While I was at Seaview celebrating the birthday of a once complete stranger, a video was thrown together. Here's the guys I spent the evening with!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdOmWSy9W_o
I rode with Scott for a few days and had some excellent conversation with the guy, so here's a link to his blog if you're interested in checking out his travels.
http://thelonghaul.posterous.com/
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Dreary Oregon Coast, Sunny California
When I woke up in Clatskanie, Oregon, there was a thick haze in the air. It wasn't actually raining, but I got as wet as if it had been within the first few minutes. My glasses were catching water droplets and fogging as I rode, but I eventually dropped out of the clouds and into Astoria, Oregon. As I approached Astoria, I couldn't help but think of the movie Goonies. I felt like I had already been there. I found a little coffee shop to get my caffeine buzz going again and to browse the internet for lodging options ahead. While I was inside it started to rain. I threw on the rain gear and headed back out to the bike to knock out a few more miles. Though I had reached Astoria, my turning point to head south, I had not yet actually seen the Pacific Ocean.
I hit the pedals pretty hard and made my way to the town of Seaside, Oregon. When I got there, I made as direct a line to the coast as I could, which put me on a boardwalk that followed the beach. I asked a man that was passing by if he would snap a picture of me by the Seaside, Oregon, sign. He obliged, and was also rather interested in my travels and the route that had brought me to the coast. He suggested a place to stop to eat in Cannon Beach, just down the coast, so I held off on lunch until I got there.
By the time I reached Cannon Beach, I had forgotten where my Seaside photographer had suggested I eat, so I pulled off at the first place I found that had an overhang where I could try to get my bike out of the rain. It was rather difficult to get myself motivated to leave the restaurant once I was somewhat dried off and warmed up, but I had to get back out on the road.
As I rode south of Cannon Beach, the weather stayed pretty dreary. I pulled off of the road at Manzanita to see what kind of lodging options were in the area. I pulled into a grocery store and asked the cashier if there was a cheap place to stay in town. The woman that was checking out at the time, Carol, spoke up and said that there was a hostel in Rockaway Beach, just to the south, that had opened within the last month or so. Carol said that it would be about 8 more miles down the road to get to this hostel. She was driving a van, and offered to drive me and my gear the remaining distance to the hostel. At first I was reluctant to accept her generosity, mostly because I'm stubborn and wanted to tough it out on my own, but when she told me that in the waning daylight hours, many of the curves ahead would not be the safest, especially with the wet conditions, I threw my bike and bags in her van and we were off. She drove me out to the coast to show me the view of the climb I had just completed prior to pulling in at that grocery store, but the weather didn't allow any kind of view. I remember being at the top, wishing I could see down to the ocean.
Soon enough we had arrived at the Sea Haven hostel in Rockaway Beach. Maureen showed me to my sleeping quarters and explained how everything worked and where everything was. Regardless of price, this was the best place I have stayed (other than at private residences with friends). That being said, I paid about the same to stay here as I did for some campsites east of the Mississippi River, so the price was right, too. The rain outside was not helping my motivation on the road, so when Maureen told me that a group of cyclists had made reservations for the following night and suggested that I take a day off and wait for them so I have people to ride with, I decided that was a good idea. This was the first time I took a day off where I was not staying with friends. That evening I spoke with a man who was a photographer for NASA's jet propulsion laboratory.
I bummed around the whole next day. I read, walked on the beach, ate, and slept throughout the day. It was great. Eventually the cyclists started to show up, so I had plenty of people to chat with that evening. There were at least 8 other cyclists present in the hostel that evening. There was a group of older men that were traveling together that played cards most of the evening. It was entertaining to be on the sidelines for their conversation.
The next morning I got on the road relatively early. Around noon I was looking for a place to stop for a bite to eat and found a place with three loaded bicycles out front. I ended up joining them at their table: Scott, Scott, and Mark. When we left the restaurant, one of the Scotts and I pulled away from the other Scott and Mark. We pushed onward to eventually reach Newport, Oregon, where we found another hostel. This one was a little more expensive than the previous, but it certainly had a lot of character. There were books and literature references everywhere (including what I believe to be a quote from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" above the toilet, reminding us to wash our hands). Scott and I had one other roommate for the night, and before we took off in the morning, he asked me about my ride. When I told him, he pulled out his wallet and contributed to the "Feed Neal Fund" with instructions to find a decent place to stay down the road.
Scott and I kept on rolling through the mist and rain to arrive at Honeyman Memorial State Park near Florence, OR, to camp for the night. Fortunately the rain let up long enough to get the tent set up. Since my tent is gigantic, there were a couple of times we both slept in it so we wouldn't have to pack up two wet tents in the morning.
There isn't a whole lot that stands out in my mind about the Florence area, other than purchasing better rain gear. It was not a small chunk of money that came from my wallet, but it was necessary. When we left the following day we were riding along some very large sand dunes. I'm sure they would have been much more impressive had it not been raining. I was crabby. When we got to the North Bend/Coos Bay area, the Adventure Cycling Association route that we had been following had us turn off of hwy 101 to go closer to the coast. Scott and I followed the route. As we were about to leave town, the sky opened up and it rained harder than it had in the past couple of days. It was discouraging, but we pressed on. It let up a bit as we turned onto 7 Devils Road. We should have known better than to take a road called 7 Devils. It was ridiculous. That was the steepest grade I've seen in a very long time. We found out after the fact that it is called 7 Devils because of the 7 very steep climbs. It was so hazy that we couldn't see more than a couple hundred feet in any direction, so if there was an impressive view to go along with all of the work we put into climbing, we did not get to experience it. The descent on the other side wasn't even worth it. we never really dropped. We just kept going up and down until we were back at sea level. We stopped at Bullards Beach State Park for the night. It is worth mentioning that state parks through Oregon and California were all $5 for cyclists.
The following morning we got on the road and had a pretty dry (but still overcast) day for the first time. My favorite part of the day was when we approached Humbug Mountain. It's not the biggest mountain I've ever seen, but the way we approached it made it look pretty impressive. That night we rolled in to Gold Beach, OR, and camped at the fairgrounds under their band shell. That evening the sun even poked through for a little bit. Just enough to get our hopes up. Scott was definitely the optimist. I figured that mother nature was just messing with us, and just wanted to give us a little taste of what we had been missing before dumping on us again. That night while we were in town we did laundry, which was sorely needed at that point. Everything was wet. It's pretty difficult to get motivated in the morning when you have to put on a wet jersey, socks, cycling shoes, and worst of all cycling shorts.
On our way south from Gold Beach we went through Samuel H. Boardman State Park, which had some amazing sights if you're willing to get off the bike or out of the car and walk 40 feet. I snapped a few pictures, but I think you all just need to go there sometime. As we crossed the border into California, I got my picture by the Oregon and California signs, and decreasing the number of states remaining to be pedaled through to 10. We made it as far south as Klamath, CA, where we found giant statues of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. We stopped for some pictures, then started calling campgrounds to compare prices, ending up at the Mystic Forest RV Park and Campground.
In the morning, just south of Klamath, we turned off of hwy 101 onto Newton B. Drury Scenic Highway. On this jaunt off the main highway Scott and I saw some of the biggest trees we'd ever seen. They were enormous. We stopped for a few pictures with the giants as we rode through. This was also the first day that we really had clear skies. Thanks for nothing, Oregon.
There were a few other places that the map instructed us to turn off of 101. My favorite for the day was called Trnidad Scenic Drive. Parts of it were pretty steep, parts of it were narrowed down to one lane, and parts of it were gravel, but it was definitely worth the work. It was a sheer drop off the side of the road down to the ocean for most of it. Scott and I had gotten split up for a bit during this stretch, but when we met back up, he had two more cyclists with him. The four of us hit the pedals pretty hard for the last stretch into Eureka, CA. At that point, Scott and I found an Indian food buffet. It was amazing. I stuffed myself stupid. I love Indian food. After that we found the cheapest hotel in town and used the money our hostel friend had given me to pay for it. There was a big food co-op across the street, so we did some grocery shopping and I found some more of the dehydrated re-fried beans that I've been eating. They also had a sale on Cliff bars, so I bought a dozen of those.
