Disclaimer -- my maps are still in one of my panniers... and it's so far away... but you don't really need city names anyways, right? So, I think I last left off on day three.
At this point I had met many other cyclists. Most were in cities -- surprisingly enough, few were along the route I was taking. I believe Chris was the only person I met in WA using the ACA maps. This surprised me, as they came highly recommended. As I would later learn, however, it is just as common to make one's own route. Tourist centers, located at most every major entrance to any state, offer a plethora of maps, and with maps, one can plan quite the route. So most of the people I met, I found, were using these high-tech mappy things to come up with their own routes. I guess I still have a lot to learn about touring -- but for now, just learning about places to stay and what to eat was enough for me. On a future tour I will probably choose to use this mystery "map" thing. Not this time.
Okay, let's talk about something I can photograph -- like going to Oregon! Here is my bike on the boat to Oregon:
"I do not like to swim," said the bike to Kyle.
So on day four I made it to Oregon, despite some headwinds along the Columbia River and a grocery store with a sale on beef jerky. Okay, I don't know why that would slow me down, but I thought it was important to mention -- beef jerky is great for touring! So of course, I had to stop and get some. Had I not stopped I probably would have made the 2:00 ferry... I had to wait until 3:00. Alas, I was forced to call my mother while waiting!
Okay, I enjoyed talking to someone I love. Thanks mom!
Also, earlier that morning I had stopped at a general store (erm, the only store in Coal Creek, WA) for some food. The cashier (Gary I believe) was kind enough to offer me a chicken. Yes... a chicken. Apparently a friend had dropped off some baked chicken for him for lunch that day, and he wasn't sure of his ability to finish it all. So he offered me some. Free food? Yes please! Unbeknownst to me, this was to become a trend... an awesome trend.
Oh, and as I'm trying to make tradition... here's my "Hello from Tacoma" photo. The city the ferry stopped at had about 30 people, so the sign was small and hard to find, but I wanted my photo, darnit!
The first of many "hellos," I hope.
I then proceeded to climb up a hill for about 7 miles. It was a busy hill with little margin -- probably the most dangerous hill I'd biked on yet. But I made it, and stopped at a restaurant for some more "The heck is this guy doing?" looks (the food was good, too). At first I wanted to wait until making camp, but then I saw this:
Oh, so you're a Logger too?
I had to stop (for those of you who don't know, I graduated from the University of Puget Sound, whose mascot is Grizz the Logger. Yes, it's a bear with an axe... and our football team is just as much of an *ahem.* I mean, what?)
I still didn't get to see the Pacific Ocean, despite being taunted by the Columbia River, but I did get a great view of Washington. You can't quite see it through the reeds, but upon unzipping my tent in the morning I did have a pretty good view.
Let's play two lies and no truths. Ready? Okay:
(1) I can find this place on a map; (2) it was completely legal to camp here.
The next morning was a breeze. I made it to Astoria, OR, and stopped at a Safeway -- by the way, I'm beginning to know why they call them that. See, they are familiar, both in what they stock, and their prices. So when you see one you go, "Oh, I'm safe!" It doesn't necessarily cater to the "discover cool new local independent places" but during your fifth day on tour, sometimes you just want to know exactly what you're getting yourself into. A safe way to day six. Haha... see what I did there? *ahem* Sorry 'bout it.
Anyways, Astoria was beautiful. I managed to get lost in Warrenton, which is just across the bay from Astoria. After asking for directions and having a few people say, "Wow, you have a long ways to go!" I finally made it to Lewis and Clark Road (I did not tell them that yes, in fact, Minneapolis was a long way to go). I met a great family whose names were -- wait for it -- Sarah, Brian, Jeff, and Juliette. Yes! I think I remembered all of them.
You were awesome! No -- you were awesome!
For those of you who don't know, I'm typically pretty bad with names. I guess when you meet people who are part of a life-changing experience (at least I like to think that's what this is) you tend to remember their names.
Sarah generously offered me a place to stay that night. Apparently she and Brian had done some touring in their day, and remember the desperate desire to shower, have a warm bed, and no ambient nature noises (like squirrels dropping nuts from trees -- see my last post). They were right. Anyways, they headed back tottheir car, and I headed to the Pacific Ocean.
Ah... nice and FREEZING COLD.
I didn't want to get carried away with that whole "swimming" thing, but I at least took the time to walk out and stick my feet in. Without a huge "WELCOME TO OREGON" sign, it felt like my first real accomplishment. I stuck around for a bit and then continued on my way. I ended up in Cannon Beach about 2 PM -- much too early to stay at Sarah's for the night. I called and said "Thanks, but no thanks" and picked up and moved on.
But not before I stopped at... THE CHOCOLATE CAFE.
Caution -- people running towards door. Don't get knocked over!
Chocolate by country. Oh, and don't forget about the vault.
This place was AMAZING. They had the usual glass case of chocolate goodies, but on one wall, they had chocolate by country. Feeling like some chocolate from India today? Africa perhaps? Yes... they had it all. It was hard to stay under budget on this day, needless to say. Oh, and did I mention they had an atmosphere-controlled chocolate vault? That's right -- too good to stay out in the shop. Some of our chocolates are best enjoyed at 70.68 degrees Fahrenheit. Anyways, I paid $2.50 for the best chocolate chip cookie I have ever had in my entire life, spent about 20 minutes eating it, and then headed on my way. But I will definitely be returning someday. And possibly bringing friends. Or my mom. And $250.
The route then had me spending some time on the 101. The coast was beautiful and there was, of course, plenty of climbing. Right when I thought it wasn't going to be worth it, the trees parted and there were many miles of coast ahead.
Elevation: 700. View: Spectacular.
