Days 9, 8, 7 - 10/2/16 - En Route to Crescent City, CA

It's hard to believe we'll be crossing into California today.  It's hard to believe it's October.  Despite my feeling of being on an endless Summer, it is very much Fall.  Yesterday Julie, Will and I got blasted by some heavy rain and intense winds after we took a break in Gold Beach, got some groceries and then smoked a joint outside.  Julie and I met Will the night before at Humbug Mountain State Park. 

As we rode downhill through the jetstream, we passed the cold, blue Pacific and the massive rock forms that stretch along the beach like remnants of an asteroid that broke into pieces upon hitting the Earth.  And then the sun came out.  The winds stayed with us and we were dry within minutes.  The day before, Julie and I missed a little bit of rain when we stopped quickly for lunch and coffee.  15 miles after that, Julie realized she lost her other pair of riding shorts off the back of her bike. 

So she hitched back to town.  I wasn't sure if we'd meet back up but miraculously, very shortly after I landed in Humbug Mountain, Julie came rolling into the campsite, just before the sun went down.  She's been experiencing the kindness of strangers that comes with being on the road.  She was able to hitch back to town then out to the campground while finding her shorts. 

Although, I did try to convince her to not be so attached to the shorts but, she felt she needed to go back for them.  I'm sitting with Will, Lau and Flo in a cafe in Harbor, OR.  Will met Lau and Flo at some point and now the four of us are killing time and warming up before our short ride to Crescent City.  We're all staying at the same Warm Showers place in a church.  The sky was rumbling with thunder this morning without much water to follow.  As soon as we hopped on our bikes, the rain came.  It was a wet couple of miles here to this cafe but, the sun is now out and we'll be moving on shortly. 

I still can't believe I left Portland last Saturday and will be riding into California today, over 500 miles in 8 days.  How am I going to spend these next 5 months?  I know it's going to be one big blur just like the last 8 days; one long, beautiful goddamn blur.

Days 6, 5, 4 - 9/29/16 - Sunset Bay State Park, OR

A hot cup of tea after a warm meal is a new thing for me; I did not have any cookware the entire time it took me to get across the country.  My life on the bike has improved supremely since leaving Portland.  Yesterday I made noodles for lunch right on the shore, winds constantly blowing, I felt like the man who invented fire.  We didn't get on the road til 11:00 this morning.  Julie and I, that is.  She's from Boston, riding from Seattle to San Fran and somehow we found each other out here. 

We met yesterday briefly on the road; her and another couple came up behind me while I was shedding some layers on the side of the road.  The other couple, two young Brits that got hitched less than a month ago and are traveling on bike around a handful of countries for their honeymoon.  The four of us didn't ride together too long, we were in a hilly area along the shore, a situation where everyone goes at their own pace. 

And with as many scenic viewpoints to peer out into the bright white distance, it wasn't a quick ride for any of us.  But, we all met back up at the same campground, Honeyman State Park, where a bunch of older doods were already set up and handing around a flask of whiskey. 

I had met one of them, Erik, at Cape Lookout State Park a couple days ago.  He takes interested folks out on bike tours as part of his job.  Where do I apply?  So 7 of us cyclists were gathered in this hiker/biker site with the ultimate hippie, Stephen, that has been traveling since '67, so he says, and has been wandering back and forth to and from different state parks with hundreds of pages he's written about all his life experiences on all the different planes of reality he exists in. 

But only Julie and I left the campground the following morning, everyone else had plans to stay another night, even Stephen.  It's hard to pinpoint anything specific about my journey down the coast thus far.  The weather has been beautiful and the scenery takes my breath away constantly.  It's hard to believe it will get better but, that's what people keep telling me.  Well, bring it on.

Day 96 - 9/11/16 Clatskanie to Fort Stevens State Park, OR - The End

We broke down our camp, packed up our bikes, and got pancakes.  We ate like it was our last meal, the table was covered in food and the coffee flowed like the Columbia; perhaps we were making up for the time we were denied coffee and pancakes back in Paterson, WA.  Or maybe we're just gross.  

We continued on 30, pushing right along, there was no need to stop until we got to Astoria.  There, the Columbia River became visible again and it was clear that she was getting wider as we got closer to her mouth emptying into the Pacific.  All this water meant nothing to me right then; it was a gray zone.  At what point does the river become the ocean?  For me, I wanted to be able to look out and see nothing beyond the water, hear nothing but the dull roar of the waves.  

Astoria was not the end.  We crossed the bridge over Young's Bay and snaked our way down windy, wooded roads that offered no view as to what was around us so, we kept going, looking for big blue.  Finally, at the state park we found the right path that would lead us to the beach.  We cruised down it going too fast for the dog walkers and other pedestrians enjoying a Sunday afternoon but, we were greedy, thirstier for salt water than we were hungry for pancakes this morning.  

Then we got there, cars were shuffling on the parking lot pavement, kicking up sand.  People were walking over the mounds of sand into the light.  The excitement rose in me, I leaned my bike against the wall, the sound found my ears and my eyes rested on the water.  And we stared for a moment.  The next thing I knew, I was knee deep in freezing salty water, screaming into the horizon, probably scaring people and sea gulls around me.

 

Oh well.  I had this crazy feeling that I was actually back home on the East coast, I think my mind is just trained to assume that's where I am when I see the ocean.  I've only seen the Pacific a few times last summer in California.  Billy and I didn't know quite what to do next.  There's a campground here but, we decided to keep looking at the water.  So we did.  

