*** continued from previous post  ***

SORRY - OUT OF SEQUENCE

As you'll remember, the road to Chinook Pass is no cake-walk. In less than an hour you climb from 500 feet above sea level, to 5400 feet all the while winding through dense forest and steep roads, literally clinging to the sides of the mountains. I remind you of this so that the next part of our story makes sense.

For you see I, the man who was adamant about this being summer, and now less than 10 minutes into our voyage, was beginning to get cold. The temperature dropped with every hill, every twist and turn of the road. I should have pulled over and put on some extra layers - and possibly set fire to my chest - but I thought the seat warmers and heated grips would be enough. Plus, there was that little pride thing I had going. No way I was going to admit I'd made a mistake in my choice of gear after the discussion your Mom and I had earlier. I was able to fake it almost all the way to the top of the pass. I'm sure that your Mom thought my shivering was nothing more than a bit of rough road. She may have had her suspicions, as evidenced by the following conversation that took place half-way up the mountain.

Mom leaned forward and said, "Sure glad I wore my heavy gear. Yep I'm warm and toasty back here. In fact, I was thinking about unzipping my jacket a little. Cool off a bit. How you doing?"

I would have replied, but my jaw was locked in a permanent clench. I think I may have bitten my tongue in half. It didn't matter. Hypothermia was sitting in - hard. Less than an hour from home and I was about to die the death of the dinosaurs. Again, it didn't matter. It would all be over soon.

Yet I'm a survivor. I'm scrappy. Somehow I managed to hold on the last few miles where we reached the final ascent to the top of the mountain. I don't know if you remember this, but the stretch of road from the intersection of Hwy 410 and Hwy 123, to the top of Chinook pass - while only 3.5 miles long - climbs almost 750 feet with some MAJOR switchbacks. I mean MAJOR switchbacks. No, even bigger than that! This is usually the 'fun' part of the trip. Usually. But the Universe was getting the game on early because as we rounded a corner it began to rain. Then the rain turned to snow. And the snow began to stick. In August.





Well, as I have said many times in my life - and never in a particularly positive tone - this should be interesting.

And it was. Interesting I mean. A little slippery. A little slidey. A little 'change your undies.' Despite the odds, and I might mention that I was beyond cold at this point, we managed to make it to the top. I pulled into a little rest area just over the summit, cutting a black stripe through the slush to the blacktop below, and coasted into a parking space. I would have wept but my eyelids were frozen.

"Can you believe this?", Mom asked shaking her head in amazement. "It's August for crying out loud."

I tried to say something. I can't remember what. It was probably poignant, beautiful, profound. A statement worthy of being carved in stone. A summation of the human condition that would have birthed insight and peace between nations but was now lost because I couldn't move my lips. Such is the tragedy of man.

Oh wait, I remember! I said, "COLD!"

"Yeah," Mom said, and pulled off her helmet. "It is a little chilly. What does the thermometer on the bike say. Like 38, 39 degrees?"

I managed to tilt my head to look at the digital readout on the instrument cluster. Either I heard ice crack on the back of my helmet or I had shattered another vertebrae in my neck. I hardly noticed. The display was frosted over just a tad. "33", I said. Only it came out "Thhhhhh. . .thhhhhh. . .thhhhh. . ." Sounding much like I was trying to blow up a balloon with a lisp.

"Aw, are you cold babe?" she asked, cocking her head. "Guess you should have worn your heavier coat."

It wasn't so much what she said, although that stung, it was the particular way she giggled as she said it that nailed me. Were it not for my complete inability to speak, or let loose of the handlebars, there may have an altercation.

However, I knew the hard part was behind us. Soon we would descend down into Eastern Washington where the weather was warmer, the roads were less crowded, and granola was not on the menu. We waited at the top of the pass for awhile, watching the light snowfall, allowing the feeling to return to my limbs, and then with a mighty 'Hi Ho Silver! Away!' we set out on the twisty path that would eventually take us to Canada.

Of course, before we could get to our first stop at Galaway Bay, BC we would have to cover 350 miles. As I explained to your Mother, "Piece of cake!"

Darn good thing it was early in the morning. Otherwise, we might have run into trouble.




*** the journey continues tomorrow