Solo Trip: Part Two

The first day on my trip to Loveland, Colorado from Olympia, Washington was to be an easy day.  Just a half-day’s ride from my home to Pendleton, Oregon.  I had stayed in Pendleton a lifetime ago when I moved to Washington State to go to school and my mother drove with me.  I set out from the local gas station with Sophie (my miniature standard poodle -- a runt at only nine pounds) eagerly nosing the scents on the wind.  It was hot, hot, hot.  I took Highway 14 along the Columbia river.  A four-lane that narrowed into a two lane with curves and cliffs and overhanging trees.  It felt good to be out on our own, seeking adventure, just my puppy and me.

We crossed the mighty Columbia river at the “Bridge of the Gods” for a fifty-cent toll.  Once on I-82 we rolled along faster, passing slower cars when necessary.  We pulled over for gas and water a little more frequently since I was concerned about Sophie getting heat stroke.  She drank water and when she was done, I poured the rest of it on her to keep her cool through evaporation.

Eastern Oregon is a lot like Eastern Washington, high plains desert, arid, rock cliffs overlooking the Columbia River.  With the temperatures hovering at 110 degrees, it was like riding in a blast furnace.  For the first time I wore a base-layer shirt to wick away moisture and heat; it worked really well.  I was not as dehydrated as I would usually get, it kept me cool under my t-shirt.  We passed cars and sometimes cars passed us.  On a motorcycle the patches of cooler air are delicious, like riding out of the blast furnace into, say, a toaster oven.

The heat really sucks the energy out of you and as we headed toward Pendleton, I was glad we were almost ready to call it a day.  Sophie was a trooper, she drank a lot of water, and didn’t object too much when I used a syringe to force water into her mouth at one stop.  When we checked into the motel, she was happy to have air conditioning and stretched out on the bed, belly up.  She spent the night getting up for a nibble and some water, so I wasn’t too worried about her.

We rolled out of Pendleton bright and early on Tuesday morning. We climbed undulating hills covered in fir and pine, with miles long inclines in an unbroken chain of wide sweeping curves; they seemed to go on forever. Then we rushed down into lush, verdant valleys and bucolic farms. We climbed again into rolling hills tufted with grass, sage brush, and scrub cedar. Ragged chunks of rock pushed through the soil to give the hills claws and teeth. We passed into the arid portion of Idaho and Utah, the hills were mounds of earth with rock laid bare, like the gaunt bones of half-eaten carcasses. Now we see plateaus, with stiff brims of granite around the top, like a marine's rigid buzz cut. Higher mountains awaited us, bare rock and sparse soil, a cloud leaving its rain shadow on the far side. We started out chilly, then exchanged delectable, soft, cool air for the dry, baked heat of the high plains desert. Bill Sublette, Joe Meek, Jim Bridger, and others dragged themselves across this land in search of beaver fur, competing against the Hudson's Bay Company. The Snake, Crow, Lakota, Black Foot, Absaroka, and other native Americans lived in harmony with this land. Buffalo once blackened the river valleys.  But what I was thinking about was an air-conditioned room, a shower, and a comfortable bed. So I steered us off of the freeway, and our day was done. Sophie appreciates the soft comforts of modern living, and so do I. 

The day was full of amazing moments, commonplace, but moments of the awareness of God and His unending mercy and love, surrounding me, lifting me up.  Unemployment and all the stresses that accompany it were far away.  I felt a lifting of stress.  I snuggled into the pillows and was soon asleep.  Tomorrow I would reach my destination and see my high school friend, a chance to visit after thirty-some years.