If it had to happen…

Vancouver, Washington to Portland, Oregon. Wednesday, May 8, 2024

As predicted, it was all too easy to linger at the Graman’s, I didn’t get out till 11. Supposed to be an easy day today— just down the hill to the river, one more slightly scary crossing on marginal bridges, and then on to what is perhaps America’s most bike friendly city, Portland, Oregon. I had a hotel right on the Willamette river. Planned to make a pilgrimage to two famous bike gear manufacturers. The first is Chris King Cycles, whose precision hubs and headsets are so beautifully made, you look forward to maintaining them. Their classic rear hub in particular is a work of art—called the ring drive, it’s famous for the noise it makes when coasting, like a hive of angry bees. The bicycling equivalent of the Ferrari without a muffler.

It was not to be. Just as I was crossing the river, I felt another sickening crunch between my legs, and this time the nose of my saddle was flopping around like a loose earlobe. Sure enough: both rails had fractured completely, and it was just the limp leather hanging. Here’s my seat, compared to a factory photo of what the underside is supposed to look like.

Almost totally unrideable, but it couldn’t have happened in a better place. Just 1.3 miles ahead was Kenton‘s bike repair shop, and there Rich proved himself to be another trail angel. He found me a serviceable replacement seat, and a box to mail my broken seat back.

Simon Firth of Firth and Wilson Transport Cycles in Philadelphia, is the North American service center for Brooks saddles. He has helped me many times in the past, and again was willing to do a warranty repair. The post office was just down the block from the repair shop, so after a couple of hours I was back on my way. Once again, my tour was saved by Trail Angels. I can hardly begrudge my original angels, Aaron and Blake in Eatonville. Their makeshift repair lasted a week and 290 miles, 12,000 vertical feet, and got me to Paradise and Portlandia.

Portlandia. The ultra-hip city gently mocked by the TV series of that name. I no longer had time to visit Chris King Cycles, a representative I had emailed said they were not open to the public anyway, and Rich at the Kenton repair shop said there was nothing to see from the outside. Instead, I just luxuriated in the nurturing web of the city’s bike trails and gorgeous riverfront promenade, where my hotel was. The receptionist recommended Luc Lac, a trendy Vietnamese restaurant. Saw very little of the homelessness I understand is endemic here. Sated, contented, saved from catastrophe, I felt blissed out.

Only one little thing. Quite unexpectedly, as I threaded through the warehouses outside the city, I caught a glimpse of my next objective, Mount Hood, Oregon’s highpoint, rising 11,000 feet above us.

Beautiful, but yikes. This one I’ve got to climb, not just get to the parking lot. The next week will be dedicated to this.

Suddenly, I felt very old.

Distance 22 miles, 538 total. Time 5 hours with stops. Elevation gain 752 feet

©️ 2024 Scott Luria