Day 43, 44, and 45

The final days of the ride were a blur for me. I had the goal of reaching Portland, Oregon within 45 days and to do that I would have to ride 300 miles in three days. That may not seem like much, but when you’ve got all of your gear on your bike, which amounted to roughly 50 pounds for me, and the possibility of riding into gnarly headwinds in the Columbia River Gorge it is more of a daunting tasks than you’d think. Even though I was slightly skeptical of completing the trek on time I thought it would be worth a try. If I succeeded, I would allot myself an extra day of rest before heading down to Nicaragua and that was a mighty fine incentive. Plus, isn’t there something to be said about achieving a goal?

So, with just three days left and a whole lots of miles to go I put my head down and went for it! The first day I awoke early to avoid the head winds of Eastern Washington, but nature had a different idea. I instantly had troubles…After barely rolling out of Polmeroy, Washington I realized I had another flat tire (I think I had ten or eleven flats on this trip)! Feeling frustrated and low on time, I hastily put in a new tube and got back on the road. Then, the wind hit me square in the face. I rode into it all day and let me tell you, it was so strong and consistent it would have made any flag stand perfectly straight with pride and patriotism for all to see, all day long. It is not often you come across a wind like the one I rode into. I swear, it was as a test I will never forget.

After battling all day, I finally saw the outskirts of Walla Walla. I had only ridden 70 miles and I knew that I was short on mileage for the day. My goal of making it in 45 days seemed less obtainable now. Feeling a bit of defeat, I rented a motel room and decided to relax for the rest of the evening.

The next morning I awoke to a gift from the heavens. The forecast on the morning news was calling for 15-20 mile-an-hour winds at my back! Receiving that news was as exhilarating to me as a junky probably feels when finally obtaining their “fix”! I was ecstatic with joy. For the first time, in what felt like the entire ride, I had a huge tail wind and I knew that this was my chance to make up for my previous days lackluster performance. I put in my headphones, sucked down some coconut water (hippy Gatorade), and went for it.

By the time the sun was setting and I had found a cheap motel to recuperate in, I had ridden 135 miles! It was a new personnel best of mine, which had conveniently placed me within a long days ride to Portland. I couldn’t believe it, but this was would be the last night on the “road” for me. I felt contemplative and I wanted to somehow take it all in, but I was too tired to stay up. My body was basically yelling at me for rest. So, feeling exited, sad to be finishing the ride, and haggard from all the exercise, I crawled into bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

The following morning I set out knowing that this would be the last day on the bike. I still had a 100 miles to ride, but now that I was so close to achieving my goal I felt as though nothing could stop me. Well, my hubris attitude was quickly humbled when I realized that the winds had shifted 180 degrees from the previous day and would be smashing into my face all day. It would be a tough ride, but it seemed fitting that it were that way. Like so many other days before it, I had to hunker down and push my way into town.

I doubt I would have made it to Portland if it weren’t for my friend Jesse, who met me about 30 miles into the Columbia River Gorge on his bicycle. The route we rode was one that we had ridden together a year previous, when I had lived there . It is an old rode that winds and bobs through lush forest and verdant farm land. The scenery is incredible and it has to be one of my favorite rides in the country. It was a relief to share my waining moments of the trip with a dear friend and to do so in such dramatic scenery. After what seemed like eternity, we finally made it through the suburban districts of Portland and rode over the Burnside Bridge into the picture perfect downtown setting. I began feeling emotional in the busy business district, as I knew I had only a mile or so left. I couldn’t help but smile and share my enthusiasm with Jesse. We turned a corner, climbed a huge hill, and there was Jesse’s crib. I got off my bike, hugged Jesse, and called my family…I had completed my journey!!!!