![]() Cougars aren’t the only wildlife to roam this land. You can’t see them, but they can see you.” I don’t mention the exchange to my three friends but as we climbed our way through the dense dark forests of the Ochoco Mountains I couldn’t help but take a closer look at my surroundings for a chance to catch a stalking cat. “The Ochocos” I say and eerily he responds, “Watch out for cougars up there. As I check out at the counter the clerk inquires as to where I’m headed. The same cannot be said for the rest of the towns established in this region at the turn of the nineteenth century.īefore we start our ride I stop into the grocery store to pick up a few last-minute snacks. The railway supported the timber industry, and a town of 10,000 residents still exists today. In a period when the presence of a railroad meant the difference between prosperity and fate as an abandoned settlement, the citizens of Prineville built their own railway to combat the inevitable. The route begins in a town called Prineville. This 152-mile (245 km) route follows paved and gravel roads as the landscape transforms from the grass meadows and old-growth ponderosa pine forests of the Ochoco Mountains to the geologic oddities of the juniper foothills of the John Day River Basin, while passing ranches and vestiges of ghost towns and mines. Sitting in the rain shadow east of the Cascade Mountains, Central Oregon has an arid high desert climate offering a warm and dry environment within reach of a 3-hour drive from the city. We were riding the Central Oregon Backcountry Explorer route as a short escape from the moody and rainy fall days of the city of Portland. ![]() We made it 12 miles (19 km) total that day and limped our way to the closest town where we were pleasantly surprised by the refuge of an inviting bicycle traveler’s hostel equipped with tools, a pump, sealant, and all the comforts of home for a proper recovery. A brief moment spent off-track to explore the remnants of a ghost town resulted in a plague of goat head thorns wreaking havoc on the tubes and tires of my group. Psssssss, “there goes another one!” It was our 8th flat of the day within a short 5-mile (8 km) stretch of dirt road along the John Day River.
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