Wow, I slept SO well. That's what I do after a great day of riding and eating great food and seeing beautiful places and loving where I am. And as I said previously, I was loving - Hurricane Creek Campground for a whole host of reasons. 

Stefan wasn't up yet, so I walked down to the rest of the campsites at the end of the road. There were just two of them. They were pretty awesome too, perfect for a really hot day, and if you wanted to be away from everyone else if the campground was full.

I came back to our site, Stefan got up, and we made coffee and breakfast. It was an oatmeal day for me - I love warm oatmeal after a cold night of camping.

Two forest service workers showed up, and I waved and started walking over to their stopped truck. One of them said, "Can we help you?" And I said, "No, I just wanted to thank you for your service." They laughed. We had a great chat. We found out that the other campgrounds we had considered, the ones in the canyon, were all closed because of an active wildfire nearby, and that our campground was not only not closed, but we could have had a campfire! I told them about what the other girls had said about the bear sightings and the younger of the workers said, "I've seen a lot of bears, but they are SO scared. The moment they see or hear me, they take off running. I've never managed to get a photo." I complimented them on the incredibly clean vault toilets. For being so severely understaffed, I'm so impressed with the continued cleanliness of all these vault toilets managed by the National Forest Service (NFS) and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). 

We packed up, waved goodbye to the NFS workers (they were doing some plant trimming and stocking up the toilet) and headed into Joseph, but everything was closed. It's a really cute little town, full of restaurants and art galleries. We drove back to Enterprise and then headed West through La Grande. I wasn't sure where we were going. Stefan wasn't either. We weren't really sure what to do next. After looking for a place to have breakfast downtown, which we never found, we headed back out of town and right by a run down but not-at-all bad motel we stayed once years ago, we got breakfast at the Smokehouse Restaurant. The name makes you think it's a steak house. Not so! Had a damn fine breakfast there, with our bikes parked right outside the window of our booth, just how we like it. Guess what I had for breakfast! Go on, guess...

We got on state highway 82, which was really winding and beautiful. We found a place far out of town called the Wallowa River Rest Area on our side of the road, and it as terrific: pit toilet and HUGE mowed area in the back with picnic tables. There was a no camping sign, but it would absolutely be a great emergency camping spot for a motorcycle rider or bicyclist that can get their vehicle up the STEEP embankment and back into the tree-lined field. It is managed collaboratively by several different organizations, including Oregon State Parks, the National Forest Service, and maybe Cycle Oregon. There was a big information board about the area right next to the wide parking lot that's right next to the road with some info about the area.

We had to jump on I-84 going West just a bit - and the scenery was actually lovely! We hate having to get on Interstates but, sometimes, you just have to to get to a better road. After just a few miles, we took the exit to ride Oregon road 244, a very winding and fun little highway running along side the Grande Ronde River and through the Umatilla National Forest.

We came to the Rhodes Supply, the general Store in Ukiah, Oregon. It's a MUST stop, because it's the only place for many miles to get supplies and it has ICE CREAM. Oh, yes, we most definitely got ice cream. It is a really funky and fun place. Be sure to check the beer cooler! Unfortunately, we weren't there at the day or time the owner comes in and plays the grand piano there. They have comfy chairs and donated books, so you can sit and chill for a while if needed. Turns out there is gas across the street, behind the building across the street (unstaffed - credit card only). Loved the sign in the window for an event to thank the firefighters that had been keeping the area safe: there are enough donors that attendees do not need to bring dessert, salad or bread.

The drive on Oregon 244 and 7 is beautiful and I was really surprised not to see any motorcyclists out on it. It has everything riders want: twisties and beautiful views - though the views were largely masked because of smoke.

We were headed to Anthony Lakes, which we camped at back in 2016. We camped in the same, exact spot this time, actually. It's at an elevation of 7,100 feet, so this campground keeps cool even in the summertime. The camping sites sit among boulders and conifers on a bluff over Anthony Lake - it's a really beautiful campground. We didn't stay in the tent area because you have to hike quite a few yards from where you park to get to a site, and we really like to have the bikes near our tent - within eyesight. The hike to the lake is easy and so worth a visit. We walked down to it both on this evening and the next day - and the next day, a bald eagle flew right by us over the lake! It was an amazing moment.

