Too Stubborn to Turn Back

…my mom leaves a comment on my blog and of coarse expands on the only bike ride I wasn’t able to complete for fear of me actually dieing…

…it was early April. I didn’t normally do as much riding during the cold winter months because I hated to be cold. A nice spring weekend had finally rolled around and I thought it’s time to hit the road pedaling hard again. As mom mentioned I headed north on Highway 199 towards Hays Hill then turned west on the twisty-turny logging road headed up over Onion Mountain. This was a sweet ride that I had completed several times before. This old logging road was even paved most of the way.  I had ridden up hill for quite some distance when suddenly I run into a snow bank across the roadway. Not a gradual deepening of snow on the roadway but a bonk, a three foot snow bank. A prudent bike rider would have turned around here and strove off in some other direction mainly towards a lower elevation. I on the other hand had been trained in a different fashion. You know the “When the going gets tough the tough get going” mind set. In the fire department you don’t get to say to someone trapped in their crushed vehicle. In your girl voice,

 “Ohhh, your too stuck for us to get you out, we’ll come back later to help you if we figure out how to”. Heck, I was pretty near the top of the mountain already, so I throw my bike up on the snow drift and climb aboard and start taking my bike for a walk. It was a perfectly blue sky day, birds were chirping, plus I was on an adventure. I hadn’t walked to far when the snow suddenly went away and I climbed back on my bike and took off riding upwards again. Rounding the big corner in the road at the top of the mountain, BONK, again. Hummmm, surmising to myself, go back, keep going, go back, hell, let’s keep going, it’s beautiful out here today.

The four foot of winter accumulated snow was too soft to walk in without sinking in. By pushing my bike beside myself and leaning some of my body weight onto the bike I could keep my feet from sinking in the snow too deep. I was in pretty good shape back in those days so away I stride in the snow. A couple miles soon turn into four miles then six miles. My feet were starting to get a little cold but gosh look at the beautiful views I can see from here.

The snow covered roadway stretched along the top of a ridge where you could look straight down into Grants Pass and with the surrounding Rogue Valley on one side and the coast mountain range on the west side. Man it looked like it was a beautiful spring day down there in the valley. If I just keep moving forward I will soon walk out of this damn wet snow, I hope to myself, as six miles slowly turns into eight miles. The sun is starting to dip in the sky by now and I have to finally admit to myself, I’m wet and cold. I have come too far to turn back now, so onward I march forward.

As quickly as I found the snow bank on one side of Onion Mountain I was out of it on the other side. As soon as I stepped on the pavement, stomping my wet snow covered feet off, a jeep drives up. It is actually some people I know from Cave Junction. They ask “where did you come from?” I told them I marched over the top of the Onion Mountain Road. They said “Oh Bullshit”. I had to point out to them that there was only one set of tracks leading away from the snowy terrain. I was real cold and needed to get on the move to try and warm up. The afternoon shadows were already stretching across the roadway when I headed down Taylor Creek Road. With the extra wind I was generating riding down hill, my feet and lower pants being soaked and the sun dipping low in the sky, I was again in trouble. In dire straits enough to where I would have to dismount off my bike and run beside it trying to re-warm my body core occasionally.  How stupid did I feel running down a perfectly good hill I could normally be coasting down instead. The folks from Cave Junction drive up behind me in their new jeep and confirm what a nut I was for coming over the top of Onion Mountain the way I had, but they also offered me a ride home. I have a bit of a pride problem and foolishly turned their generous offer down, as they drove out of sight.

Finally reaching the bottom of the mountain and the Galice Road next to the Rogue River it is still quite a distance into the small community of Merlin where I could at least get something warm in my stomach. When you start slipping into hypothermia your decision making processes begin to fail. Being that I am an EMT, with quite a bit of medical training I know this. It is weird knowing your own body is in trouble, knowing what you need to do to resolve the problem but you don’t have the means to resolve the situation you have put yourself into. With my head down I put the bike in a high gear and pound the pedals forward. By now I am too cold for it to matter anymore, as I press my frozen feet hard on the pedals focusing on my blurry vision and not riding off the edge of the road. Within forty five minutes or so I reach the small town of Merlin. I weave into the small cafe barely coherent by now. Damn, they don’t except debit cards and I don’t have any cash on me but the waitress gives me a hot chocolate anyways, because she sees I’m in trouble.

I don’t remember whom mom sent to retrieve me that spring evening, but I survived. I have not always made the smartest choices in my life. But neither have I set on the couch at home and watched T.V. and played stupid video games all day long like so many people do either.  I would never choose to loose the life adventures I have experienced over being safe and warm all the time.