Seattle to Portland Ride Report!

It's been two weeks since I completed my epic journey from Seattle to Portland. The STP Bicycle Classic was a tiring, logistic whirlwind, but now that I've put some space between myself and the event, I can honestly say that it was a truly great experience. Thank you to those who were able to donate to my fundraising for this ride- you truly helped define the 5 1/2 month journey that got me to this point.

My adventure began Thursday afternoon. I flew out to Seattle early, so I could visit Dave, Christine, Ryan and Jeff (who was up from Portland with his girlfriend Andrea). They were all preparing to embark on a weekend camping trip, and we gathered at Dave and Christine's house in the charming Queen Anne neighborhood. We had dinner at home that evening and brunch in Ballard the next morning. It was such a treat to see them all, especially in their neck of the woods.

Friday morning they dropped me off at the Marriott Renaissance where Team In Training was staying. It was early, so I had time to lay around my room until everyone else on the team flight arrived. Once my teammates showed up around noon, several of us took a quick stroll to Pike Place, and stopped at the grocery store to pick up some snacks and things for breakfast the next morning. I was excited to get a breakfast burrito, as I'd spotted a microwave in our hotel room. It would be so much faster to eat in my room the next morning.

The rest of the day was nonstop: we picked up our bikes, had dinner, had our team meeting. We had a 5:30am roll time, so that meant an ungodly 4:30am wakeup call! Corinne was my roommate, and we got ready for bed and it was lights out at 8:30pm. Of course it was impossible to fall asleep this early. If you know me well, you know I am a night owl, and the only time I'm in bed before 10pm is if I've got the flu and I've knocked myself out with NyQuil. It's especially hard when you know the sun is out until almost 10pm in the Pacific Northwest. It probably took me an hour to fall asleep, and it was a restless sleep at that.

Night Spirit

 At 3am I woke up to use the bathroom. I quickly drifted back to sleep, but was soon awoken by the sensation of someone tightly tucking the sheets in all around my bed. I wasn't able to move, and then I felt someone stroking my hair. I thought to myself, is that Corinne? But then I thought, uh, no, that would be really weird. I peered above me and saw a gray image of what was a really old Native American woman. I wasn't scared, because she seemed benevolent. This went on for a couple minutes and then I kicked my feet and snapped out of it, and I was back in my ordinary hotel room. Classic "Old Hag Syndrome" which I've experienced before, but I don't know? Maybe the Renaissance Marriott is built on top of sacred land? It is the Pacific Northwest, and Native American memories are everywhere.

I'm With Stupid

I did several Stupid Things on my first day of riding. The first was to open up the closet (yes, the closet) to use the microwave I'd seen yesterday (why is it in the closet?), only to discover that is was actually the room safe. There was no microwave, and I had a frozen breakfast burrito in my hand. And it was 5am. Crap. So I had to rush and buy breakfast in the lobby. And, yes, I tried to bite into cold. That's how desperate I was.

Seriously, you could make the same mistake

The weather at 5:30 Saturday morning was typical Seattle, minus the rain. It was cold and overcast. All of us were expecting warmer weather and were underdressed. I cursed my lack of knee warmers. Less than a mile into the ride, I almost fell off my bike coming to a stop at the top of a hill. Instead of asphalt, the pavement was made up of tiny pebbles and it was really slippery! I haven't fallen since I was a newbie, and was hoping this was not going to set the tenor of my day.

Lake Washington at sunrise

The views riding out of Seattle were gorgeous- lush and green with a stunning sunrise over Lake Washington. The rest of the morning went smoothly, but once we got to the lunch stop, I did Stupid Thing #2- I forgot to lock the door on the porta potty. I've never done that before, and a woman opened the door right while I was standing up to pull my shorts back on! I don't know which one of us screamed more loudly! I had to wait in the porta potty for a few minutes to make sure no one still in line would recognize me as "that person" who forgot to lock the door.