The campsite also has a yurt you can reserve, and it looks AWESOME. I love yurts. We didn't stay in one this trip, however. We didn't stay in any cabins either. I figure, if on a motorcycle trip we are going to pay for shelter instead of tent camp, I want it to have a bathroom with running water, and that means a hotel.

Yes, there are my long johns again - my quest to get them dry continued. They did, at last, dry completely this night.

We were not impressed with the camp host at this campground, who never stopped by to see us, and hadn't removed expired reservations on campsites, resulting in a few RVers driving through, thinking everything they could use was taken, and leaving. When we walked around, I started removing the pieces of paper from expired reservations, some two days old! - something I do in other campgrounds as well because I know what it's like to be desperate for a campsite and thinking everything is taken. 

At first we thought the site we wanted was taken, because there were two stuffed animals at the picnic table, a momma bear and a baby bear. Of course I couldn't leave them. I really don't want any stuffed animals, and yet, I have so many. But I can't stand leaving dolls or stuffed animals out to the elements, or to throw them away. I'm not sure why, but it hurts my heart. So, I packed up the bears, much to Stefan's frustration, as space in our panniers is very hard to find. I would pack and unpack them for the rest of the trip. My plan was to give them to Virgil, my neighbor, when we got home (and I did). Every time I stuffed them into a pannier in the morning, I'd apologize to them. I'm so weird.

Day 12, Tuesday, September 13

After another trip to the lake and that incredible bald eagle sighting I noted earlier, we packed up, bears and all, and headed... somewhere. As I said earlier, we were running out of ideas.

At some point, we got stuck on a gravel and dirt road because of road construction. We were stopped there for probably 30 minutes - very unusual to be stopped that long unless a bridge is out. I had to pee SO badly, so I left my bike and walked over to a group of what I think were national forest workers, all women, on the side of the road, and asked if they would be offended if I peed in the wilderness. They weren't at all. There are some people that are super eco-protectionist and don't believe humans should ever pee in the wilderness - that you should, in fact, bag it and take it out if there is no vault toilet. Well... I love the outdoors, and I am committed to pooping only in a vault toilet, not a hole in the ground, but I will pee outdoors if nothing else is available. But always away from a water source. At last, we were flagged to go on, and the flagger graciously put us in front of the line of vehicles, so we wouldn't have to eat so much dust (there was a log truck in line), and because the road was uphill most of the way. It was a great idea - but as we followed the "follow me" truck, an empty truck that was part of the road rebuilding pulled out in front of him and... yeah, we ate a LOT of dust.

National Forest Road 73 is terrific! Very winding, and very pretty scenery. We went stopped in Sumpter for lunch at a place that also sold all sorts of CBD products, and next door was a pot shop. We're pretty sure the workers that day were users of all they sold.

Sumpter is supposed to be a historic town, and it is, on paper. But what's there to see that's historic was either closed (the dredge, the railway station) - or private (Sumpter Stockade Motel - looks great, but it was packed with guests and there was no where to park to pop insite).

On Oregon route 7, we passed what turned out to be Whitney ghost town. I saw the information side on a dirt road leaving the main road to my left as we passed, but the town looked closed off. And indeed, it is: it's private property and you aren't allowed close to the buildings. Just go to Google and look up Whitney Ghost Town, Oregon, and then click on the images - you will see all the photos from others that we would probably have taken as well. 

We met up with US Highway 26 going East and started hitting nasty rain. And I heard thunder. We pulled over onto the side of the road and put on our rain jackets, but not our pants or boot covers. I hate my rain jacket because it makes me look like Violet Beauregarde in Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. By the time we reached the dying town of Unity, I was done with the raging storm, and I pulled over and stood under the awning of a long-defunct shop while we waited for the rain to go around us. But somehow, that didn't work, and the rain seemed to be getting worse up ahead.  A guy living in what used to be a shop or store across the street from us eyed us warily through his screen door. Stefan said it was just going to get worse and we should push on, so we did. And the storm did, indeed, get worse. Now, we not only had driving rain, but rushing wind and occasional lightening. Luckily, the wind wasn't gusting suddenly - it would build up into a sustained blow, and while the KLR is crap in gusting winds, I do know how to ride in a sustained wind, so I kept going over 50 MPH, at least, the entire time.

