Elevation gain: Mostly flat, maybe 2000ft
High: 102 degrees F
Oregon, friendly desolate beauty. The 395 is or new home. All nothingness up here, except pretty land and poverty. Coasting for carless miles along a grassland valley floor, scenery scapes change and so do thought patterns. Working in a industry where Jackson's are thrown around like coins, these towns live on a different wave length. Unmatchable, the economic depression here is Isolated from information, people work hard, play less, and live in topling buildings that any big city would red flag and evict innocent tenents. Their faces read a hard life and yet they smile with opposition that somehow they have it all.
With nothing but ramshackled barns and observant cows to stop for, the miles fly. The Sierras prepared us for massive hills, but the flat terrains allow pedals to churn like a Ben and Jerry's factory turning out cherry Garcia for sugar starved America.
There are some things that are unpleasantly adaptable. Water bottles hot enough to steep tea, long hot days, restless nights, constant hunger, porous skin caked in sunscreen and dirt like a salty, sun baked lakebed. And there are some things that never wear in. Mosquito bites that make you want to rip your skin off, unfriendly towns and bad drivers, stinky shorts, aching saddle sores, caffeineless mornings, and grossly over sized horse flies. There are thoes moments when 8 hour days tick by without a human in sight to relieve your mental thought cycle, to share in the excitment and curiosity of a sweaty open road, to find a reason to stop and observe, and be taken away by breathtaking scenery.
It was one of those days, there is nothing to do but ride. And stocked with enough water and food to survive a 36 hour drought in the desert heat, we missed our own specie interactions. But then suddenly Oregon opened it green gate, magestic charcoal ash plateaus caked in lively neon green moss guide a road along a spanning pink algae infested lake. Like wrinkles, the water has a tale of a roasting sun overhead that leaves rings of reflective white salt lands. The hillside rocks are spounged with Gatorade orange lichen and artistic signs and suddenly completely content anoth soul is far from sight, we had this nature's castle all to ourselves.
The miles dragged when butts ached, tummies rumbled, and at 5pm it was still 95 degrees out. But deep inside there is a competitive urge, to test human limits, and win the internal struggle of wanting to quit. I was that kid, betting parents that a 7 year old could give up candy, sweets and desserts for a month if rewarded with the soft purple hippo beanie baby. Sure enough, there he was one afternoon school day buckled into the backseat of our burgundy 1980s leaky oil minivan. There is a wholesome reward that comes with the exhaustion from perservence. Natures beauty is gifted and absorbed in mindless relaxation. We eat like famished beings. Sriracha is our Russian caviar and completes the most elegant of dishes. It's called Road Rissotto, and prepared by the culinary chef himself, it is something that fixes any hard days work. $1.49 boxed Kraft Mac n Cheese is boiled and stirred into starchy sauce over our little Mama Joad stove, garnished with $.89 canned peas and all their liquidy salt juice. Like a new battery out of the box, with a good nights sleep, anything is conquorable.
The stars opened their iron palace gates at dusk. The view drifting off into dreamland was like a friends homemade pie. One of thoes places that burns a lasting imagine deep in the walls of memory. The sun spewed rays of pink across the sky, the flamingo colored lake quieted to a nightly blue haze. Nestled in a hillside cliff, we slept alone with the stars and a refreshing summer nights breeze.
Field notes: 395 N from Alturas. No shoulder in few places, but not enough cars or corners to be concerned. Large enough town to restock any needs. Bike shop with horrible hours. The historic Niles Hotel has good coffee and beer. First town with water and food is lakeview (60 miles). After crossing the Oregon border, shoulder is wide and road well paved. 23 miles north is a small gas station with not much. No services for the next 90 miles except a rest station 1/2 way. Turn right on HWY 20.