Riding High
Eight days. Two wheels. Four hundred miles. Four volcanoes.
by Diane Daniel, Boston Globe staff
Copyright 2001, Boston Globe. Reprinted with permission.
To read about our Volcanoes of Washington tour, click here
You know you're experiencing something special when even the seasoned tour guides can't stop raving. That's how it was when our group of eight cyclists and two leaders reached the base of Mount Rainier in Washington on a flawless August day. I'd been within viewing distance of the Pacific Northwest's tallest mountain before, but, like so many other visitors, I'd never seen the top because it's often obscured by clouds and fog. But on this day, and the next, it stood behind a backdrop of royal blue, not one cloud interfering.
My first glimpse of the snow-covered, 14,410-footer off in the distance was while rounding a corner on a mountain pass. I was riding that stretch alone and no cars were in sight. I had no warning that Rainier would come into view, and when I saw it I gasped, my eyes filled with tears, and I pulled over to swoon. From that moment on, the rest of the day's work was rewarded with more views, and, finally, my group and I reached the aptly named Paradise, at the mountain's base and the hub of Rainier activities. Over the course of that 70-mile day, we Bicycle Adventures riders climbed two mountain passes on our skinny-tire road bikes, gaining more than 10,000 feet in altitude.
Lest you think Bicycle Adventures is an Olympics training ground, this tour, called Volcanoes of Washington, is the most challenging of the two dozen the Olympia-based outfitter offers. Most trips are aimed at the casual cyclist. But I'm a strong cyclist, and my plan was to have a summerlong training goal, ride hard, and see amazing sights. And I did.
The most unexpected part of this eight-day trip was the geographical diversity, despite being in one area of the state. The trip includes a couple days in the Mount Hood region of Oregon, but Washington is the centerpiece. I bookended my country adventures with urban explorations, first in Seattle, then in Portland, which made for a very well-rounded vacation. For the most part, our cycling was spent in cell-phone free zones, a most refreshing change of pace.
The group met on a Saturday morning at the Seattle airport. I was surprised to be one of the youngest people on the trip (at 42), and even more surprised to be one of the slowest riders. This tour, rated intermediate/advanced, certainly attracted qualified cyclists. The best part about supported cycling tours, however, is that everyone is accommodated. You ride at your own pace, with others or alone, throughout the day, and if you want to hop in the always-nearby shuttle van, you do, no questions asked.
Saturday started with a two-hour van ride over the mountains to our ride start in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains in Central Washington, on the "dry side." Most of us were using Bicycle Adventures rental bikes, all Cannondale touring bikes, featuring a "granny gear," the small chain ring that makes hill-climbing easier. We spent some time getting used to our bikes, then took a 13-mile ride before a nearly gourmet picnic lunch, which would become a highlight of our daily routine.
After lunch, we rode into the tiny town of Cicely. You know, the one in Alaska. OK, it's really Roslyn, Wash., but it's where the TV series "Northern Exposure" was filmed. Along the short main street is the bar the Brick Tavern, and on the side of the Roslyn Cafe is the mural shown during the show's opening credits. Roslyn and Cle Elum (pronounced CLEE-elum), our day's destination, began as coal mining towns in 1886.
Cle Elum is one of the towns along Iron Horse State Park, which contains the 113-mile John Wayne Pioneer Trail, a recreational path for bikers, hikers, skiers, and equestrians that starts near North Bend, crosses the Cascades, and continues to the Columbia River on former track that belonged to the Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Paul and Pacific Railroad. South Cle Elum is home to a train depot and substation that a community group is restoring, and we bunked in the depot's 1909 bunkhouse, where rail workers used to stay. It's now a historic B & B called the Iron Horse Inn. Owners Mary and Doug Pittis renovated the inn, on the National Register of Historic Places, and display fascinating old photos, artifacts, and railroad memorabilia in the rooms and halls.
Sunday's ride and scenery were wonderful, as we pedaled into the arid countryside and then up and down along the winding Yakima River Canyon for 25 miles. On this hot, dry day, the river was full of locals floating in tubes, skiing, or (catch-and-release) fishing for boast-worthy rainbow trout. Our lunch stop was Olmstead Place State Park in Ellensburg, built around an 1875 cabin constructed with cottonwood logs from the Yakima canyon, still furnished and well preserved. My day's mileage hit 70, though most others cycled the optional 10 extra. With our guides' assistance, one hardy soul turned the day into a "century," riding 100 miles. This would be Mary, the talk of our group. At 53, she exercised almost nonstop, and ate more sweets than other food groups. We labeled her a physiological phenomenon.
That evening we stayed at the Birchfield Manor Country Inn, just outside Yakima. Dinner at the inn was gourmet French, highlighted with an extensive collection of wines, many from Washington (and a walk-through of the cellar). Like most cycling tours, ours covered all food and lodging, but not alcohol. Still, here, in wine country, our guides, Jill Hewins and Jim Hoey, treated us to local wine tastings on several evenings.
