Cultivate and Harvest: Our Crazy Fun Blended Family Bike Excursion

Our Blended Family Bike Excursion on the "Iron Horsie Trail"

Well, guys 'n' gals, we pulled it off. Sort of. Originally Kristina & I planned a 3-day family bike ride with all 3 kids along 40+ miles of the John Wayne Pioneer Trail thru Iron Horse State Park in the Cascade Mountains, carrying all our gear & camping along the way. We were unable to work out the logistics to our satisfaction, however, as we didn't want to take 2 cars. So we turned it into a different sort of trip and just took off in early-mid August 2006. By then all the campgrounds were full. We whimsically drove up winding National Forest Service roads, passed an old man living out of a rusty car who tied plastic bags up in the bushes, and wild-camped near the top of Amabilis Mountain. Arid conditions and clear skies greeted us. Big, wide-open skies. The milky way seemed to cleave the heavens in half like some incandescent sword. A meteor shower was in progress. Several spectacular shooting stars and flurries of little ones blazed across the night skies. Friday night there we slept.

The next day we parked the car at the Hyak trailhead for what we preferred to call the "Iron Horsie Trail." Got a late start, common with camping with kids, biking away after lunch at 1:00. I hauled Talia on an Adams Trail-a-Bike with a little gear. Kristina pedaled with fully loaded rear panniers, trying not to do wheelies, and Morgan & Kate each had their own geared bikes.

Each kid was different. Morgan, age 12, is quite the speedy beedy, yet graceful and goes with the flow. For her endurance is grace. She's a lot like me with a weird, goofy sense of humor. Kate, almost 8, however, is intense and frenetic. For her everything is like downhill skiing at full tilt. She tore thru the gravel, crashed off the trail, spun up the banks, and flew over the handlebars. We had to doctor her hands a couple of times. At first she didn't want to bike. Refused to go. Then we couldn't stop her. Go, Kate, go! Then she got tired. Then she blasted ahead.

Morgan just kept sailing along. Giggling. On the Trail-a-Bike 4 year old Talia just hunkered down and gripped the bars. Pedal, Talia! Her little legs would just spin and pump. Or she'd sit and coast. Or stand up in the pedals sticking out her tongue. I went kinda slow, afraid I'd bump her off. No bloody owies wanted here, especially with Von Willebrand's, a bleeding disorder. The trail was fairly level, being a former railroad converted to trail, yet a mix of hard dirt, rocks, gravel, sticks, potholes, horse poop, and dead garter snakes. Talia took in the scenery, a contemplative Buddha in a pink helmet, and then yelled out, "Go faster, Daddy, go faster! Let's go!" So away we went. I was impressed how well she rode.

That first day we did 19 miles. It was a gentle downhill east all the way to the Yakima River for 18 miles with an extra mile into Lake Easton State Park to the swimming beach. It was beautiful. We cruised along side Lake Keechelus and stumps evocative of the Land of Mordor from Lord of the Rings and peed in the bushes. We pumped water from creeks thru a filter to drink, and shot thru a short, fun tunnel in Stampede Pass, over numerous little bridges, a couple of big ones, and watch Kristina almost loose it on the bridge across Cabin Creek. She skidded in loose gravel right into the curb, the one bridge where there was no railing, and for a horrifying moment it seemed she might flip herself off the lip where the rocky stream lay 30-40 feet below.

"It was nothing," she turned and grinned. Right.

"Don't die yet, Mommy," Talia lectured firmly. "I need you for a little while."

We rolled down to follow the course of the Yakima River as it cleaved through the mountains toward the desert. The Iron Horsie Trail kept going toward Cle Elum and then on through the Washington Desert, crossing the mighty Columbia on the way to Spokane in the far eastern part of the state. We peeled off onto a dirt road, however, and pedaled about a mile into Lake Easton State Park.

The children were magnificent. And pooped. They were rewarded with a cool swim in Lake Easton. Meanwhile, ol' Daddy William got back on his bike and churned 19 miles back to the car. Actually, it was one of my favorite parts of the trip. It was getting late, the sun was starting to drop, and I blasted hard, relishing the workout. I loved that high, lonesome feelin'. It took me just over an hour and a half to go uphill that took us all 4 and a half hours to go downhill.

To celebrate we piled into the minivan and drove into Easton for food. We pigged out at the little cafe there. Next door was the most raucus bar I've heard in years. Lots of hootin' and hollarin' by middle-aged drunk White folks. "Yeehaw! Hot dayum! Gimme anotha!"

Back up to the high ramparts of Amabilis Mountain. No tents this time. We slept under the stars and fell asleep to a magnificent celestial display. Kate was scared of the dark and wanted to sleep in the minivan, but she came out and snuggled down and overcame her fear. No psychos with medieval weapons appeared to chase us. Our foul, rank breaths scared away bears, cougars, wild dogs, and mosquitoes. And we woke to a beautiful sunrise and condensation upon our sleeping bags. On the dusty drive back down the gleaming white crown of Mt. Rainier loomed majestic over the far ridges.