We were riding 110 miles on day 1- as we had to make it to Bethel Church in Chehalis, WA, slightly beyond the halfway point. Before that point, though, we passed through Centralia College at mile 100, and were warned that this could be a demoralizing experience.  It was like riding through the Garden of Earthly Delights. There was music and food. There were girls handing out chocolate milk. There was a disembodied voice on a loudspeaker announcing ice cold beer. Cyclists streamed around us, tottering on their slippery cleats, legs wobbly from long miles and the subtle effects of beers in hand. 

But this was not for us. It was onward to Chehalis, and ten miles somehow felt like two hours riding time. Eventually we made it, and it was much better than Centralia. There was a big open field with hay bales where we pitched our tents. There were showers, massage therapists, and the Tour de France was looping on TV's in the main lobby. I decided to wash my cycling vest in the bathroom sink, which sparked my final Stupid Thing of the day, completing my holy trinity of stupid acts. As I rinsed the hand soap out of my vest, I was startled by a man who walked into the bathroom and stopped and stared at me. "I'm in the wrong bathroom, aren't I?" I said. "Uh... yeah. Didn't you notice the urinals?" he replied. I wordlessly wadded up my vest and walked out.

But I shook it off quickly and went to dinner. I was grateful to be in a quiet setting, with a 30 minute massage booked, and a second  helping of veggie lasagna on my plate. We crawled into our tents at sundown in anticipation of a slightly more civilized 6:30am roll time.

Home sweet tent in Chehalis, WA

Day 2

My alarm was set for 5:15, but I woke up at 4:45 due to people rustling outside, wanting to get an early start. I slept surprisingly well- the tent was toasty, the grass underneath was soft and flat, and there were no visions of Native American spirits. I quickly broke down my tent, got my stuff packed and on the gear truck, and ate some breakfast. A couple people had injuries and someone had a flat, so that delayed everyone and I don't think we got started until almost 7am.  No complaints here.

Day two's journey took us through many rural southern Washington towns on our way to Oregon. It was certainly not my beloved Bay Area. I saw many pro-gun and anti-Obama/Socialism signs and bumper stickers, but this was tempered by the warm welcomes we received in many small towns. A lot of people sat in their front yards and cheered us on while we rolled through.

One of the highlights of day 2 was crossing the Columbia River over the Lewis and Clark Bridge, marking our entry into Oregon. Longview is on the Washington side of the bridge, and I decided it was the quintessential logging town, even though I'd never visited one before. There is something spartan and slightly forgotten about Longview, as though most of it were still trapped in the 1960s. 

Longview, WA with Mount St. Helens in the background

Crossing over the Lewis and Clark Bridge was quite the event. The cyclists were to have a motorcycle escort across the bridge, so the ride organizers alternately closed traffic to cars, and then bicycles, as we each took our turns over the span. My teammates and I joined a holding tank of cyclists on the Washington side of the bridge for 20 minutes while the cars crossed over. Once they gave us the orange flags, signaling our turn to cross, we were a couple hundred cyclists strong, and mood was festive with everyone whooping it up. The excitement quickly turned to quiet concentration as everyone rode onto the bridge and made sure to not crash into other riders. The cyclists formed three lanes of traffic, with slower riders on the right. About halfway across was the Washington-Oregon border, and as everyone passed through, loud cheers erupted along with a fury of bike bell ringing! I wish I could have maneuvered a video camera at this point, it was really a high point.

Our crossing was much more crowded than this

Once over the river we were in Rainier, Oregon, and in the home stretch to Portland! The rest of the day we plugged along. Predictably, I started to wear down about 12 miles from the finish, so I decided to take a Gu, which was an excellent decision as it got me through the final stretch, and those final miles really required awareness. On the outskirts of the city we flew along a slightly downhill grade until we got into the residential part of Portland. Here, I was made jealously aware of what a great place this is for cycling. The whole street was a bike lane, and it was pleasantly flat. This was about 3 miles out from the finish, and what a contrast this would prove to be once we got to the very end of the ride! 

