SNOW-BIKING STORY HITS SEATTLE TIMES (OUCH!)

My upcoming story on snow-biking in the Methow is no longer upcoming; it's right here.

SNOW BIKING IN THE METHOW VALLEY

Here's a video I shot a couple weeks ago of Joe Brown and I snow biking in Winthrop. (He owns Methow Cycle & Sport there.) The video is for an upcoming Seattle Times story and they wanted me to do an accompanying voice-over. Thus, the abundance of "Um's" and "Uh's". (Please excuse.)

SEATTLE TIMES CONCONULLY STORY

Click here to enjoy my Seattle Times story on last month's epic gravel-grinder ride to Conconully with Scott Young and Brian Ecker.

STEVENS PASS BIKE PARK PHOTOS

Here're some photos that didn't make it into my Seattle Times story on the new Stevens Pass Bike Park because of space considerations.

EARLY MORNING GALBRAITH MOUNTAIN RIDE

Super cool, super fun, super early MTB ride up on Galby this a.m. w/ Glenn G., Bryan S. and Asa K. (the Logos Crew). Glenn's partaking in some Strava contest and wants to climb a bizillion feet this week so we essentially climbed the Tower Road to the top of Unemployment Line, rode down it, then climbed the Tower Road back up again. Four times, I think. Finished off with some Mullet, Cheech 'n' Chong, Not Shawn's action. And then I dropped down and did the Padden upper loop. So much darn crazy-arsed fun it's almost not to be believed! (Bryan above, Glenn below.)

Glenn and I (me rocking a pair of ill-fitting and not-too-comfortable Lowe's safety glasses) on the Tower Road climb.

In other news, the book ("75 Classic Rides: Washington") has been getting some cool press this week. Yesterday, the Seattle Times ran a Q & A interview that I did with the very nice Mary Ann Gwinn. (Who, btw, is a past Pulitzer Prize winner!) And Biking Bis wrote a review of both my Classic Rides Washington book and Jim Moore's "75 Classic Rides: Oregon". Thanks a lot Mary Ann and Biking Bis! Much appreciated.

Oh, and here's our route:

HIKING TO CAMP MUIR

Summer's officially here and as usual I want to spend the next three months doing pretty much every that it's possible to do outdoors. Including returning to Mount Rainier National Park and hiking the big giant snowfield in the sky to Camp Muir. Though very strenuous, it's not at all technical and gets you up to 10,188 feet--that's only 600 feet lower than the summit of Mount Baker!

Here's a story I wrote four years ago for The Seattle Times about my Camp Muir excursion. I've not been down there yet this year so for the latest conditions, be sure to check the information resources at the end of the story. 

Camp Muir: A quick altitude adjustment

Mount Rainier's base camp makes for a popular day-hike destination

by Mike McQuaide

(Originally published Thursday, August 28, 2008)

I’m the type who likes to get mind-blowingly high. In the mountains, I mean. And when an early-August five-day forecast predicted nothing but clear skies and pleasant temperatures, I knew where I wanted to go: Camp Muir, that base camp in the sky, tucked high in the rocks just below Mount Rainier’s airy summit.

How high? Were Camp Muir at the tippy-top of its own mountain, its location on a rocky saddle at 10,188 feet would make it the fifth-highest peak in the Washington State, just below Glacier Peak. (It’s 1,800 feet higher than Mount St. Helens.)

Around for pretty much as long as people have been climbing Mount Rainier and named for John Muir, the famed naturalist, Camp Muir is the main base camp for many of the 9,000 climbers who annually attempt to summit the mountain. It boasts stone and wood shelters for climbers and hikers, several aromatic privies, and is home to several climbing rangers who essentially live on the mountain in a cramped stone hut first built in 1916.

The rangers dispense vital information on route conditions and help climbers who get into trouble.

“We do whatever we have to do to help people out,” says ranger Kevin Hammonds.

But Camp Muir isn’t just for potential summiteers. With its stupendous views—all the way to Central Oregon on some days—and its potential to offer a non-technical, relatively safe hike to a spot almost two miles high on a true Northwest icon, Camp Muir makes for a popular day-hike destination too.

9:21 a.m.; elevation: 8,500 feet. On a midweek morning under blue skies, I’ve got the Muir Snowfield all to myself. I haven’t seen a single person; all is silent.