The rain stopped but not the wind. We had this weird experience of riding over a hill and seeing a sheriff's SUV just sitting there on the side, with a deputy inside, and as we dropped down into the little valley and started to climb again, saw a bicyclist fighting the wind as much as I was. And I realized that deputy was just back there watching the show. I bet after the cyclist went over the hill, out of view, the deputy drove to the next hill to continue to watch.

The wind stopped once we got to Vale. At a gas station there, we found two couples and a guy on dual sports - all VERY nice BMWs. They were from back east and keep their motorcycles out west and fly out to ride around. Nice life! It's what we would LOVE to do - but we want motorcycles stationed in other COUNTRIES. One couple was from Paducah, and I decided they were my cousins.

The town of Vale looked... sad. Very rundown. I wanted to stay in a hotel that night, after such a hard day of riding, to do laundry and shower and just have a rest in general, so we pushed on to Ontario. Which was also a sad but bigger city. Everything on our side of I 84 looked run down, except the Holiday Inn Express, which looked nice - but is a hotel, not a motel, which means we couldn't park our bikes right outside our room, We ended up staying closer to downtown Ontario, in the well worn the Oregon Trail Motel, literally on the "other side of the tracks" from downtown. The room was clean, though very well worn, with ancient furniture. And we could park our bikes right outside our room. We had hot showers, did some laundry, and used the fridge overnight for the stuff we carry in a cooler and gorged ourselves on the Internet access.

We walked over to a Chinese restaurant that we could see from our room, across from US Highway 30 (business). And we could see our bikes from where we sat in the restaurant. The town felt... a little rough so we didn't want to not see the bikes. It was not at all the best food, but the waitress (owner?) was so, so sweet and attentive that I liked our supper experience a lot. Sometimes, I just want someone else to cook my food and to treat me well - that's enough sometimes. We went back to the room and continued to gorge ourselves on Internet access. I had used all of my data up somehow very early on in the trip, so this was the only way I could send out an update or check my messages. Our room was facing oh-so-busy SE 2nd street, but we wore earplugs, so we slept well. And we put a special lock on the bikes for safety.

The next day, we walked, literally, to the other side of the tracks, to downtown - very scary walk (lots of trash, homeless guy hit us up for a cigerette, etc.) but downtown was actually nice and the Jack Henry Coffee House (formally Jolts & Juice Co.) was just what we needed to get started in the morning.

We really didn't know what to do for the next three days, so I had a proposal: I had remembered, somehow, somewhere, that there was a natural hot springs resort somewhere around Burns, a popular place among Oregonians. We had ridden by it probably a decade ago. It was in the middle of nowhere, somewhere. I have zero idea why I thought of it, but thought it would be a good idea to go there and check it out. I looked it up online and had kind of wanted a room, a bunk house, a tee pee... but everything seemed booked, except for camping. I suggested we go and just see if it was worth staying there and, if not, we'd just find something else around there, and it would at least be a nice ride. And then we could push on the the Alvord Desert for a night, which stunned Stefan - he didn't think I wanted to go there on this trip. But I really did, and I felt like we could make it there and then get home in two days.  He was not at all sold on the hot springs idea, but gave in anyway, for lack of any better idea.

Crystal Crane Hot Springs is just 126 or so miles from where we were (Ontario). US Highway 20 to get there was reasonably scenic and not completely straight. We did encounter some wind which I wasn't fond of at all but, again, it wasn't sudden gusts, it was just ongoing wind, and I can ride in sustained winds, even from the side and even if I hate it. We made good time to Crane, Oregon - which is not where the hot springs are. Turns out Stefan hadn't pinned them before we left so we could find them easily. Grumble grumble. We figured out where they were, on Oregon route 78, and went there. Everything was fully booked except camping spaces, so that's what we took. But we weren't allowed to move into our space, nor use the hot springs, until 2:30, and we were early. We were hungry, so we paid for our reservation and then headed over to the Crane Store and Cafe, about three and a half miles away.

The front of the Crane Store and Cafe was full, including a booth with two bikers in it that didn't even give us a head nod. So we went to the back room as directed by the wait staff. We ordered our food, it arrived, and we tucked in. Nom nom nom. And at some point, a very old woman also seated in the back began to choke. She could not breathe. I dashed over and tried to do something I've never done, the Heimlich maneuver. But almost immediately knew I wasn't doing it right. I let go and stepped aside and Stefan stepped in, lifting her tiny self off the ground as he applied the compressions properly below her rib cage. I looked back through the serving window at the waitress and cook in the kitchen, who were frozen in shock. I was about to tell them to call 911 - I later found out the waitress had her phone in her hand, ready to do just that - but the choking woman put her hand on Stefan's arm to let him know she could breathe, and we stood with her as she coughed and coughed and recovered.