Scott and I discussed our plans for the next few days, and we decided to split up. He wanted to ride a section of the road called the Lost Coast. I was more looking at getting down to San Francisco to take some time off a little quicker, so I bypassed that part. Props to Scott for riding it; it's about 8,500 feet of climb in about 60 miles according to the Adventure Cycling Association maps. I took 101 out of town and eventually turn onto Avenue of the Giants. Again, a worth while turnoff to see some really huge trees, as well as to avoid some of the 101 traffic. I stopped to camp at Richardson Grove State Park, where I met several other cyclists. One was a man from Athens, GA. Oddly enough, I biked through Athens, GA a few months ago. They had better bike lanes than much of what I found out east. There was also a couple from Norway biking down the coast, and a man from Eugene that was working his way around the country to end up in Pennsylvania to see his family.
The next morning I took off in search of a place for breakfast and with the intentions of covering a lot of miles. Basil, the man from Athens, GA, had left before me. I caught up to him a little ways down the road, where he was taking a break with two of his friends that were choosing to find lodging each night instead of camp. We all ended up at the same market in Leggett, CA, for a food break. This ended up eating away my entire morning. They were fun people to talk to. The road past Leggett was the longest climb of my coastal ride, reaching just over 2,000 ft in elevation. Part way up I stopped to take a picture. As I mounted the bike to continue climbing, I noticed my rear tire was very low. As I took the wheel off, the Norwegian couple, Basil and his friends, the man from Eugene, and two more cyclists caught up to me and all pulled over, making an impromptu party on the side of the road. The two cyclists I had not met yet were Scott and Dan. At the moment they were riding unloaded because Dan's mother had come to SAG for them. The whole group of them trickled away while I was still fixing the tire. When I had the tire back on, I pumped hard to catch up to everyone.
I ended up passing all of the loaded cyclists and meeting Scott and Dan at the top of the hill, where they had pulled over to get a picture at the top of the climb. At that point, I decided to try to keep up with the two of them for a while. This proved quite difficult, as I was riding a 110 lb. bicycle (including gear and whatnot) compared to their presumably 18-23 lb. rides. At the top of the next big climb they had to wait a little for me, but after that I did alright at keeping up. They seemed somewhat impressed at my ability to keep up, but I don't think they really realized how much it was killing me to keep up. They said I was in the running for the nickname "Manimal" which had been reserved for a man in their cycling club with very large thighs. We knocked out some good miles in the afternoon, and when we got to Mendocino, Dan's mother had found a cottage with a hot tub for the night. They graciously offered me a spot on the floor and food for the evening and morning. It was an evening well spent, chatting with my new traveling companions.
The next morning we ate breakfast and hit the road relatively early. Scott and Dan had aspirations of pushing through some long miles, so we hit the road pretty fast in the morning and had about 50 miles done before noon. That's no easy task on the coast. Some of the grades get pretty steep. At one point, just south of Elk, CA, I was in my lowest gear and standing on my pedals. I can still say I have never had to get off my bike to push, but that one got close. Anyway, around lunch time I took a lengthier break than my fellow travelers and proceeded at my own pace. I was not in the same rush that they were. I was pretty excited about how well I had done keeping up with them for the last 24 hours.
Down the road a ways I stopped at a convenience store near Fort Ross. As I sat on the curb outside, snacking, a man in a wetsuit walked up and asked me about my ride. I told him what I was doing and where I planned on camping that night. He told me that he and some friends were celebrating a birthday near there and that I was welcome to join. He and his companions insisted that I throw my bike in the back of the truck, and in hind sight, I appreciate the ride up the hill. As we approached the climb up to the house, there was a sign reading "18% Grade Next 2 Miles". Holy crap.
They were wearing wetsuits because I met them on their way in from fishing from their kayaks and diving for abalone. I had never heard of abalone before this. Apparently it is a delicacy. Wikipedia calls abalone a large sea snail. Anyway, we arrived at the house and hung out while fish and abalone were cleaned and prepared. One of the guests raises duck for several restaurants and brought some to contribute. Not only did I have shelter and engaging conversation for the evening, but I ate like a king!
There were far too many names to try to match with faces, but I do remember Eric, the host. Once it came out that I got my bachelors degree in Bible/Religion/Philosophy, that seemed to take over the conversation for the rest of the evening. It was very entertaining, but a bit frustrating when Eric tried to put me on the spot as the truth source on all questions about Christianity because of my major. For a while we were caught up on language, failing to clearly distinguish atheism and agnosticism. Eric defined himself as an atheist, but at the end of the night I think I'd call him more of a pantheistic agnostic, but hey, we're probably just splitting hairs here. At one point I mentioned that many Mennonites really dig four part harmony. I shouldn't have done that. Eric was then convinced that we needed to find three more people to join me in forming a quartet for some evening entertainment. Thank God that didn't happen. There was a fantastic sunset over the ocean, visible from the deck. I tried to take a picture, but sunsets are hard to convey through a picture.
In the morning I was well fed yet again before hitting the road en route to San Francisco. As I left their house (they referred to it as Sea View) I dropped and climbed a few times on top of the ridge before reaching a sign warning me of the impending downward slope, again 18% for the next two miles. Climbing up would have been pretty awful, but descending with a loaded touring bike was frightening. I must have burned up half of my break pads on that one hill. At the top it felt like I was approaching the initial drop of an advanced ski slope. After making it to the bottom of that, I kept going downhill into Russian Gulch. It wasn't the steepest gulch I had ridden through on the coast, but this was probably the most windy road I had been on along the coast.
It was a nice ride along the coast towards Bodega Bay, where I turned inland for a ways. On this stretch of the road I started to get a little nervous because I saw that traffic was backed up for several miles. It was kind of funny to cruise past miles and miles of cars, nearly stopped on the road. There had been a fire at the top of the hill, so the fire engines were blocking one lane, making traffic take turns. There was a lot of traffic trying to get through. When I got to the other side of the single lane section, I stopped several times to cars that were waving to me to tell them what was causing the holdup. They were grateful, but I think I ended up descending the hill slower than I had climbed it. I pedaled on further towards San Francisco and reached Samuel P. Taylor State Park, where I set up camp for the night.
In the morning I got up and took off towards the Golden Gate Bridge. It wasn't a long ride to get there, and it was great to arrive on a clear day, so I could actually see the bridge. I was worried I'd get there on an overcast day. The pedestrian walkway was very crowded, but navigable. Once I got across the bridge, I took the quickest route to Jenna's house that my GPS could give me. I don't like wandering around hilly places with lots of stop signs with a loaded bicycle. It's kind of tiring. Apparently I completely missed Golden Gate Park. I'll have to check that out later today, as I enjoy a day or so off the bike.
From here I'll be heading into the desert. I'm going to cross the Sierras, basically following hwy 50, into Nevada where I will actually be on hwy 50 through the whole state. Apparently hwy 50 has been called "America's Loneliest Highway". I think the longest stretch between services is about 84 miles. I'll have a few other lengthy stretches, but that's the big one, near the Nevada/Utah border. We'll see how that all goes. The good news is that I shouldn't get rained on any time soon! This last large gap between blog posts was mostly because there was so much to do along the coast. This next lull in activity on my blog will be due to no internet services, I'm guessing. I'll try to get something typed up as I ride so that if I do happen to come across a library or something along the way, I have something ready to post. I can't imagine that there will be much to do in the evenings in my tent in the middle of a desert. Strangely enough, I'm looking forward to it. I'm not sure what that means.
