwind when we ride together. Always.

I’m so taken by the Ankeny Wildlife Refuge that I added it to our route. It’s really a phenomenal place and I was glad to see there other folks were there, taking in the sweeping views. Our primary entertainers were several thousand canadian geese congregated on a large meadow, with hundreds more taking flight in their signature v-formations. Some nice farmlands surround the area as well. Even on a mostly cloudy day, this area is just downright purty.

Riding across the Independence Bridge, we were almost knocked over by the cross winds coming up the Willamette River. Thankfully there was no car traffic just then. After a quick break in beautiful downtown Independence, we were approaching the moment of reckoning: the West Salem hills stood there waiting for us. We chose to ascend Oak Grove and Orchard Heights Roads. Getting yourself and your bike up a steep hill can really test your toughness, your limits, and your commitment. This was not a lengthy climb but it was plenty steep. From the valley floor we climbed to over 1000 feet in a few short miles, the final mile being the hardest. The grade was steep enough to even get some groans out of Steve-O! Mission accomplished.

Since our route was going to take us past my folks house, we included a brief stop to see them. My mom and dad just always know how to be hospitable. On the kitchen counter they had chilled water bottles and electrolyte mixes ready for us. Perfect! Thanks, Mom and Dad. You’re the best.

After a big climb and a quick water break, there’s really nothing better than hopping back on the saddle, heading downhill, and hanging onto the handlebars for dear life! Rippin’ down the hill was so much fun, and we earned every mph of it. Our speedometers saw numbers we’ve not seen before. Sorry, I can’t divulge them publicly because I’d be incriminating myself and Steve-O. :)

Our 50-miler was just what we had hoped. Of course, just as we got back to my house, the wind stopped.

Reason To Ride Salem #9: The Ultimate Cycling Food, Willamette Valley Fruit!

You really can’t beat the fruit that grows in the Willamette Valley when it’s just been picked and brought to the market. And that’s what is so great about this area in the summer and early fall. You won’t have to go far to find a good apple or pear or peach or berry or...well, you get the idea.

Just after we moved to Salem last summer, Steve-O and Monster drove down for a bike ride with me here. It was sort of a man-version of a housewarming. I was grateful that they would make the trip, and was glad when we were given a beautiful August morning for the ride. After rolling through some hills and farmlands out south of town, we turned and headed east toward Stayton.

Coming into Aumsville we saw a makeshift fruit stand on one of the street corners with a little sign: “PEACHES.” Perfect timing; we were ready for a short break and some quick calories. These perfectly ripe, juicy peaches zapped us right in the gills with that sweet tangy pleasure that only comes locally, and only at that time of the year. Kind of funny how a piece of fruit could turn the three of us into complete neanderthals, grunting with pleasure as we devoured our sweet treats. Eating peaches was the piece de resistance of this ride.


In anticipation of the upcoming season, I took a picture today of EZ Orchards, a place that comes highly recommended by everybody around these parts. It’s east of I-5 on Chemawa Road as it intersects with Cordon Road. Walk into this place and I bet you an asian pear you won’t come out empty handed. One other suggestion: Salem's Saturday Market. This market is nowhere near the size of the one up north, but the produce that arrives every Saturday is out of this world.

Your ride in Salem could be a lot more fruitful than you might expect.

Tour De Lopez pt. 3: After the Ride

Mona, the camel on San Juan Island.











Adirondacks and a spectacular view. Perfect for after the ride.











The Tour De Lopez ride was capped off with an incredible lunch, then we ambled our way back to the ferry that would return us to San Juan Island. We managed to hit a home run with this place, and I would absolutely come back! The Juniper Lane Guest House in Friday Harbor is a fairly new place and very affordable. There are only a handful of guest rooms, and a great common area with a fully equipped kitchen and enough books to keep you happy.

We brought back some stuff from Kings Market to round off our post-ride appetites, and discovered a couple of adirondack chairs out behind the Inn with a flat-out incredible evening view. It was a good time to sit back, talk about our families and jobs, and watch the daylight wane. Night came soon enough, and sleep came easy.

