I have not been keeping up here ...
But, let me start at the end ;'-). After all, the dates don't matter -- it's the adventures that are important!
I and we have been busy having fun this summer, and this weekend is kind of the "last blast" before Susan returns to school. So it was off for a fly fishing weekend in eastern Washington for her club's outing. We drove there two days early and camped on our own for a couple of days before reaching the designated fishing "hole".
After being set up in camp we did some exploring. We biked a short distance across Bumping Lake bridge (a dam actually) in search of a place to fish, but first we had to ride down the gravel road to check out the "resort and marina". Note I said gravel and you will hear more about that shortly.
Susan explored a potential spot, with fishing gear loaded in the new tote she made (for me, and you will see more about that in another post). This wasn't quite the spot, but she would soon find one to her liking and get a few "fish on".
This morning (Friday) we left for Elkridge Campground for the fishing fleet gathering. Susan was so kind as to let me ride from our camp to Elkridge and she would finish up packing our camp gear and drive there. I donned layers of clothing against the chill offered by the early morning hour that kept the sun low, the deep shade of the lodgepole pine and fir trees that lined the road, and the air off the icy cold Bumping River that ran along side of me.
Only four cars passed me on the entire twelve mile quiet forest road, and at times I felt I could reach out and touch the river as it rapidly made it's way upstream. The sun began dappling onto the roadway, but with the trees so tall and the sun still low, my jacket stayed on as a buffer against the chill that remained in the air.
I was enjoying this traffic free, gently rolling road so much. I was anticipating losing the tranquility once I reached the highway, and was pleasantly treated to similar conditions, with the Naches River now as my companion. The traffic was light, and the cars that did pass me were courteous and seemed in no hurry. Then there was this side road. Susan and I had discussed this possibility shown on the GPS that she so lovingly attached to my bike in very good working order, and with the correct map at the ready. I reached the turn off and thought it a great adventure to skirt the highway on what Susan was sure was a paved road. Sure enough, a paved road took me across a bridge and turned a curve into more forest. It was now warming up, and this detour afforded me great privacy to peel off some layers of clothing. There were wonderful views of the river now far below me and I was hoping this road would not end. It did. In less than a tenth of a mile. Gravel. I hate, loathe, deplore, despise, (fill in any word that you find worse) unpaved riding. My heart goes up into my throat, my teeth clench, my hands form into fists in a death grip on the handle bars, and I am sure I will fall.
Anyone in their right or wrong (depending on your outlook) mind would find this a wonderful backroads bike ride. I could hear the "delightful" traffic over there on the delightful paved highway and gave thought to trying to wade my bike across the rushing river to join it.I had biked (and walked a few loose rocks or sandy areas) about a mile and a half. It felt like ten miles at least. Too far to turn back. How much further? The woman driving slowly past me in the pick up said, after I asked, you're almost there. Best words I think I have ever heard.
Finally I touched down on pavement.
Susan had checked in at the cabin -- almost. There was no one there so she left a message, deposited her bike on the porch and headed back to meet up with me. I was a mere mile and a half from the cabin, and we stopped for a restaurant meal before coming in.
Stay tuned -- a little more about today in my next post.
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