Member Memories: O’Horo Memorial CGE 2022

Well, it started off well enough. Several riders signed up early in January and more registered as the date drew nearer. Then a few things started going south. The first was that a number of riders rebelled when they discovered that we were going back to the traditional starting point in Vancouver. Some just wanted to try something new by starting in Portland, and others just wanted nothing to do with Washougal River Road and the western part of Washington Highway 14. So, I started looking around, and located parking near the I-205 bike path and Airport Way.

Eventually we got 38 signups – 13 from Portland Bicycling Club, 6 from Vancouver Bicycle Club, and 19 who belonged to neither club.  ✎  Financially, with 38 signups, we had $760 in revenue, and if expenses had been normal, then we would have made a couple hundred bucks, but the event insurance went way up, so we finished in the hole by a couple hundred – which loss may be shared by the VBC.

As we got closer to the date, people started dropping out. Some had injuries. Others had to quarantine due to Covid exposure, and a couple had Covid. Unfortunately, a number of riders were also looking at the weather report and decided that they really were not all that keen on riding and camping in the rain for four days. Can’t say as I blame ’em. Before Wednesday, May 25, seven riders dropped out. Between Wednesday and Friday, 11 more bit the dust (not that there has been much dust, actually). Two riders bailed on Friday morning.

We started off at 8:00 AM – a group of six leaving from Larson’s Bakery in Vancouver, and 14 from the Michael’s parking lot off Glenn Widing Drive in Portland.

The weather was threatening, and actually rained a little bit, but we soon discovered that, on the climb up through Corbett to Crown Point, we were perspiring much harder that it was raining. As is typical, the groups formed and broke up, some riders going faster than others, with riders stopping for different lengths of time at various places.

The group I was riding with stopped for lunch at the Bridgeside Restaurant (previously the Charburger) in Cascade Locks and rolled in to Home Valley on the Washington side about 4:00. Tents got set up, and the camp hosts even opened the concession stand at the ball field for some folks. We all enjoyed the newly renovated restrooms, complete with hot showers. (There had been cold showers or no showers in recent years. BIG improvement!)

We had a little circle-up at 7:00 under the patio roof and introduced ourselves, and I embarrassed Poindexter no end by describing his prowess with on-the-road jury rigged repairs. During the meeting, it rained pretty hard. For about three minutes. The rain quit and most of us turned in, but some took advantage of the covered tables for an extended social hour,

We got going the next morning, each at his/her own pace. I was doing great until after breakfast in Bingen. I bet more than half of us stopped at Carmen’s, a small café right on the main street. At that point, one more rider dropped out due to weather forecasts. (It had not been raining but looked like it could. It did rain a very little over the course of the day.)

Unfortunately, for some reason, I started not feeling so good even before we got to Old Highway 8 and the turnoff to the hill. Someplace before that I started feeling odd – not sick, just off kilter. I could not keep the bike upright. It was slanted to the left I, and I was leaning to the right. I couldn’t correct it. What follows is my narrative about the rest of my day. It is the e-mail I sent out to the other riders to let them know I was still alive.

Meanwhile, my guess is that most of you have heard at least something of my travails on Saturday. I thought I did pretty well on Friday, but I started feeling “funny” (sorry, but that is the best description I have). I had a great breakfast at Carmen’s in Bingen and felt good for quite a while after that. Somehow, though, I didn’t feel up to Old Highway 8, so I just continued on to Lyle. I was riding with Christi and Tal, with the Wakeman, Pellico, and Rauch contingent not far behind. Climbing one of the many hills, I somehow couldn’t keep the bike from drifting to the right, and I ended up stopped with my right leg pinned against the guard rail. I got untangled from that and continued up the hill. Not long after the guard rail issue, I noticed I was having trouble drifting to the right again and lost some speed. I tried to downshift, but the chain skipped, and I lost speed on the hill. I stopped and tried to put my feet down but kept leaning to my right and eventually just fell over. I didn’t feel dizzy in the sense that the world was going around or anything, but I just had this serious list to starboard and couldn’t stop it. Cindi and Tal came back to me as I was trying to get out from under the bike and get on my hands and knees to get up. Astonishingly, I did not have the strength in arms to push myself up to even get on my hands and knees. Tal and somebody else (Christi?) helped me to my feet, and by that time other riders had arrived. I rested for a bit then proceeded to the top of the hill where I rested again. Several others stopped and waited with me. We were at the top of the last hill before Lyle, so when we got started, it was an easy shot down the hill, across the flat, and into town. I stopped at the café there near the little store and got a cup of coffee. Tal walked back to the little fair they were having and got the EMTs to come take a look.