Due to construction, we had to be routed over the Steel Bridge, which is a pedestrian bridge that is also used by cyclists. Riding over this bridge was unnerving: We had to dodge joggers, people with strollers, and the local bike commuters- in both directions. Not to mention we had to contend with about a thousand of our STP compatriots, who were by now punchy after a long day in anticipation of the finish. It only got worse once we were off the bridge.

We entered downtown Portland at the heart of rush hour, and had to contend with traffic that, as a lone cyclist on a regular day would have been nothing, but today the streets were clogged with 200 cyclists at each intersection. I kept getting crowded out by this racy roadie in a Starbuck's jersey, and I was really annoyed that he ignored the obvious fact that I was riding with a team, as he continually cut me off and caused me to get dropped off the back. I eventually carefully edged passed him- I was not going to ride all this way only to crash in the last 1/8 mile! 

Once the got to the final blocks, the atmosphere was electric. I hadn't been this excited to finish a ride since my first season with Team In Training! Crowds of well-wishers lined the streets, and once we got to Holladay Park, we rode into a tunnel to the finish line, with people on the edges reaching out to high-five us! It was an awesome feeling, and we quickly found our teammates and it was hugs all around and then off to the New Belgium beer garden for that long-awaited pint.

Fat Tire time!

In Search of the Perfect Pinot

We had little time after the ride finish to head to our hotel, check in, shower, and go to our victory dinner at Kell's Irish Pub. In fact, we had to ride two miles and back over the Steel Bridge! There were still a lot of people finishing STP, so it was like salmon swimming upstream. We had to endure not only the usual pedestrians, but also the bemused gibes of other cyclists encountering us riding in the "wrong" direction. We were next on the waterfront bike path with even more oblivious walkers. Once again, I felt the irony of possibly crashing, after the ride and on the way to the hotel!

Everyone made it safe and sound and we quickly cleaned up and had to walk a mile to Kell's on stiff legs. Remember, I said this was a logistic whirlwind of a weekend. The food was good and I completely overate, but that happens when you've road 200 miles and are in caloric deficit. A few of us hung out at the bar for a while after dinner, and I had a couple glasses of wine, searching for the perfect pinot. This was Oregon, and I was expecting a jammy glass of Willamette Valley's finest- but to no avail. Kell's served up predictably mediocre bar wine, and I was left unsatisfied. I rode all this way, and all I wanted was a decent, no, an exceptional glass of wine!

At Kell's-mediocre wine in hand

Purple Hands and purple teeth

I ended up hanging out with Jill for a while after others at our table left, and eventually we wandered back to the hotel, on the lookout for possible wine bars. Luck would have it- there was a great place one block from our hotel- Veritable Quandary. And here, finally, I found my perfect glass of Purple Hands Pinot Noir.

An Afternoon in Portland

My wine quest left me with a nasty headache Monday morning. I had to get up early to meet with Natalie Ramsland of Sweetpea Bicycles. Natalie is the framebuilder who will be making my new road bike. I'd been looking forward to this meeting for month, so I pounded water and groggily caught a cab. I was sad to leave before everyone else, and I missed any possible brunches or other outings that everyone was doing as a group. But I consoled myself with the fact that my teammates, who've been a my part of my life since the beginning of the year, would be out there on the road and I'd see many of them very soon.

Salmon hash, croissant, and caramel latte

The meeting with Natalie was great- I decided on my paint color and other details, and now the ball is rolling on my custom fit Sweetpea. I had a lot of time to kill until my evening flight back to SF, and luckily I was near the Alberta neighborhood, where there were a lot of distractions. I finally had breakfast (I felt like I was going to faint), and found several girly boutiques and scored some new dresses.

I was also able to meet up with Allan for lunch (though I was too stuffed from breakfast to eat) before I made my way back to downtown via bus. Portland public transport is much more pleasant than San Francisco's Muni, by the way. 

I spent my last idle hour sitting at the waterfront park, watching the bike commuters and people enjoying the afternoon. I walked a few blocks to the light rail and was on my way to the airport and home sweet home.

Waterfront Park

For more photos from Seattle to Portland, visit my Flickr page.