ROUTE: Astoria to St. Helens, OR
DISTANCE: 68.9 miles
WINDS: Light headwinds
DISTANCE: 68.9 miles
WINDS: Light headwinds
WEATHER: Clear, sunny, highs in the upper 80s
TERRAIN: Hilly in spots...two significant climbs and the obligatory downhills
TOTAL CLIMBING: 3170 feet
TERRAIN: Hilly in spots...two significant climbs and the obligatory downhills
TOTAL CLIMBING: 3170 feet
RIDE OVERVIEW: After breakfast, all the riders gathered on a point of land in front of the hotel on the river for their group photograph, the soaring Astoria Bridge as a backdrop. Mike grouped everyone artistically according to height, and then took numerous photos, both from the ground and from a second story room. After he was finished, riders took to the road for their first day of riding . . . still wearing their forced photo smiles.
The directionally challenged had an easy first day on the road today. Turn left out of the hotel parking lot and ride Hwy 30 all the way to St. Helens. (St. Helens is not the site of Mount St. Helens, which is northwest of St. Helens on the border with Washington.) Originally settled by New England loggers, the old town portion of St. Helens on the riverfront dates back nearly a century. Like the mountain, the town of St. Helens was named by Commander George Vancouver for British diplomat Alleyne Fitzherbert, whose title was Baron St. Helens.
SH-30 is a fairly busy road, its traffic at times including pungent smelling logging trucks and also gravel trucks, but the drivers of these rigs were very polite and generally gave us wide berth . . . even an occasional encouraging toot of the horn.
The weather was gorgeous: sunny, clear, temps in the mid 80s. SH-30 runs along the broad Columbia River, and in places we could look down on the beautiful river and to the green hills rising beyond it . . . and sometimes we could inhale the acrid odor of the paper mills and the piney odor of the lumber mills along it. The roadside was lined with ferns, horsetail, foxglove, daisies, vetch, and many other flowers and flowering shrubs whose names I don’t know. The fir trees were two-toned with new, pale green growth at the tips of the branches.
As we neared our destination Mount St. Helens popped into view, puffing smoke, her flat top capped with snow. It is hard to imagine the devastation that must have occurred here when she blew her top in 1980. Her eruption marked the re-awakening of a relatively young (40,000- year-old) volcano that had been dormant since 1857. The northwest Indians told early explorers about the fiery Mount St. Helens. In fact an Indian name for the mountain, Lou-wa-la-clough, means “smoking mountain.”
An otherwise perfect day was tainted with a couple first day mishaps. Kent H. and Paul T. both took tumbles today. Kent suffered a broken collarbone so he'll have to abandon the ride which was a blow for him and also for his riding pal, Joe. The two of them had planned and trained and dreamt of this ride for more than a year. Joe will finish the ride for his buddy, and Kent vows to return and try it again next year. Paul suffered some bruising and scrapes, but he is hoping to continue the ride after a coupe of days to recuperate. He'll ride with the vans for a day or two and see how things shake out and how he feels. We say good bye to Kent, wish him a speedy recovery, and hope to see him on the ride again.
I think everyone was in before 2:00 so had time to relax and get to know one another before going to dinner at the Village Restaurant next door to the motel. Mike reported the usual small problems at the mechanics' van: squeaky drive trains, loose screws, and minor adjustments to derailleurs, but—and this may be a record—only one flat today. Murray B. picked up a glass shard. Claimed he was a hero. If he hadn't picked it up someone else would have, so he actually saved the others from having a flat. With the exception of the accidents, all in all it was a pretty easy day . . . a good warm up for what's to come in a day or two when we hit the high desert and some long days.
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| Group photo with Astoria-Megler Bridge in background |
The directionally challenged had an easy first day on the road today. Turn left out of the hotel parking lot and ride Hwy 30 all the way to St. Helens. (St. Helens is not the site of Mount St. Helens, which is northwest of St. Helens on the border with Washington.) Originally settled by New England loggers, the old town portion of St. Helens on the riverfront dates back nearly a century. Like the mountain, the town of St. Helens was named by Commander George Vancouver for British diplomat Alleyne Fitzherbert, whose title was Baron St. Helens.
SH-30 is a fairly busy road, its traffic at times including pungent smelling logging trucks and also gravel trucks, but the drivers of these rigs were very polite and generally gave us wide berth . . . even an occasional encouraging toot of the horn.The weather was gorgeous: sunny, clear, temps in the mid 80s. SH-30 runs along the broad Columbia River, and in places we could look down on the beautiful river and to the green hills rising beyond it . . . and sometimes we could inhale the acrid odor of the paper mills and the piney odor of the lumber mills along it. The roadside was lined with ferns, horsetail, foxglove, daisies, vetch, and many other flowers and flowering shrubs whose names I don’t know. The fir trees were two-toned with new, pale green growth at the tips of the branches.
As we neared our destination Mount St. Helens popped into view, puffing smoke, her flat top capped with snow. It is hard to imagine the devastation that must have occurred here when she blew her top in 1980. Her eruption marked the re-awakening of a relatively young (40,000- year-old) volcano that had been dormant since 1857. The northwest Indians told early explorers about the fiery Mount St. Helens. In fact an Indian name for the mountain, Lou-wa-la-clough, means “smoking mountain.”An otherwise perfect day was tainted with a couple first day mishaps. Kent H. and Paul T. both took tumbles today. Kent suffered a broken collarbone so he'll have to abandon the ride which was a blow for him and also for his riding pal, Joe. The two of them had planned and trained and dreamt of this ride for more than a year. Joe will finish the ride for his buddy, and Kent vows to return and try it again next year. Paul suffered some bruising and scrapes, but he is hoping to continue the ride after a coupe of days to recuperate. He'll ride with the vans for a day or two and see how things shake out and how he feels. We say good bye to Kent, wish him a speedy recovery, and hope to see him on the ride again.
I think everyone was in before 2:00 so had time to relax and get to know one another before going to dinner at the Village Restaurant next door to the motel. Mike reported the usual small problems at the mechanics' van: squeaky drive trains, loose screws, and minor adjustments to derailleurs, but—and this may be a record—only one flat today. Murray B. picked up a glass shard. Claimed he was a hero. If he hadn't picked it up someone else would have, so he actually saved the others from having a flat. With the exception of the accidents, all in all it was a pretty easy day . . . a good warm up for what's to come in a day or two when we hit the high desert and some long days.
HEARD ON THE ROAD TODAY:
- "I can’t find my husband. Everyone looks alike!" (Before the photo shoot when everyone was dressed in their ABB red-white-and blue riding jerseys.)
- "These hills weren't on the brochure." (Someone didn't read the small print.)
DUH! OF THE DAY: Chris P. trying to convince Mike that his 45-pound bag weighed only 33.5 pounds. And then claiming that it wasn't his bag. (Well, it really wasn't his bag.)
PHOTOS OF THE DAY:
PHOTOS OF THE DAY:
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| Mike took this photo of Mike Miller just to prove to Mike Miller's wife that he is actually working. |
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| In Oregon, you are not permitted to pump your own gas, or air, apparently. This "service station" attendant had a difficult time determining which of the colorful pumps to use. |
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| How's this for the "I'm okay" hand signal, Mike? Well, all right, we may need to work on it a bit, but give us credit, here, we're trying. |
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| Steve had a very easy first day drafting off the [driverless, parked] van. |
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| Paul and Kent, wearing twinkie slings, were not so injured that they could not hold heaping plates in the dinner line. |
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| Tim gives Paul a buzz cut in the motel laundry room. All the young guys, decided that their doo rags looked better over a shorn scalp. |
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