WABDR: Section 5

SECTION 5

“I hope you're writing and not being all lazy and shit. This blog and book isn't going to write itself... Plus IT'S SECTION FIVE!!!!” 

The message from my sister I woke up to this morning. It doesn’t matter that I had no sleep the night before because I was flying from the west coast to the east coast. You know what that means? A three hour time difference my body needs to acclimate back to. No time for that! After all, it is Section 5! A day of death-defying fear.

Back to our Epic Adventure...

Due to the loud snoring of the man in the next tent over, we were up early, packed,and on our way before 8. After a quick breakfast at Apple Cup Cafe, we got back on the trail. Stories of bikes going off cliffs and riders needing to be rescued fresh on my mind.

The start of the trip was like any other day, service roads kidding me into confidence that this would be a relaxing ride in nature. In no time, we were climbing. We were on or fifth or sixth day of this. You would think the heights would be getting easier. No such luck. With each foot of elevation, my heart beat a little faster. Really, it wasn’t how high we were. As long as I was surrounded in trees, I was able to pretend I wasn’t riding beside a cliff. No, that’s a lie. Even when there were trees, I would catch a glimpse of emptiness out of the corner of my eye. I just knew those trees jutting from the cliff were meant to give a false sense of security. I wasn’t falling for any of it. I was sure that is how people went over the side. Remember the dude that had to be rescued with a mangled leg? Or the man who sacrificed his bike to the mountain gods? Those are only two I know of. I am sure there are many more stories of instances of the powers of the mountains reaching out for either man or bike.

I don’t remember the roads that day. I believe the were good. No ruts or baby head rocks to worry about. Howevet the cliffs, I mean SLOPES, were another story. Slopes in Eastern Washington aren’t hidden by trees like they are on the Western side of the state. No, they are there in all their glory. Our side of the road was the slope side. Perspiration dripped 

from every part of my body. The sound of my racing heart could be heard over the sound of my bike. Meanwhile, a pep rally was happening in my head. “Head up. Watch your line. You can do this, Mandie.” Every now and then I would hear Jennifer encourage me, “Just ride your ride.”

What a relief when Jen said she had to use the “facilities” when we came to a field. She went off to find a tree while I enjoyed the comfort of the trees surrounding me.

We were riding closer to the drop offs than any other part so far. It took every bit of inner strength I had to trust Poet Lover (the bike remember? Although, about that time I would have preferred him to be in human form….with the only dropoff being that of the bed to the floor.) No such luck, we were on a mountain leading to the heavens. One wrong move and we would be hurling to the depths of the earth below. It was imperative I trust him to go where I was guiding and trust myself to keep my head up and follow my line. There was no way I was going to ride along the cliff’s edge. Even writing this I am hyperventilating. 

“Mandie we aren’t the only ones on this road. Logging trucks or other vehicles could be coming from the other way and you would never see them.” I know she didn’t want me to die in that way. I would rather meet my death by something coming the other way than going over the cliff to my death. 

“I will take my chances and pray nothing is coming the other way.” Pretty sure my voice was shaky and weak when I responded to her hugging the mountainside of the road, I know all of it was the “mountainside.” I am referring to the part of the mountain I could reach out and touch. 

On we rode. I needed to get off the bike to breathe without having to pay attention to how to avoid death. Eventually, we found a spot to stop for a bit. Due to the work I was putting in, I took off a layer or two. 

I look rather relaxed in that picture, don’t I? Mediation works wonders. The reality is, with every cliff, I imagined what would happen if I rode over it. What if my throttle stuck? What if I panicked and went all “whiskey throttle”? How long would it take life flight to get to me? How would Jennifer even contact them? My phone, the one that got service would be at the bottom of the mountain with my crumbled body. What if…

Jennifer got me out of my head from time to time, ”You’ve got this Mandie!” 

Meanwhile, Jennifer is looking at each cliff thinking about how she would recover the bike. Before you get all “how could she not think of you first?”  Poet Lover is like no other bike. He knows how to meet the needs of whomever is riding him. As we all know, lovers like that are not easy to find. Wouldn’t we all do whatever we could to save our lover? Therefore, she questioned if she would be able to get the bike up herself? Who would she call in? Would Bill be able to give her a hand? Is rescue even possible? 