A brisk early Sunday morning ride led us down to Roche Harbor in time to be among the first folks to catch breakfast when the Lime Kiln Cafe on the marina opened up. Great food, great coffee, super riding conditions. Steve-O looked around and found the boat of his dreams, now he just needs to convince Mrs. Steve-O that it’s worth spending their whole retirement to get it. He convinced me, but I don’t really count.

On the return ride, I was happy that Mona the camel was out for Steve-O to see. She’s no doubt the most famous animal on the islands, as evidenced by the number of vehicles that use the turnout so passers-by can get a closer look. Seeing a camel is just so unexpected, but there’s always been a little quirkiness to the San Juans.

I brought up the idea of returning to Tour De Lopez this coming April. Long pause from Steve-O...”Let’s bring a car this time.” The nerve!

Tour De Lopez pt. 2: The Day of the Ride

Steve-O on the day of the ride










By Saturday morning, the only remnants of my asthma episode were a few chronic wheezes and a whole lot of personal frustration. When an asthma attack happens and you could have avoided it, it’s best to deal with it head on. See it for what it was and learn from it: Severe chest pains--that’s bad. Paramedics were called--that’s bad. Not cardiac related--that’s good. Avoidable--that’s the key. I didn’t respect my limits and I paid the price. So I looked at the Saturday ride as the perfect opportunity to get it right. I felt good enough to ride, but not good enough to push myself to an edge. I would need to keep from exerting myself too much, because that’s an absolute trigger. Stay loose on the downhills, take it e-a-s-y on the climbs.

As our ferry approached Lopez Island, we saw the telltale colors of a cycling event. Jackets, jerseys, and spandex strutted colors that would make a peacock blush. The Tour De Lopez ride itself was spectacular--a cool, dry day with lots of smiling people everywhere. Lopez Island is the most hospitable place you will find. People there really do wave at you as you pass them on the road. They smile and make eye contact in the stores. It’s remarkable! On this typically quiet island, the residents treated their cycling guests like kings all day long. Ride support was unsurpassed. While most supported rides might have some fig bars and Oreos, here they handed out fresh shortbread and brownies from Holly B’s Bakery. Lavish.

My lowest gear was sufficient to keep the bike upright on the inclines, even though I wasn’t setting any land speed records. Every hill took a long time, and I realized I was nowhere close to full energy. Steve-O was very patient; I know he thoroughly enjoyed his first visit to Lopez Island, but he didn’t get to ride it like he could have. Cyclists love to attack hills strategically. The more riding you do, the more you begin to think in a certain way. In just the matter of a split second, you assess the contour of a hill and automatically decide your optimum gear and pedal cadence. You’ve already identified the point at which you’ll lift up from the saddle if necessary. You execute the plan exactly the way you thought. Your speed at the crest of the hill is your reward, and the last thing you’d ever want to do is stop or slow down. Steve-O sacrificed that and rode with me, at asthma speed. Welcome to full-fledged friendship, Kelly.

Continue here for the final part of this story.

Tour De Lopez pt. 1

Left: at the Anacortes Ferry.

Right: Evening sky, San Juan Islands


Cyclists love riding the San Juan Islands. They are breathtakingly scenic, they have far less vehicles than the cities, and the ferries work beautifully for people on bikes. My sons still talk about the camping trip we took on our bikes there in Summer 2006. I recommend the Tour De Lopez to any person who likes to ride a bike and has wondered about joining an organized ride event. There are several distance options and lots of support, and everybody shares lunch in the Village at the end. Hospitality, Lopez style, simply cannot be matched. The novice and experienced rider alike can have a great time on this ride. Because registration will open later this month, I thought I’d share last year’s story along with some links and pictures.
Rides are really stories on wheels, and the Tour De Lopez certainly provided a great story line. One might question the sanity of my buddy, Steve-O. He keeps agreeing to go on these organized rides with me. Maybe he does it for the amusement, because riding with me seems to never turn out like he imagines.

Part 1. Getting There Is Half The Fun...Or At Least It’s Supposed To Be

Just after you call 9-1-1 and report chest pains, you have a few priceless minutes to stare at the ceiling and ponder your own mortality, how your current predicament really sucks and was totally avoidable, and how little control you now have over what happens next. That's surreal.

