Sept. 11, 2001

I woke up around 5:30 am, to the familiar sound of port-a-potty doors slamming. I was in my tent, in a pasture in Crane, Oregon, surrounded by 2000 other tents. It was the 3rd day of my first Cycle Oregon.

I had been training all that summer, while waiting for my job with Enron to be terminated. It did end, at the end of August.

I got up, and, in the chilly dawn, got myself dressed, packed up and fed. The prior day was a hard ride, up and over a high ridge, along a long, dusty gravel road, up and over another divide, and down into the flat high desert. Today's ride was only 35 miles, to Diamond. Easy.

By the time I was in the saddle, it was a bright, quiet morning, on a largely-flat two-lane blacktop, through fragrant sagebrush. After a few miles, I came up to one of the many rest-stops. Curiously, there were people clustered around one of the support vans, instead of waiting in long lines at the port-a-potty or quick-carbs stations. People were talking.

I joined the conversation. "Has something happened?" This was about 9 am. "The World Trade Center has been destroyed." "No shit?" "Yep". "Wow".

I continued down the road with everyone else. It was very strange.

Pulled into Diamond around 11 or so. Pitched my tent, grabbed some lunch, then headed over to the staging area where they had arranged buses, to take the early-birds up to the top of Steens Mountain. As I waited in line with others, I had my little shortwave radio with me, but news was spotty and reception poor.

We filled one bus and headed out. Still a beautiful, warm day as we motored down to Frenchglen, then began the gradual ascent of Steens. At the windy top, the view was impressive along the steep east face, down a couple thousand feet to the gleaming desert below. We hiked along the crest, then along the Kiger gorge. There were some rumors of what was going on in the rest of the world - some of them quite wild ("I heard that San Francisco was also about to be attacked").

After an amazing afternoon up there, we got back on the bus and were driven back to Diamond. There was the normal beer garden, and dinner lines. At the regular evening gathering, Jonathan Nichols of the Oregonian gave us what news he had, and mentioned that some folks were leaving the Tour, to try to get to their East Coast homes. He said that the directors considered cancelling the remainder of the ride, but that notion was quickly dismissed.

Someone produced a trumpet and played taps, which echoed in the desert twilight. Soon, I went to bed. The next day would bring more bike-riding and more scenery, followed by three more, taking us back, via Burns, to Prarie City and the bus-ride back to Portland.

We got into Portland late Saturday night. I was tanned and very tired, having ridden about 500 miles that week. I slept a lot over the next couple of days.

It wasn't until the middle of the next week that I finally saw the video of the planes hitting the Trade Center. I had totally missed the media frenzy/nightmare. I think that was a very good thing.

Cycle Oregon is going on right now. This is the first one since 2001, where Sept. 11 has once again fallen on a Tuesday. I know they are talking about it right now, as they finish their coffee, break camp, and mount their bikes.

I am so sorry what has happened to my country in these six years. A very few people have made a lot of money from this tragedy, and surely goodness and mercy have eluded the world, while Frat-Boy smirks and his buddies send their invoices to our depleted Treasury.

We could have been so much better than this. We could have pursued justice, rather than blind revenge. We could have embraced hope, rather than fear.

Nah - no profits in hope. One Nation, Under Intimidation.