It's a classic sight in the Gorge - Vista House, sitting atop Crown Point. Overlook the Columbia, peer upriver to Beacon Rock and other places on the "ooh, I need to go hike up that again" list, take a minute of not traveling down the Old Columbia Highway. Lovely.
History: The architect of the old highway, Samuel Lancaster, pushed for Vista House's construction on Crown Point as a place for travelers to rest and take in the beauty of the surrounding land - the viewpoint was also to commemorate the early pioneers of the region, particularly those who traveled down the Columbia as part of their long trip West. Vista House itself was designed by architect Edgar Lazarus to be a "temple to the natural beauty of the Gorge"; the highway was dedicated in 1916 on top of Crown Point. (all information from vistahouse.com)
Driving to Portland from points east, Vista House is a glorious sight as you head west, a welcome sign that you're almost home again. My brother came to visit my first year here; we stopped at Vista House en route to Multnomah Falls, took pictures, bought postcards. And I thought to myself, holy narrow roads, Batman, this would be scary on a bike - and so far away from Portland - so impossible. I'll never be able to do this on two wheels...
...so, two weekends ago, Ben and I rode to Vista House - on three wheels apiece.
It was one of those few hot weekends Portland gets a year - forecast near 100, blazing sun and no appreciable wind. On SE Lincoln, someone had set up a sprinkler just over the curb - an illogical waste of water until you're slogging uphill and get a refreshing, heat-stroke-stalling shower. Box fans and a/c units are sold out across the city, cold beverages and river-floating and inactivity are the m.o. of most of the area. "It's hot..." - a safe thing to say anywhere. Weather-whining on the book of face goes from "it's too cold/rainy/wet/waaah" to "help I'm melting/too hot/dry/this isn't Arizona."
But I'd signed us up for the Portland Century on the 22nd - so this was our last chance to get out and get some miles under our belts. We hadn't done a dedicated road ride in months, as travel, summer, racing, gardening, working, my gimpy hip - precluded more 20-40 mile hill conquests.
Up and out of the house in the morning, delayed by a flat on Ben's (borrowed) trike first-thing. Slathered in sunblock, each carrying a Great Lake in water - we headed off. Out Burnside to a recently-finished MUP, wind around a bit on paths and roads, through new-to-us suburbs, past a wedding-in-progress at Edgefield, out to the familiar main street of Troutdale. (Notable in there: Ben with another mystery flat [wah!], fixed.)
We crossed the Sandy River, two roadies approaching us - Ben was a bit ahead of me - as the roadies passed me, one declared "CONGRATULATIONS!" with a big grin. This still confuses me, but I think, again, the perception of the recumbent three-wheel is that the pilot is a multiabled-type. Cause for laughter, sort of.
I'll spare you the play-by-play -- but it was slow-going, pulling up hills, in the hot hot sun. (Hills may feel slow on your roadbike. They get slower, I promise.) I often lost sight of Ben (aka speedy-pants) around the turns - but I made him promise to wait in Corbett for my slow self. (Not that he's an abandoning-type; I'm just paranoid.) We stopped at the main store for cold liquid and solid food.
Lesson #1 - Fred's right - Reser's pasta salad, while it sounds like the worst possible choice, is a good and reliable fuel food. Eat it.
Continue up to Crown Point (understated: slowly and well-heated), and bomb down to Vista House from the main highway. (Satisfying feeling: riding into a parking lot of cars jockeying for parking spots, parking at the adequate bike parking, strolling indoors.) Stopping inside to take in the sights (and the upper balcony), we were treated to a trio of musicians (including two mountain dulcimers - my mother would have loved it). Outside it was comically blustery - walking around was a bit challenging.
Refill water, buy a postcard for Grandma, reapply sunscreen, and head back to the main highway - slowly, up the hill. And yes, the roads were narrow - but it wasn't uncomfortable to be turtle-ing along, forcing cars behind me to work on their patience skills. (After all, where will they go? With so many blind turns and such narrow roads, passing would be more suicidal than anything.) Back up to the main highway, then back down to the Sandy River...
Lesson #2 - finding loop-cutoff roads off the main highway = golden. Fly down the alternate route at a delightful speed (take that lane!). Always go this way on the return trip.
Lesson #3 - don't ever "explore" by heading back to Portland by taking Stark from the Sandy...
...it was a long, hard, hot climb up out of the Sandy River Valley - with no shoulder, no lane (fog line at best), and gigantic vehicles blowing past well over the posted speed of 45 MPH. Frightening. Once you get out of the river valley, these themes (hills, adverse traffic, bike routes what?) continue.
End of story: We rode Division from 200th-and-change back to SE 50th. I'll let you imagine the conditions that make this clearly the best plan, and fill in the moments inbetween on your own.
We landed back home feeling fairly fried and tired - lots of climbing, on trikes, and it was near 100 degrees. I mapped out our approximate route, waiting for the 50-60 miles we must have covered...
...try 40, little camper.
Not the century-prep I was hoping for - but a fairly impressive feat, I do say - given hills, given heat, given under-ridden legs. Shower, nap, drink a cold beer, eat some good food.
And the evening and the morning was Saturday.
The next day we both headed out to Parkways - Ben volunteering for the city (riding the trike, bearing his ukelele and a good sun hat), me working with the Safe Routes program to help teach kids how to safely ride bikes. Another hot day, also featuring many a cold thing (when in doubt, always buy popsicles) and a bit more sunburn for Ms. Delicate Flower over here. But, vitamin-D overdose notwithstanding - a great bikey weekend, and very satisfying to have ridden out to a local landmark, particularly one I'd originally secretly earmarked as inaccessable.
Which left us with the question: can two undertrained trike-pilots do almost 6000' of climbing over 100 miles, with time limits and a required start of ungodly-early? I spent the next week worrying about it...
...but that's a separate story.
No comments:
Post a Comment