Kate Gray https://kategraywrites.com Writer & Writing Coach Tue, 07 Sep 2010 03:44:00 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.4.3 What a ride! https://kategraywrites.com/what-a-ride/ Tue, 07 Sep 2010 03:44:00 +0000 https://kategraywrites.com/what-a-ride/

Read More »]]>
My good friend, Linda Brumder, who is an ultra-rower, decided to brave 70 miles with me today. Friends are amazing people; they’re like salt. They keep your systems working. After the last ride (see post on Aug. 4), I ended up in the ER because a pain I noticed got quite a bit worse. In the post I mentioned that I wasn’t feeling 100%… So, Cheryl and I thought that perhaps I was having an appendicitis, but instead, an ovarian cyst had burst. I wasn’t in the typical horrendous pain from one of those, but it wasn’t a lot of fun. So, Linda decided to accompany me on ride #29.

This ride, the Goldendale Loop, is hugely diverse in scenery: from river, desert, to farmland, to forest, to river. It’s a nearly 3,000 ft elevation gain, and I start the ride going east on Hwy 14 from Lyle toward the Maryhill Museum. We started around 8am this morning, and we weren’t quite sure we were awake when we saw the following:

What ARE those things? Yaks? Below them were a herd of deer, and Linda thought we just needed antelope roaming…

There are great rollers especially above what used to be Celilo Falls. The wind was carrying us some, and whenever I’m up there, the wind and the silence carry loss; a whole way of life has been totally lost. You can feel it from that viewpoint.

The clouds lifted, and we were able to see Mt. Hood at that point. Soon we could also see the windmills. They are eerie and graceful and majestic. The Maryhill Museum, in all its funkiness, is its own unique landmark on the right.

From there we headed north, up a steep 3-mile climb complete with traffic, through the dancing windmills. Linda smoked me up the hill. At the top we were greeted with views of both Mt. Hood and Mt. Adams. Later as we moved past Goldendale and into the farmland, we spotted the very top of Rainier, up north in WA. Everywhere we looked, it was beautiful.

The wind was incredible, though. It sapped my energy pretty quickly. It was against us most of the ride, but luckily I had my trusty speakers for my iPod, and we boogied up the hills (kinda). I have to say the scariest part of the ride was the town of Klickitat. I usually hear a banjo when I go through there, and today, they did not disappoint. In the middle of town a guy in camouflage was carrying a rifle and walking his enormous pitbull down the rails-to-trails path. And then, later outside of Klickitat, a woman was walking along the side of the rode with a huge pistol. We rode really fast in those places. Yikes!

Anyway, Linda was a champ, and we made it despite the hills at the end of the ride. It was really fun to laugh our way around the loop. Now, I just taper this week before Cycle Oregon. I’m excited. Thanks for all your good thoughts and support. This summer has been a summer of love–I have felt such incredible support, tenderness, from so many people. Those ways of reaching out have been such blessings to me. On the way back from Mult. Falls the other day, I read the sign at a church which said, “The older one gets, the more blessings one counts.” Ain’t it the truth?!

 

]]>
hungover https://kategraywrites.com/hungover/ Sun, 30 May 2010 23:37:00 +0000 https://kategraywrites.com/hungover/

Read More »]]>
What does it say that I have the images of last week’s ride still in my head, the images of three weeks ago, too?

Last week I rode from Lyle, WA 20 miles along Rt. 14 east, to Rt. 97, went uphill to Goldendale, and headed west for another 40 miles. Did I mention the rain? Did I mention the wind? 30 mph gusts. Oh yeah, baby.
But what sticks in me is the viewpoint of what used to be Celilo Falls. As you face south, belly up to the road sign, the guardrail, to the right is Portland, and the mighty Pacific, to the left is The Dalles, the bridge, and in front of you used to be thousands of salmon, a series of falls, and one of the greatest trading places in North America. The wind blasts the basalt columns in there, the sage holds on until it can’t, and magpies lift off in all their starkness, their bright black and white. I do not feel alone there.
The browns with the shock of green grass, yellow delicate flowers, startled birds, they stick to my heart during the week. They are the resting place. They are the lingering escape.
]]>