I had just watched my husband save someone's life.

The woman had choked on a piece of chicken. Her disabled husband, who could barely get up and down out of his chair and walked with a cane, could never have helped. The waitress told me that she's never had to do the Heimlich and had never seen it done in person. We all talked each other down and, believe it or not, eventually, returned to our meals. The couple, very old, thanked Stefan yet again and left. A small dog that belonged to the owner came through our room, being chased by a little boy, and lay down between my legs, knowing I would keep him safe. And for some reason, all that time later, petting that dog and thinking about what I'd just seen, I started to cry. I immediately texted my sister to tell her what happened. Then texted the rest of my family. Then posted to Facebook and Twitter. It suddenly became terribly important to tell everyone what Stefan had just done and to tell everyone to chew their damn food well!

It was now almost 3, so we went back to the hot springs. I told them what had happened, and that it wouldn't have happened if they hadn't sent us away because we couldn't check in then.

Well, we were in dire need of some calming hot springs, that's for sure. We went to our space, set up the tent, put everything in the tent and didn't bother to unpack much at all - just got into our bathing suits. I put on my dress over my suit, slipped on my Tevas, took my camping towel and we walked over to the pond. We took quick showers in the warm spring water and then went into the pond.

Ya'll - it's heaven. It's absolutely heaven.

First of all, the hot spring pond is beautiful. On one side it's got all the various accommodations (hotel rooms, bunk houses, etc.) but on the other side, it's got the nothingness of Malheur desert wilderness. The temperature is perfect - and is dictated by the hot springs itself, which never stop pouring into the pond from various spigots. The water runs off into a little canal that feeds a natural pond for wildlife, which we could also see from our campsite. It was cool enough outside to love this warm water.

This wasn't just the best day of the entire trip. This may have been one of the best days of my life. Seriously, it was perfect. I had no idea I needed something like this. Every time we got in to the pond, we usually had the pond almost all to ourselves. And even if there were other people, you just float there in the middle of the water, with your ears under water, and you can't hear anything but the water, and you look up at that blue sky and the clouds and birds flying over, and feel that warm water all around you, so full of minerals it keeps you afloat, and you are just whole and calm and at one with everything. I cannot put into words how much I loved it. I beyond loved it.

There's no yoga classes, no massage tables, no restaurant, no bar. There's just places to stay, some even with private small tubs of the natural spring water, and this pond. And for the same price as tent camping at a state park, we got a fully equipped camp kitchen (we NEVER get a covered area to cook in a state park!), a comfy common room with furniture and free coffee in the morning and FREE showers (also not-so-common at state parks). And the bathrooms are cleaned EVERY HOUR during the day time.

We were close enough to hear the spring water pouring into the pond all night - when the generators from one of the nearby RVs wasn't running - and to hear coyotes chattering and howling in the distance - when the generators from one of the nearby RVs wasn't running. Really, that is my only criticism: the RVs in the primitive camping area running generators. It shouldn't be allowed. They should have been forced into the other area of the resort, with other RVs and away from us.

I think we were very lucky to have gotten a spot there, though the resort does have an overflow area that's $5 cheaper than where we camped, where there are no designated camping spots - you just grab something and hope no one camps next to you. It's quite a walk to the bathrooms and the pond from there, but there is a portable toilet near the entrance.

I would love to go again and stay in a tee pee! 

We soaked two times that day. And oh my how well I slept that night.

Day 14, Thursday, September 15

The place is adamant that you get out by 11 a.m. or pay for more time to be there. So adamant that we got a text message reminding us that morning. But by then, we'd already enjoyed our free coffee in the common room and had another soak and were packing up. I could not get enough of that pond!

We left by 10 and headed back to the Crane Store and Cafe for a hearty breakfast. I had... BISCUITS AND GRAVY. I wanted a full order but the cook refused and said I could never finish it - that I should get half. Sigh... such sensibility in a diner. I also should note that their small store is very well stocked: we got canned food for supper that night, and had gotten a decent bottle of wine for our time at the hot springs. We were also able to get some decent snacks for later, which isn't always possible. They also sell gas and, upon closer inspection, we realized they have some RV and tent camping spots next to the store. As we were headed out, I noticed two more things: free eggs in a cooler near the door, and a very angry post on the bulletin board about a local guy who had shot two or three bulls and who better be watching his back!