Except for what I could swear is the far-off sound of whooping and hollering.

Not far up the snowfield, I spot two hikers making their way down the snow in an especially smooth manner. There’s no bouncing up and down usually associated with human-powered forward motion (i.e., walking). That’s because they’re glissading—that’s the high-falutin’ term for sliding down the snow on one’s butt.

The snowfield is streaked with what look like mini half-pipes. Gouges carved out of the snow by people’s sit-upons where it’s steep enough to let them slide while sitting.

“Woo-hoo, that was fun!” says Annie Passarello from Ashford upon coming to a stop after a couple-hundred yard sit-down ride. “That just made it all worth it.”

At 3 a.m., Passarello and Brian McDonald, also from Ashford, headed out from Paradise in the dark so that they could be high on the mountain to watch the sun rise over mounts Adams, St. Helens, Hood, and beyond.

“The stars were amazing and when the sun came up, everything turned pink,” Passarello gushes. “It was gorgeous.”

It took Passarello and McDonald four hours to reach Camp Muir, which is making good time. Hiking books say to plan on six to 10 roundtrip. It’s nine miles there and back but it’s not the distance that makes it tough, but the elevation gain—4,700 feet—and that it’s all done at high elevation—5,400 to 10,000-plus feet.

6:45 a.m.; elevation: 5,420 feet. After staring dumbfounded at the early morning sun hitting Mount Rainier for what seems like 20 minutes, I set out from the Paradise parking area. I follow signs for the Skyline Trail and climb through pretty meadows bursting with magenta paintbrush, avalanche lily, and blue lupine.

In my pack, I carry lots. Though it’s already warm and sunny—60s likely warming up to 80s—I remember the words of an old salt who once told me that above 5,000 feet in the Cascades, there’s the potential for winter every single day of the year. I’d be heading up to 10,000 feet and figured the potential was probably twice as great.

“The snowfield is a place where a casual day hiker can run to trouble,” says Mike Gauthier, search and rescue coordinator for Mount Rainier National Park.

“Unfortunately, a lot of people go up there for a day hike unprepared for how quickly the weather can change.”

Last June, a Bellevue man died while hiking the Muir Snowfield when he and his party were stuck in a blizzard blasting 70-mph winds. I’m in short sleeves and lightweight pants with zip-off legs, but along with the 10 essentials, my pack includes a fleece jacket, snowboard pants, and a half dozen more PowerBars than I ever hope to consume.

After 2.3 miles and about 1,800 feet of climbing, I reach a sign pointing to Pebble Creek. Once across, I navigate a short rocky stretch and voila—I’ve reached the Muir Snowfield. Different from a glacier in that it is not a river of snow and ice slowly crawling down the side of the mountain, the snowfield is, like it sounds, a big field of snow. That tilts upward. At times, seemingly straight upward. Over the next 2.2 miles to Camp Muir, the route climbs 2,800 feet.

Across the snow, boot track and the mini half-pipes are easy to follow, and here and there, orange-flagged wands stuck in the snow point the way. Ahead of me, 14,410-foot Mount Rainier is massive and stoic: a huge pile of rock with a jumble of snow and ice spilling down its front. It looks like it could use a bib.

10:17 a.m.; elevation: 9,450 feet. Up ahead, at the far corner of the snowfield, I spot what look like boxes. It’s Camp Muir. Seeing the straight lines and squared-off edges of manmade structures way up here seems odd. Like being stranded on a deserted island only to come across a drive-thru Starbucks.

In a half-hour, I’m at Camp Muir. So are about 30 others, most of them lounging about the rocky plateau, enjoying lunch while relishing the experience of having summited in the early morning hours. Others gather their gear for the hike back down to Paradise while still others scope out a place to set up camp for the night.

Along with the privies and shelters, the camp features several tents that have been set up nearby in the snow. Just above, a line of roped-up climbers crosses the Cowlitz Glacier, passing below a huge crevasse that looks to be smiling down on them.

“That was exhausting,” says David Clark, 20, from New Hartfield, Conn. He was part of a RMI (Rainier Mountaineering Inc.) party that left Camp Muir at midnight, reached the mountain’s summit at 7 a.m., and just now returned to camp.

