Circling the U.S. Chapter 37: Northern Washington Passes Part 2

Giving up isn't so bad if you make it on the second try. The only problem was we left our gear behind, so it was back down the way we came to Mazama.

Saturday, Sept. 7 - Tuesday, Sept. 10, 2019

The scenery was pretty enough, but I was ready for the Cascade Mountains I'd heard so much about. Would we ever get to them?

We easily conquered Loup Loup Pass on Saturday, September 7, a climb of 3000 feet over 22 miles. Traffic on the pass wasn't too bad; we were passed by antique cars on their way to a vintage car festival in Winthrop. It was fun watching them go by.

After descending the western side of the pass we finally saw beautiful views of the Cascades in the distance. We took a brief detour off the main highway into the old downtown of Twisp. We sat outside a bakery and shared a "cinnamon twisp." Next door was a natural foods market where folks were sitting at outdoor tables eating rice and noodle bowls that looked inviting. But we'd already eaten our lunch and still had some miles to put in. Next time we're in the neighborhood we'll definitely allow some time to explore Twisp and its many art galleries.

Then it was on to Winthrop where the vintage car show was breaking up. The town has adopted an old western look with wooden sidewalks and a building code that requires all businesses look like they are from the Old West. Aside from watching the vintage cars drive by, we stopped for our daily ice cream fix.

Continuing west through the Methow Valley, we arrived in Mazama.

Downtown Mazama is pretty much defined by the Mazama Store, a hangout for outdoor enthusiasts.

As the next few days unfolded we realized how incredibly lucky we were that Jason, a Warm Showers host in Mazama, agreed to let us stay with him on Saturday night. He and his wife, Valerie, have a beautiful home with a small guest studio above their garage.  Valerie was visiting family in Alaska, so Jason was on his own cooking us a delicious dinner of grilled salmon, potatoes, beets, and corn. Dessert was fresh local peaches and ice cream. We ate on their screened porch while a storm broke and rain poured down. Jason said it reduced the fire danger from very high to zero.

Good news for locals was not such good news for us. The forecast for the next few days was looking like the rain was not just a passing storm. Would we have a repeat of Logan Pass, riding through spectacular scenery without being able to see it? We discussed the possibility of us hanging out and waiting a day. Or two.

Thinking the rain would continue into the morning, I couldn't get myself out of bed until after seven o'clock on Sunday, September 8. But it wasn't raining, only overcast. Rob and I went over to talk to Jason and get his opinion on what to do. We looked at the current radar picture. We looked at several weather forecasts. Nothing looked good, not now, not in several days. We decided to pack up and go. But we had options. Jason said, "If you get up to the summit and it's terrible up there, come back down and I'll drive you back up tomorrow." Or, he'd be going to Seattle on Tuesday and could drive us then.

We left Mazama under an overcast sky.

I stopped to wait for Rob at five miles. He said, "At least you can see the mountains."

I said, "Yeah, but you don't know what you're missing." The cloud cover was pretty low. I kept trying to find a positive attitude This was the part of our journey I'd been looking forward to, thinking we'd be riding through beautiful mountains for a week, not realizing that we'd have to cross three passes before even getting a glimpse of them in the distance. Then, only a day, two at the most, to cycle through them. And if it's raining, we'll see nothing.

Traffic was bad, everybody heading home to Seattle or somewhere else after a weekend camping, dragging their RVs and campers over the pass, not giving us an extra inch. The shoulder was limited and so was the visibility.

At ten miles I stopped to wait for Rob. When he caught up, I said, "I'm thinking maybe we just keep riding down from the summit. There's no point in trying to hike and it's going to be raining tomorrow." Rob agreed. We'd probably be camping in the rain.

With only four miles to go to the summit, it started raining. Then it started raining hard. I thought, "Damn, this is Logan Pass all over again. The two best passes of the trip and we get stuck with shitty weather." I thought about Jason's suggestion that we ride back down if the weather got bad. It was bad but it was the traffic that had me concerned as it got wetter and darker.

I stopped at a pullout to wait for Rob. There was a car parked but nobody inside who could give me shelter from the wet. I tried the car door. I was that desperate, but it was locked. I put on my rain jacket and waited. When I saw an older gentleman walking along the road, picking things up, I walked toward him. He had an armful of rocks. I said, "I was hoping your car would be unlocked, but it wasn't. I would have snuck inside to stay dry."

He said, "Nobody with any sense keeps their car unlocked."

The rain had stopped so we stood outside and talked a bit. An amateur geologist, he had come for the weekend to look for rocks. He told me about rocks that change color under different lights and started rummaging through his car to show me some, just as Rob came cycling up.

I said to Rob, "I'm thinking maybe we should ride back down and see if Jason can give us a ride back up here Tuesday. If it's nice we can get him to drop us off at the summit. If it's not, we'll take a ride further."

