Monmouth to Eugene: Overcast . . . Rain . . . Overcast . . . Rain . . . Hail . . . Rain . . . Hail . . . Motel! 62 miles

A 24-hour flu caught up with Roy when we arrived in Eugene. Twenty-four hours later, he was recovering and Michele came down with it. We'll take an extra rest day for recovery.

Roy and I bought new, more padded saddles. All three of us had unpadded leather saddles. They are supposed to be the most comfortable once they have broken in and conformed to the rider's butt. I have most of a thousand miles on my saddle and the only conforming occuring is my butt to the saddle. Enough!

I am told that McKenzie Pass is open to bicycles, but not to cars. The highway department plows one lane through to accelerate the snow melt in the pass and then waits for the sun to do the rest. That may be a while in this weather. We want to cross the pass before the road is opened to cars. The road is steep and narrow; the bicycles are slow and wobbly on the climb so the climb will be much more enjoyable without cars squeezing by us. Especially with two recovering from the flu, I'd like to break the climb into two days. I hope to ride as far as the McKenzie Bridge ranger station tomorrow to inquire about conditions. There is a Two Buttes campground about halfway up. If that campground is open, we'll stay there unless the weather will make camping miserable.

We will be leaving the coastal forests. I can't go without saying a word about clear-cutting. I don't understand the economics of logging; maybe there's some justification for clear-cutting. The effect is appalling. We often emerged from forest so thick that one can imagine dinosaurs roaming in it into a hillside clearing where there is nothing but grey and brown. Not even weeds are standing. To my surprise, there would sometimes be some remaining logs of up to maybe six inches in diameter lying about. Perhaps they aren't worth hauling away even though they were cut down. I can't believe this is the best way to manage our forests.