"Awesome, but exhausting. I’ve never been above 8,000 feet before so that was a big step up. ”

I’d expected it to be much colder up here, and that I’d be bundled up in my jacket and snowboard pants, teeth chattering as I shivered in a stiff wind at 10,000-plus feet. But the air is still, the sun is strong, and though I’m still in short sleeves I’m even a tad warm.

The glissading on the way down fixes that.

On my way back down, not far below Camp Muir, I come to the first half-pipe streaking down the snowfield. Down I go. Onto my butt in the cold, cold snow swooshing down the hill losing in a snap all that elevation I worked so hard for on the way up.

When I’m too wet and chilled to take it anymore, I hop out and hike for a bit. When I heat up, I plop back in. Then hop back out. And plop back in.

And downward I go.

Back to Paradise.

Mike McQuaide is a Bellingham freelance writer and author of "Day Hike! Central Cascades" and "Day Hike! North Cascades" (Sasquatch Books).

Information:

Rangers at Camp Muir maintain a blog that offers information on current route conditions, weather, guide services, photos and more. Go here.

For more park information and conditions, go here.  

CHELAN-WENATCHEE CYCLING STORY HITS SEATTLE TIMES

Click here for my Seattle Times story about cycling in Chelan and Wenatchee, also known as (to me, anyway) Chelanatchee. (Or Wenatchelan.) Excellent pedaling over there, that's sure. 





GALBY MTB, FIRST TIME IN A WHILE

On this day four years ago, me da' passed and I generally like to mark the anniversary date by getting in a ride or run or hike that tips my cap to him for among other things, influencing my love of the outdoors. (Here's a link to something I wrote a few years ago for the Seattle Times about that very subject.)

It being the middle of the week, I didn't have time for anything epicish (i.e., multiple repeats up the Mount Baker Highway, which I've done in the past) so instead, I broke out the single-speed--which I haven't ridden in a while--and headed up to Galbraith with the intent of setting some personal bests on Strava. (Which I did; amazing how much faster one can go when it's dry.) 

Check out the above Lord of the Rings-ish tree with its roots spidering across the top of a boulder; I'd not seen that before. (Of course, with all the logging up there lately, I saw lots of stuff I'd not seen before.)

At the top, I met some downhiller-freerider types from Victoria, B.C., who were in the midst of an epic mountain bike tour of the Northwest (Wash., Oregon, Idaho, etc.) with their final destination being Moab, Utah. Sounds fun! I, of course, took the time to pimp my new book, showing off my sandwich board-esque bike jersey:

Speaking of my book (we were speaking of it, weren't we?), I heard from Seattle's Adam Morley who just received his copy of "75 Classic Rides: Washington," which he ordered through Mountaineers Books--so I guess it's now available! 

Anyway, another terrific ride, another terrific day in the great outdoors--thanks, dad!





THOUGHTS OF SPRING--I MEAN, SUMMER



March weather in the northwest corner of the Great Northwest has been the pits. Unless you're a skier or snowboarder in which case, it's been epic as all hell. But for us lowland, two-wheel types it's been less than happnin'. ('Cept for last weekend of course, which was quite nice, but as of now it's nothing but a memory.)

So I thought I'd look forward to the summer and post this story I wrote a year or so ago for The Seattle Times about some of our state's best mountain road rides. Kinda give y'all something to shoot for whilst spinning away to the iPod on the spin bike.

By the way, most of these also show up in my "75 Classic Rides: Washington" book due out in May. 

Riding high: our state's best mountain-road bike routes


Mike McQuaide offers five high-country rides for crazed cyclists with the climbing gene.

By Mike McQuaide

Special to The Seattle Times

Ah, those summer bike rides.

The freedom of pedaling aimlessly, meandering over pancake-flat roads and paved pathways, stopping every so often for a latte, or a scone, or to send a friend an amusing video message of you on your bike.

For some, however, summer bike rides conjure something altogether different. To them, it means heading for the hills, scaling the heights of mountain roads so high they're clear of snow for only a few months each year. Up, up, up to the heavens: to Paradise, to Artist Point, to Sunrise, and other ethereally named alpine eminences.

But they do it with a smile. (And/or a grimace, which is sort of a smile.) These folks dig the climbs.

"Climbing on a bike is simply the best part of cycling for me," says Seattle's Tom Meloy, who rides some 10,000 miles each year, including over half a million feet of climbing. A coach at Cycle University (cycleu.com), he writes an informative bike blog (tomsbicycleblog.blogspot.com) that often details his climbing exploits.

