Oregon Trails

On Friday, I dusted the cobwebs from my bike and rode along PCH to San Clemente. I hadn't planned to make it there, but I felt like going after reaching Laguna Beach, and then Dana Point. The weather was unusually cool for June, and the cloud cover was helpful. I made a number of short detours, the first at my friend Albert's place in a new development, Oak Creek, near I-405 and Jeffrey Rd. His neighbor Rory spotted me, and when he saw my bike, showed me the three he owned and talked up a storm about local trails and such. He handed me a bunch of maps from his car, mostly Southern California stuff but there was one of Central Oregon.

"Why Oregon?" I asked him, curious. I knew he was a LA native.

"Oh, I went to Mt. Batchelor." For skiing, of course.

I was about to close the map when I saw in the small sectioned-off, right-hand corner, a map of the Mackenzie River Trail - without question, the most beautiful place I've ever biked, in the most beautiful state I've ever been.

Here's one of the last letters I wrote in Oregon, to one who had left recently.

"I am glad to see that you are alive and well! Tanya and I were a bit worried. We were Portland this past weekend and met up with an old friend of mine, Linda. We saw elaborate sand castles in Pioneer Square. Walked around Saturday Market. Drove along the Columbia Gorge, which Linda had never seen. Visited Hood River for the Cherry Festival. It was late-afternoon but the farmer at Alice's, a third-generation Japanese American, took us in his cart for a tour of the pear and cherry farm. Had no idea so many varieties besides Bing and Rainier existed. We sampled extra-large Lapins, and slightly bitter Black Republicans. (Wonder why they call 'em that.) The sky was clear blue, except for the giant clouds massing around Mt. Hood. I'll miss Oregon."