And this pic shows most of what I saw on Salems annual hill ride — the backsides of the rest of the riders! I vied with one other rider as to who would win the “lanterne rouge”, but actually, 4 riders did drop out before the finish!

About 30 people showed up. A group of riders from Portland showed up, and were fast. They were instructed to go ahead if they wished, but since they didn´t have it “Garmined”, they said they´d sit in with the group. A couple of women, but still wearing local kit, were part of the group wearing local kit. Only a couple of riders wearing non-kits, myself included were there. I didn´t recognize anyone of the tail that I rode with last year, and was a little apprehensive. Certainly, my steel 20th Anniversary Torelli was the most colorful in a sea of black/white carbon bikes. Bob, who rides with the Salem Bike Club, arrived and I recognized him as one I shared the rear of the pack with last year.

My lungs/legs weren´t ready when we hit Burley Hill in West Salem and I was amazed at the how easily the pack drifted away up that climb. Somehow, I managed to catch them on the “flat” at the top of the hill. We dropped back to the river and crossed the pedestrian bridge back into town, but even on the slight grade by the library on Commercial, I found myself falling off the back. I did take the time to try and take some pic´s as we meandered thru the neighborhood before getting on River Road South. Half the group made a “free” right hand turn onto the road, and the back half had to wait for oncoming cars. I attempted to get my shells off my gloves, and didn´t leave as promptly as the rest of this group. I wasn´t too alarmed, thinking I could make the extra effort for that short of time, but the second group was intent on catching the first group, and to my surprise, I found that even though I was spinning my 53/13, I wasn´t catching the second group, just finding myself going into oxygen debt!

I caught up just as everyone was waiting for oncoming cars to begin the ascent of Crestview. I told myself that it was okay to watch them drift away, as I was winded, and needed to pace myself up this in view of the fact that in a short time, we´d be climbing Viewcrest, the “monster” of the ride! Somehow, I pulled myself up to the last few riders on Crestview, but didn´t want to empty the tank passing them. We descended to River Road South, and again the pack split into groups getting thru the oncoming cars. This time, I found myself with Bob and five other riders. I was the next to last to cross the road, and due to wearing toe warmers, missed getting my cleat engaged. I chased, but realized I was losing ground. I motioned Bob around, and indicated he was to go as I was redlined. He was nice enough to let me draft and when I felt strong enough, I took a short turn at the front. We “kept them in sight” but weren´t gaining, and as we approached Viewcrest, I knew I needed to remove my jacket.

I slowed, and removed it in a hurry and stuffed it in the one pocket of my wool jersey, while rolling my sleeves back. The initial incline of Viewcrest is the steepest portion, and I´ve mistakenly started up up it in a gear that wasn´t my lowest in the past — I didn´t this time, but I was probably 20 bike lengths off the back, and while I didn´t fall any further back, I certainly wasn´t getting any closer!

About halfway up, it levels out a bit, to the point where I can comfortably sit down and pedal freely in my lower gears. As I neared this, I accidentally looked back at my rear wheel, and to my dismay, I saw the sleeve of my jacket bouncing precariously near my gears. As soon as I could sit down, I attempted to pull the sleeve up, but found that I was sitting on some portion of the jacket as well! I knew that I couldn´t stand up and pull the jacket, so I “bounced” on the saddle until I was no longer seated on it! I was anxiously waiting for the sleeve to bind up in the gears and bring me to an abrupt halt, and a prolonged remedy, but I was fortunate and I was able to successfully retrieve it and re-stuff it in my jersey pocket. I did check on it more than once the remainder of the ride!

They were waiting at the top of the climb — there´s plenty of available shrubbery for discretely jettisoning one´s morning coffee! Some talk about the left turn onto Croisan Creek, as most like to let loose and see how far up the next hill one can coast after descending Kuebler´s “booyah”. Even on the ridge, I found myself drifting to the back of the pack, and so when I reached the bottom of the descent, there was a meelee of cyclists making/attempting left u-turns amidst the occasional car. I did move up in the pack while rolling down Croisan Scenic, in hopes of staying within sight when we hit Madrona.

I stayed to the right and felt/watched riders pass me up Madrona. The route indicated that this year we´d be going up the hairpin, but as we approached that junction, everyone was turning left to go “straight up” Chambers. This is only two blocks long, but may be the steepest in Salem. Not nearly as steep as College St. in Portland, but two of the riders I was tagging with elected to take the hairpin. I decided that I might as well find out what stuff I was made of, and solo´d Chambers as the rest of the riders had climbed it and were out of sight. I crested it with some weaving — not full street coverage, but certainly a bike length´s wide, and was relieved to find that I´d reached the top before the two who´d elected to take the hairpin. A couple of the riders were waiting and assumed I was the last rider, so it was with some, well, a little, pride, that I indicated there were two more riders coming.

