12/6/11 - I don't remember the date. I don't remember . . . but I do. I don't wanna remember . . . but I still do. I can imagine what . . . it must've been, what I call . . . the "Zone". We riders, we've been there. And that's what scares the
shit outta me most! WE have ALL been there! The day is what it is, be it rain and wind and/or harshness, or, just a calm bliss-ness for which we eternally strive. The funny thing is, in the end, it doesn't/didn't and
wouldn't matter anyway. Once we've committed, we become quite titillated just to be riding.
The day was ordinary. So ordinary actually. No fog, no wind, no weather to even speak of.
That wasn't the problem. But, then again, maybe that's exactly what it was. When every day blends into every other day, some of us tend to get complacent. We lose ourselves in thought. We get into the "Zone". Unfortunately, it's not the "zone" of "situational awareness" (SA). Yeah, sometimes, as cyclists we're in another type of "zone", the one where we can hear and feel and see everything around us but I'd call it the "Urban Zone" or the "SA Zone" or the "Zen Zone" or something else. This other "Zone" of which I speak, is the "Self Zone" or the "Bubble Zone" or, dare I say it, the "Nirvana Zone".
Once ensconced, it feels for all intents and purposes like a bubble. Safe and secure like when Ma or Gramma wrapped us up in swaddling and loving arms and blessed bosoms. It's a place we all (all of us, everybody) strives to return to. It's something in our psyche. We can't escape it because . . . we once knew it and now that it's gone, well, we want it back. But, now that we've grown and life has had it's terrible way with us, mostly because we've had our terrible way with life, we seem to have lost what once was so simple to have. It's all but gone now. And, we want it back, fiercely! But once innocence is lost . . .
Well, when I ride, I never quite get there, but I get damn close. And, every now and then, I get
dangerously close. Every now and then, I couldn't tell you what happened the very last two miles I rode. Sometimes, it's even longer. Time disappears. Space,
evaporates! It's like I slipped into a wormhole! I could've ridden across a busy intersection without even looking for cross traffic, survived, and lived to wonder just how I made it across without ever having remembered crossing at all!
Fucking SCARY! Trouble is, it's true. I've been there. No drugs involved, I swear! It's just some sorta phenomena I can't rightly explain at the moment. It's kinda like a "runner's high" but different somehow. Science will back me up, I'm sure, as soon as I do my due research, etc.
I can't explain what happened that Sunday. September, 11th, 2011, Marian Byse, 65 years of age was struck and . . . killed by a vehicle while travelling east on US Highway 112 across from Elwha River Road. I knew her. I remember giving her an honorary 2009 Cascade Bicycle Club Summer Bike League Champions t-shirt in the parking lot of the Port Angeles YMCA just for her persnickety tenacity at such a ripe age. She was so humble and grateful, she thanked
me for inspiring the lot that earned the title. In reality, anyone who ever saw her ride, were the ones inspired . . . by
her.
There's still a hole in my soul from the loss of Marian. It's taken me till now to write about it. It still HURTS! Weeks ago, I called the State Patrol to inquire about how the investigation was going. They were very good about getting back to me and told me that it appeared that she was in the shoulder, or there abouts, and witnesses said she just turned into traffic. In other words, it appears that she just turned, as if to go onto Elwha River Road, without checking her six (rear). And, apparently, a vehicle travelling eastbound struck her. Marian died thereafter. She was 65. The driver of the vehicle was female and 65. No alcohol was involved.
The last I ever saw of Marian, she was riding eastbound on Power Plant Road. Lisa and I were tooling about on a drive and took a detour here and there. Then, on the way back home off of 112, we took Power Plant Rd. As we turned the corner and headed east bound, we saw a cyclist up ahead. Based on the size, posture, gear and riding style, I knew right away it was Marian. She was wearing that over sized electric yellow bike jacket and riding full in the lane, elbows out, hunched and pumping pedals at full steam but travelling at almost a walking pace. Power Plant Road is so narrow, it doesn't even have a center stripe. As a cyclist, riding in the lane on a road this narrow with a speed limit of 35(?), in the lane is the safest place to be. It affords the maximum visibility for drivers. We slowed as we came up on her and passed and waved. Little did we know that would be the last time we'd ever see her.
She'd been hit before, back in February of 2010. Riding eastbound down 8th St. near A St. right before the west bridge. I hate that section of 8th St. It's busy. People are driving out of or onto A and B Streets and having to deal with the main uptown arterial traffic. Cars are often parked on the side of the street. As a cyclist, we can get up to traffic speeds of 20-30 mph going down that 8-9% grade. At that grade and speed, stopping or avoiding a collision if a driver misjudges or doesn't see you, is nearly impossible. And, staying close to the side of the street is dangerous. Drivers have trouble seeing cyclists close to the curb and tend to overlook them, especially when line-of-sight blocking cars are parked along there. As I recall, a young kid driving a red pickup coming northbound out of A St. and turning eas bound onto 8th St. or just trying to cross 8th St. didn't see Marian that Friday. That time she was actually lucky. She came out that accident with broken bones.
One year and 7-months later, after having recovered and rehabilitated from the 8th St. accident, it happened again, this time on a Sunday on Highway 112. I rode by there that Monday. It wasn't much of a detour for me. The scene was empty of life. The sun was shining with just a gentle breeze and an occasional vehicle blasting by at 55-60 MPH. Fluorescent orange spray paint on asphalt marked various . . . articles, bike parts, bike wheel locations, impact points, skid marks(?)--I really didn't see any skid marks--etc. It was a somber occasion. I tried to imagine what exactly happened. She wasn't wearing any ear buds listening to music and such. Could she have just tunnel visioned to the oncoming traffic from around the bend and just . . . forgot to check behind? Or, could she have been deciding whether or not to take Power Plant Road OR Elwha River Road and just made a hasty decision at the last minute to take the latter?
I wondered about the driver of the van. Was she somehow distracted? Was she using a cell phone or day dreaming? Was she speeding? Traveling at 55-60 mph, even non-distracted drivers would find it difficult to avoid colliding with something or someone turning right into their lane of travel. I rode on from the fatal scene to the ever busy US Highway 101 Junction. I rode home on 101. Don't know why, I just did. I couldn't find the "Zone" that day. But I wondered, if Marian had. She may have been in "it" and just neglected to check for traffic.
She didn't wear a mirror that I know of. It's so easy to turn from the shoulder into the lane to take a left onto Elwha River Road without looking behind because of oncoming traffic. Without a left turn lane there's no safe place when your on that bend in the highway to check for oncoming traffic as your on the inside of the curve. The sight lines don't allow much room for error. There had already been two other vehicular accidents in the last year in close proximity to this location. 'Wonder if they'll ever fix that?
Meanwhile, we'll miss you Marian. (I miss you Marian--that well aged, bent, campy ridin' style on that well aged mountain bike frame.) Wished I was ridin' with you instead of past you as I so often did on Edgewood Dr. Might've been able to . . . might've . . .
http://obits.dignitymemorial.com/dignity-memorial/obituary.aspx?n=Marian-Byse&lc=6784&pid=153625595&mid=4811249
It turned out the King Tides had brought a king of the sea, a deceased gray whale, to shore. State officials were performing a necropsy of sorts and taking pictures and generally discussing what should be done. There were beach walkers and curious on lookers and general gawkers hanging about as well, including ourselves. I took some pictures. The poor creature had met his/her demise and got washed up on the beach last night. Now it was up to the state folks of Oregon to determine why it died and what to do with its remains.