My buddy Steve-O is a great guy and all, but we didn’t really know each other super well yet. I’m sure he was wondering what he’d gotten himself into. This 9-1-1 call launched him into a new kind of relationship with me. While we waited for the emergency folks to arrive, he got to call Mrs. C who was 300 miles away, and use words like “paramedics” and “chest pains.” Welcome to full-fledged friendship, Steve-O.

This happened last April (2009) on the Friday night before the Tour De Lopez. Steve-O and I had looked forward to this for months. We hopped on an evening ferry in Anacortes with our overnight bags and bikes. It was way cheaper than bringing the car onto the ferry, and starting out on the bikes would be more fun. Steve-O and I both have bikes that are super light, fast, smooth riding machines. You don’t add packs or racks on bikes like these. I figured we could just sling our overnight bags over our shoulders as we rode from the ferry to our overnight accommodations. I’d found a place on the internet that looked like it was just on the outskirts of town in Friday Harbor, which is on San Juan Island.

Now let’s think about some of the obvious flaws in Kelly’s plan, and see if it might explain why a 9-1-1 call was in the making: no bike rack, heavy rider, 15 lb. bag starts on my shoulder but keeps shifting and hanging around my neck. Far from being in riding shape to begin with, let’s go uphill for two miles in the chilly night air, while the strap to my bag is pressing in on my windpipe. I was also keenly aware that it wasn’t just my bag that was providing the extra weight. I was the heaviest I’ve ever been and I hadn’t been exercising like I should. Now, throw in some testosterone-induced stupidity that usually flares up only with men during man-cations. It’s not like I haven’t had asthma all my life. I’m not sure what I wasn’t thinking. Steve-O, didn’t appear to be struggling at all. Kelly must then not appear to be struggling either, right? Guys learn that early in life.

A mile or so riding uphill from the ferry landing, it felt like my heart was pounding out my ears. I was in the lowest gear and it still wasn’t helping. It was getting quite dark and of course, we had no lights, so we needed to get to our destination quickly. I’d never actually been to the place we were staying, and it was farther out than I imagined. We finally arrived and I managed to get off the bike without collapsing, but the next few minutes are sort of fuzzy. We still hadn't eaten, so we were trying to see if we could order a pizza. I wasn't all that hungry, though; I couldn’t get my breath, or think very clearly, and I was scared. It felt like there was an anvil on my chest, and my inhaler wasn’t making any difference. It was getting worse, not better. Honestly, this had a different sensation than asthma. This was chest pressure. Steve-O and I both wondered the same thing, but neither of us said it outright...maybe I was having a heart attack.

You can’t get pizza delivery on this island, but paramedics are in plentiful supply. That’s way better than the other way around when you’re having chest pains, even if you’re hungry. An EKG revealed that my heart was fine. A nebulizer helped me breathe better. No pizza, however. My drama sort of overshadowed everything else, and any hope of dinner had disappeared. I was trying to put myself in Steve-O’s shoes. On an island with no car, chewing on a protein bar after watching his neighbor get his chest shaved and heart monitored by the locals. Do I know how to show a buddy a good time! He stayed cool through the whole affair, because that's just who Steve-O is. After the last "visitors" had left, we called Mrs. C to let her know it was “just” asthma. Relief, embarassment, exhaustion.

Couldn’t even think about whether I’d be riding on Lopez tomorrow. That would have to wait. ‘Night, Steve-O.

Continue here for part 2.

Springwater: Rode Bikes, Drank Coffee.

Saturday marked my first bike ride of 2010. I loaded the bike into the Honda, up to Portland to meet up with my buddy Steve-o. From his house we hopped on the bikes for a brisk 30-miler on the Springwater Trail. We made the most of the first dry day Oregon has seen in a long, long time.

Here’s what you get on every ride with Steve-o: a good pace, great conversation, amusement in the small and large things in life, and always a strong headwind.

What you get with the Springwater Trail is long scenic stretches of converted trolley rail bed, with surprisingly few intersections to break up the ride.

We ended at Casa del Steve-o, and he brewed some java.