We turned on Stanley and meandered thru the rolling hills of the neighborhood before coming out on Croisan Scenic , crossing Kuebler and riding behind Keizer-Permanente, before crossing Skyline and following Red Leaf to Davis. I was trying to stay up in the pack, knowing that when we hit Lone Oak, I´d get dropped again. Sure enough, I must have been standing still, as riders were zooming away up that grade! I did ride to the top with company, though, so even if I was getting tired, so were others. I moved up in the pack as we descended Mildred, crossed Sunnyside and turned onto Commercial, before climbing up the hill. One of the riders just fell over sideways on the flat portion. It looked like he was attempting to remove his knee warmers! We then went over Landau to Battlecreek, and while it was a muscle rather than a lung-burner, I stayed within the pack. I stayed with them the rest of the way, but as we made the turn up Madrona to 12th St., I just didn´t have it in me. I dropped off, and there were no reserves to call on. I did catch up before the descent down 12th St. hill, but barely made the left turn signal to go up Fairview. I hung on the rest of the ride back to downtown, but was pretty relieved it was over. And we didn´t do 50th in West Salem this year! A faster pace, or less “slower” riders this year, I´m not sure. Or I could say, I didn´t train as hard this year. I“ll be back next year, though!

Michael

Two weekends ago, I deliberated as to where to see the ravages of Wednesday´s flood. I decided on visiting Aumsville and Turner, instead of Buena Vista and Independence.

But first I had to check out my old stomping grounds along State Street. With a temperature over 40 degrees, I could ride casually and stay warm. I rode up Ferry Street, adjacent to Shelton Ditch, from 14th. Brad lives along there somewhere, and I was curious as to whether I´d recognize his home. If I saw it, I missed it and there was no Ruby, Brad´s pit bull, to correct me. But there were plenty of sandbags lining several houses and street corners.

I rode behind the storage where I parked my old Falcon during the flood of ´96. This is next door to where Oregon Canoe Sport once operated. I purchased the first canoe to leave via Mill Creek, as I lived just up the creek on the south side. Plenty of Mill Creek mud was pushed up against the wall facing the creek, and the debris indicated a plenty of water had headed for State Street. I left my tire tracks paralleling someone´s mountain bike tracks.

I headed east on State Street expecting to see evidence of high water at the intersection of Hawthorne, but outside of the small lake next to the penitentiary, nothing revealed itself. I´m sure that if I turned down Hawthorne towards Costco, there would have been more signs of sandbags and debris as it approached the bridge over Mill Creek.

I turned south on Lancaster Drive — it´s been a long time since I´ve ridden any part of Lancaster! -- crossed Kuebler onto Aumsville Highway and rode up the hill to Joseph St. overpass. The camels were out and I stopped to take pictures of them. The caretakers passed me from behind and turned in the driveway, but apparently were accustomed to seeing such activity as they didn´t address me.

Towards the intersection of Witzel, there was a high water sign, but by now it was just a trickle wandering across the road. When you reach the crest of Aumsville Highway, where you can see Aumsville, you can appreciate why it floods. It´s surrounded by hills on three sides, and all the run off heads in that direction.

I thought about taking Mill Creek Rd. into Turner, as there are many bridges crossing the creek as it winds back and forth to Turner, but decided to take W. Stayton Rd. to Shaff Rd. as there´s lots of low lying ground out there. As the road crosses Mill Creek, I could see where it had flooded the road, leaving weeds and other debris embedded in the fence and bowing it downstream.

I could only see one incidence of a canal flooding Shaff Rd., everything else stayed within its banks. As I approached Cascade High school, I did stop to ease my bladder in the blackberry thicket. Barney and his pals were still there among the empty suitcases and their contents someone had dumped during the summer!

I turned north on 70th, where the ditches on either side of the road were close to overflowing. Must have been exciting on Wednesday! I was surprised that the culverts could keep up with the flow even three days later. I turned west on Mill Creek Rd., but stopped to take some pic´s of the water rushing under the bridge at 70th. It was pretty close to bumping the bottom of the bridge, even now.

I took a few more pic´s of the creek as I crossed the bridges to Turner. It´s a pretty placid creek in the summer, quite the contrast to its swollen state now. The new bridge in Turner takes all the fun out of crossing the creek. When it was under construction, we rode our bikes across before it was doable by car.