"There is something about the sheer exhilaration of spiraling higher and higher, similar to the feeling of hiking up a mountain on foot, that gives me a sense of calm and serenity. I must just have the climbing gene."

If you, or someone you know, possesses the climbing gene, here are five favorite high-country bike routes — which become even better after Labor Day, as traffic thins and temperatures moderate:

Artist Point


Highway 542 (Mount Baker Highway)

Popular in the winter for its world-renowned ski area, the Mount Baker Highway is popular in summers with road cyclists. Especially those who love spectacular alpine vistas and consider a relentless 10.5-mile-long uphill push (3,000-foot elevation gain) a good time.

"Five-forty two (Highway 542, the Mount Baker Highway) is a top-notch place to climb," said Bellingham's Tammy Bennett after a recent Artist Point ascent. She used to do the ride once a year, but now, along with husband, Brad, and a cadre of climbing friends, she does the route several times a summer.

"The last couple of switchbacks force you to make an inner decision because you can see where you're going — up and more up — and it will either discourage you or set you on fire."

As soon as the long climb begins, the trees open and you're lured upward by spectacular views of Mount Shuksan, which only get better and bigger with each turn of the pedals. In fact, if one is feeling good, the second half of the climb — from the Mount Baker Ski Area's White Salmon Day Lodge (you'll know it by the roadside raven sculptures) — seems to fly by. That's because you're distracted by the ever-expanding views of the Nooksack Ridge, myriad North Cascades, and those coffee-table-book shots of Picture Lake in front of Mount Shuksan.

Then again, the second half is also incredibly hard, what with the steep, hairpin turns and switchbacks, not to mention the accumulation of fatigue and altitude so late in the ride. (Such is the ambivalent relationship many climbing enthusiasts have with climbing; it's a painfully evil rollicking good time. Know what I mean?)

If You Go

Distance: 49 miles round-trip from Glacier to Artist Point and back. Elevation gain: 4,850 feet. High point: 4,990 feet. Getting to starting point: From Bellingham, follow Highway 542 (Mount Baker Highway) for 33 miles to Glacier. Turn right just past the post office and park at the public restrooms and parking lot about 25 yards ahead. Services: Though there are aromatic pit toilets at Artist Point, there are no other services. The town of Glacier offers places to eat.

Sunrise


Mount Rainier National Park

No huge surprise that the Northwest's most epic mountain offers some of the most epic hill-climbing rides in Washington. (Paradise, on the south side, is another; as are Cayuse-Chinook passes to the east.)

Among Sunrise's calling cards: At 6,400 feet, it's at the end of the highest paved road in the state and thus leads to a wonderland of wildflower meadows at the foot of Mount Rainier's Emmons Glacier. The 14-mile road climbs about 2,800 feet, but the last 2.5 miles from Sunrise Point to the end are just about flat, even slightly downhill in spots. Thus, as you approach Sunrise and evermore massive Rainier, you're able to gather a good bit of speed and, given that the toughest part is behind you, you feel invincible. Like you can pedal right up the Emmons Glacier and summit the mountain! (Don't try it.)

Also amazing: Sunrise Point, where the road flattens for that final stretch, offers an incredible 360-degree mountain panorama. On clear days you can see everything from Mount Rainier to the west, Mount Baker to the north (130 miles away!), Mount Stuart in the Enchantments to the east and Mount Adams to the south.

If You Go

Distance: 28 miles round-trip from Mount Rainier National Park's White River entrance and back. Elevation gain: 2,900 feet. High point: 6,400 feet. Cost: $15 to park a vehicle at the White River entrance (no additional charge for bikes); if you park outside park entrance, there's still a $5 fee for bikes to enter the park. Getting to starting point: From Enumclaw, head east (and south) on Highway 410 for 38 miles to Mount Rainier National Park's White River entrance. Services: At Sunrise, the day lodge offers restrooms, food, a picnic area and a ranger station.

Hurricane Ridge


Olympic National Park

This is the big one — the longest, most relentless, elevation-gobbling, gravity-fighting ride of the group. From just above sea level to a mile high in less than 19 miles. Yikes!

"It's the climb that most closely replicates the big climbs of Europe," says Meloy, who's conquered such European classics as the Galibier, the Tourmalet and Alpe d'Huez.

