It started out so well… riding a trail with a wooden pipe was fun!

I used to think that I was a pretty good route maker and navigator, but after being unable to rectify my position despite a paper map and a GPS in hand, I think I need to go back to cartographic school.

It all started with the idea of a short overnight bikepacking trip… I’m always looking for places to ride and camp that are within pedaling distance or a short motor vehicle ride from home that are interesting, quiet, and suitable for a night of relaxation. And so it was that a plan was hatched for me and Ari to head to flanks of Mt. Hood for a quick trip that I devised. As the weather forecast went from sun to snow to rain, we shifted our destination towards the drier side of the mountain where a few showers were supposed to give way to sunshine and mild temperatures.

It all started out well. We drove through misty rain and a few downpours and as we got near the town of Hood River, the skies cleared as expected. We loaded our bags onto the bikes and pedaled down a trail towards the edge of town. But it didn’t take long for the rain to find us again. We huddled beneath a copse of leafy alder trees waiting for the shower to pass, but finally decided to just get out into it and get going. We got turned around in a cluster of dead end trails, then found our way into a neighborhood, avoiding some busy roads before rolling past farmlets and the sight of a mountain enshrouded in cloud.

Is that bigfoot or Ari emerging from the ground fog?

Soon the pavement ran out, the houses thinned, and we climbed into a dense forest in a bit of mist. The road was solid at first, with just a little moisture to keep down the dust, but as we got further up the hill, the first rivulets of water were coming down the low spots in the road, then we saw mountain bikers sporting skunk stripes of mud and water. (What is it about these folks that getting wet and dirty is a badge of honor?) We pushed on, literally as the road now took on a steep pitch that no amount of pedaling would conquer. We got a little sunshine, but being near the ridge of a mountain, clouds seemed to appear with such immediacy that we didn’t see them coming.

We periodically ducked beneath evergreens to hide from the downpours. At one point I noticed Ari’s shoes start to sink in the mud. While I studiously avoided getting any dirtier than necessary, I knew I’d also be in it soon enough.

We’re somewhere between my pointer and my thumb!

I checked off landmarks on our map, but the going was slow due to steep sections that just kept coming. A few trucks passed us by and the road became coated in a soft lentil-soup like slurry of red mud over its stony base. Sticking to the high edges made the riding easier, but periodically one had to choose a new line to stay dry and maintain traction. It was fun, but a bit more grueling than I’d anticipated. I expected that we’d cover the twelve or so miles to our tentative campsite in two or three hours, but somewhere around the four-hour mark I stopped looking at my watch and just pedaled.

For the first time in a few hours, we started to descend a bit and came to a confusing series of crossroads and trails. Some marked, some not. I knew we were close to our turnoff, but the paper map I brought didn’t accurately show the numbers of the trails we were crossing, nor did my Caltopo digital map. I knew we were someplace, but I couldn’t quite figure out where.

When we started to descend, I had a bad feeling that we were going the wrong way, but I foolishly went on, figuring I’d soon find a landmark that matched both of my maps. I paused and looked around several junctions, but was stumped each time. It wasn’t until we came to a complex of mountain bike trails that a few riders came by and I summoned the will to ask for help.

“Oh yeah, you’re right about here,” a muddy fellow pointed as he dripped sweat on the map.  “It’s dang long way back to your intersection,” he noted helpfully as I gazed up at a slick, steep, mucky road.

Then it started to drizzle. The raindrops were soon illuminated by a teasing shaft of sunshine between the fir trees. I felt like a fool- a fool with no energy to push my heavily laden bike back up a few miles and hundreds of vertical feet and one for leading a new friend on a failed mission.

The beginning of the end.

I looked at Ari and he shrugged. I apologized. We made the hard decision to mess around on some of the easier mountain bike trails, then roll down towards the car. As we descended, the gravel road gave way to pavement and soon it was raining so hard that nearly all the mud was washed off of our bikes.