The following day's route took us along another beautiful canyon road, this one through irrigated apple and pear orchards planted in the bone-dry land. This was a climbing day, punctuated with beautiful valley vistas and cliffs of lava rock. We rode from Naches (pronounced Na-CHEEZ), climbing along the Naches River for 20 miles into Wenatchee State Forest. We'd left the desert behind for the dense woods. Our destination after 48 miles of cycling was Whistlin' Jack Lodge, a delightfully laid-back inn at the start of Chinook Pass, the highest of the Cascade mountain passes, rising more than a mile about sea level (5,440 feet). It's closed in winter and sometimes dusted with snow as late as June. Just west of the pass, the highway enters Mount Rainier National Park, the ride I was both looking forward to and dreading. Whistlin' Jack, with its motel and cottage overlooking the Naches River, a patio along the water, and surprisingly good restaurant, helped prepare my mind and body for the next day's work.
I'd done a good portion of my cycling alone, following the route maps we were briefed on every morning, but I wanted help on this long, arduous day, so I tagged along with Hope and Mike, a couple from Florida who reveled in their love of cycling. Mike, 53, led the way, and Hope and I stayed close behind, allowing his draft to lighten our load a little. We shared stories (when we weren't huffing and puffing) and oohed and aahed at the magnificent mountain scenery, which changed with every hairpin turn on our 5-mile killer climb.
Thanks to Jill and Jim, we were prepared for the transformation from summer to winter at the top of Chinook Pass, where they served hot drinks, and many of us sat in the van to get away from the chilling winds. The reward: 12 miles of downhill. Then it was an exhausting ride back up, up, up, but the views of Rainier and surrounding mountains and evergreen forests kept everyone going, along with the occasional points of interest, including an old- growth forest and a narrow canyon that sliced 180 feet down to the water surface.
Reaching our destination, the Paradise Inn, which has been run by the park service since 1917, was a feat of endurance. The rooms are small, and everyone from mountaineers to families with kids share the lively space. It was my kind of place. The dining room, too, was large and noisy in a cheery sort of way, with views that were 10 times better than the service.
Paradise is a base for miles and miles of nearby and backcountry trails. The most popular for all ages is the Skyline Trail, a 5-mile walk, part of it even paved, above the timberline to Glacier Vista and Panorama Point, where we picnicked the following day, our one layover day. Again, the weather was perfect, with the sky so clear that we could see the tops of Mount St. Helens, Mount Adams, and even Mount Hood in one sweep - most of our 400 miles of cycling laid out before us. Though the trails nearest the inn and nearby park visitor center are the most crowded, it doesn't take long to keep going up and away from the throngs. The views are stunning from all sides, and include meadows of Matisse-colored wildflowers and a close-up look at Rainier and its many glaciers. With binoculars we watched climbers coming down the mountain (they ascend around midnight). That night, a full moon rose opposite Rainier, making Paradise even more magical.
Thursday started with 11 frigid miles of downhill, and back into summer temperatures. We rode through small towns on little-used roads, with more downhill than up. The focus of this day was sightseeing, as we were taken to the top of Mount St. Helens, to the "blast zone," where the volcanic eruption in 1980 had proved most devastating. The sights were awesome and humbling. A crater digs into the mountain where a peak used to stand. Nearby Spirit Lake is slowly coming back to life, though half of it is still filled with a bog of logs and debris. A swath of trees remains down and only a little green has resurfaced. That evening we stayed at Skamania Lodge in Stevenson, a modern resort that features mountain views, fine dining, gym, pool, and sauna.
Friday, our final full day of riding, took us along the windy Columbia Gorge, home to some of the best salmon fishing and fastest windsurfing in the nation, with much of the surfing action based across the river on the Oregon side in the touristy town of Hood River. The day's mileage totaled 73, an exhausting amount given the hills and mountains and the week's work so far. Most of us stopped just before the ascent to Mount Hood, when the weather took a surprise turn from cool to wintry and rainy. We blessed Jill, who made an unscheduled van stop to pick us up. Mike and Mary, however, were not to be slowed, and finished the ride at the Timberline Lodge for our final night.
Unlike our experience with Rainier, we got only a few glimpses of Mount Hood. Luckily there was plenty to look at inside, as the Timberline is a showcase of Northwest arts and crafts. Built in 1937 on the mountain slopes, the lodge features hand-woven draperies, bedspreads, and rugs in all rooms. The public areas are gorgeous and plentiful, with such touches as banisters adorned with hand-carved animals. People ski year-round there, and in fact there was a steady stream of skiers and snowboarders headed to the slopes when we left the following morning. The Timberline's Cascade Dining Room is top notch and was a great place to share our goodbye supper.
Rain fell on and off during our departure day, which concluded for most riders with a picnic lunch. But given the option of doing more riding, I was compelled to go another 15 miles to reach 400 on my cyclometer. I couldn't have done it without the help of Mary, our fitness fanatic, who rode in front of me, facing the wind while I pedaled in the relative ease of her draft. At my 400.5-mile mark we stopped and waited for the shuttle van. Mission, and bike tour, complete.