What makes for an adventure? I’d say it takes a little bit of the unknown, mixed with a challenge to overcome that culminates in a rewarding payoff. Sometimes adventure can be huge and other times tiny. This one hunkered down right in the middle of the spectrum. I wasn’t really ever in danger of being stranded on a mountain side in the wilderness, but I wasn’t walking through a city park either.

The climb up to Washington Pass on SR20 through the North Cascades National Park isn’t a little climb, that was the simple face of my challenge. I hoped that the reward would match the effort. That it wouldn’t be raining, freezing cold and socked in with clouds. And so the reward was part of the unknown to make it an adventure.

In terms of being a responsible father, I staked a lot on this ride. Taking the day off from work. Leaving the house at 2AM. Being on a schedule that would put me home in time to pick up my son in the afternoon. Whether or not the weather going to cooperate. Making good calls on my estimates of how long it would take me to get between points. All of this and I did not even know if the road would be cleared of dozens of feet of snow somewhere between the start and where I hoped to get. Because of this, with all the planning I did do, I paid very little attention to the specifics of the actual route. True to my own form, I wasn’t worried about whether or not I could do something. It was a question of whether or not I had enough time to do what I had hopped to accomplish. Pedaling away from the car in the dark, I didn’t know where I’d get to, but I had a spot I knew I had to turn around.

So when I reached Rainy Pass at over 4,800 feet, I celebrated with a beer as the sun started to reach over the mountain peaks. I didn’t know how much further I could ride snow free, it was 5 or six feet deep if not plowed. When I was able to make it to the top of Washington Pass, at over 5,700 feet, five miles later, I basked in the hot sun and took in the view of the majestic peaks surrounding me on every side. I ripped down off the pass, continuing East, with disregard of how many miles or how many feet of elevation the return trip was going to require. I just knew I had enough time. I scraped my way back up from the gate at the bottom, shedding layers as I worked, sucking in the crisp mountain air.

I pushed down those final 30 miles into a headwind. Still alone, still silently slipping through a forest that 24 hours later would be thundering with car and truck traffic. Stopping at the car and loading up my gear I still didn’t know the specifics of that ride, but I had an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. It was not so much in the miles or mountains climbed, but rather because I went out and found the answers to the questions I had six hours prior.