Memorial Day Dry Run

Quickie test trip starting in Joseph, Oregon lollipopping through Imnaha Canyon.

A successful trial in many ways. Challenges aplenty. We followed a false/understated trip report resulting in unexpected terrain and consequently depleted water/blood sugar stores. A story we ought to get used to. Our run-ins with territorial dogs legitimized the decision to splurge on pre-exposure rabies shots. And amidst a tireless search for a feasible tent site, the TIIIIIIMBER-like collapse of my fully loaded bike reminded me that my bicycle and I are now one. For better or worse. (The test run was my first time riding clipped in. Ever.) Better to learn that impactful, cruel lesson on a sleepy gravel road than to go down in a crowded Portland intersection. It could be glaringly obvious at this point that we're not hardcore cyclists. Or anything close. Although we both have separate tours under our belts, I understand that riding from Portland alllllllll the way south is a different beast entirely. We'd be lying to everyone (and each other) if we didn't admit to being fuhhhking intimidated. Nothing spooks me more though than the thought of continuing to sit at a desk, day in and day out, wishing Mon-Fri away. Listening to the biological clock tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. I'm leaving behind an outstanding job, friends, family, mediocre WIFI, delicious(ly debated) tap water, bountiful grocery stores, flushing toilets and the ability to communicate with just about anyone. (See Spanish 101.) We're trading in said conveniences in the spirit of simple living, basic problem solving, and the inevitable series of often uncomfortable, yet entirely real human interactions.