I hit the pedals pretty hard and made my way to the town of Seaside, Oregon. When I got there, I made as direct a line to the coast as I could, which put me on a boardwalk that followed the beach. I asked a man that was passing by if he would snap a picture of me by the Seaside, Oregon, sign. He obliged, and was also rather interested in my travels and the route that had brought me to the coast. He suggested a place to stop to eat in Cannon Beach, just down the coast, so I held off on lunch until I got there.
By the time I reached Cannon Beach, I had forgotten where my Seaside photographer had suggested I eat, so I pulled off at the first place I found that had an overhang where I could try to get my bike out of the rain. It was rather difficult to get myself motivated to leave the restaurant once I was somewhat dried off and warmed up, but I had to get back out on the road.
As I rode south of Cannon Beach, the weather stayed pretty dreary. I pulled off of the road at Manzanita to see what kind of lodging options were in the area. I pulled into a grocery store and asked the cashier if there was a cheap place to stay in town. The woman that was checking out at the time, Carol, spoke up and said that there was a hostel in Rockaway Beach, just to the south, that had opened within the last month or so. Carol said that it would be about 8 more miles down the road to get to this hostel. She was driving a van, and offered to drive me and my gear the remaining distance to the hostel. At first I was reluctant to accept her generosity, mostly because I'm stubborn and wanted to tough it out on my own, but when she told me that in the waning daylight hours, many of the curves ahead would not be the safest, especially with the wet conditions, I threw my bike and bags in her van and we were off. She drove me out to the coast to show me the view of the climb I had just completed prior to pulling in at that grocery store, but the weather didn't allow any kind of view. I remember being at the top, wishing I could see down to the ocean.
Soon enough we had arrived at the Sea Haven hostel in Rockaway Beach. Maureen showed me to my sleeping quarters and explained how everything worked and where everything was. Regardless of price, this was the best place I have stayed (other than at private residences with friends). That being said, I paid about the same to stay here as I did for some campsites east of the Mississippi River, so the price was right, too. The rain outside was not helping my motivation on the road, so when Maureen told me that a group of cyclists had made reservations for the following night and suggested that I take a day off and wait for them so I have people to ride with, I decided that was a good idea. This was the first time I took a day off where I was not staying with friends. That evening I spoke with a man who was a photographer for NASA's jet propulsion laboratory.
I bummed around the whole next day. I read, walked on the beach, ate, and slept throughout the day. It was great. Eventually the cyclists started to show up, so I had plenty of people to chat with that evening. There were at least 8 other cyclists present in the hostel that evening. There was a group of older men that were traveling together that played cards most of the evening. It was entertaining to be on the sidelines for their conversation.
The next morning I got on the road relatively early. Around noon I was looking for a place to stop for a bite to eat and found a place with three loaded bicycles out front. I ended up joining them at their table: Scott, Scott, and Mark. When we left the restaurant, one of the Scotts and I pulled away from the other Scott and Mark. We pushed onward to eventually reach Newport, Oregon, where we found another hostel. This one was a little more expensive than the previous, but it certainly had a lot of character. There were books and literature references everywhere (including what I believe to be a quote from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" above the toilet, reminding us to wash our hands). Scott and I had one other roommate for the night, and before we took off in the morning, he asked me about my ride. When I told him, he pulled out his wallet and contributed to the "Feed Neal Fund" with instructions to find a decent place to stay down the road.
Scott and I kept on rolling through the mist and rain to arrive at Honeyman Memorial State Park near Florence, OR, to camp for the night. Fortunately the rain let up long enough to get the tent set up. Since my tent is gigantic, there were a couple of times we both slept in it so we wouldn't have to pack up two wet tents in the morning.
There isn't a whole lot that stands out in my mind about the Florence area, other than purchasing better rain gear. It was not a small chunk of money that came from my wallet, but it was necessary. When we left the following day we were riding along some very large sand dunes. I'm sure they would have been much more impressive had it not been raining. I was crabby. When we got to the North Bend/Coos Bay area, the Adventure Cycling Association route that we had been following had us turn off of hwy 101 to go closer to the coast. Scott and I followed the route. As we were about to leave town, the sky opened up and it rained harder than it had in the past couple of days. It was discouraging, but we pressed on. It let up a bit as we turned onto 7 Devils Road. We should have known better than to take a road called 7 Devils. It was ridiculous. That was the steepest grade I've seen in a very long time. We found out after the fact that it is called 7 Devils because of the 7 very steep climbs. It was so hazy that we couldn't see more than a couple hundred feet in any direction, so if there was an impressive view to go along with all of the work we put into climbing, we did not get to experience it. The descent on the other side wasn't even worth it. we never really dropped. We just kept going up and down until we were back at sea level. We stopped at Bullards Beach State Park for the night. It is worth mentioning that state parks through Oregon and California were all $5 for cyclists.
The following morning we got on the road and had a pretty dry (but still overcast) day for the first time. My favorite part of the day was when we approached Humbug Mountain. It's not the biggest mountain I've ever seen, but the way we approached it made it look pretty impressive. That night we rolled in to Gold Beach, OR, and camped at the fairgrounds under their band shell. That evening the sun even poked through for a little bit. Just enough to get our hopes up. Scott was definitely the optimist. I figured that mother nature was just messing with us, and just wanted to give us a little taste of what we had been missing before dumping on us again. That night while we were in town we did laundry, which was sorely needed at that point. Everything was wet. It's pretty difficult to get motivated in the morning when you have to put on a wet jersey, socks, cycling shoes, and worst of all cycling shorts.
On our way south from Gold Beach we went through Samuel H. Boardman State Park, which had some amazing sights if you're willing to get off the bike or out of the car and walk 40 feet. I snapped a few pictures, but I think you all just need to go there sometime. As we crossed the border into California, I got my picture by the Oregon and California signs, and decreasing the number of states remaining to be pedaled through to 10. We made it as far south as Klamath, CA, where we found giant statues of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. We stopped for some pictures, then started calling campgrounds to compare prices, ending up at the Mystic Forest RV Park and Campground.
In the morning, just south of Klamath, we turned off of hwy 101 onto Newton B. Drury Scenic Highway. On this jaunt off the main highway Scott and I saw some of the biggest trees we'd ever seen. They were enormous. We stopped for a few pictures with the giants as we rode through. This was also the first day that we really had clear skies. Thanks for nothing, Oregon.
There were a few other places that the map instructed us to turn off of 101. My favorite for the day was called Trnidad Scenic Drive. Parts of it were pretty steep, parts of it were narrowed down to one lane, and parts of it were gravel, but it was definitely worth the work. It was a sheer drop off the side of the road down to the ocean for most of it. Scott and I had gotten split up for a bit during this stretch, but when we met back up, he had two more cyclists with him. The four of us hit the pedals pretty hard for the last stretch into Eureka, CA. At that point, Scott and I found an Indian food buffet. It was amazing. I stuffed myself stupid. I love Indian food. After that we found the cheapest hotel in town and used the money our hostel friend had given me to pay for it. There was a big food co-op across the street, so we did some grocery shopping and I found some more of the dehydrated re-fried beans that I've been eating. They also had a sale on Cliff bars, so I bought a dozen of those.
Scott and I discussed our plans for the next few days, and we decided to split up. He wanted to ride a section of the road called the Lost Coast. I was more looking at getting down to San Francisco to take some time off a little quicker, so I bypassed that part. Props to Scott for riding it; it's about 8,500 feet of climb in about 60 miles according to the Adventure Cycling Association maps. I took 101 out of town and eventually turn onto Avenue of the Giants. Again, a worth while turnoff to see some really huge trees, as well as to avoid some of the 101 traffic. I stopped to camp at Richardson Grove State Park, where I met several other cyclists. One was a man from Athens, GA. Oddly enough, I biked through Athens, GA a few months ago. They had better bike lanes than much of what I found out east. There was also a couple from Norway biking down the coast, and a man from Eugene that was working his way around the country to end up in Pennsylvania to see his family.