I was so full of happiness and love and joy and biscuits and gravy.

It was less than 100 miles to the Alvord desert, though about 30 miles of it would be gravel, and that meant it would take me, altogether, about three and a half hours to do that 100 miles, with stops. We would get to the desert early enough to drive across it and back, something we'd never done. It was nice to not at all be in a hurry.

We rode on the beautiful but smokey and hot day on Oregon route 78, soon reaching the turnoff for the road that went to the desert - Fields-Denio Road / Folly Farm Road. After less than a mile onto the turnoff, I parked on the side of the road for a water and pee break. While we were there, just after Stefan snapped a photo of me, we saw two young coyotes playing and running as fast as they could across the plain. It took our breath away. I also got a bit silly. The fun part of being on a flat, straight road with no traffic is that you can take photos you never could otherwise.

The road was paved for a few miles, then turned into gravel, sometimes quite thick, with a LOT of washboard. We passed three riders coming towards us just as we hit gravel, one of them on a Harley! Eventually, from this road, you turn off onto Steens Road. The washboards got to me after 20 miles and, after that long of standing while riding, I needed a break. Stefan was especially sympathetic and encouraging for me to take as long a break as I wanted - clearly, he was still shocked but very happy that I wanted to go to the Alvord Desert and he wanted to make sure we would get there. He agreed that the washboards were exhausting.

The smoke was really bad, though it doesn't look so bad in the photos.

Then, after my rest was over and RIGHT after we got started back on the road, three MASSIVE transport planes came flying over us. The planes looked SO low and SO close - this photo that Stefan managed to take doesn't do the scene justice. Not even cropped. It was a wowsie wow wow moment. I never heard anything though. I guess the sound of my tires on the gravel, and my engine, were all too loud. They weren't flying fast, so there was no big jet sound. They looked like they were moving in slow motion through the air, truly.

I wonder if they saw us?

Had we not just had the incredible experience at Crane Hot Springs, I probably would have proposed we stay at the Alvord Hot Springs and Campground. Next time!

It seemed to take FOREVER to finish the 30 or so miles of gravel and finally get to the Frog Springs entrance to the Alvord Desert. We couldn't see the entire road down to desert, so Stefan rode ahead, out onto the playa, and said he would wave at me if he thought I could do it. After a few minutes, there he was, way far away on the white basin, waving at me. So, down the road I went. I had been down many years before, and the road had had two really bad washout points, and I got down then through sheer luck. This time, there was just one washout point, and it was manageable - I know I'm not as good a rider as Stefan would love me to be, but dammit, I have improved SO much over the years. Once I got down to the basin, I saw a big brown puddle of water on the white ground - I am not sure if it had rained actually on the desert, but it had definitely rained around it at various points, and the water had run off from the hills onto the basin at various points, making this and probably some other puddles.

We decided to drive all the way across the desert. It was an interesting experience. We weren't driving on sand, but we weren't exactly driving on dirt either. I could tell the playa was a bit slippery, and I didn't get crazy, like we saw two riders do later, making circles in the basin and having a grand time. I didn't want to fall. I didn't make an exact straight line across the basin, because it looked like others had done so - I veered off a bit. We made it to the other side - tufts of grass started to appear here and there, getting thicker and thicker, until we could go no further. Stefan really wanted to camp on that side, but I refused. I thought it looked like it might rain, and I did not want to be stuck on the other side of soupy mud. I also wanted access to the pit toilet in the morning at the Frog Springs entrance.

We rode back to the other side and I figured out where we had camped oh-so-long ago - but now, the ranch owner had put "no trespassing" and "no parking" signs all over his fence along that part of the desert, facing out to the playa. So I chose a spot far enough away from the entrance that we would have privacy but close enough that we could jump on Stefan's bike, two up, for a bathroom run when we needed it. Stefan wasn't happy - he wanted to be somewhere more hidden, more remote. But there was already someone camping farther down the desert "coast", and if we went farther than them, we'd be too far from the pit toilet to use it and also would have a horrible time getting out if it rained, which I was still convinced it was going to do.

