Day 8 - Coincidence

One of the really great things about being in a desert is the low likelihood of being rained on. On nights such as these I like to leave the fly of my tent off so I can enjoy the breeze as well as watch the stars through the fine netting. The pleasure of watching ants and little creatures vainly attempt to climb inside and eat me is only surpassed by the joy of knowing that sleep can proceed with utter disregard for all the little crawlies that wiggle about.

The road down from Hilltop Campground is comprised of a series of small and moderate hills until we reach the base of the climb known as Oregon-Jack. The climb here pulls the two of us out of the valley; however like many things in my life, there is a bit of drama associated with this too. I arrive at the beginning of the hill to discover that traffic is being blocked by a construction crew which is preparing to do some blasting on the cliff aside of the road along the ascent.

The folks waiting for the crew to signal the all clear are questioning me about my trip and a couple mention that they have seen both myself and Meagan a number of times as they journey up and down the highway on their day to day errands. The crew signals that I should proceed by myself and make a head start; however I am only part way up the hill when I see Meagan's bike on the back of a truck cruising past me on the way up the hill. Apparently she was offered a ride, and couldn't resist the temptation.

Meagan is dropped off about halfway up the climb, and quickly guns her way to the top. Slowly but steadily I gain on her and by the time she reaches the summit, I am only a minute or so behind her.

From here there are a couple of minor dips and rises, however we are now out of the formal part of the valley and about 35 KM from the town of Ashcroft. The terrain here is now showing a number of trees, however the majority of them appear to be dead as they are entirely brown. Apparently the ravages of the pine beetle has been a major force in this area. The grass and shrubbery along side of the highway is still utterly dry, and there is absolutely no shade to be seen, and what is more the sun is roasting the countryside alive.

A crack of thunder in this situation grabs my attention almost immediately. I turn around, and behind me is a dark and powerful looking thunderhead powering down upon us from behind. The smell of ozone fills the air, and wouldn't you know it, my back wheel is flat. A call to Meagan ahead of me doesn't reach her and the last I see of her is the flag on her bike waving so long around the nearest bend.

Well, there is nothing for it except to dismount and fix the flat. At this point in my life I have fixed 37 flat tires, and now am working on the 38th. In moments, the sun vanishes behind a deep and dark cloud, the wind buffets me from all directions and I almost rip the wheel off the bike in my urgency. Patch kit out, glue applied, patch applied, pressure, remount the tube, the tire, the wheel, and someone says "Well, hello there". Meagan is standing next to me. Where did she come from? Well, apparently the moment she went around the corner, she too had encountered a flat tire and was waiting for me to come rescue her.

Given this, the urgency, wind and clouds disappear almost at the same time. Leisurely we stroll around the corner, remove her wheel, replace the tube, and are back on the road after an entirely respectable amount of time.

The road from the corner of flat tires to Ashton once again becomes witheringly hot, and the moderate amount of farmland in the area is the only indication that we are once again reaching irrigated climbs. A short while later we encounter the Ashton Manor which is a perfect rest stop for traveling cyclists. The teahouse is air conditioned and Kim and Audry (I hope I have your names right) rent us a cabin for the night at an entirely respectable rate.

The rest of evening is spent relaxing, chatting and playing computer games (entirely frivolous, and entirely enjoyable).