The next morning I took off in search of a place for breakfast and with the intentions of covering a lot of miles. Basil, the man from Athens, GA, had left before me. I caught up to him a little ways down the road, where he was taking a break with two of his friends that were choosing to find lodging each night instead of camp. We all ended up at the same market in Leggett, CA, for a food break. This ended up eating away my entire morning. They were fun people to talk to. The road past Leggett was the longest climb of my coastal ride, reaching just over 2,000 ft in elevation. Part way up I stopped to take a picture. As I mounted the bike to continue climbing, I noticed my rear tire was very low. As I took the wheel off, the Norwegian couple, Basil and his friends, the man from Eugene, and two more cyclists caught up to me and all pulled over, making an impromptu party on the side of the road. The two cyclists I had not met yet were Scott and Dan. At the moment they were riding unloaded because Dan's mother had come to SAG for them. The whole group of them trickled away while I was still fixing the tire. When I had the tire back on, I pumped hard to catch up to everyone.
I ended up passing all of the loaded cyclists and meeting Scott and Dan at the top of the hill, where they had pulled over to get a picture at the top of the climb. At that point, I decided to try to keep up with the two of them for a while. This proved quite difficult, as I was riding a 110 lb. bicycle (including gear and whatnot) compared to their presumably 18-23 lb. rides. At the top of the next big climb they had to wait a little for me, but after that I did alright at keeping up. They seemed somewhat impressed at my ability to keep up, but I don't think they really realized how much it was killing me to keep up. They said I was in the running for the nickname "Manimal" which had been reserved for a man in their cycling club with very large thighs. We knocked out some good miles in the afternoon, and when we got to Mendocino, Dan's mother had found a cottage with a hot tub for the night. They graciously offered me a spot on the floor and food for the evening and morning. It was an evening well spent, chatting with my new traveling companions.
The next morning we ate breakfast and hit the road relatively early. Scott and Dan had aspirations of pushing through some long miles, so we hit the road pretty fast in the morning and had about 50 miles done before noon. That's no easy task on the coast. Some of the grades get pretty steep. At one point, just south of Elk, CA, I was in my lowest gear and standing on my pedals. I can still say I have never had to get off my bike to push, but that one got close. Anyway, around lunch time I took a lengthier break than my fellow travelers and proceeded at my own pace. I was not in the same rush that they were. I was pretty excited about how well I had done keeping up with them for the last 24 hours.
Down the road a ways I stopped at a convenience store near Fort Ross. As I sat on the curb outside, snacking, a man in a wetsuit walked up and asked me about my ride. I told him what I was doing and where I planned on camping that night. He told me that he and some friends were celebrating a birthday near there and that I was welcome to join. He and his companions insisted that I throw my bike in the back of the truck, and in hind sight, I appreciate the ride up the hill. As we approached the climb up to the house, there was a sign reading "18% Grade Next 2 Miles". Holy crap.
They were wearing wetsuits because I met them on their way in from fishing from their kayaks and diving for abalone. I had never heard of abalone before this. Apparently it is a delicacy. Wikipedia calls abalone a large sea snail. Anyway, we arrived at the house and hung out while fish and abalone were cleaned and prepared. One of the guests raises duck for several restaurants and brought some to contribute. Not only did I have shelter and engaging conversation for the evening, but I ate like a king!
There were far too many names to try to match with faces, but I do remember Eric, the host. Once it came out that I got my bachelors degree in Bible/Religion/Philosophy, that seemed to take over the conversation for the rest of the evening. It was very entertaining, but a bit frustrating when Eric tried to put me on the spot as the truth source on all questions about Christianity because of my major. For a while we were caught up on language, failing to clearly distinguish atheism and agnosticism. Eric defined himself as an atheist, but at the end of the night I think I'd call him more of a pantheistic agnostic, but hey, we're probably just splitting hairs here. At one point I mentioned that many Mennonites really dig four part harmony. I shouldn't have done that. Eric was then convinced that we needed to find three more people to join me in forming a quartet for some evening entertainment. Thank God that didn't happen. There was a fantastic sunset over the ocean, visible from the deck. I tried to take a picture, but sunsets are hard to convey through a picture.
In the morning I was well fed yet again before hitting the road en route to San Francisco. As I left their house (they referred to it as Sea View) I dropped and climbed a few times on top of the ridge before reaching a sign warning me of the impending downward slope, again 18% for the next two miles. Climbing up would have been pretty awful, but descending with a loaded touring bike was frightening. I must have burned up half of my break pads on that one hill. At the top it felt like I was approaching the initial drop of an advanced ski slope. After making it to the bottom of that, I kept going downhill into Russian Gulch. It wasn't the steepest gulch I had ridden through on the coast, but this was probably the most windy road I had been on along the coast.
It was a nice ride along the coast towards Bodega Bay, where I turned inland for a ways. On this stretch of the road I started to get a little nervous because I saw that traffic was backed up for several miles. It was kind of funny to cruise past miles and miles of cars, nearly stopped on the road. There had been a fire at the top of the hill, so the fire engines were blocking one lane, making traffic take turns. There was a lot of traffic trying to get through. When I got to the other side of the single lane section, I stopped several times to cars that were waving to me to tell them what was causing the holdup. They were grateful, but I think I ended up descending the hill slower than I had climbed it. I pedaled on further towards San Francisco and reached Samuel P. Taylor State Park, where I set up camp for the night.
In the morning I got up and took off towards the Golden Gate Bridge. It wasn't a long ride to get there, and it was great to arrive on a clear day, so I could actually see the bridge. I was worried I'd get there on an overcast day. The pedestrian walkway was very crowded, but navigable. Once I got across the bridge, I took the quickest route to Jenna's house that my GPS could give me. I don't like wandering around hilly places with lots of stop signs with a loaded bicycle. It's kind of tiring. Apparently I completely missed Golden Gate Park. I'll have to check that out later today, as I enjoy a day or so off the bike.
From here I'll be heading into the desert. I'm going to cross the Sierras, basically following hwy 50, into Nevada where I will actually be on hwy 50 through the whole state. Apparently hwy 50 has been called "America's Loneliest Highway". I think the longest stretch between services is about 84 miles. I'll have a few other lengthy stretches, but that's the big one, near the Nevada/Utah border. We'll see how that all goes. The good news is that I shouldn't get rained on any time soon! This last large gap between blog posts was mostly because there was so much to do along the coast. This next lull in activity on my blog will be due to no internet services, I'm guessing. I'll try to get something typed up as I ride so that if I do happen to come across a library or something along the way, I have something ready to post. I can't imagine that there will be much to do in the evenings in my tent in the middle of a desert. Strangely enough, I'm looking forward to it. I'm not sure what that means.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
About to Turn South
One of the nice things about being at the MDS meeting in Albany, OR, was that I could finally use the acronym "MDS" and not meet very confused expressions. It was great to meet more people associated with MDS at various levels, and to see some familiar faces in the organization that I haven't seen since my trip through Pennsylvania. I received many invitations to stay with people throughout the western states, but unfortunately most of them will not really be along my route. I also received several generous donations to the "Feed Neal Fund," which felt alright since these funds were coming from people who have already invested so much into MDS as an organization already. I hope that the people that have given me money along the way didn't forget about MDS. This trip is about much more than raising money, but the most tangible sign of progress for the cause at hand is that running total. As of my arrival at that meeting (6,000 miles in) the total raised is something around $3,300. I didn't know how to set a goal for this trip at the beginning, but I thought it would be cool if $1 per mile would come in. There's more miles to travel and more people to meet. We'll see what happens.
After a sizable lunch with the MDS crowd, I hit the road north towards Portland. My friend and cycling partner from two years ago, Dustin, left from Portland at the same time to come meet me and guide me to his place for the evening. Given the late departure, it was kind of late when we rolled into town, but the sun hadn't quite set yet. Some of Dustin's classmates from law school were getting together that evening, so Dustin brought me along to meet his new friends from his new school (he just transferred).