Sandbags had begun to appear back where Marion Rd. intersected Mill Creek, and as I turned north on Turner Rd., I could see moving vans as well as sandbags parked at residences along the creek.

Riding west along Delaney, I crossed Mill Creek for what must have been the 8th time. The bridge there allows quite the panorama of water spread wide beyond the creek´s banks. The No Trespassing signs in the trees seem a little obvious at this point, though I´d love a picture of someone paddling a canoe beneath one! I was surprised to find yet another high water sign after cresting one of the hills on Delaney. You´re riding on the shoulder of a hill, but the amount of water that was funneled off the hillside, must have been focused on this site.

At the intersection of Battlecreek, you can see the private bridge surrounded by water on both sides, and the fence above it decorated in weeds, again bowed downstream. After cresting the hill, you can see sandbags protecting houses down in the creek´s ravine. It´s usually no more than a trickle!

Coming back into Salem left me thinking that I´d waited too long after the deluge to fully appreciate what it can do, but compared to most winter rides, every corner was an adventure!

The following Saturday was a brisk 29 degrees as I left the shop, but it had been dry and sunny for a couple of days, so I wasn´t too concerned about frozen liquid on the pavement. I´d heard of frost warnings, but figured that was aimed at motorists traveling at high speed. I was pretty bundled up, complete with a balaclava and an earwarmer, but was looking forward to muscling up some hills and gaining some warmth in doing so! It wasn´t very far beyond Kuebler, on Skyline, that I noticed the de-icer on the roadway. I dislike the de-icer as it makes it harder to distinguish the dark pavement from black ice at a distance.

Sure enough, they´d sprayed plenty of de-icer on the bump just past Moore Rd. Normally I would build as much speed as I could to get as far up it before resorting to grunt mode, but today I wanted to approach it cautiously, just in case I needed to dismount gracefully! Even the de-icer can be slippery, and so as it turned out, there was no ice on the roadway, just the shoulders. Nonetheless, I stayed seated and searched for the bumpiest parts of the road for traction. Just beyond the top of the bump, they hadn´t sprayed de-icer, and there was a long patch of frost, or so I hoped, on the roadway. I glided motionless down that stretch, only to be honked at from the SUV approaching me from behind as I reached the corner. Fortunately, the bump as you approach Cole Rd. was dry and I could use some momentum to crest it. I was concerned about the bump leading to Concomly, and didn´t build up momentum, but pedaled slowly in my lowest gear over the most abrasive sections of the roadway.

I knew that I was going to set the slowest speed record descending to Riverside. I remember the year when water running off the hillside had covered the section overlooking the river below with gravel, and wondered if I´d find a sheet of ice awaiting me. It wasn´t, and while feeling bolder, still felt the need to be cautious. It paid off as I rounded the hairpin turn, for a 6´ wide trickle of water had crossed the road there. It didn´t appear to be frozen, but there were car tracks on either side of it, and I worried that they had perhaps frozen. I got off my bike and tentatively put one shoe in the middle of it — it felt firm and solid. I looked beyond it at the tracks, and walked my bike up the slope to the other side of the road. It was only wet, not frozen, and I regained my saddle and commenced my descent. They´d obviously heavily de-iced this steep portion, but I remained suspicious and kept my speed to a crawl.

It was some relief that I reached the bottom of Skyline and headed toward Independence Bridge on Riverside. I knew that there was some possiblity that there would be high water just beyond the railroad trestle, but figured that maybe the water would be low enough that I´d ride my bike thru. And it was noticeably warmer nearer the river. At worst, I could take some pic´s and turn around to ride back to Liberty Rd. to come back to town. Kinda hoped to ride into Independence and then south to Buena Vista, if the water was low enough for the ferry to be running.

Just before reaching the trestle, the high water sign appeared, and after reaching a second set with a barrier, I dismounted to take a picture. As was putting my lobsters back on, a truck passed and wound around the gate. I delayed following it, waiting for the noise to subside before pulling out onto the roadway. But instead, the noise increased as the truck was in reverse and coming my way again. Wow! The water must be pretty deep as it was a pretty big farm truck, I thought. I wasn´t sure what to do, as I was uncertain how far he would back up before backing into my lane to turn around. Instead, he backed up to me, and then asked if I wished a ride across the stream!

