Too Legit to Quit
[ Day 11 – June 23, 2012 ]
I woke around 6:15 to the pitter-patter of light rain on my tent and the sounds of Tom and Christy leaving camp. I marveled at their early departure; it generally took me an hour and a half from waking up to hitting the road. To be sure, bicycling adds a layer of complexity to the morning rituals—bike tune-ups are commonplace and I change my clothes twice between sleeping bag and saddle—but even taking that into account, I’m slower than most cycle tourists. I like to take my time.
Second Breakfast
It was a cold and wet morning; I rode at a steady clip just to keep warm. I reached the town of Mount Shasta by early afternoon, and though I had planned to spend the night there, I made the somewhat impulsive decision to push on. Had I studied the map more closely, I might have reconsidered; reaching the next camping opportunity would more than double my mileage for the day.
Though offering little in terms of camping, the ranch country west of Mount Shasta (the actual mountain) was the prettiest I’d ever seen. Horse and cattle grazed idly beneath the gaze of this dormant yet commanding volcano, the third most prominent peak in the contiguous United States. Standing nearly 10,000 feet above the surrounding terrain, the mountain simply dominates the landscape. Every time I thought I might have put its view behind me, I would turn to see it still muscling above all else.
My view of Mount Shasta was for the most part unobstructed, but the summit itself was covered by a thick bank of clouds. I hoped that the weather would clear and reveal the peak in its full glory, to no avail. Perhaps this was for the best; there’s power to things left to the imagination, and now I have a reason to go back.
Mount Shasta
As if to match the mountain’s dramatic display, the sky put on a show of light and movement unlike any I’d ever seen in California. From my dry vantage point ahead of the weather, I watched the sunlight cut between thick, dark rain clouds, illuminating the rainfall as it fell towards foothills and ranchland. The scene was striking, moody, and menacing. I snapped a quick photo and pressed on, determined to stay ahead of the weather.
Dramatic Weather
As I looped around Black Mountain, the breeze that had pushed me away from Shasta quickly became a nasty headwind, shifting from elemental ally to adversary. The weather that I’d previously observed from a comfortable distance had caught up with me as well. If I was to cross the border into Oregon that night, I’d have to earn it.
Though I’d already rode over 100 miles by that point, I was fueled by the pull of my first real border crossing and the push of no other options. I was tired but in good spirits; I was ready to cross into Oregon and add a bit of legitimacy to my bike tour. Wet, wind-beaten, and exhausted, I finally crested over the pass at Siskiyou. From there I made a brief and easy descent to Callahan’s Lodge, a comfy mountain resort that offered camping options due to its proximity to the PCT.
I ended the day’s ride having covered about 120 miles, with over 4,750 feet of climbing. I’d read that the resort offered a “Hiker/Biker Special,” which included a spot to camp, all-you-can-eat breakfast and dinner, hot showers, and laundry access. The price was very reasonable and I jumped at the opportunity. It was the perfect end to a day of effort and accomplishment.
[ Daily Miles: 120 ] [ Total Miles: 628 ]