Since Dustin doesn't have any furniture in his place yet, I was on my sleeping pad in his living room. I'm actually quite used to it, and I sometimes prefer it to other sleeping surfaces. Anyway, when we got up, Dustin and I pedaled down town to check out REI and some bike shops for some gear upgrades, including a few better provisions for riding in the rain. I ended up bumming around town for a good chunk of the afternoon before going to Beth and Marcos' place for supper and a game of Settlers of Catan. I don't get to play quite so often now that I'm not working at Hesston College. It was a welcomed treat. I ended up crashing on their couch.
The next morning I had breakfast with my friend Laurel, then made my way to this huge bookstore called Powell's. It's definitely the biggest bookstore I've ever seen. I've traveled more than 6,000 miles without a book. I thought it was time to pack some reading material. Hopefully I actually read the books I bought so they're not just wasted weight I'm carrying. I got back in touch with Dustin, because all of my stuff was still at his place. He and his siblings were about to go grocery shopping, so I headed back to his place to join in the fun. Afterward, I packed my equipment and groceries onto my bike and headed for Logan and Jake's place to make humus with them and our friend Kaitlin. At the end of the night, I got a ride back to Kaitlin's ritzy suburb abode to sleep on a very nice futon.
When I woke, I was a little bit torn between leaving or staying for another day. By the time I got back to Jake and Logan's place to pick up my bike, it was late enough that I decided to stick around, do some laundry, and plot out my route a little bit better. About a block from their place there was a laundromat/coffee shop. Honestly, that's a genius idea. I drank coffee and mapped out a route while my laundry was in. It was great. I bummed around town a little more, checking out the bike paths by the river, before settling into a chair outside of a coffee shop to make a few phone calls and to start on a book. When Laurel got off work, I headed for her place for an evening on her couch, involving the movie "The Bucket List". Quality film, if anyone is interested.
Today I actually hit the road and left the city. Before I did, I met a high school classmate, Annie, for breakfast. We hadn't seen each other in a few years, so we caught up on life for quite a while over some biscuits and gravy and coffee. The ride north through the city could have been quicker, but when I'm not really sure where I'm going, I tend to go there slower. I just wandered north to the I-5 bridge where I crossed into Vancouver, Washington. I saw neither a welcome to Oregon or a welcome to Washington sign to take my picture by. As with north Portland, I didn't really know where I was going in Vancouver, other than north, so I was moving a little slower until I found the highway I was looking for. While meandering through the city, I wandered into a residential suburban part of town. At one of the intersections, I slowed down to look for traffic, then pedaled through. There was a stop sign, but I didn't completely stop. As I went through the intersection, a car about a half block behind me gave one short beep from their horn. I glanced back to see if I was in some way impeding his travels. He beeped his horn again as he got closer. Next, he pulled up beside me and said, "You ran that stop sign back there." I responded, "Yeah, I slowed down and looked for traffic." He repeated, "You ran that stop sign back there," this time with an intonation of impatience. I said, "There were no cars." He repeated himself one more time, "You ran that stop sign back there," this time sounding almost angry. "Thank you, sir, have a nice day," I responded. At this he drove away. I would have preferred to say, "Your confrontation style will only aggravate and irritate others, likely not affecting any change," but he drove away too quickly. I think I slowed enough that nobody, including myself, was in danger. It's not easy to get that 300+ lbs. moving again when I completely stop. Whatever.
I took a break in Longview, WA, before crossing the river back into Oregon. The bridge to get across was not a friendly one. There were a ton of logging trucks coming and going from the mill in Longview, and there was not a shoulder. I should also mention that the Columbia River is not narrow, and the bridge was tall enough to allow barges through underneath. It was not a fun bridge. On the bridge, there was a very small sign that said "Entering Oregon" on one side and "Entering Washington" on the other, but not in a place where I could stop to take a picture. I still have another chance to get a picture of me being welcomed into Oregon as I leave to go to California, but I have no picture of me entering Washington. I improvised a little, but it is quite disappointing to come this far, getting a picture entering each state, and finally miss one. There's a bridge near Astoria, OR, that I could try riding across to get a picture, but it's a really long bridge. Maybe if the morning is going smoothly I'll give that a shot.
I'm currently stopped at the Clatskanie River Inn, where the manager gave me a break on the cost of the room. Tomorrow night I should be sleeping on the coast of the Pacific Ocean. When I turn south tomorrow, I will no longer be moving away from Louisiana. I will finally be on the return trip. I've got about 800 miles of coast to ride between here and San Francisco, so the next two weeks should be great. I'm supposed to be catching some rain later this week that might last a few days, but things will eventually dry out, right? I just hope that doesn't mess up the view!
After a sizable lunch with the MDS crowd, I hit the road north towards Portland. My friend and cycling partner from two years ago, Dustin, left from Portland at the same time to come meet me and guide me to his place for the evening. Given the late departure, it was kind of late when we rolled into town, but the sun hadn't quite set yet. Some of Dustin's classmates from law school were getting together that evening, so Dustin brought me along to meet his new friends from his new school (he just transferred).
Since Dustin doesn't have any furniture in his place yet, I was on my sleeping pad in his living room. I'm actually quite used to it, and I sometimes prefer it to other sleeping surfaces. Anyway, when we got up, Dustin and I pedaled down town to check out REI and some bike shops for some gear upgrades, including a few better provisions for riding in the rain. I ended up bumming around town for a good chunk of the afternoon before going to Beth and Marcos' place for supper and a game of Settlers of Catan. I don't get to play quite so often now that I'm not working at Hesston College. It was a welcomed treat. I ended up crashing on their couch.
The next morning I had breakfast with my friend Laurel, then made my way to this huge bookstore called Powell's. It's definitely the biggest bookstore I've ever seen. I've traveled more than 6,000 miles without a book. I thought it was time to pack some reading material. Hopefully I actually read the books I bought so they're not just wasted weight I'm carrying. I got back in touch with Dustin, because all of my stuff was still at his place. He and his siblings were about to go grocery shopping, so I headed back to his place to join in the fun. Afterward, I packed my equipment and groceries onto my bike and headed for Logan and Jake's place to make humus with them and our friend Kaitlin. At the end of the night, I got a ride back to Kaitlin's ritzy suburb abode to sleep on a very nice futon.
When I woke, I was a little bit torn between leaving or staying for another day. By the time I got back to Jake and Logan's place to pick up my bike, it was late enough that I decided to stick around, do some laundry, and plot out my route a little bit better. About a block from their place there was a laundromat/coffee shop. Honestly, that's a genius idea. I drank coffee and mapped out a route while my laundry was in. It was great. I bummed around town a little more, checking out the bike paths by the river, before settling into a chair outside of a coffee shop to make a few phone calls and to start on a book. When Laurel got off work, I headed for her place for an evening on her couch, involving the movie "The Bucket List". Quality film, if anyone is interested.
Today I actually hit the road and left the city. Before I did, I met a high school classmate, Annie, for breakfast. We hadn't seen each other in a few years, so we caught up on life for quite a while over some biscuits and gravy and coffee. The ride north through the city could have been quicker, but when I'm not really sure where I'm going, I tend to go there slower. I just wandered north to the I-5 bridge where I crossed into Vancouver, Washington. I saw neither a welcome to Oregon or a welcome to Washington sign to take my picture by. As with north Portland, I didn't really know where I was going in Vancouver, other than north, so I was moving a little slower until I found the highway I was looking for. While meandering through the city, I wandered into a residential suburban part of town. At one of the intersections, I slowed down to look for traffic, then pedaled through. There was a stop sign, but I didn't completely stop. As I went through the intersection, a car about a half block behind me gave one short beep from their horn. I glanced back to see if I was in some way impeding his travels. He beeped his horn again as he got closer. Next, he pulled up beside me and said, "You ran that stop sign back there." I responded, "Yeah, I slowed down and looked for traffic." He repeated, "You ran that stop sign back there," this time with an intonation of impatience. I said, "There were no cars." He repeated himself one more time, "You ran that stop sign back there," this time sounding almost angry. "Thank you, sir, have a nice day," I responded. At this he drove away. I would have preferred to say, "Your confrontation style will only aggravate and irritate others, likely not affecting any change," but he drove away too quickly. I think I slowed enough that nobody, including myself, was in danger. It's not easy to get that 300+ lbs. moving again when I completely stop. Whatever.