Not much later the locals, or whoever they were, got their chairs lined up to watch the sun set, so we joined.  Billy said to me, "as the sun sets right here, it rises in Japan."  I never really thought about what the sun does after it sets, I guess it never really stops doing what it does.  The onlookers wasted no time leaving the beach once the sun went down.  

We quickly set up our tents out of site and let the ocean sing us to sleep.  Just before bed, I took the little bag of sand I had collected back in April when I originally tried to walk across the country, and dumped it on the ground.  There was quite the contrast in color.  My sand was dry and light and the sand on the beach was dark and damp, they looked good together.  Soon enough, it will all be mixed, our tents and bikes will be gone and no one will know I was here.

Day 91 - 9/6/16 Hood River to Portland, OR

This ride aint over til I jump into the Pacific Ocean but, nearing the end, it's hard not to talk about what this trip has done to us as people when you sit down with someone who has racked up as many miles as you.  I've had some great conversations with Colin, this was my 3rd day riding with him and last night, just as we were about to sleep in Cindy and Mac's backyard Colin brought up how special it is to have shared childhood experiences; like when you're on the playground and you just play with whoever's around because you're both trying to have fun.  

We came to the conclusion that this bike trip is the exact same situation; encountering other cyclists on the road, heading in the same direction, you just start riding together, there's no real question or consideration about it.  That's how it's been with every cyclist I've met, we're all just out here to have fun.  That being said, sometimes kids play in the rain and mud for fun.  Colin and I knew it was going to rain today but, we knew a little water couldn't stop us from the major milestone of Portland.  

So last night we psyched each other up saying how epic today would be.  We were not wrong.  The day started on the interstate, riding next to the fog covered Columbia and then it took us to quieter bike paths that wove through vegetation so green you could practically see it growing, underneath and around I-84 on graceful switchbacks, through shallow puddles that mirrored an inverted world.  Our halfway point was Multnomah Falls where we stopped to snack and suck down some coffee while the rain continued to fall on us and all the other folks that thought looking at waterfalls in the pouring rain was a good idea.  

Continuing down the road, we felt like we were in the rainforest.  The road started to snake its way up the hills and we were riding against the current of the water that slid across the pavement.  Despite the caffeine, we were tired and delirious from pedaling so hard for the first 40 miles.  We started screaming, some obscenities, mostly just loud noises, we had both lost it, every yelp accompanied by a tremendous laugh.  We pedaled further up, the rainforest opened to would-be great views but, it looked like we rode our bikes straight into a cloud, all the sky and ground below was behind a white curtain of mist.  

And then Colin got a flat, just as we were about to bomb down back to Earth from the clouds.  By the time the tube was patched we were both freezing; being soaking wet all day is only okay if you keep moving.  I estimated I had an extra 8 pounds of water soaked into my clothes and shoes.  I don't have a fender on my front tire so I had a steady stream of water blasting me in the face the whole day.  I hid behind my sunglasses like I was Roy Orbison, giving everything a soft, blurry appearance like an impressionist painting.  I'm thankful for Colin leading the way, I couldn't have made it from Hood River to Portland on my own.  

Finally getting into the city we got excited and started screaming again, cursing at broken glass and red lights and laughing our way downtown.  Colin and I parted ways on 7th ave, he had friends to crash with and so did I.  We continued in different directions to finish the most epic ride of the trip, only 100 more miles to the coast.

Day 90 - 9/5/16 Maryhill State Park, WA to Hood River, OR

Colin and I woke up before the sun to try and stay ahead of the winds but, that's not so easy here in the Columbia River Gorge.  Oh well, at least the scenery is enough to keep you pedaling onward.  I haven't had an early start in a while, mostly because the mornings have been so cold; today felt really good though.  

We had a few hills to climb but, they only lead to breathtaking views of the river and the highway and all the lovely trees and mountains, it all looked so perfect like a miniature model of some utopian land.  

We stopped and talked to a lot of other bikers and even got invited to spend the night on Mac and Cindy's lawn.  Life is good on the road and riding with Colin had just been wonderful,

 

we're both drinking in every ounce of the sweet scenery and letting the universe direct us in one way or another, looking out for those banana peels.

Day 89 - 9/4/16 Paterson to Maryhill State Park, WA

Billy and I didn't get to Paterson Elementary until after 9:00pm, the only place that seemed to have any space for us to pitch our tents.  There was a big garage with a couple school buses parked inside and plenty of room to eat dinner and set up camp inside.  

In the morning on the way out of town, we were hoping to get coffee and pancakes in the one restaurant in town but, I guess it's just closed down for good.  But outside was another cyclist hoping they were open as well.  

It was this dood, Colin who I briefly met in Missoula.  Heading to Portland, Colin joined Billy and me and left town.  Colin tode ahead and Billy dropped back until I lost site of both of them.  Billy had more tire issues and decided hitching to the next town was best for him.  

I caught up to Colin when he got a flat himself.  We rode the rest of the way together, for the most part, Colin's a quick rider.  Some of the hills we got to go over were incredible, brilliant views of the pure blue Columbia River glistening at the bottom of the rustic brown and gold rocks.  

The last mile of the ride was down one Hell of a hill that plummeted back down to river level.  The river engulfed my whole vision in the golden hour of the day, the bridge leading to Oregon looked like a toy model that grew to lifesize as we came around the last downhill bend to the campground.