Swept away

With the simple objective of saddle time and the beauty of the Methow valley all around me I set off for a three hour tour.  The sky was blue and my mind was free as I rolled out.  I was riding a set of Sectors so my road/gravel options were open.

I soon found myself meandering north on the East Chewuch debating the choices that still lie ahead.  Do I cross the bridge and go some distance up the West Chewuch?  I could ride that every week and never get tired of it.  Should I take a sharp right and do the first part of the Winthrop Fondo route?   The third option was to start up the Fondo route then take the gravel East Chewuch that is almost deserted.

That option has a catch.  90% of the way up, Twentymile creek crosses the roadway and it is impassible from April to July.  A couple years ago I rode out that way on a spring morning only to be turned back when I came to the swift moving water. At that time I had contemplated riding across, but even my bad judgment knew that could have ended very, very badly.

With the OTGG and the Leavenworth Fondo looming, my mind has shifted back to big event mode.  I have seen numerous photos of gravel and MTB races where riders had to portage a stream.  My backpacking background says getting your feet wet is a very bad idea and I have always avoided those events.  I realized I had no firsthand experience on the subject and decided today was the day.

I passed the sign that said the road was closed ten miles ahead and checked my bike computer.  When I was getting close to the river I started looking for a branch to use for the crossing.  I spotted a candidate and picked it up and gave it a thud into the dirt to see if it broke or flexed under my weight.  It passed the test and I carried in for the next couple minutes until I came to the stream.

I could hear the stream well before I could see it.  After going around the “Road Closed” gate a couple of sandy sections forced me to dismount before I reached the water.  When I came to the water’s edge I swung the bike over my right shoulder Cyclocross-style and with the branch in my left hand, I walked boldly into the water.  It felt cold my feet and calves but not uncomfortably so.  Soon I was across and there was a second fork twenty feet further and I crossed that as well.  Then I tossed my walking stick to the ground for use by the next fool that might come along.

My bike was dry but everything from my knees down was cold and wet.  I pushed my bike up the far bank and started riding again.  My feet felt cold but very, very happy on this sunny day.  I kept riding waiting for something to happen.  Within five minutes the outside of my shoes were beginning to dry.  Cold wet feet in January are bad, in May they felt wonderful. 

After ten minutes I stopped and wrung out my socks.  When I put them back on the socks and my feet were still both wet, and if I were doing it again I would just keep going.  Back on pavement the pedaling was easier and the trip back was faster than the trip out.

Halfway home I felt a cold spray on my right calf.  After twenty kilometers of gravel I got a flat on the pavement. I jumped off and found the spot where the sealant was leaking and pointed that down and shook the tire and waited.  I dug out my pump and threw in some more PSI and that held all the way back to the cabin. 

I am glad I went for the experience over the hearsay.  Not only will I not avoid a stream crossing in the future, I may in fact, seek them out.  That was the one of the highlights of my ride. 

My advice to you is go ahead and wade in.  Otherwise, you don’t know what you are missing.