I have been through insane moments, but last night was one of the worst. Rain, wind, steep hills, mud, flooded roads, mechanical issues, and everything in between.
It started in Maupin, where I was hoping to grab a meal before heading out. Unfortunately, the restaurant opened at 11 a.m., and I didn’t want to sit around, so I fueled up with a couple of energy bars and decided to press on to Shaniko, OR, for supplies.
The ride through the high desert section was stunningly beautiful, with vast open landscapes that seemed to stretch on forever. When I reached Shaniko, I stocked up on some bars at the convenience store and microwaved a couple of frozen burgers to keep me going. Feeling somewhat recharged, I hit the road again.
After passing through Antelope, the roads turned to gravel, marking the beginning of a series of grueling challenges. Around 1 p.m., it started to rain, and it didn’t let up for the rest of the day. It rained non-stop all day. The rain turned the gravel roads into a slippery, muddy mess. With no passenger to add weight to the rear wheel, I found myself struggling for traction, especially on the steep sections.
The mud was like peanut butter, clinging to my bike’s fork and tires and eventually hardening like concrete. I had to stop frequently to clear the build-up just to keep moving forward. At one point, the mud built up so much that my fork got completely stuck and the wheels wouldn’t move. It felt like my bike was transforming into a stationary exercise machine!
Some sections of the road were flooded knee-deep, adding another layer of difficulty to an already tough day. As if the terrain and weather weren’t enough, my timing chain kept dropping, and the front derailleur refused to shift to the big ring, making the ride even more frustrating.
Despite these mechanical issues and the cold, wet conditions, I pushed on, driven by the hope of reaching solid ground. The rain remained relentless, soaking me to the bone and turning every pedal stroke into a Herculean effort.
My phone wouldn’t work, and the course put me on a track that ended up on private property. I had to remove the panniers, throw them over to the other side of the barbed wire, and then lift the tandem over. I met some bikepackers later who said they had to do that too.
Finally, around 9 p.m., I hit clear asphalt. The relief and joy I felt in that moment were overwhelming, bringing tears to my eyes. It felt like the scene from The Shawshank Redemption when he crawls out of the shit pipe to freedom. Cold, wet, and exhausted, I pressed on, arriving at Spoken’n Hostel at 10:30 p.m. The host, Jalet, was incredibly kind, leaving out a big bowl of chicken spaghetti for me. After a long, hot shower and that comforting meal, I crashed into bed around midnight, utterly spent but deeply grateful for the warmth and shelter.
Day 3 was a true test of endurance and perseverance, but it also reminded me of the incredible kindness of strangers and the beauty of overcoming challenges on this journey. Onward to Day 4!