"For me, that makes Hurricane Ridge the best climb in Washington. It's a long climb with a great panoramic-view payoff at the top."

True, that. At the Hurricane Ridge Visitor Center, the sea-of-peaks effect spreads mountains and valleys, hills and dales in all directions as far the eye can. It takes your breath away.

So does the 19-mile climb, which offers neither lead-in nor warm-up. It gets busy quick, climbing from the first pedal stroke, and, in fact, the first 4.5 miles are the steepest of the whole ride. On the ride up, several pullout areas offer airplane-wing views of the northern Olympic Peninsula edging into the Strait of Juan de Fuca, with Vancouver Island beyond.

If You Go

Distance: 37.5 miles Elevation gain: 5,100 feet. High point: 5,195 feet. Cost: $5 for bikes to enter Olympic National Park; $15 to park a vehicle inside Olympic National Park. Getting to starting point: Take Highway 101 to Port Angeles and turn south onto Race Street. Two blocks ahead is Erickson Playfield and Civic Field, which offer parking. Follow Race Street south for about a mile and turn right onto Heart o' the Hills Road, just past the Olympic National Park Visitor Center. Or, you can park in the visitor center parking lot and cut two miles off your round trip. Services: Hurricane Ridge Visitor Center offers restrooms, food, a picnic area and a ranger station.

Paradise


Mount Rainier National Park

Because it can be approached from both east and west, Paradise — that otherworldly mile-high spot on Mount Rainier's south side — is really two climbs in one. Either way, it's truly spectacular.

From the west, the Nisqually-Longmire side, the climb is slightly shorter than the east side approach from Stevens Canyon-Ohanapecosh, but the western approach is usually more crowded with vehicles. This is the direction that the annual RAMROD ride (Ride Around Mount Rainier in One Day) takes.

"Riding up from the east is so much better," Meloy says. "There are almost no cars in sight and the views of Rainier are much more dramatic."

Personally, I've only ridden through the park west to east and found the crazy-fun descent through Stevens Canyons to the Stevens Canyon entrance to be my all-time favorite. Though the three-mile Backbone Ridge ascent, pretty much in the middle, is a bit rude.

Either way, take a moment to scan Paradise Valley, just below Paradise. On a recent ride, I spotted a mama bear and two cubs playing across the meadow.

If You Go

Distance: Nisqually entrance to Paradise and back: 42.4 miles; Ohanapecosh Visitor Center to Paradise and back: 49.2 miles. Elevation gain: Nisqually-Paradise and back: 3,540 feet; Ohanapecosh-Paradise and back: 4,780 feet. High point: 5,400 feet. Cost: $5 for bikes to enter Mount Rainier National Park; $15 to park a vehicle inside the park. Getting to starting point: To ride to Paradise from the west, head south to Ashford and follow Highway 706 east to the park's Nisqually entrance. To ride from the east side, follow Highway 410 east and south from Enumclaw for 41 miles to Cayuse Pass. Continue straight on Highway 123 for 11 miles to the Stevens Canyon entrance. Park here ($15 park fee) or three miles ahead at the Ohanapecosh Visitor Center (free). Services: The Henry M. Jackson Memorial Visitor Center at Paradise offers restrooms, food, a picnic area, ranger station and crowds.

Washington Pass


Highway 20 (North Cascades Highway)

Like Paradise, Washington Pass — the high point, both literally and figuratively, of the North Cascades Highway — has both a west- and east side approach. From the west, it's often climbed as part of longish point-to-point rides from somewhere on the west side to Mazama, Winthrop or even cross-state. From the east, riders do out-and-backs (which are really up-and-downs) from Mazama and Winthrop.

Riders from both sides are drawn by the same things: the stunning vista of high, sweeping valleys and jagged east side peaks, the Liberty Bell massif with its 1,200-foot rock face, and, of course, the screaming 20-mile descent into the Methow Valley from 5,477-foot-high Washington Pass.

From the west, the road to Washington Pass is a long, gradual, not-too-steep climb that stiffens for a couple miles before reaching Rainy Pass (elevation 4,855 feet). It then descends for a mile-and-a-half before offering up the steepest section — 900 feet in 3.4 miles — culminating in Washington Pass.

From the east, the climb is steeper and more consistent. But the emerging and ever-expanding views of Liberty Bell are sure to turn your pain-face frown upside down.

