MERDE, MERDE, MERDE.

Last night's sleep was refreshing and revitalizing. A subtle breeze blew through the trees. Accompany that with some light rainfall, and I passed out promptly. I wish the morning was this pleasant. I awoke to a flat back tire. This was quite an unexpected discovery. A slight setback, so I thought. My shitty amazon hand pump was useless. The pump at the onsite bike repair terminal was terrible. I searched the tube for punctures but was unable to locate any. Now I was properly stumped. I texted my new friends Matt and Julie. My request was to take me to the nearest bike shop. These pleasant people went out of their way and brought me a tube.

After reassembling my bike, I thanked my saviors and hit the road. My conclusion was bent pressure value, but I am no expert. My plan was to be on the road by eight in the morning. After all the bullshit, my departure was closer to twelve. Regardless, I did not let this damper my day. Just because a day starts badly does not mean that it needs to end badly. I found a closed-off bike trail that ran along the highway. It was smooth sailing for a few miles then I started to run into some major trail blockages. Workers were repairing sections of the trail and taking up too much space. This annoyance made me move to Highway 84. I was only on this racing route for a few miles. Oregon was starting to piss me off, so I jumped across back to Washington.

To cross the Columbia River, I had to trek across the Bridge of Gods. It was a stellar steel bridge built almost a hundred years ago. There has been many histories found during my travels. Now I was in Washington, wheeling along Highway 14. In my opinion, this route was less reckless. The shoulder was surely smaller, but the traffic was lighter. There were many moments when I had the route all to myself. Semis shied away from this slower two-lane highway. Highway 14 was quite diverse from a scenic standpoint. Fresh futile farmlands were the sights for the first portion. Then I was adjacent to the colossal Columbia river. I trekked through some tunnels, which were tremendous. Finally, I arrived at my crossing point, White Salmon.

To my surprise, the bridge was restricted to cars only. I had to get across otherwise, I would have to backtrack and add some fifteen miles to my route. The local gas station provided me with a marker and an old piece of cardboard. "Will pay for passage across bridge PLEASE," I scribbled. After sitting outside of the gas station and a few rejections, I headed to the onramp of the bridge. Before I could even present my sign, a lovely mother and daughter came to my aid. They pulled over and helped load my bike onto their rack. My attempt at paying them was rejected, for they already had a toll pass that granted free passage on this bridge. Another random stranger seriously saved me. During our drive, the two informed me of a wonderfully scenic route that would get me close to my final destination.

The two dropped me in front of a coffee shop on Hood River's main strip. Needing some energy, I stopped for a quick cafe. It was decent, the flavor was lacking, but the pull was reasonable. My next spot was the bike shop a few stores down. Here I purchased a pump that pressurized properly, a bolt for my back rack, and a spare tube. Pleased with my purchases, I ventured to the hailed Hatfield trail. This perfect path was reserved exclusively for pedestrians and bikers. It is always marvelous to get away from cars. Finally, I arrived in the small town of Mosier, population 400 something. The town market was sufficient for dinner supplies. Now I was close to my destination, just the final stretch. Highway 30 took me through some wonderful vineyards. Suddenly, I found myself at Memaloose outlook.

This was not the campgrounds. There was a trail that led down to the grounds, but it was not for bikes. If I continued on Highway 30, it would have added many miles to my day. Fuck it! I descended this rocky rigged route and arrived on the wrong side of Highway 84. The camp was just on the other side. Channeling my inner frogger, I waited for the perfect opportunity and dipped across. What a fucking day. For dinner, I smashed some carrots, an avocado, fresh blueberries, a cashew spread, and an IPA. It did not take long for me to retire to my tent. Here is the route for today.