Oregon’s Big Country 2022: Part 2 - Together then Apart
Written by Sarah
About a month after Irena and I finished the Great Divide route last summer, a minor pain I’d had in my right elbow for several years suddenly became acute. Before I knew it, I was being advised by doctors to take time off the bike. I was still able to run though so that kept me happy (and sane) through the winter. That is, until I rolled my ankle running on packed snow in February. So when Irena mentioned doing the Oregon Big Country route over Memorial Day weekend, I really wanted to join but had to assess whether I’d have the fitness to keep up. I’d just been given permission to ride again several weeks prior and my running miles were inconsistent at best, while my ankle stubbornly took its sweet time healing. But what the hell, I figured. Life is short. I told her I was in for the adventure (yay!) but would need to take it day by day and if I felt my lack of fitness would potentially compromise our safety in any way, I’d bail and turn the loop into an out-and-back.
You might wonder why my lack of fitness would compromise our safety. The Oregon Big Country route is extremely remote with very few bailout points and almost no services. We’d be carrying all of our food with us for the estimated 6 days that we were hoping it would take - the most food we’ve ever carried on our bikes. I even strapped a whole extra bag to the top of my rack just to hold the 8 freeze-dried meals I’d packed. We’d read that the route is challenging due to the “energy sapping terrain”, was technical in spots, had several areas of difficult wayfinding, and is notorious for wheel-stopping mud in the event of rain (or in our case, if you don’t wait 4-5 days after it rains heavily). I felt confident in my ability to push through mentally but I knew that I would be slow because I hadn’t been able to train well for months. So my plan was to play each day by ear. Another constraint was that I only had a total of 6 days off before I needed to be back to work. This would mean we’d need to average 60-mile days. We didn’t think that would be too much of a problem. We forgot the cardinal rule of bikepacking (how is it so easy to always forget?) that you should never get too attached to any one plan or outcome because the land, weather, and biking gods may have other ideas.
Irena’s post about this trip covers details of the route for the first 2.5 days so I won’t include too much of that here except to say how much I loved the bird activity that was pervasive throughout the whole area. It is so remote and uninhabited that the ambient human noise we’ve all grown accustomed to in our daily lives was absent. I’m not sure if that is the reason that the bird songs seemed so bright and orchestral everywhere we went or if it was simply because there were higher numbers of birds since we were in and around the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge. Either way, bird songs filled our days from dawn to dusk. For a bird nerd like me, this was heaven.
The first 2.5 days were filled with awe-inspiring landscapes, mountain views, hot springs soaks, and many very frustrating slow miles where we pushed our bikes through mud, snow, scrub, sand dunes, and seasonal wetland marshes. See Irena’s post for the gory details. It was hard. Really hard. But still fun. The kind of fun that most people think we’re crazy to love. But we do. It’s part of our fabric and I’m just happy to have a dear friend who is just as nuts about this stuff as I am. We still somehow manage to laugh even when we’re suffering.
Because the first two days took so much longer than we anticipated, we were behind schedule. Midway through the third day, we got to Willow Creek Hot Springs which is one of two bailout options to get back to the starting point on consistently rideable terrain. I had to take stock of how I was feeling physically. The next bailout option was Denio, which I’d have to reach within two days to have enough time to take the rideable route back to my car for work on Monday. Denio was 70 miles and one mountain pass away. I contemplated it for about an hour while we filtered water, ate lunch, and had a soak. We didn’t know if the next pass would have the same conditions as the first. It might be clear of mud and snow and be totally rideable or it could be even worse than what we had already faced. I knew my body and mind were not up to it when I started to tear up while talking to Irena about what I should do. I was emotional and tired. I felt physically beat down. I wasn’t excited for the challenge of it. That was my answer. We hugged goodbye and went our separate ways.
The ride to Fields felt a little lonely and sad for a while but it was nice to be able to just spend a few hours consistently pedaling on buttery gravel with almost no cars. The gorgeous velvety brown and green undulating Pueblo Mountains came into view as did Steens Mountain again eventually. The winds were persistent, hot, and dry but I had enough water and just relaxed into a steady but casual pace. I glanced periodically in the direction I knew Irena was heading and hoped she’d have manageable conditions.
I rolled into Fields with 10 minutes to spare before the Fields Station general store closed so I was able to nab a beer and a ginger ale which made me so very happy after such a long and hot day. The winds started picking up into gusts and the skies darkened so I hustled to set up my tent and had just gotten all my gear and myself under its shelter when the first rain drops started to fall. I fell asleep listening to the birds.
I allowed myself to sleep in until 6:30 (ha) and was in touch with Irena’s husband to find out where her SPOT had pinged. I didn’t want to ride out of Fields until I knew for sure that Irena didn’t have to turn back on the pass because of deep snow or other bad conditions which would mean she’d be headed my way and so I’d wait for her. I packed up camp and made coffee for myself while I waited for the kitchen at the general store to open. I ordered sausage, eggs, and two pancakes which elicited roaring laughter from the gal taking my order as well as the cook who had overheard. Turns out the pancakes are about an inch thick and the size of a dinner plate! I reduced my order from two to one. I got word that Irena didn’t have to turn back so I scarfed down my breakfast, packed up most of the pancake for the road, and rolled out.
It was about 8:45am and already getting hot. On the 7 mile/1400 foot climb out of Fields, the wind was again unhelpful but there were very few cars and the views got better and better as I climbed. I contemplated why I find bikepacking so much more fun with someone else. I do almost all of my training alone, which I enjoy and prefer. But I definitely don’t have as much fun on bikepacking trips when I’m alone as I do with Irena (and she’s the only one I’ve done trips with but that is changing in a few weeks… stay tuned!). I didn’t come up with any solid conclusions or theories other than the fact that it’s fun to have shared experiences with your favorite peeps. Irena would have loved the pancake situation.
The ride back to Frenchglen (and my car) was peaceful and mostly rolling terrain on pavement once I topped out on the initial big climb. The wind tossed me around a bit all day but what else is new? It’s Eastern Oregon. The 3-mile winding 14% grade descent back into town with sweeping views of Malheur and Steens Mountain was something special. As was the giant ice cream sandwich and Sprite I bought for myself at the Mercantile when I finished. Irena had just gotten to Denio so we chatted on the phone to catch up while she enjoyed a burger. I was back to work on time and Irena was able to finish the route a few days later. I would have preferred to have been able to do the whole route but part of staying safe and smart when doing these adventures is having the ability to be rational and realistic in decision making even under the duress of major FOMO. I feel we both made the right call and I don’t have any regrets. Even though Irena got to see a kiger mustang and I didn’t. ;-)