Our second day found us back at the Hyak trailhead. It's midway on this Iron Horsie bike ride. We really made this trip easy for the kids. It's all downhill both ways both days. Today we shoot for 20 miles.

At noon we left the parking lot and headed for the notorious Snoqualmie Tunnel, just under 2 and a half miles long. Cold, frigid air blasted us as we approached, but we were prepared.

"I'm freezing!" Talia shouted.

So we all bundled up and turned on headlamps and bike lights. We entered the cold, black hallway looking for dragons to slay. But only water splattered all over us from springs raining down thru holes in the walls and ceilings. It was so cool. We had concerns about not having enough light, but we had plenty of light. A few people, mostly ratty-looking young men, even dared to bike it without any lights at all. Half-way thru Kate's bike dug into the gravel and crashed. Her tire was completely flat.

"It was getting like that all day yesterday," she whined.

No wonder she had such a hard time cycling. I tried to pump the tire. Nothing. For a long time I couldn't get any dang air in there until I noticed I had forgotten to lock the hand pump upon the stem. My rusty ol' brain bucket. It's been too long since I've last done this. We pumped the tire up tight by headlight and rode out. Morgan was waiting for us. She had blasted through in 15 minutes! But Kate's tire was flat again by the time we exited, and Morgan's valve stem had slipped too far down inside her rim. Good thing I brought my bike repair kit, as Kristina forgot hers. I just couldn't remember all the steps to fix a simple flat as it's been a while. I found a little creek and held the tire down under water as Kate and Talia watched for bubbles.

"You're supposed to let the glue dry first," Kristina laconically informed me upon reading the instructions on how to fix a flippin' flat. I'd gotten ahead of myself here and thought I was done after blowing bubbles in the creek to find the puncture but the patch slid off. I just nodded and mumbled and fiddled with my tools. Felt like a man to just hold a pair of pliers in my hand. Dang. Finally repaired the tires on both bikes. Kate's had a thorn embedded in hers.

A whole gaggle of raggedy, peirced young men rolled out the tunnel. No lights. They resembled a strange hybrid between hillybilly rednecks and gothic punks and were quite proud of coming through unilluminated.

"Daddy, where are all the bats?" Kate asked.

"Right there," I nodded at the lads pedalling with metal rings swinging from their snouts. One guy had an unusually large hatchet bungie corded to a humongous sleeping bag. Another had a battered external frame pack sticking way up over his head. At least they were happy. And who was I to talk. It's been 3 days since I've bathed.

We blasted down the mountain. It was steeper than the other side. "Dylan and his class did this uphill!" I shouted, referring to a 5 year old boy we knew. We rolled over magnificent trestles that soared over deep gorges and along rims of cliffs. The cliffside drives scared Kate, who was soon so distracted by a group of rock climbers that she almost ran off one cliff. The freeway roared in and out of view and sound. Far below we could see people playing in the river before it dove into a gorge. We rolled through beautiful green tunnels of emerald sunshine. Over one high trestle after another. Peeing along the way. Played with the digital camera. Well, we didn't take pictures of that.

I was very aware how my love handles bounced like hula hoops around my pelvis."Hey, Kristina, lookit my shuga belly!" I shouted. Hers danced around, too. Oh, we were so proud how much we squeezed into our tight little blue stretch outfits. We did get some pictures of those. Terribly embarrassing. Made my belly look like a big, blue pumpkin.

At the end, about five hours later, we rolled into Rattlesnake Lake. We had somehow put an extra mile on as we went to the end of the trail, doubled back, and then zigzagged thru the Park. We rolled right to the beach where Gwen, our shuttle driver, awaited us. Thank you, Gwen! Ex-spouses sure come in handy. Besides, I didn't really want to ride another 21 miles back up the mountain even though my ego would've love it.

Morgan, Kate, and Talia were all little warriors. They learned a few things about bike handling, nature, endurance, and hopefully their selves. They taught us a few things, too. Like it's gonna be next year before we do this again! Already, though, I'm thinking about how cool it would be to ride right out of my home to the Burke-Gilman in Seattle to the Sammanish River Trail on the Eastside and thence to the rail trail system from Duvall to North Bend and on over the pass on the John Wayne Pioneer Trail to the Columbia River Gorge. Maybe on to Tekoa on the Idaho border. Hmmn... Morgan tells me she's interested.

A still incomplete song was made up:

"Through the tunnel and over the trestles
to Rattlesnake Lake we go.
we have a fun day
the trail shows the way
twenty miles of play (like "puh...lay..eeee")

Under the stars of Amabilis Mountain we lay.

Something like that.