by Anton Luru
(Troutdale, Oregon)
There’s something to be said about getting lost.
I’m not talking about trying to find a location, making the wrong turns and finally having to stop at the local convenience store to determine where it is you have to find.
What I’m thinking about is finding yourself out in the middle of nowhere and not really wanting to have a set direction or course to follow. Let the road determine your direction and leave the wondering of where the hell am I to the wind.
It’s like the Bob Seger song, ‘Roll Me Away’. “I could go east. I could go west. It was all up for me to decide.”
Today was that sort of day. After having family from New York here for a week, my son Leeland and I were definitely in the mood for a short and scenic road trip. Away from the daily schedule of showing the New Yorkers the wonders of the Pacific Northwest, away from schedules and demands. Nothing but the bike and the road before us.
God smiled down on us today.
Leeland and I headed for Sportsman’s Warehouse to restock badly needed fishing supplies. The day started overcast and slightly chilled along the Cascade foothills, but as the day progressed, the sky cleared and the sun shined down illuminating the day with grand possibilities for a small adventure to parts unknown.
After leaving the warehouse with saddlebags full of necessary fishing accouterments, we started up I-205, northbound for home.
However, without any warning, I found myself turning onto Sunnyside road heading east for Damascus, Oregon. A rather long short cut back to Troutdale.
After passing Damascus, another small road caught my attention and I turned south following it down past the nicely groomed yards of the newly built weed houses cropping up in the area. Soon, we were past the boundaries of Damascus and winding down the road into a small valley.
There another road to the left caught my attention, and once again another turn this time heading east along a country road that for some reason has never caught my attention before.
After a few miles passing horse ranches and hobby farms, we found ourselves at a crossroads. The Bob Seger tune came into my mind. However, this time I had one other choice….straight, left or right. We continued straight and found ourselves on Wild Cat Mountain road. Again, with all the times that I have traveled throughout this region either on my bike or in my Jeep, this road never caught my attention. Again I say, God seemed to be smiling and directed me hither.
For miles we rode on without seeing another vehicle. Passing small farms and bungalows hidden within the thickening forest. Ahead of us, clearly insight beckoning us forward was Mount Hood. Clear and looming it stood before us as we began the easy winding climb up Wild Cat Mountain.
Twisting curves carefully guided us up ever closer to the Mountain. The smell of the meadows with their colorful blooming flowers welcomed us as we explored further along this quiet and serene world we were traveling through. With each turn brought another view of the mountain and each time it seemed even closer. “Have I found another route to the mountain”, I thought to myself as we continued counting off the miles.
Finally, at the top of the mountain, the road began to descend into the Clackamas valley. At an old forest fire burn just as we began our decent down the mountain, we pulled over for a short break off the bike and to gaze out at the forested valley before us. No sounds from the city met us here. Only