OK. You know how many jokes I tell, right? Well, here is some more comic relief. The EMTs looked at my eyes and determined the pupils weren’t abnormal, then they had me sit on the steps so they could check my vital signs. The EMT couldn’t get the first blood pressure cuff (sphygmomanometer) to work, so she dragged out another one. No workie. The other one put a pulse oximeter (that’s the little dealy they use to check your pulse and oxygen saturation levels in the blood) on my finger, but he couldn’t get that to work, either. Then they decided to check my blood sugar (I do have Type II diabetes, well controlled), so the lady EMT harpooned me and put the little drop of blood on the test strip and was very alarmed that my blood sugar reading was 811. (A non-diabetic’s blood sugar would normally be between 80 and 100). I changed her panic into embarrassment by pointing out that she was looking at the meter upside down. The actual reading was 118. Moral to the story: If you have a serious medical emergency in Lyle, buy a bus ticket.

Anyway, we kind of concluded I was dehydrated, so I started drinking more water and I headed off. Fortunately, Christi and Tal thought I needed a babysitter, and they were right. I got up to the top of the hill at Murdock without any actual incident, but I was still riding funny – leaning to my right and the bike canted to the left. We turned off and headed down to The Dalles where we took a short break and then got on the freeway headed for Celilo. Going up another hill (incline, rather – the hills are on the Washington side). I started drifting to the right again, my left foot somehow came unclipped, and I couldn’t get it back in. I stopped and toppled to the right as before. Unfortunately, this time I landed on pavement covered with small gravel, bruised my right hip, and got a raspberry (the blood was impressive) on my right elbow. Again, I had to get help to stand up.

Somewhat the same scenario when I got to camp… I was really wobbly, leaning, and fell off the bike right in front of Scott’s table. This time the landing was softer because of the grass and the goose crap.

Had a good night’s rest (did not hear the heavy rain everyone else reported) and felt good in the morning, but stiff. Also, the right hip and elbow were fairly sore. But before bed I got hold of a friend of mine who has a key to my apartment. He agreed to go to my place, get my car keys, and come get me after church on Sunday.

On Sunday morning I got up early enough to see everybody off, then I went down to take my shower (I was too stiff and sore Saturday to do it). Then I went back to bed. I had left a couple of snack bars out for breakfast, but the ravens got to them first. I slept another couple of hours and then got everything laid out on the picnic table to sort and re-pack while I waited for my ride. I did take note of the terrific headwinds you all must have been fighting. I don’t recall even much of a breeze at the campsite on previous tours. The wind always hit after I got on the frontage road and got worse once on the freeway. Yesterday it was quite windy even in camp. In fact, one huge gust actually cleared the picnic table, even blowing off heavy items like the pannier which contained my bike tools and spare tire. The wind must have been terrific out where you were. At least you will have horror stories to tell the grandkids.

Anyway, my ride got there about 1:45. We loaded up the car and headed out. Oh, and incidentally, the strength (such as it is) in my arms was back. I was able to lift the bike onto the rack with only the normal effort. Tom and I stopped at Cousins for lunch, then headed on down the highway for home. We made a quick stop at Viento to check on people, and I was surprised that Poindexter was the only rider from Deschutes who had arrived.

When I got home and somewhat unpacked, I called the advice nurse line at Kaiser. The nurse consulted with the ER doctor about my tale of woe and thought I should “come in.” Many tests (CT scan of my head to see if I had had a “mini-stroke,” urinalysis, blood work including a complete blood count, a lipid panel, and x-rays of my elbow and hip), four hours, and ninety bucks later I was given a more or less clean bill of health and sent home in time to watch the news.

All the tests came back OK. No broken bones, no brain bleed (though I think they were surprised to find a brain after I had told them I continued riding after the first fall), and all the lab results were within parameters “appropriate for my age.” That stung.

I got in to Deschutes along with Christi and Tal (her husband, for those who haven’t met him) who were my babysitters for the rest of the day. It looked like it was going to rain (it didn’t), so everybody hurried to set up the tents. (I cautioned everyone to keep the tents zipped up. Deschutes is home to a burgeoning earwig population.)

Had a quick meeting again in the evening to make sure everyone got to camp and announce that I, too, was going to have to bail.

They tell me it rained hard for about an hour during the night. Couldn’t prove it by me. I must have slept through it, and by morning the wind had come up and the tent was completely dry. I saw everybody off, then went down and took the shower I was too tired to take the night before. Then I went back to camp and slept some more, then packed up.

Oh. Did I mention the wind? Deschutes River State Recreation Area sits at the mouth of a deep canyon next to the river. Normally, we get little to no wind in the campground. If it is really windy, you can see the tops of the big cottonwoods moving a little. That day, there was WIND on steroids. After my nap, I used to picnic table to lay out my gear to repack for the car trip back home. I had all my gear all laid out on the table when a gust came in from some errant hurricane. The wind completely cleared the table – even the heavy stuff, fuel bottle, pots, food bag, etc., got blown off. I had to chase my soap dish all the way across the parking lot.

For the riders on Day 3 of the tour, there is usually a rather stiff headwind for the 20 miles into The Dalles and breakfast. It must have been fierce out there that day.

As mentioned above, I stopped at Viento to see how the rest of the riders were doing. Only two riders were in camp. When I got home, Christi kept tabs on everyone and let me know that everybody got to camp except for one more who had someone come out for a pickup. (Christi rocks!)

Everyone who was left made it home!

Dave McQuery, Ride Leader