I wasn't really into climbing yet, so this was a nice little something to whet my appetite. As I would later learn, climbing can be quite fun and rewarding... but more on that later.
My bike can't take pictures of me, but... well, it's a one-way relationship.
After a lot more coastline I began worrying about finding a place to sleep. Up until this point I had always had a place before 6:30, and while a few decent-looking spots cropped up, this part of the coast was ultimately quite occupied. At about 7:30 I passed a cool looking place called "Kelly's Crab Resort" or something like that, and pulled in. It ended up being quite a good choice -- Kelly gave me $5 off for being on a bike. As I was looking for a place to set up my tent, I was accidentally shunned by a family saving a spot for some of their other family. I resorted to a small, lonely lot in the corner and got to work setting up my tent.
After just a few minutes the mother and father of this family came over and explained that there had been a misunderstanding, and that they were saving their spot for the rest of their family, and of course I was welcome. As a peace offering they presented some food, and invited me to sit at their fire with them. I ended up spending the rest of the night and the next morning with them. I guess it goes to show (as we are all well aware, but sometimes forget) that first impressions aren't everything. They were the Ford/Ramseys, and I'm grateful to have met them! I forgot to take their photo, but you guys really made that night special. Thanks!
Smores, guitar playing, and story-telling later, I headed to bed. In the morning I was asked out on the docks for an important duty: Crab fishing!
You have to pull fast; otherwise, the crabs will simply climb out.
I was allowed the privilege of pulling up one of the crab rings, but only after being instructed as to how they worked, and why we were fishing here (hint: it's because we had no idea what we were doing), and the rules about catching crab (they have to be male and of a certain size to allow reproduction to continue).
Either I didn't pull fast enough or I'm really bad at this.
I didn't catch anything... but I still felt pretty good about it. I was a crab fishermen! Already, this trip had taught me something new.
Do I really need a caption for this?
After saying goodbye to the Ford/Ramseys, I went on my way. Many small things happened, including, but not limited to:
- Biking through fog (which would become more of an issue the farther south I went)
- Seeing people clamming (eg, fishing for clams... not suddenly being very quiet)
- Climbing my steepest and longest hill yet -- 800 vertical feet. Nothing compared to the Rockies, but it was still a lot of work
- Having mystery car noises turn into dune buggies (I was in a city called Sandlake, after all)
Nothing terribly monumental, but I did have quite the full day. And then... many things built up and I had to take some time off. Nobody had mentioned to me that biking was as stressful on the mind as it was on the body. I thought hard about quitting and almost did. I wasn't sure how I'd get to the nearest airport or how my bike would get home, but I was thinking about it. I had been very alone for the past many days and didn't feel like I was making tons of progress. I know that I was, but it didn't really feel like it. I had maybe 300 miles or less on the odometer, and people kept saying, "Oh, so you're just getting started!" I didn't feel like I was just getting started -- or at least, I didn't want to. I knew that I had 4000+ miles to go. Anyways, I took a two hour walk on the beach and, not fully satisfied, continued on my way.
It's like a code of some kind. Er... I'm sure there's a snarky remark about this somewhere.
I did find a great place to spend the night. It was only about 200 yards from the highway, and had a great view of the ocean. I guess someone out there didn't want me to quit just yet.
Caution: You might decide not to leave.
The next day (#6) I had some steep climbing to do, but I was ready for it. I decided I at least had to make it to Arcata, where my cycling partner was, and that whatever it took, at least I could say that I biked to California. It was quite a long hill, but I did pass mile 101 on Highway 101, and that felt pretty monumental (er... it totally should have been... right?). I stopped for breakfast at a hole in the wall called the Nelscott Cafe, which I would highly recommend to anyone traveling through Lincoln City, OR. It's a house-turned-cafe so you sit under the stairs, or in the dining room, or in the living room, or wherever they could fit tables. The food is phenomenal. I was walking down the row of houses-turned-shops when someone in the line of people outside turned to me, saw that I had no idea what I was doing, and said,
"You look hungry. Wait for a seat at this restaurant. You won't regret it."
I didn't.
More like the "Nel-icious Cafe."
The waitresses all looked at me -- just one guy, a little sweaty, with red highlights -- as if wondering, "Is he single and ready to mingle, or just getting a head start on his hermit-creeper phase?" It was pretty funny. Anyways.
I also saw sea lions that day.
So many sea lions.
And then it started to rain. About the same time I realized not all of my stuff was waterproofed; namely, my sleeping bag, my clothes, and my tent. I stopped at a hostel and asked for a trash bag to line my stuff sack with, so at least I would be warm, even if my tent was wet and I had to be naked. It poured for a few hours ("poured" being relative to the PNW, anyways -- maybe it half-poured for all you midwesterners reading this), as if the weatherman was challenging me to continue. I had already decided to make it to CA. I did stop once for food and again to change clothes, but I kept on biking. I almost stopped at a motel for the night, but even with a "friendly cyclist discount" the room was still $50. I moved on. I also saw two touring bikes locked to the railing of that motel, but more on that later... (dundundun).
After looking for a place to stay until about 7, I finally came across a state park and decided it would be worth the price. What I didn't know was that Oregon really knows how to do the whole "state park" thing. Case and point:
Stay here practically for free? I think so.
So I paid $6 that night. The camp host, Doug, instructed me that I should take a shower because they were free. Did I mention "heck yes?"
I took a long, long, long shower.
Which seems like a good place to wrap things up. It's almost mignight here in Sausalito, and I'm in somebody else's house... I probably should have gone to bed a long time ago. Tomorrow I will try and post about the Bosnians... that's when things really start to get good (they aren't already, I promise).
So, goodnight from Sausalito!
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