I took a break in Longview, WA, before crossing the river back into Oregon. The bridge to get across was not a friendly one. There were a ton of logging trucks coming and going from the mill in Longview, and there was not a shoulder. I should also mention that the Columbia River is not narrow, and the bridge was tall enough to allow barges through underneath. It was not a fun bridge. On the bridge, there was a very small sign that said "Entering Oregon" on one side and "Entering Washington" on the other, but not in a place where I could stop to take a picture. I still have another chance to get a picture of me being welcomed into Oregon as I leave to go to California, but I have no picture of me entering Washington. I improvised a little, but it is quite disappointing to come this far, getting a picture entering each state, and finally miss one. There's a bridge near Astoria, OR, that I could try riding across to get a picture, but it's a really long bridge. Maybe if the morning is going smoothly I'll give that a shot.
I'm currently stopped at the Clatskanie River Inn, where the manager gave me a break on the cost of the room. Tomorrow night I should be sleeping on the coast of the Pacific Ocean. When I turn south tomorrow, I will no longer be moving away from Louisiana. I will finally be on the return trip. I've got about 800 miles of coast to ride between here and San Francisco, so the next two weeks should be great. I'm supposed to be catching some rain later this week that might last a few days, but things will eventually dry out, right? I just hope that doesn't mess up the view!
Friday, September 10, 2010
The Hooley Farm through Central Oregon
After my night in Pocatello, ID, I tried to get on the road early to see if I could make the Hooley farm in one shot. When I woke up, it was raining. It was hard to get motivated to get out the door. By the time I was packed up and ready to move, it had stopped raining. I got on the road and within 2 miles I had a flat tire. I'm pretty quick at fixing these by now, but it sure is irritating. I saddled back up and hit the road. About 2 miles later, I got another flat tire. At this point, I realized that there was no way I would make it to the Hooley farm. This is yet another reason I hate riding on the interstate. There is so much junk on the shoulder, that it's not possible to avoid it all. Most of the stuff that gives me flats I can't even see anyway.
I kept on going on the shoulder of the interstate and eventually came across signs saying that there was construction ahead. Sometimes that's a bad thing, sometimes is a good thing. At first, it had all of the traffic reduce down to one lane. That was great. It gave me the other lane to ride in, protected by a series of orange barrels. Soon, however, we were all instructed to cross the median in this single file to the oncoming side. I rode over there for a few miles, but I was seriously afraid for my life on several occasions. At one point a semi loaded with hay bails felt like it was inches from hitting me. Not so much the truck, but the bails that were hanging over the side. It was so frustrating to have all of this traffic that just didn't seem to give a damn that I was on the road. All that was at risk for them was a fender, while my life was on the line. Eventually I got off my bike in the median and walked it over to the construction zone to ride for a while. Eventually I had to get back in with the traffic because of all the construction equipment that was operating, but there was an exit just a mile further down the road. At that point I got the heck off the interstate.
I took a break at that gas station, then biked the last 15ish miles to get to Burley, ID, where I planned to stop for the night. As I was rolling through town, looking for a place to camp, I saw a little motel and figured I'd ask how much a room was. The headwind that day had me pretty worn out, so if the price was right I thought I'd treat myself. When I first pulled up, one of the guys in the lobby asked me if I was biking to Alaska. I said, "No, Louisiana." They chuckled for a while, then told me that the last cyclist that had stopped in was headed to Alaska. They all thought he was nuts. They thought I was only a little bit crazy until I told them the route of my trip and how far I had come already. The guy at the desk cut me a deal for the night.
The next morning I got out early and headed for Filer, ID, on the highway (NOT the interstate). About a mile from town I got another flat. When flats become this frequent, it is quite obvious that it's time for new tires. I fixed it and kept on rolling and got to the Hooley farm just as they were finishing lunch. After gorging myself on their would-be leftovers, I went outside to clean up my bike a little and to look over the tires. It was kind of amazing to see how much junk had stuck into my tires over the last few days. I ended up throwing one of them out and putting my spare on to get me to Boise.
While I was cleaning up my bike, my friend Isaac was divvying out produce to the customers of his CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). His garden is amazing and his customers seem to love what they're getting. I think he harvested and sold something like 700 ears of corn that day. His sister, Sarah, and I went out to pick a few things while Isaac was busy with customers. He has this funny little truck that I got to drive. It's got a flatbed and the driver sits on the right side of the cab. It seems perfect for what they do. It was pretty weird to convince my left hand to control the manual transmission.
Throughout the day I had to keep snacking. I'm used to continuously putting food in my mouth throughout the day to keep my energy up. Also, they don't really eat supper until they're done working. They keep working as long as they have light. Supper was after dark. Luckily they had stuff to snack on in the kitchen and the supper was most certainly worth the wait.
The next morning I slept in. I learned that sleeping in at this point is about 9:00am. That only comes after initially waking at about 6-6:30 to freak out a little, wonder where I am, think about packing and where I'm riding to, come to grips with reality and the knowledge of the day off, then a restroom break. Once all that was resolved, I could go back to bed for a little while. In the morning I worked on my route a little, used the internet, and started laundry. In the afternoon I made a connection with someone to stay with near Boise, packed some stuff up, mailed some stuff home, and got the laundry into the dryer before heading out to help Isaac pick tomatoes.
When we finished harvesting, we headed for town to go to the county fair. His sister was already in town, so we met her there. It has been a long while since I've been to a fair to look around. It seemed very similar to the York County Fair back home, but with better food options. We looked at paintings, photographs, sugar beets, alpaca, and draft horses. The alpaca had all been sheered everywhere except the top of their heads. All of them looked goofy. I wish I had thought to bring my camera, but unfortunately I didn't remember to do ANYTHING with my camera while I was staying with the Hooleys. I didn't take a single picture while I was there. I'm a little frustrated with myself for that one.
While we were at the fair, someone said something about jalapeno poppers. At the sound of those, we decided that we should make them. Isaac had jalapenos from the garden, and they knew who to ask for a recipe. On our way out of the fair, we tracked down a recipe and then went to do a little grocery shopping for the missing ingredients. Back at the farm, Isaac and Sarah made the poppers while I finished packing up for the ride out in the morning. I think I ended up eating half the pan. They were delicious.
The next morning I had breakfast and headed out of the house to leave the serenity of the Hooley farm. When I got to my bike, the front tire was flat. I'm still a little puzzled by that one. I took the tire and tube off, but couldn't find a problem. I pumped up the tube, but I couldn't find a leak. I just put in a new tube and headed off. Despite the rough start, it was a great day for a ride. For the first time in a very long time, I had a tail wind. I knocked out 89 miles in about 6 hours, including a few stops and a brief descent into a canyon (which is always accompanied by the ascent on the other side). I spent the night at a KOA in Mountain Home, ID. They're always nice places to stop, but they're also more expensive than any other place to camp. Either way, it was a shower and a place to set up the tent.