If You Go

Distance: Varies, because there are numerous places to start. Here are some options. From the west: Colonial Campground to Washington Pass and back: 64 miles. Newhalem to Winthrop (one-way): 73 miles. From the east: Mazama to Washington Pass and back: 36 miles. Elevation gain: Colonial Campground to Washington Pass and back: 3,850 feet. Newhalem to Winthrop (one-way): 6,425 feet. Mazama to Washington Pass and back: 3,250 feet. High point: 5,477 feet. Getting to starting point: Head east on Highway 20 to Newhalem, Colonial Campground or Mazama, depending on your start and finish points. Services: Picnic area with restrooms at Rainy Pass.

SEATTLE BIKE EXPO THIS WEEKEND



Saturday morning, I'm heading down to the Seattle Bike Expo to hang out at the Mount Baker Bicycle Club booth. The club is kind enough to let me sorta pimp my upcoming book, "75 Classic Rides: Washington" though I won't actually have any copies on hand. (It comes out in May.) Hopefully though, I'll have book cover postcards to hand out. And of course, I'll be wearing my book jersey which features Titanium Cancellara on the cover.





I'll be chatting up B'ham and Whatcom County as a great place to ride too--road, mountain, mellow Greenways rides, etc.--which it certainly is.

In other news, here's my Seattle Times story about James Varner and Rainshadow Running, the folks who put on all those cool trail-running races in epic places throughout Washington including Yakima Canyon, Cle Elum Ridge, Mount Spokane, Orcas Island, Deception Pass, etc.  

One last bit, on May 24 (tentative date), I'll be doing a "75 Classic Rides" presentation at venerable Village Books in Bellingham. I'll keep you posted with more details as the date approaches.

SEATTLE TIMES SNOWY OWL STORY

Click here for my Seattle Times story about the blizzard of owls at Boundary Bay!

SEATTLE TIMES HOLIDAY HIKES STORY

Here's the link to my holiday hikes story that appears in this Sunday's Seattle Times Travel section, but is available now on the Times innerwebber site. All pics are from the cool Padilla Bay Shore Trail, just off Highway 20 on the way to Anacortes. Enjoy! And Merry Christmas too! 

WASHINGTON PASS STORY HITS SEATTLE TIMES

Wow! Click here for a terrifically amazing story in the Seattle Times about the revamped trail at Washington Pass. Pulitzer worthy fer sure. Let me see who wrote it. It was ... oh. Well, now this is embarrassing.



SEPTEMBER ENNUI; ROADS TO NOWHERE

Other than downing a fair amount of Peanut Butter Cup-flavored Breyers Blast ice cream, I've not been doing a whole lot lately. Skipped the Mount Baker Hill Climb, not doing the Bellingham Traverse, might do a 50- or 60-mile leg of Sunday's Chuckanut Century though, for the first time since St. Swithin's Day, the weather looks iffy. So I don't know.  

I'd been planning on picking up my running a bit--I even signed up for next January's Orcas Island 25K--but have been plagued by an annoying calf tweakage issue. I run for two minutes, all is fine and then BAM!--my right calf hurts like heck. Doesn't bother me at all when I bike, but running right now is pretty much out of the question. So, more than likely I'm gonna go eat worms.

Before I do that, however, here's a story I wrote a couple months ago for The Seattle Times. Lots of people told me they liked it so I thought I'd share it here. (On the July day it ran, the story rose to Number 1 on the most e-mailed list. Story it knocked out of the top spot? The one about the guy whose wife cut his you-know-what off and put it in the garbage disposal.)

5 roads to nowhere: the best of Washington's boonies

Outdoors writer Mike McQuaide, fresh from penning a Mountaineers guidebook to Washington cycling routes, offers his five favorite roads to the middle of nowhere — suitable for riding or driving.

At 2,622 feet, Waterville, which is northeast of Wenatchee, boasts the highest elevation of any incorporated city in Washington.

In researching an upcoming guidebook on road cycling routes in Washington, your intrepid author has been all over, sniffing out great places to ride throughout the hidden corners and back roads of this grand Evergreen State. Along the way, he's seen some spectacular sights: the sparkling waters of the Similkameen River cutting through rocky canyons up near Oroville; the bird's-eye views of the Columbia River Valley set against the Cascades from way up high on Badger Mountain; the roly-poly Dr. Seuss-esque hills surrounding charming Waitsburg and Dayton in the southeast corner of the state. And lots more.

