Saturday finally barged in and pushed me on the highway heading south, away from Portland's dreary weather. Last week's storms moistened our parched earth, ensuring a rare summer weekend free from billows of dust that lodge in the lungs and coat the nares black. Communing with nature was utmost on my list, as if 7 days rafting the Main Salmon (link) had not sufficed.
I had spent the last few years exploring Bend's single track atop an archaic 920 Trek with failing brakes and no suspension, and was eager to dirty my new Fisher on Jay's pick of the day: Shevlin Park and the Mrazek Trail.
The first 4miles meandered along a generous river trail with lush foliage and flat terrain; I began questioning the seriousness of this trail, wondering if I had been mislead for the map's black diamond and difficulty rating, or perhaps lost. With my guard down, the trail suddenly morphed into its true nature, the beast exposed- a narrow, technical path dispersed with jagged lava rocks and prickly desert shrubs, switch back elevation gain and narrow pine tree corridors. Save a swollen left shoulder, a broken chain link and an out of tune gear shifter, we completed our 4hour out and back just in time for dinner and beers at the Bend Brewing Co(link). With salted smiles and sweaty shorts, we found our way to a gaudy rented house on the Deschutes and unable to keep my eyes open or chat with the other Portland contingency, I drifted off to sleep.
Awakening to the growls of a hungry belly, we headed straight for a favorite at Smith Rock, The Sun Spot- a guaranteed basic of eggs, bacon, toast, hash browns and hot coffee. We pulled our tired, weary bodies inside and found a 20min wait. The waitress offered outside picnic tables and with the morning warming up, we placed an order and waited for coffee. Without blinking an eye, she pulls out two cheap Styrofoam cups and begins to pour. "Styrofoam! Wait, we want regular coffee mugs," exhasperated, I looked around wondering if anyone else suffered the same fate. Guess they can't serve glass outside and there was no way on this beautiful Sunday morning, I was going to have my first cup of joe in Styrofoam. Bemuttled, I left unsure whether I had already paid, and sought out the only other restaurant in town.
Seeking solace, we drove on to Smith Rock's northern most parking lot, wherein lies a lonely trail leading to some of the shortest, yet arduous climbs out there, all shadowed by east facing columns. Woman in the Meadow was our find, an innocent 5.11 overhangish, killing me until the second to last clip, climb. I just couldn't finish it, unable to fully focus and wrap my head around the goal, I was too scared to jump for that last, "are you sure it's a bomber hold?" hold. High step, lie back, crimp, back step, twist encompass the lower sequence, the day was spent working the wall, avoiding any thoughts of setting up a TR. My new nemesis. Loading up the truck, we headed back for Portland.
Fighting the waning light of Sunday evening, unable to succumb to the thought of Monday, we pulled over one last time just south of Hood River, east of Mt. Hood to attempt Gunsight ridge. For the last two hours of sunlight, we danced in the forest with our bikes.
I ended with a solo performance endo, tumbling poetically over my handle bars. Following suite, Jay flew upward, sending the bike onto its side, both remained unscathed.
It was a graceful end to a sensational weekend.
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