Rob said, "I agree."

We stayed and talked to Tom, the geologist. He had a small box of rock samples from around the world. He took out different flashlights that shone UV light, fluoresent light, incandescent light - I'm not sure which because I can never get them straight. But what he was able to do was show us how the rocks changed color under different kinds of light. One went from blue to green. Another from orange to white. He had fun sharing his rock knowledge with us; we had fun learning about the wonders of minerals.

We put on warm clothing for the ride down, said good-bye to Tom. He told us that we could check the box saying we'd ridden the pass.

We had a cold wet ride down, the rain starting again. Jason wasn't home, but the door to our little apartment was unlocked. A hot shower, lunch, and a two-hour nap were the perfect antithesis to our morning adventure.

We stayed in the studio apartment above the garage. The main house is on the left, blending into the woods.

I'd texted Jason to let him know that he couldn't get rid of us too easily. He didn't seem to mind. While he was preparing fish tacoes for dinner, I looked outside and saw blue sky. One option was for Jason to drive us to the summit in the morning. But the forecast called for more rain. We'd get up early and then make a plan.

Jason was wonderful, taking it in stride when we kept coming back.

Monday morning, September 9, after evaluating the weather - more rain - we decided to stay another day with our kind and generous Warm Showers host Jason.

Rob suggested we bike back down the valley 13 miles to Winthrop just to have something to do before the rain started in earnest. I thought that was a good idea but when I stepped outside around nine o'clock and saw blue sky, I said, "Let's ride up the pass until we can't see the mountains anymore." I figured at some point they'd be socked in with rain like yesterday, but maybe we'd get some views ahead of that. So we took off up the pass - on unloaded bikes - and kept going.

The clouds stayed high and blue patches of sky stuck around even as the sky darkened down below in the valley. Traffic was light. When we reached the place where we turned around I knew we would get to the summit. My happiness was unbounded.

If you look carefully down the canyon you can see the road below, where we came from.

There's a little dot down there on the road below. It's Rob, coming up the pass to join me.

You can still see the road below.

There is nothing like taking that last switchback up to the top of a pass, looking down to where you just came from and thinking, "Whoa, I did that?" The views were incredible. We were surrounded  by steep rocky cliffs. I didn't mind waiting for Rob as I just soaked up the immense glory of the mountains.

Giving up isn't so bad if you make it on the second try. The only problem was we left our gear behind, so it was back down the way we came to Mazama.

It wasn't raining at the summit but a couple motorcyclists coming from the other direction said there was rain on the other side of the pass. So we were happy to go back to Mazama, to a comfortable, dry place to spend the night.

The beauty of road biking over mountain biking and hiking is the downhill. You can just let it rip. Even 20 mph feels fast and we clocked over 30 at times, down, into the rain. Back to Jason's with plenty of time for an afternoon nap and a walk to the Mazama Store, a mecca for outdoors enthusiasts, including PCT hikers. Then Rob cooked dinner - mac and cheese, tossed salad and a bottle of pinot grigio.

Rob has been cooking dinner whenever he can. I'm looking forward to his retirement when he's been threatening to take some cooking classes.

Jason had a nine o'clock meeting in Seattle on Tuesday, September 10, and offered to drop us off wherever we wanted along Route 20, going over Washington Pass and heading to the coast. We left his house before 5 a.m. When we arrived at the summit of Washington Pass it wasn't raining, but there was significant low cloud cover, and still dark. We decided to continue on to the bottom of the pass rather than risk getting caught in more rain with no views on the way down. Jason dropped us off outside the visitor center in Newhalem just as the sun was coming up.

We rode west through the Skagit River Valley with clouds carpeting the mountains on both sides, sun and clouds overhead. We had minimal traffic as we often followed country roads that ran parallel to the highway. By now we were out of the mountains on mostly flat terrain.

The sign on the building says, "Cascadian Farm Organic."

Then we crossed a cement bridge and came to the town of Concrete. Yes, its history is tied to cement plants.

Concrete is a one-street town. I'm sure it's generally pretty quiet around lunch time on a Tuesday in September. But we happened to arrive in Concrete during a convening of a national group of horseless buggy owners.

If you have a passion for anything you can find a niche for it. These were members of the Horseless Carriage Club, owning cars from the earliest days of the automobile. They came from all around the country, transporting their horseless buggies in trailers. They were staying in a nearby town, taking day excursions of around 50 miles, driving only on country roads. Local townspeople gathered around the cars talking to their owners, who were happy to share their knowledge and passion.

Most of the drivers even dress the part.

Rob and I were both intrigued by the rippled style of the trunk of this tree. I took this picture while we stopped at a town park along our way, hoping someone could identify it. Nobody did, so if you know what kind of tree this is, please post a comment or send me an email.

After 67 miles Rob and I arrived in Mt. Vernon, the westward part of our journey pretty much completed.