I hoisted my bike into the back of the truck and then climbed into the warm cab. An old guy, with a patch over his right eye, greeted me! Loud music was pouring from the radio, and he didn´t offer to turn it down while attempting conversation. Apparently, he´d come thru last night and the water had been up to the doorwells. There wasn´t any signs of water in the truck, so I guessed it must be water tight.

In past years of flood, we´d ridden our bike down to this part of the road and had always chickened out of attempting to ride thru it. The roiling water on the far side of the road contrasted pretty strongly with the placid pool upstream. As we crossed it, I indicated that he could let me out and I could pedal the rest of the way. He informed me that he didn´t think so, as there were three, maybe four, more streams crossing the roadway. I doubted him, but decided that the dice had been thrown, and the only way was to see the result. Sure enough, there were three more to cross!

Now what if I´d had the foolhardiness to cross the first one by bike, only to find that the second was too intimidating, or managed to cross it, and found the third was too intimidating. Or had wet feet, and cold ones at that, and didn´t want to risk freezing them a second or third time. Dance around waiting for another ride across? Maybe that would have been an adventure worth risking!

After letting me off past the fourth one, he offered to get me into town, but I told him I needed the ride. The Willamette had risen quite a bit and the low lying areas on either side of the road were full of floating flotsam, but I did not encounter any more torrents of water crossing the road until I reached River Road. I hadn´t really thought about it, but all that water going over Riverside had to be going somewhere! Lots of tracks and mud around the barrier — it was obvious that folks were disobeying it. I used to do that in my old Falcon as well. My mom did it in her Honda Accord, but the air intake to the motor was in the wheelwell, and my mom ended up with a new motor! As I rode back towards the bridge, a four-wheel, full-size, truck came down and worked its way around the barrier. It successfully crossed the stream and continued on up the road. I wondered if I´d missed another ride, or if the back of the pickup would fill with water, or worse, perhaps stall in the middle of the current. Hmmmmm, stuck in a cold cab and no means of getting warm until rescued . . . .

So, I resigned myself to riding up ugly Independence Hwy., and even uglier Hwy. 22 into Salem. Independence showed no signs of flood alarm, even the city park still had cars parked out on the bank surrounding it, though the auditorium was a small lake. In the past, I can remember the decorative architectural columns standing in the Willamette River´s overflow. The river really isn´t visible from most of Independence Hwy., so helped with a tailwind, I maintained pretty good speed until reaching Hwy. 22.

Some nice views from Hwy. 22 of the river sprawled out on either side of its banks, but I quickly resumed my cadence and continued toward the end of the ride. Reaching the West Salem offramp, I could make out homeless camps towards the river, still a long ways from the city center. But with Wallace Marine park, and the adjoining areas, under water, perhaps this was the nearest retreat for them.

Next time high water returns, I think a journey out beyond Keizer would be challenging and offer new understanding of its terrain.

Michael

Why did I decide to ride over the highest point in West Salem after last weekend’s escapade on ice? Somehow I reasoned that because the road runs nearly East/West, and is a fairly wide road, that it would be dry. I rode my Italian road bike thinking that I’d be in less danger of crashing than last weekend, and going downtown and over the Center St. bridge was just your dry, cold, winter day.

Wallace Road, and Orchard Hts. was dry until shortly after West Salem high school. When I say dry, I mean free of ice as the temperature was 29 degrees. Shortly after that climb, the road appeared to periodically have the de-icer lines on the pavement, but as I was not having any problems, I continued on. I did un-clip one shoe after finding my rear wheel doing little zip, zip, zip’s of losing traction on a small incline. And I left it un-clipped as I rounded a corner that looked suspicious. On the next to last climb, I remained seated where I normally would have been out of the saddle because it looked like it might be ice as well. By the time I reached the summit, frost had landed on everything, turning the landscape into glimmering white. I stopped and took some pic’s, and then began the descent.

The pavement on River Rd. S was nice enough that I decided to go up Hall’s Ferry and get on Riverdale — a little climbing, but much more pleasing route with less cars. If it had been wet, I’d have been worried about the piles of slippery leaves, but they were all dry and crunchy. I felt great, and really was appreciative that I hadn’t taken Hwy 22 straight back into town earlier. By the time I got to Madronna, I was warm and toasty, and it was only in the hairpin turn that I was anxious about the slickness of the pavement.

When I got back to the shop, it was pointed out that, indeed, I did have a hole in the shoulder of my jacket, big enough that justified feeling my left arm was getting cold!

Other than that, I felt unscathed. It was only that evening that my body began to tell me I’d suffered some bruises that required the attention of Ibuprofin!