On the Oregon Trail

So for I’ve ridden 497 miles from when the odometer was set at zero at the Pacific.  Yesterday (Friday) was a 54 mile ride into Halfway from Baker City.

Getting a late start seems to happen while you’re at a hotel.  I went down for breakfast and made a waffle.  A news channel was on and of course they were talking about the election and the anchor was speaking with some political “experts.” The anchor mentioned something questionable that candidate A had done and asked one of the guests for his thoughts.  Very predictably, he replied, “Well, I think we should look at what candidate B has done on this other issue…blah, blah, blah” and of course never addressing the question.  I hate politics these days and it’s nice to be away from the TV.

Baker City was a nice town and a metropolis compared to other places I’ve stayed.  Once I got out of town it was a short climb to a nice overlook of the area and the city off in the distance.  By now I’ve left the huge pine trees behind and it was wide open spaces. I was entering the high desert country where there were no trees of any kind and just small shrubs.

A little further up the road I came to a historical marker. It was for the Oregon Trail ruts. This was an area where the large wheeled wagons would travel in the mid 1800s.  The trail began along the Missouri River in the early 1800s and eventually was extended into Oregon, where it became known as the Oregon Trail. At 2170 miles long they say that only 300 miles of the ruts still exist.

Nearby, gold was discovered in 1861 and people who got word in other places came back to this particular area.

You go through a gate on the side of the road and walk a bit further and all the sudden you’re standing on the trail. It was very cool being there and thinking that countless people and families were actually crossing that very spot in covered wagons over 150 years ago.

After lingering around for a while, I rode on to where there was an Oregon Trail historical center. Here there are covered wagons along with people who talk about what life was like back then. I wanted to stop and slightly regret that I didn’t, but with the late start and a big climb to make I kept on going.

Not much later I arrived at the best downhill of the trip so far in that it wasn’t winding but just straight down.  This led to a more curving path and more downhill.  Along the way a guy passed me on a racing bike and said hello.  Another guy on a racing bike came up beside me not long after and rode along with me. His name was Al and he and two of his friends are going to Virginia as well, but they have someone in a car carrying all their bags so they’ll finish faster than me. We said we’d get together in Halfway but I haven’t seen them here.

I stopped in the town of Richland, population 158, to get water for the 1400 foot climb up a pass.  Here the Hitching Post store advertised “groceries, ice, guns, bait, tackle.” There was also a sign on the door advertising the city council meeting to be held that evening. On the agenda was overgrown weeds at 224 First Street.

After leaving Richland, the climb began.  It was steep.  Frustratingly steep.  And it was hot, even though it was getting a bit later in the afternoon. With breaks it took me an hour and thirty two minutes to complete the almost six miles.

After the summit, the ride into Halfway was a breeze. It’s a nice little place.  Apparently it gets its name from having something to do with the post office being halfway between two other towns.

I just had breakfast at Wild Bill’s, the only restaurant in the city.  Today will be another steep climb, about 800 feet more than yesterday’s, so 2200 feet total. Today is also the day when I finally cross over into Idaho.