I was looking for cycling routes — and strenuous, fairly longish ones at that — but for those who aren't given to pedaling, these make for some terrific drives as well. They're mostly on rural, low-traffic roads smack in the middle of nowhere but pass through small towns and parks that offer plenty of diversions.

Here are five Washington routes to the best kind of nowhere:

Badger Mountain-Waterville
Where: Northeast of Wenatchee.

Admittedly, this is two places. Or rather, this route to Waterville includes a climb of Badger Mountain which, for you cyclists out there, rises 2,750 feet in 8.3 miles. Youch! (Uh, and it's the route's first 8.3 miles; so much for a warm-up.)

But turn around on the way up — or pull over at one of several pullout spots and check out the view — Incroyable! Down in the valley, the mighty Columbia River lazes its way through the rich, fertile Wenatchee Valley while foothill upon foothill and rocky ridgeline upon rocky ridgeline rise ever higher to the majestic Central Cascades.

For you GPS-enabled riders, the climb is mostly 7 percent, with some stretches up to 12. (Did I already say, "Youch!"?) NOTE: This climb is unshaded and the route as a whole can be very hot. Carry two water bottles and avoid riding it in the heat of the day.

A little past the 8-mile mark, the climb levels out and bumps up and down — more up than down — through sagebrushy hills and pine forest, eventually topping out at 4,100 feet, 18 miles from the start. A 2-mile gravel-road descent follows (which might give skinny-tired cyclists pause), delivering one onto the high, dry flatlands of the Waterville Plateau.

Once on the plateau, the miragelike clump of trees and buildings to the north reveals the quaint, nowheresville burg of Waterville, the highest incorporated town in Washington. (Elevation-wise, that is.) The town of about 1,200 is at an elevation of 2,622 feet.

Get there by turning left onto paved P Road Northwest and in 2.5 miles, right onto 2 Road Northwest, which, just ahead, runs into Highway 2, Waterville's main arterial. Founded in 1885, Waterville has long been a hub for the area's wheat commerce and boasts many historic buildings.

Places to eat and stay: Blue Rooster Artisan Bakery and the Waterville Historic Hotel.

Speedy cows roam the outskirts of Oroville.

Tonasket-Oroville loops

Where: Northeast of the Methow Valley.

In Northcentral Washington, the Okanogan River town of Tonasket and the border town of Oroville, on Lake Osoyoos, can be linked together by a couple of fun riding and/or driving loops.

Loop 1: From Tonasket, a cool, funky town of about 1,000, an eastern loop heads up through the high, dry, open forest and farmland of the Okanogan highlands. It's a consistent, but not brutal, 20 miles of climbing, but the sweeping views down into the Okanogan Valley are stunners and make it all worth it. Passing ranchland and dodging tumbleweed after tumbleweed through tiny spots on the map such as Havillah, you feel like you're riding through the set of an old Western movie.

About 20 miles from Tonasket, reach the tiny, one-chairlift Sitzmark Ski Area (Whistler it's not), this loop's literal high point, and begin the fun 17-mile descent back down into the Okanogan Valley and the town of Oroville, just four miles south of the Canadian border. (There's an official border crossing there.) From Oroville, head south back to Tonasket on Highway 7 along the west bank of the Okanogan River (less traffic than on Highway 97 on the river's east bank). Or ...

Loop 2: Follow the western loop on Loomis-Oroville Road, which traces the Similkameen River through a stunning rocky gorge on the edge of the Pasayten Wilderness. This loop passes through tiny burgs such as Nighthawk and Loomis and alongside Palmer Lake, a mouth-gape-causing stunner at the foot of 5,000-foot peaks, and climbs significantly less than the first. Eventually, Loomis-Oroville Road heads east to Highway 7, whereupon you turn right and follow it south for about five miles to Tonasket.

Places to eat and stay: Try the Tonasket Pizza Company in Tonasket or Oroville's Trino's Mexican Restaurant. For lodging: Tonasket's Junction Motel.

During the annual Tour of Walla Walla cycling race, riders begin a big climb just outside Waitsburg.

Waitsburg-Dayton

Where: Southeast corner of the state.

The dry, rolling grassland hills north of Walla Walla are home not only to a couple of picture-postcard Small Town, USA-type places — Waitsburg and Dayton — but also some terrific low-traffic cycling (and driving) roads.

