Today we returned to my favorite pastime of riding over passes. Grinding along the Yakima valley in the heat and wind was getting old. A good climb in the woods was a perfect antidote to the valley blues.
Our climb of the day was Old Blewitt Pass. Any pass with old in the title is sure to be a winner. That means there’s a new pass nearby that’s less twisty, less steep, less scenic, and less peaceful. The old version is typically ignored by drivers because it’s slower. That means we get the old pass all to ourselves.
Although we did have to put up with riding on the shoulder of Highway 97 to get there, Old Blewitt Pass didn’t disappoint. The road was full of potholes. Shrubs grew through its cracked edges. Gravel and rocks from the steep hillside gathered in clusters on the paving. The road kept you on your toes as it switchbacked through pine trees. It was perfect.
We climbed for about three miles and then descended for about seven. During that time only two motorcyclists passed us. We were nearly done and they just starting. As we passed each other we waved, smiling, we because of the ride we just had and they because of the ride they were about to have.
I’d describe how we felt when we had to rejoin the highway to finish off the ride to our campground but that’d only spoil the mood. I’d rather end this evening thinking about lovely and overlooked Old Blewitt Pass as we listen to the Peshastin Creek from our tent and fall asleep.