A Great Failure

I was 82 miles West of Baker City and well over a hundred miles East of any significantly large town back the way I came. From Baker City I could theoretically get a bus to somewhere. In the 82 miles to Baker City was a 2,000 foot climb to Dixie Pass followed by a descent then another 1,000 foot climb and descent and a third 1,000 foot climb before the long descent into town. I figured I could take a rest day then divide the ride into three 25-ish mile days. Four days to cover 80 miles seemed absurd but I was extremely isolated and it's not like you can hop on Muni, there's nothing to get you from one tiny town to the next.

Nothing, that is, except Oregonians. The trip so far had been lesson after lesson in the kindness of people. From Dan and Nancy at my first campground who invited me to their fire and fed me a great BBQ pork dinner, to John Smith who I'll get to in a minute, it's impossible to describe the hospitable attitude of everyone I met. It shouldn't have surprised me how I got to Baker City then, but it did.

While I was hiding from the rain and having breakfast on Friday morning, the campground Host stopped by to chat and I told him about my trip. He went off quickly after hearing I was a bit stuck but came back a minute later with David, the State Park Ranger (whom I had actually met at Ochoco park a few days earlier). David asked about my knee and almost before I had finished telling him what was up he had gotten his phone out. "There's a little local radio station in John Day (6 miles East). Let me get your number and we'll have them see if anyone is headed to Baker City."

I had assumed that, since I rode alone, I was alone. So I'd have to get myself out of there alone. I was very wrong. These folk's first thought upon hearing that someone was stuck was to find a way to help. David even said that if I didn't hear from anyone that day, he'd drive me to Baker City himself. I didn't even ask. I probably wouldn't even have had time to ask before they offered.

Michael and his wife Christie, at the campsite next to me, invited me over and offered to take me into John Day if I needed anything. When Michael decided to go anyway and I went along, he took me through Canyon City to show me the cool old mines where they discovered gold 150 years ago.

That afternoon I got a call from John Smith (the man to go to in John Day or Baker City if you've got hydraulics to be fixed) who heard about me on the radio and he came by to pick me up.

Baring riding out of there on two happy healthy knees, I can't think of a better end to that predicament.