Santiam Pass

We wake up in the morning spent at Koosah Falls and pack up, getting a good early start, all of a sudden Joe Bray and Mike Harris pull up in Joe’s little car with bikes strapped to the back, it is so nice to see Mike, we shared a small house on a farm near Portland with he and his family this winter, we were thrilled to see his mug. “What in the world are you guys doing here?'” we inquire, Joe states very assuredly that we are not climbing this pass without assistance, he designates his vehicle as the pilot car, he and Cammie were driving home around 1 in the morning from visiting with us over back home over the Santiam Pass and Cammie has a whole new perspective of this road after considering a family of 8 trying to pass it, or maybe it’s the late hour and strong coffee, whatever the reason, they are passionate, they are helping get over this monster.  Mike wants to ride bad, I somehow have this tinge of guilt about not taking the Pass like the rest of them but think about the babies and very probable snow storm on the way up and consent, he’s taking Abby up while I drive the cars with the girls. So we get suited up and get going, “so what’s the plan here?” I ask Joe, “O.K., so I am going to ride until I can handle it and after that I am going to sit on the roof of the car and wave the traffic around” I am thinking, this just does not sound legal at all and tell him to be prepared to get pulled over, he doesn’t seem to much care, he’s more concerned about our safety.  We take off and I follow in the car, this feels odd, driving with exerting much effort, before long Joey is off the bike and on top of the car waving cars by using a bright pink rain poncho, I think we are fetching more dropped- jawed looks from passerbyers because of Joe’s theatrics rather than the kids on bikes over a giant pass.  Slowly they creep up the pass, the kids are doing great, they stop every few miles to rest and drink, but keep on grinding.  The weather is looking ominous with huge, swelling clouds settling all the way around and sure enough it starts to first hail than giant snow flakes start flying down.  Even with the car with behind them with hazard lights and a man on top with the pink poncho just a wavin’ there are a few that race pass way too close and fast for the crazy conditions, I  am now fantasizing  about having a stack of rocks on my lap to chuck at them, or some other damaging, shocking thing I could do to deliver these people back to the reality that there are children right there next to there monster SUVs, instead I just pray fervently.  This pass is brutal, the Cascades are the first of three mountain ranges, so we are curious how this goes over, it appears to be endless, up and up, after you think it’s over, no, there’s more.  My guts are aching for them all, I wish I were suffering with them instead of this car, but I look back at the babies all dry and warm and the gear ( to lighten their load) and feel a little bit better. I am still waiting for the cops to show up any second, at places there is zero or negative shoulder and I’m hanging out in the road making the traffic move around us and it feels precarious.  Finally, we reach the top and the sun comes out, there is snow on the ground and everybody is so happy, we play in the snow, the kids build a snow girl with pine needle ponytails and take some pics and start heading down, I continue to follow them with the hazards on, we want to get down as far as  possible to escape the weather and they are making great timing, then it happens, a cop coming the opposite direction turns around and tears after me, I pull over, “Are you the one following those bikers?” he asks, “yes I am” I tell him, “ those are my kids there on those bikes and there getting away from me here” I tell him, temporarily forgetting his position over me. “do you realize that what you are doing here is illegal?”  he says patronizingly, “I wondered” I tell him apologetically and sheepishly, “i got to shut you down” he says emphatically (yes, these were his words verbatim) “I gotta shut you down” he repeats, “we’re getting calls from folks up the mountain about you”, yeah I could see why, if he had been here 15 minutes earlier, Joe would have been on top of the car and we would most definitely would have been extra excited. I explained to the officer that I realized this looked bad but I was a little protective about their vulnerable position on this pass with these nut ball drivers, he agrees, they are nut balls and says he has to respond to these calls and lets me go after telling me to meet him up the road when he catches up to the bikers so he could scholl us on the dangers of our venture, I meet up with him and the rest of the bunch on a shoulder and he explains that there are a lot of people coming back from their weekend trips ( it’s Sunday) and they are being rude and impatient and suggests we get off at the next camping spot, Suttle lake resort until the traffic dies down.  We thank him for his mercy to us and concern and head back down, this time I leave the hazards off and meet them periodically on shoulders, we passed Suttle Lake as it is totally surrounded by snow, not great for camping, and head lower, now I envy them, sailing down the mountain, Obby looks back at me with a look of complete elation, smiling so hard he’s going to bust his cheeks.   The weather is getting warmer and drier and we settle into the high desert, we are stoked, a 30 mile day, we find a camp at Indian Ford campground, make a fire to warm everybody up and Joe and Mike take off, we settle in and I am totally savoring this dry air, after days in the driving rain, this desert stuff is welcome, we dried all our soaked gear and went to sleep, I didn’t sleep much, I am still itching bad, blasted poison oak.