Henges

The Dalles, Oregon to Roosevelt, Washington. Monday, May 20, 2024

Figuring I might have to do a century today, I tried to get an early start, but early starts are not my strong suit. As always, crossing the Columbia was both scenic and harrowing, made more so by a strong crosswind. I passed right in front of The Dalles dam, but barely got a chance to look at it; it appeared to have a pretty dramatic spillway.

Once I rounded the bend I had a full-on tailwind, and life was sweet. My average speed increased from my usual 8 to 13 mph, despite over 3,000 feet of hills. It was almost like I was riding an e-bike. I looked over my shoulder to catch one last taunting sneer from Mt. Hood.

A few miles later, I was brought up short by an unexpected sign.

It was a replica, of course, constructed as a World War I memorial. Visiting it would’ve meant a 4 mile detour, so I had to settle for a telephoto shot.

but it triggered a whirl of reflection and rumination. I’ve never seen the original in Salisbury, England, hear it’s overrun with tourists and so fragile that you can’t get close to it. But what a thing. Constructed over 3000 years ago by Druids that left no written language, it appears to have been a sophisticated astronomical observatory. Most famous is the Heelstone, that marks the summer solstice sunrise, but accessory features apparently also could predict solar eclipses. Amazing. Here’s one of the better web photos I could find.

What’s also fascinating is how the concept of solar alignment has fostered many tributes. Perhaps you’ve heard of Manhattanhenge, where the sun lines up perfectly with the cross streets of Manhattan.

From college I remember MIThenge, where twice a year the sun illuminates the iconic Infinite Corridor, central axis of the university, three football fields long.

And in true solipsistic fashion I have Luriahenge, where on March 5 the sun sets precisely over Mt. Whiteface (site of the 1932 and 1980 Lake Placid Olympics) as seen from our bedroom window.

I would like to say I rode a century today, but at the town of Roosevelt, 60 miles in, I realized I was running out of daylight. There was a general store, the only one in 100 miles, whose proprietor told me that there was a campground down the road that didn’t appear on any of my maps. It was deserted and a little creepy, but had a semi-functioning bathroom, and the price was right. I was gratified to be able to set up my brand new two-person tent in the relentless wind. If you ignored the abandoned cars and trailers nearby, it was actually pretty scenic, right on the Columbia with a nice moonrise.

Distance 61 miles, 812 total. Time 9 hours with stops. Elevation gain 3,079 feet

©️ 2024 Scott Luria