If you look at our photos, you can see that we were quite isolated. As we set up camp, a BIG coyote walked just a few yards from our camp. It looked at me, stopped, marked its territory while staring at me, and moved on. It was a statement, most definitely.

It was yet another time when I was so happy we had hard luggage - as we had on the first night of our trip, we used our panniers as seats and as a table. I also hung or laid out on my bike my bathing suit and turned my bike pants as inside out as I could to all dry out.

It was the late afternoon, so we had lots of time on our hands. We had a closer look at the playa, and took photos trying to capture how much different parts of the basin looked wet but were, in fact, dry. We watched three or so cars and two motorcyclist down onto the desert and then disappear into the distance - it really all felt and looked so magical. There were more than half a dozen small groups camping somewhere in or around the desert, but it felt like we were all alone.

There was a slight wind, showing why land sailors love the desert so much. We thought the wind would get crazier at sunset or in the night, but it never did, thankfully. And yeah, okay, I got a little crazy. I admit I was inspired by a motorcycle traveler who stayed at our house several weeks ago. But I was more modest. Did Stefan get similarly crazy? Maybe...

You just can't take enough photos of your bike in the desert. You really can't.

We had a lovely supper of mini ravioli that night. We'd had Chef Boyardee Ravioli earlier in the trip one night and later confessed to each other how much we secretly love it - it evokes so many memories of childhood. So we decided to have mini ravioli another night - and this was the night. AND IT WAS DELICIOUS!

Unfortunately, either because of the ravioli or because I'd forgotten to take my Prilosec for two days, I had the WORST heartburn. So there was no wine drinking for me. We were drinking a LOT of water, and I knew that by the time we left the desert, we were going to be out of water, maybe even out of melted water in the little cooler as well. That's why you can't really stay in the desert more than one night if you are on a motorcycle - because there is no where to get water.

I was still convinced we were going to get rained on, and was quite worried about it.

We did not get the perfect, clear starry night that we wanted - there was too much smoke and moisture in the air. But Stefan did see a shooting star. And it was a beautiful sky, nonetheless. Unlike last time, a screech owl did not fly over me in the night and screech at me.

Yes, we heard coyotes again. Stefan told me later he saw lightening in the distance. Glad I missed that.

Day 15, Friday, September 16

Sunrise looked like a sunset. We did not get rained on, but there were enough clouds that we didn't have much of a star view, something the Alvord desert is famous for. Did I mention that you can never take enough photos of your motorcycles in the desert? It was a lovely morning, still smokey, though photos don't really show it. There was a lovely moth that didn't want to leave our site, so after moving it off the shady part of the tent and taking some photos, we put some rocks around it for protection.

Somehow, I missed the opportunity to flip off the former location of the failed Bearcat Lodge, whose owner was convicted of menacing, harassment and disorderly conduct in the second degree, and was well known for being an all-around asshole. I'm not the only one who thinks so. I was just so happy about this beautiful ride, I'd forgotten all about it and didn't remember to look for it, and had no recognition of it now - owned and lived in by someone else. Stefan had to remind me later.

In the town of John Day, while we got gas and I delighted in taking photos of a pot bellied pig, Stefan said we were 300 miles from home. We'd already ridden more than 180 miles that day. I like to ride just 200, or even less, in a day. At first, I was overwhelmed, but then I got a surge - I wasn't ready to stop riding, and I did not want to have a huge number of miles to ride to get home on our last day. We looked at the map and Ochoco Divide Campground was 85 miles away. Could I make it on this late afternoon? I was determined to do it. Stefan went next door and got canned food to eat that night, along with some beer and wine for me, and off we went.

We were now on US Highway 26, heading West, and once again, I had the same thought: I forgot how beautiful this road is! I had said before we left on the entire trip that I really wanted to go to the Thomas Condon Paleontology Center, which I hadn't been to in many, many years, but it was late, so it wasn't possible. Stefan had sort of proposed camping in the Painted Hills, at Priest Hole, something we've done before, and the site was gorgeous, and there was a pit toilet there, but I just wasn't up for the road to the campsites (it's very difficult). We passed many, many bicyclists heading in the opposite direction. I later learned it was Cycle Oregon's annual bicycle sabbatical they call The Classic. This year, participants could choose between routes that were 272 to 443 miles.