As we ride through the pine forests, we often smell a mixture of pine and juniper. I am told that gin is flavored with juniper berries.
As we rode into Prineville this afternoon, we passed Ochoco Lake, or reservoir. Ochoco means willow in Paiute (I was thinking it had something to do with eight). I'm guessing the lake is low due to the drought.
All the docks leading out to no water.
Today's scenery was somewhat nondescript. I mean, this is cool, but is that all there is?
Ok, now that we're climbing, there's something to look back at.
Some summit. Can't see anything for the trees.
Gift shop, gas station, grocery store, all closed and for sale. Not sure why I think this is any different from Circle, Montana (about which I had some unkind but accurate words), but I'm feeling charitable about Mitchell, Oregon. Must be the fact that they have a park that they invite camping cyclists to sleep in.
The white building in the center is the cafe, where we ate dinner last night and breakfast this morning. Great meals but prepared by a stand-in cook who was agonizingly slow by professional chef standards. We didn't really care since today was only 47 miles.
Let me regress a bit and discuss last night's hotel. This was a circa 1910 hotel, with the necessary down the hall. The room was tiny by today's standards:
That's linoleum on the floor, in a carpet-like print.
Electricity was distributed by extension cords. I keep kid you not, the guest bathroom on the first floor had a hand-lettered sign saying "please jiggle the handle after flushing." Soundproofing was non-existent. But it was cool in an antique college-dorm way. Virtually everyone there was a cyclist, so it was no big deal to wait a minute to use the bathroom.
The town itself had more appeal than shows.