Head south from Waitsburg on Middle or Lower Waitsburg roads (they eventually hook up) and have a blast riding up and down the roller-coaster farm roads 'twixt Waitsburg and Walla Walla. Most of the hills aren't very big and if you wisely dose out your effort, your momentum descending one hill might just carry you up the following one. (Ideally.) Unshaded, these hills and roads offer stunning views of the agricultural wonder that is this corner of Washington.

From historic Dayton, which can lay claim to the fact that Lewis and Clark slept there (that is, in 1806, at what would become the town's eventual location), an out-and-back ride to Bluewood Ski Area scrolls through a dazzling progression of landscapes.

Climbing about 3,400 feet in 22 miles, North Touchet Road (which starts out in town as South Fourth Street) transports one from the dry wheat-field hills characteristic of the Palouse to the dense Inland Northwest pine forest of the Blue Mountains. Climb-wise, it's gradual, with nary a switchback along the way. Turn around at the entrance to Bluewood Ski Area; the return ride is fun and fast.

Link Waitsburg to Dayton (10 miles apart) by riding Highway 12 but detour from the potentially busy highway by throwing in Bowman Hill and Lower Hogeye roads, both on the south side of Highway 12.

Places to eat and stay: In Waitsburg, try the Whoopemup Hollow Café, a Cajun eatery, and Pamela Jane's Vacation Rental.


Winthrop and the Methow Valley were made for bikes, both road and mountain.

Forest Road 51

Where: North of Winthrop.

Renowned for its Old West vibe and for being a mountain-biking destination spot, the Methow Valley is also a great place to pedal the skinny-tire rig. While Highway 20 offers the option of tackling a couple epic climbs — Washington Pass (5,477 feet) in one direction; Loup Loup Pass (4,020 feet) in another — it's the paved Forest Service roads that offer that peaceful, out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere feel.

Chief among these is FR 51, which follows the gurgling Chewuch River north, deep into Okanogan National Forest and its lovely dry conifers. (It's basically an extension of West Chewuch Road, which starts just outside Winthrop.) Traffic is low, the road a little rough in spots, but the river scenery is terrific. Several trailheads and campgrounds along the way allow for pulling over, taking a stroll and soaking it all in.

Turn around at the Andrews Creek Bridge and trailhead, where pavement ends. It's about 23 miles north of Winthrop. The road climbs gradually — about 100 feet per mile — almost the entire way. That's generally not enough to cause one to suffer on the way out, but plenty enough to make one feel invincibly fast on the return ride.

For a change of pace on the return, cross over the Chewuch River Bridge and head back into Winthrop via East Chewuch Road.

Places to eat and stay: Choices in the Winthrop-Mazama area are many. Among them are the Arrowleaf Bistro and the Mazama Country Inn. 

Mossy trees near Tum Tum Mountain.

Chelatchie-Tum Tum Mountain

Where: Northeast Clark County.

There's nowhere and then there's deep in the heart of nowhere. Chelatchie and Tum Tum Mountain qualify for the latter, making their low-traffic roads perfect for meandering exploration. (Not only that, but Chelatchie and Tum Tum are fun to say.)

Chelatchie (say "chu-LATCH-ee"), east of Amboy, north of Yacolt, south of Mount St. Helens, is a census-designated spot on the edge of Gifford Pinchot National Forest.

It's surrounded by terrific rural roadways that pass prairie fields and farmland — as well as through the above-mentioned towns — and the conical mini-mountain, Tum Tum, which looks sorta like a giant Hershey's Kiss. (Legend has it a Native American chief is buried at the summit.)

Forest Road 54 leads (and climbs) past Tum Tum deep into Gifford Pinchot and is a springboard for popular trails in the Siouxon Roadless Area. Though paved, FR 54 can be rough in places (info: www.fs.usda.gov/giffordpinchot). Near tiny Yacolt is the site of the Yacolt Burn, the state's deadliest wildfire, which burned a quarter-million acres and claimed the lives of 38 people in 1902.

To get here, take Exit 21 from Interstate 5 in Woodland. Head east toward Amboy and just let the roads and your inclination guide you.

Places to eat and stay: Chelatchie Prairie General Store has food and there's a Best Western in Battle Ground, the closest big(ish) town. 

Tum Tum Mountain.