Finding My Crew: Oregon's Painted Hills
Our travel took place on the ancestral lands of the Nüümü (Northern Paiute), Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs, Cayuse, Umatilla and Walla Walla, and Tenino peoples who have stewarded those lands since time immemorial.
A friend I had known for some time asked me if I would be interested in riding in Oregon over Memorial Day Weekend with a bunch of rad women and non-binary folk. One of the leaders at The Bikery was putting together a group ride in Central Oregon around the Painted Hills. I did not know anybody except my friend, but was so excited to meet more femmes in cycling. The plan was to drive down to Oregon on Saturday, ride Sunday, and drive back Monday. We had a glampsites reserved at the Service Creek Stage Stop — they had recently acquired tents from an auction the now-defunct Rajneeshpuram cult property — and were offering them at affordable rates!.
Leaving the Service Creek Stage Stop
The holiday weekend traffic was intense and my friend and I were the last to arrive because it took us almost 9 hours to get from Seattle to Central Oregon. Once we got off the major highways and turned South from the Columbia River Gorge, the landscape got more open and arid. Living in Western Washington, it seemed like a different world. We drove through tiny towns of ancient-looking farmhouses populated with farmers and retirees. Each town was surrounded by huge wheat monocultures dotted with the occasional wind farm. We arrived just before sundown, and the Stage Stop is adorable, and truly an oasis in the middle of the arid scrub landscape. I met about 8 new people and was so excited to be in a group of so many femmes that love bikes! We got settled in, had a debrief about the route, and went to sleep to the sound of crickets.
We got up around 7am the next morning and had an expert barista make very very tasty coffee for us. We were all packed up and ready to go around 9am and we took off! The first 5 miles of the ride wound over the John Day River and up about 3,000 feet of elevation. Even though it was the beginning of the day and still dewy, all of us were very quickly dripping in sweat. The scenery was incredible… Open vistas of the rolling hills, pastures, and a scrub oak landscape that felt like the Northern California I grew up in. The sky was so blue and so big, I could see why this part of the country is so special.
Once we started to climb the group began to splinter, and it became pretty apparent that the intense climb with not a lot of warm up was going to be pretty tough for some people. The front of the group kept waiting for people, and in the first 10 miles we all spent a fair amount of time waiting, but eventually some cyclists in the back of the group tapped out. It was unfortunate, but the elevation gain was really intense and unforgiving, so I understood!
We had a huddle at the top of the hill, regrouped, and developed a new plan. It was looking like it was going to rain, so we elected not to take the gravel bypass we had planned to take to the Painted Hills National Monument to avoid getting stuck. We decided instead to get lunch in the tiny town of Mitchell. We rode in the rain for another hour or two and found a brewery and convenience store where we got some food and waited out the storm. This area of Oregon is so remote that none of the 9 remaining cyclists had any service, and we could not get in touch with any of the cyclists that had ridden back. However, what I gathered from the chattering I heard is that somebody would be coming to get us with their truck.
Once the storm passed, we rode the 10 miles down the highway to the Painted Hills and it was truly incredible. We had the road to ourselves for the most part, and the way that the beautifully striped hills and fossil beds revealed themselves around the bends in the road was breathtaking. The last bit of road to the overlook was big gravel, which was pretty fun to ride.
I was pretty blown away with the landscape… The sky was so open and the stripes in the hills were so unusual and mysterious. Even though the day had not gone to plan, I think we all felt very strong and accomplished in our flexibility and determination as a group. I really did not care as long as we were all together, outdoors, on bikes. I felt so grateful and happy to be in such a huge group of femme cyclists in such a beautiful place. It was a fairly quick trip but it will stick in my mind for a long time, and I am so happy I met so many wonderful new cycling buddies. This trip was the first time I had been around a big group of people like this, people that wanted to geek out on bikes, get sweaty, and eat beans around a campfire — but that also had similar experiences with misogyny, who wanted to unpack feelings around queerness, and compare birth control. This trip changed me and my expectations for what my life in Seattle’s cycling community could be. I am more determined than ever to start planning more trips with people like these — genuine, soulful, and self-reliant but tender people that like to ride bikes. Where have they been all my life?