TABR 2017 Day THREE - LET THE PAIN BEGIN

A chilly morning at wake-up in Redmond OR meant that I would be wearing all my clothing. Four layers above the belt and long tights over bike shorts. My washed clothing had all dried completely in this high Oregon air. What was really worrying me was the status of my derriere. It hurt plenty and it appeared to have ripped. I applied a generous amount of Neosporin to the region. I never had had a sore seat before and was trying to figure out what I could do to stop any further damage. Looking at my shorts, I realized that the running shorts that I used to cover the worn-out bike shorts had elastics on the liner that lined up with the two painful zones. Was this self inflicted? Stupid me for allowing this to happen. I had ridden back home my casual 60-80 mile rides this way and nothing had happened. I guess over 350 sweaty miles in two days was a little different. The running shorts must go, and they did.

A routine was starting to settle in, have some quick food at wake-up ride an hour or two and get second breakfast if available. The day warmed up pretty fast and all my layers came off. I drove into the next town and had my trusty McDonald breaky. My last one for a while since there are no McDonalds as you leave the populated centers of the US. Towns would get smaller and smaller and further apart from here on. I was running out of water pretty fast and, not afraid of germs or bacteria, I filled up at one of the several cool crystal clear streams.

I would do that many times over the next week or so with no adverse effects. Probably, I should have used a micro filter, eh. But, the water tasted so good.

THREE GOOD HILLS

This day would be marked by three good long hill climbs. First the Ochoco Pass, then Keyes Pass and then Dixie Pass.

Not sure why they call them PASS as it just goes over the top at often the highest point. Wouldn't a pass be better to avoid such elevation changes? Who was in charge of building these roads? What's better than climbing a big hill is the downhill afterwards. The scenery was amazing, my ass was on fire. Such dichotomy.

Early afternoon I was coming around a big bend listening to my favourite bagpipe channel on Pandora. Yes thats correct, Bagpipe tunes were blaring often in my cockpit. The music has such history, tradition and passion... Anyway, I was full on in a particular good tune when I saw this and my eyes started to well up uncontrollably. Wow, that surprised me. My emotions were in a good state, but close to the surface. Is that what long rides do -- bring you to connect with yourself while you glide through space and time? If that is what it is, serve me a double!

And thats when I saw people up ahead waving me to them. What is this, but a fantastic sanctuary in the middle of nowhere in the town of Mitchell pop 130. I had read about this place and subsequently totally forgot about it.

Do not miss a chance at staying here - one of the regrets of my ride. They served me a big plate of goooood spaghetti and offered all kinds of desert. The kitchen was open 24 hours. There were riders leaving and arriving -- my first encounter with the trio of Brits happened here. I noticed the sign-in book and saw Dave Campbell's signature. I hand't realized that he had passed me in the night. I need to get some riding done. Something competitive kicked in. But, first a nap. The kind people of the hostel pointed to some hammocks they had in the shady back next to a bubbling creek.

This idyllic setting could not be wasted. Although it was very hot the 20 min power nap was excellent. I bounced out of Mitchell on a good clip. By the top of the hill I had caught up with the Brits and with a surprising gate blew by them on the down hill all the way to Dayville. What I saw in Dayville would remind me of a cowboy movie. TABR riders coming into town dusty and hot on our rides after a long solitary day, lean our mounts on the railing, bowlegged and with clicky shoes walk in the only store in town.

Met the infamous David Barstow Robinson -- Known as DBR. I would see him many times in the coming weeks. Also in the shop was David, looking a little worse for wear, on the phone with his doctor back in Canada. The heat and hills were playing tricks on his body. He would stay the rest of the day in town and reassess in the morning. The air conditioning was addictive and I didn't want to get back out there before having at least two ice creams and some orange soda. I would drink gallons of the stuff in the weeks to come.

HEAD FOR THE HILLS

Off into the heat and head for the hill number three. Dixie Pass was about 45 miles away and the day still had about five hours of daylight. I had no idea where I would sleep tonight - it didn't matter, I was feeling in the zone. Although my legs were sore, I was finding strength and stamina in them. My undercarriage was a much different story -- the pain was excruciating. I couldn't tell what was worse, getting on or getting off the bike seat. Took my 10th Advil of the day.

Other bikers must have been feeling some pain as well as I passed about 10 riders on the road, that day. Also when I cruised through Prairie City at the base of Dixie, I saw a further 8-10 bikes against the store front and the restaurant. I was texting with my wife in PA and sent her this note;

It got dark by the time I was at the top of Dixie Pass and temperature dropped fast. The ride down to Austin Junction was bloody fast, pitch dark and lonely. At the bottom, all I saw was one large house/touristy stop, but the lights where out except a bedroom light on the second floor. Uh oh, it's really cold and its like 40 miles to the next town. Then I herd a voice and saw a flashlight. "You want to come in" she said. YES! was what I said. She had been watching my DOT. And she opened the bar for me.

One beer and two whiskeys later I was warmed up and feeling happy.

My eyes caught site of tasty wrapped sandwiches in a basket and I took three, leaving one. And then she offered me a camper to sleep in for $20 full of thick sleeping bags. This is heaven!

About two hours later I heard voices. Other racers had arrived and I was going to get a few camper mates. I felt guilty that I had taken all the sandwiches. I think it was the Brits. And one of them snored- not feeling guilty about the sandwiches after all. Covered 167.5 miles that day.