DU VIN ET DE LA CHALEUR.

My sleep was successful. As I crawled out of my tent, I smelled some sensational coffee. Reilly was brewing up a batch for us. The coffee was killer, and Hannah's cheffing was something to celebrate. After our breakfast, the three of us found a trail close to camp. It took us to a little beach along The Deschutes River. We relaxed waterside and soaked up the situation. Most definitely, a magical moment. We returned to camp, and I packed up my things. After loading my gear into their car, we headed to a nearby winery. 

We indulged ourselves at The Maryhill Winery & Bistro. The charcuterie spread was to die for. Our wine-tasting flight was so good we had to order a bottle. We opted for their bottle of Grenache. After successfully spoiling ourselves, we jumped into the car and headed to our next destination. We barreled down Highway 97, and I saw the fast-forwarded version of my day's ride. We turned onto Highway 206 and arrived at Cottonwood Cayon State Park. I had planned to camp here tonight, but it was all booked up. I felt like a proper cowboy in this Cayon. After filling up my water bottles, we left this desert paradise. 

My request was to be dropped off a little further up the route, preferably when the mountain starts to decline. You know, start my ride on a positive note. We continued to climb until I saw a finite flat. At my request, we pulled over, and I prepared my bike for the journey ahead. When everything was strapped uptight, we said our farewells. Those lovely people saved me roughly twenty-eight miles of riding. The flat was a misconception because I had to climb for the next seven miles. It was miserable and dishearting. Shade was sadly nonexistent during this uphill battle.

At this point, I was cursing everything about this trip. Suddenly I saw a simple sign, with the smallest section of shade. It was a map of the region because cellphone reception is nonexistent in these parts. I sat safely under the soothing sanctuary and regained my stamina. After several minutes, I returned to the route. There were rolling fields of golden wheat, mountains as far as the eye could see, and the most windmills imaginable. It was surely stellar sight. No photo or description could ever do it justice. After peddling along for some time, I scooped the town of Condon. As always, I sprinted to the finish line. The Hotel Condon was my destination, and it was luxurious. To my surprise, this historic hotel was a dream come true. It was elegant in every sense of the word. The truth, I was not expecting something like this in the middle of Oregon. This journey has proved me wrong many times. 

Regardless, I secured my sleeping situation and took a quick bath. Right across the street was a little Ma and Pa joint. I ordered two shots of whiskey and a Coors to start. For food, I destroyed a roast beef and mashed potato sandwich. This small-town cooking sure was something. The mashed potatoes and gravy were delectable, and I just had to order more. After settling up, I retired to my quaint and quiet quarters. It had been a while since I slept in a bed. Falling asleep was too easy. Oh yeah, here is the route.