The next morning I had breakfast and then hit the road to Boise. When I got a little ways down the road, I called Russ. When I rode out this direction two years ago with my friend Dustin, we stayed with Russ in Eagle, just north of Boise. Like last time, he planned to ride out to meet me. I made pretty good time to Boise and met up with Russ before noon. We pedaled towards his house, stopping at a couple of bike shops along the way. I bought a new chain and two new tires. My chain wasn't shot yet, but I like to have an extra. The tires, as you may have gathered from reading, were a much needed replacement. At Russ' place, we did a whole lot of work on my bike. It had seen some rough weather, so I hosed it off, then we took apart the chain and rear cassette for a good cleaning. It was amazing how much crap came off of the rear cassette. I suppose that's what a few thousand miles will do. Russ had some extra handlebar tape, so we re-wrapped my handlebars with a little extra padding. It also added a little bit of personality to my bike, as the new bar tape is a fairly vibrant shade of purple. Russ also had a better pump than I had been using and some different gloves for me to try. Like last time, it was a great pleasure to stay at his place and do some sorely needed cleaning and maintenance on my bike. On my way out in the morning, Russ made a contribution to the "Feed Neal Fund" as well as to Mennonite Disaster Service.
While rolling out of the Boise area, a cyclist caught up with me and asked where I was headed. This sparked about 8 or 9 miles worth of conversation, which made the miles fly by. It was his birthday, and it is the tradition of his friends that on your birthday you must bike your age in miles. I don't remember how old he said he was, but I told him I was just working ahead. As I got to the Idaho/Oregon border, things got a little bit more middle-of-nowhere feeling and the temperature kept rising. It got to about 94, which is the hottest I'd seen in a while. After passing through Vale, OR, I ended up stopping in Harper. There isn't much there, but they've got the only gas station for miles in either direction and a school. I spent the night in the grass by the school. I made sure to ask someone if there was automatic sprinklers there. Any time I see green in the middle of what otherwise looks like a desert, I'm hesitant to set up my tent. I learned on my last trip that sprinklers can cause a rude awakening.
At the gas station, I learned that there was another cyclist named Ryan just a few hours ahead of me. They said he intended to camp in Juntura, 34 miles further down the road. With this knowledge in mind, I got up early and pedaled hard to try to catch him. I expected him to stop at Burns for the night, because there wasn't really any other option, so if I didn't catch him on the bike, I just needed to look for him in Burns. I was plotting all of this while I got a bite to eat in Juntura. After leaving town, there were two pretty solid climbs coming up. As I climbed the first, I got near the top and saw someone stopped on the side of the road. I had caught Ryan much earlier than I had expected. He was having one of those days where you just don't really want to push. I understand the feeling. We ended up riding together the rest of the way to Burns. It was a good thing we stuck together, because the last stretch before town was long, flat, and windy. Since we were together, we could take turns drafting off of each other. This makes wind SO much more bearable.
As a bit of an aside, you can learn more about Ryan by visiting his website at http://www.ryanprizio.com. He started in Connecticut on July 1st with zero cycling experience, and has learned a lot as he has traveled. He's nearing the end of his journey to the coast, but is currently mulling over what it would take to bike across the rest of the continents. Bold.
When we got to Burns, I learned that Ryan has made it this far into his trip without having paid for lodging. He has done a lot of stealth camping, traded labor for lodging, and utilized online communities like http://www.couchsurfing.org and others. I told him I planned on paying for a site, so he could just set up at my site. That night we had Thai food in Burns, Oregon. I never would have guessed that Burns would have a Thai restaurant.
It started to really cool off that evening as we were getting to our tents. In the morning it was very difficult to get out of the sleeping bag. During breakfast, I checked the weather on my phone. There was a "special weather statement", so I clicked on it. Apparently Burns, OR, recorded a new record low for that date, getting down to 28 degrees for the night, surpassing the previous low of 30 degrees. no wonder it was tough to get out of the sleeping bag.
After breakfast we stopped at a Safeway for some last minute items before heading into the middle of nowhere. We moved at a pretty good pace to Riley before taking a break. Next we pushed on to Hampton, and eventually to Brothers. All three of these places were barely more than intersections. At Brothers there was a rest area with lush, green grass to camp in. I knew that there had to be under ground sprinklers in the area, but I couldn't find them. If I could have, I would have put one of my camping pots over the sprinkler head with one of my bags on top of that. A 30 minute cycle of high pressure sprinkler water really cleans a pot well! Ryan and I gorged ourselves on beans, rice, and corn tortillas for supper. I'm bad at guessing how much rice is actually in the pot when it hasn't been cooked yet. We ended up with a lot. Anyway, I never found the sprinkler head, so at about 3:30am the sprinklers kicked on, so Ryan and I were now camping in the artificial rain of the Oregon desert.
In the morning, after we had packed up our wet tents, Ryan and I headed to the bar/gas station/restaurant/post office/convenience store for breakfast. About 70 miles back someone had recommended the breakfast at this place. It was so good, we ended up eating breakfast twice. We stuffed ourselves stupid with eggs, hashbrowns, toast, bacon, pancakes, and coffee. Cycling is a little rough at first with a full stomach, but as the day wears on, you just kind of realize that you don't need to stop to eat. Ever. We got to Bend and neither of us was hungry. I had planned on continuing on to the town of Sisters, but Ryan's knee had started hurting yesterday and was still bothering him today. He decided to stop, and I decided I'd just stop as well. We hung out at a restaurant for a while and ended up finding someone willing to house us for a night in town.
While we were in the restaurant, it started to rain. It continued to drizzle as we headed across town towards our host for the night, Diane. While cruising across town, Ryan got a flat. When we took the tire off, we found the biggest piece of glass I've ever seen embedded in his tire. I found out then that he had been riding the same tire since Connecticut. And the same chain. Like I said, he's learning a lot as he goes. I'm impressed at how well he has done on his first tour with no prior knowledge of the sport.
At Diane's place, we got set up with a guest room and a warm shower. It was fantastic. We talked with Diane about bicycle touring for quite a while that evening. Apparently she biked all over Mexico a few years back. As I planned for my departure from her place, I saw that the weather was supposed to be less than cooperative. It was going to be "unseasonably cool" and raining. I talked with Diane about bike shops in the area where I could pick up a couple of things to help keep me warm during the ride. She ended up lending me a pair of waterproof socks. You should just google them, I don't know how to explain them. I think they saved my toes. When I get to Portland I'm going to mail them back to her.
I had a pretty long day ahead of me, so I tried to get out at a decent hour. It was a short ride to get to Sisters, and beyond that I would be climbing Santiam Pass and Tombstone Pass before following the river to Sweet Home, OR. I grabbed a bite to eat in Sisters because it didn't look like there would be much option down the road. I also made the assumption that I'd be able to find water down the road. As I left Sisters, the rain picked up a little as I climbed Santiam pass. The climb in the rain wasn't too bad, but the descent was very cold. Not very long after reaching the bottom, I started to climb again, this time up to Tombstone pass. This climb was shorter, but it had a much longer descent on the other side. I took pictures of the signs warning drivers of the 11 miles of 6% downgrade to come. For those 11 miles, I may as well have unclipped my shoes from the pedals. It was nice to just cruise without all the work. I can see why so many people like having an engine on their bike. The down side was that it was still raining and I was still freezing as I sat there and coasted down the mountain. All this while I had not been able to find a place to fill my water bottles since I left Sisters. I ran out of water at the bottom of the 11 miles of 6% downgrade and still had 21 miles to go before arriving in Sweet Home. It's a good thing it was cold and rainy. I got by without more water, but I had to really tank up when I got to town. I cramped up a little early in the evening, but once the water and electrolytes had time to sink in, my muscles eased up.
In Sweet Home it was still raining, and I just didn't feel like dealing with the crappy weather in a tent. I found the first motel along that road and got a room. The next day I would bike a short 27 miles to Albany, OR. With a short day ahead, I decided to sleep in. I did the usual early morning panic about getting on the road in a timely fashion, followed by a trip to the restroom, before catching a couple more hours of sleep.