My sister has many superpowers. On and off a bike. One of her strongest powers is that if empathy. This day was just a tough for her as it was for me as she felt every bit of fear coursing through my body. Our breaks were just as important for her that day as they were for me. Thus, when we reached Twisp for lunch, we were both ready for the opportunity to stop for a bit.

Twisp is a town of less than 1000 people. It has a old school western feel to it. (This being said from someone from the east.) We found a place to have some lunch and meet a couple of “strangers no more” (Those stories will be in the book.) 

All too soon, it was time to get back on the road. Service roads at that! I was flying at 25mph! If the rest of the day was like this, I would be riding like a pro! A pro going 30mph at top speed. Riding along we came across fireplace chimney. The rest had been burnt down. From a forest fire? Left over from long ago? Was it an old mining/logging camp? A house from back in the mining days? So many questions! 

I rode on imagining the story of the fireplace. The road continued to be decent. There were some “slopes”, but I managed them. And by managed, I mean riding on the wrong side of the road as needed, going at a snail’s pace, and praying we wouldn’t meet any other vehicles. At one point, we stopped to talk to some rangers. I am little fuzzy on what was said. Fear tends to shut down the parts not needed for survival. I believe they pointed the way into town and told us we weren’t too far away.

I am sounding pretty relaxed at this point, huh? And I was...until the fear came back in a way that immobilized me. Ruby Ridge brought the fear back. Is there a word more intense than “fear”? If so, that’s what I mean. Imagine a steep downhill with very few switchbacks. The switchbacks were not nice and wide ones, which would have been manageable. No, these were steep, sharp, and included drop offs. 

I was going to do this! Me!! This was my demon to conquer in whatever way necessary. “I’m going to walk around this switchback.”

“Okay, do what you have to do. I will wait back here so I am not too close. Then I will ride down.”

My inner child came out for the rest of this part. Determined. Scared. Quiet. Focused. Sitting on Poet Lover, toes touching the ground, hands manipulating the clutch and front brake. We walked around the first switchback. 

“You’re doing good.”

“The voice of a 9 year old replied, “Thanks.”

At the start of each switchback, I kept thinking my feet would be on the pegs and I would be riding as soon as I got around it. And then I would see the steep hill going down. 

I continued to walk it down. Petrified. From time to time, Jennifer would tell me I was doing a good job. Each time the little girl in me would thank her. 

Meanwhile Jennifer is fantasizing, Graham Jarvis, the Enduro God, is riding beside her. They balance on their bikes, slowly going down the mountain. Smiling at each other as they dance beside the cliff occasionally letting me know what a good job I am doing. No fear for either one of them.

And still I walked hand-in-hand with Poet Lover knowing we would make it through this together. We will take the time we need, no matter how difficult it becomes. We must have walked a mile down the mountain. The important part of all this….WE DID IT!!! ME!! I called upon every bit of my inner “strong, brave, and courageous” and made it to the bottom. 

“Did you pee your pants?” Jennifer asked with a twinkle in her eye. 

“No! Why would I?”

“You couldn’t have been that scared then.” The sound of laughter filled Ruby Ridge. 

The rest of the ride was my kind of ride, flat with no drop-offs. We rode into Conconully, set up camp, and went and had a celebratory ice cream.

Conconully was a special place. I met a old renegade at the local tavern. He told me stories of the freedom of his life. (You can read more about him in the book.) Jennifer was surrounded by deer as she slept in her hammock. She woke up and watched them for a couple of hours. 

Due to impending thunderstorms we stayed in Conconully an extra day. Or so we told ourselves. After the trip was over, we acknowledged we stayed because I needed a day to recoup from my Day of Fear. However, we moved to a motel for our second night.

Our extra day meant that we were able to get to know Dave and Beth. (Yup, more about them when the book comes out.)

We looked into getting a bottle of champagne to have when we hit the end of the trail. We decided against it.

Each day brought with it a challenge of some sort. Section Five was by far the toughest one for me. All I have to say about that is….I DID IT!!!