I feel like such a weenie

Umatilla, Oregon. Wednesday, May 22, 2024

I was all set: laundry done, route planned, Warmshowers host arranged in the next town, Walla Walla; even got a reasonable amount of sleep. My knees seem to be a little better. Got up early, ready to bolt, but then I checked the morning forecast.

On the one hand, it was a tailwind, promising to blow me to Walla Walla in no time. On the other hand, I am the quintessential high-profile vehicle, especially with those large bags over the front wheel, which can get blown around like a sail. Even in yesterday’s moderate tailwind, I would sometimes struggle to maintain control of the bike as I descended at nearly 40 mph, buffeted by gusts. Thunderstorms were also predicted, 50% chance. I couldn’t get that scene from Wizard of Oz out of my head.
https://images.app.goo.gl/yGVo2wgHm8faGzUZ7

But right at the point of decision, the sky looked clear. I asked the receptionist if I could possibly stay another day, and before I could stop him, he had booked me. So the decision is made.

It was a classic example of cognitive dissonance. After the fact, I decided it was for the best. My knee is better, but not perfect. I haven’t had a “day off” since I started a month ago, if you don’t count that transition day when I was licking my wounds.

So once again I’m quoting Bob Dylan (perhaps I’m entitled, having gotten a private tour of his boyhood home, see post of 6/9/21). Stuck inside of Umatilla with those Walla Walla blues again. Maybe there’s something interesting about the town, but the Wikipedia page was less than encouraging:

“The population in 2010 was 6,906, but the city’s population includes approximately 2,000 inmates incarcerated at Two Rivers Correctional Institution. Umatilla has the highest poverty rate (24%) and lowest Median Household Income ($38,796), of all communities in the area.”

Besides, it’s 2 1/2 miles away, right into the teeth of that headwind. Ain’t gonna happen. Down that steep hill I came up yesterday is the McNary Dam, which appears to have some kind of a fish ladder exhibit. The Oregon Fish View Room it’s called, and reviews say that sometimes you see fish, often not. Hmm.

There’s a decent greasy spoon just down the street, I had their chili-and-cornbread special last night and they’re famous for their Awesome Burgers. Maybe without the bun. There’s a pool outside, but it’s 52°. I can see the thunderheads building on the horizon.

Or maybe just hole up here in my ironically-named Quality Inn. My Apple Watch tells me I’ve only averaged five hours of sleep per night, I could try to catch up. Maybe try to plan the route more than one day in advance, line up some Warmshowers hosts without last-minute notice. Call the family (had an hour long conversation with number one son Andrew yesterday, while the wind was blowing me along). Maybe do one or two of those background posts I’ve been meaning to get to for weeks. Maybe try one of those NYT crosswords (gasp). Or maybe just do a whole lot of nothing.

The trains keep rolling by, on both sides of the river, blowing their mournful whistles. Yeah, I’m stuck in Two Rivers Prison, but better off than the Man in Black.

When I was just a baby, my mama told me, “Son
Always be a good boy, don’t ever play with guns”
But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die
When I hear that whistle blowin’, I hang my head and cry

No statistics for today, unless you call count walking back and forth to the greasy spoon.

©️ 2024 Scott Luria