From the hotel I found a small diner where I got a late breakfast before hitting the road to Albany. The ride was another rainy one, but it was short. I got to the Quality Inn on the edge of Albany in the early afternoon and checked in.
I suppose I never explained why I took this route through Central Oregon rather than sticking to my previous plan of following the Columbia River, where I would have touched Washington. While in Idaho, I found out that District IV of Mennonite Disaster Service was having their annual meeting in Albany this weekend. I did some figuring and worked with Russ (in Eagle) on a route to get me here in time to attend and meet some people and see some familiar faces in the MDS world. Tomorrow morning is the start of their meeting, so I got here just in time. I plan to stick around through the morning before hitting the road for Portland, where I will most likely take at least two days off the bike to take in the city and visit friends. I'll probably look for some of those sweet waterproof socks for myself.
I kept on going on the shoulder of the interstate and eventually came across signs saying that there was construction ahead. Sometimes that's a bad thing, sometimes is a good thing. At first, it had all of the traffic reduce down to one lane. That was great. It gave me the other lane to ride in, protected by a series of orange barrels. Soon, however, we were all instructed to cross the median in this single file to the oncoming side. I rode over there for a few miles, but I was seriously afraid for my life on several occasions. At one point a semi loaded with hay bails felt like it was inches from hitting me. Not so much the truck, but the bails that were hanging over the side. It was so frustrating to have all of this traffic that just didn't seem to give a damn that I was on the road. All that was at risk for them was a fender, while my life was on the line. Eventually I got off my bike in the median and walked it over to the construction zone to ride for a while. Eventually I had to get back in with the traffic because of all the construction equipment that was operating, but there was an exit just a mile further down the road. At that point I got the heck off the interstate.
I took a break at that gas station, then biked the last 15ish miles to get to Burley, ID, where I planned to stop for the night. As I was rolling through town, looking for a place to camp, I saw a little motel and figured I'd ask how much a room was. The headwind that day had me pretty worn out, so if the price was right I thought I'd treat myself. When I first pulled up, one of the guys in the lobby asked me if I was biking to Alaska. I said, "No, Louisiana." They chuckled for a while, then told me that the last cyclist that had stopped in was headed to Alaska. They all thought he was nuts. They thought I was only a little bit crazy until I told them the route of my trip and how far I had come already. The guy at the desk cut me a deal for the night.
The next morning I got out early and headed for Filer, ID, on the highway (NOT the interstate). About a mile from town I got another flat. When flats become this frequent, it is quite obvious that it's time for new tires. I fixed it and kept on rolling and got to the Hooley farm just as they were finishing lunch. After gorging myself on their would-be leftovers, I went outside to clean up my bike a little and to look over the tires. It was kind of amazing to see how much junk had stuck into my tires over the last few days. I ended up throwing one of them out and putting my spare on to get me to Boise.
While I was cleaning up my bike, my friend Isaac was divvying out produce to the customers of his CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). His garden is amazing and his customers seem to love what they're getting. I think he harvested and sold something like 700 ears of corn that day. His sister, Sarah, and I went out to pick a few things while Isaac was busy with customers. He has this funny little truck that I got to drive. It's got a flatbed and the driver sits on the right side of the cab. It seems perfect for what they do. It was pretty weird to convince my left hand to control the manual transmission.
Throughout the day I had to keep snacking. I'm used to continuously putting food in my mouth throughout the day to keep my energy up. Also, they don't really eat supper until they're done working. They keep working as long as they have light. Supper was after dark. Luckily they had stuff to snack on in the kitchen and the supper was most certainly worth the wait.
The next morning I slept in. I learned that sleeping in at this point is about 9:00am. That only comes after initially waking at about 6-6:30 to freak out a little, wonder where I am, think about packing and where I'm riding to, come to grips with reality and the knowledge of the day off, then a restroom break. Once all that was resolved, I could go back to bed for a little while. In the morning I worked on my route a little, used the internet, and started laundry. In the afternoon I made a connection with someone to stay with near Boise, packed some stuff up, mailed some stuff home, and got the laundry into the dryer before heading out to help Isaac pick tomatoes.
When we finished harvesting, we headed for town to go to the county fair. His sister was already in town, so we met her there. It has been a long while since I've been to a fair to look around. It seemed very similar to the York County Fair back home, but with better food options. We looked at paintings, photographs, sugar beets, alpaca, and draft horses. The alpaca had all been sheered everywhere except the top of their heads. All of them looked goofy. I wish I had thought to bring my camera, but unfortunately I didn't remember to do ANYTHING with my camera while I was staying with the Hooleys. I didn't take a single picture while I was there. I'm a little frustrated with myself for that one.
While we were at the fair, someone said something about jalapeno poppers. At the sound of those, we decided that we should make them. Isaac had jalapenos from the garden, and they knew who to ask for a recipe. On our way out of the fair, we tracked down a recipe and then went to do a little grocery shopping for the missing ingredients. Back at the farm, Isaac and Sarah made the poppers while I finished packing up for the ride out in the morning. I think I ended up eating half the pan. They were delicious.
The next morning I had breakfast and headed out of the house to leave the serenity of the Hooley farm. When I got to my bike, the front tire was flat. I'm still a little puzzled by that one. I took the tire and tube off, but couldn't find a problem. I pumped up the tube, but I couldn't find a leak. I just put in a new tube and headed off. Despite the rough start, it was a great day for a ride. For the first time in a very long time, I had a tail wind. I knocked out 89 miles in about 6 hours, including a few stops and a brief descent into a canyon (which is always accompanied by the ascent on the other side). I spent the night at a KOA in Mountain Home, ID. They're always nice places to stop, but they're also more expensive than any other place to camp. Either way, it was a shower and a place to set up the tent.
The next morning I had breakfast and then hit the road to Boise. When I got a little ways down the road, I called Russ. When I rode out this direction two years ago with my friend Dustin, we stayed with Russ in Eagle, just north of Boise. Like last time, he planned to ride out to meet me. I made pretty good time to Boise and met up with Russ before noon. We pedaled towards his house, stopping at a couple of bike shops along the way. I bought a new chain and two new tires. My chain wasn't shot yet, but I like to have an extra. The tires, as you may have gathered from reading, were a much needed replacement. At Russ' place, we did a whole lot of work on my bike. It had seen some rough weather, so I hosed it off, then we took apart the chain and rear cassette for a good cleaning. It was amazing how much crap came off of the rear cassette. I suppose that's what a few thousand miles will do. Russ had some extra handlebar tape, so we re-wrapped my handlebars with a little extra padding. It also added a little bit of personality to my bike, as the new bar tape is a fairly vibrant shade of purple. Russ also had a better pump than I had been using and some different gloves for me to try. Like last time, it was a great pleasure to stay at his place and do some sorely needed cleaning and maintenance on my bike. On my way out in the morning, Russ made a contribution to the "Feed Neal Fund" as well as to Mennonite Disaster Service.
While rolling out of the Boise area, a cyclist caught up with me and asked where I was headed. This sparked about 8 or 9 miles worth of conversation, which made the miles fly by. It was his birthday, and it is the tradition of his friends that on your birthday you must bike your age in miles. I don't remember how old he said he was, but I told him I was just working ahead. As I got to the Idaho/Oregon border, things got a little bit more middle-of-nowhere feeling and the temperature kept rising. It got to about 94, which is the hottest I'd seen in a while. After passing through Vale, OR, I ended up stopping in Harper. There isn't much there, but they've got the only gas station for miles in either direction and a school. I spent the night in the grass by the school. I made sure to ask someone if there was automatic sprinklers there. Any time I see green in the middle of what otherwise looks like a desert, I'm hesitant to set up my tent. I learned on my last trip that sprinklers can cause a rude awakening.
At the gas station, I learned that there was another cyclist named Ryan just a few hours ahead of me. They said he intended to camp in Juntura, 34 miles further down the road. With this knowledge in mind, I got up early and pedaled hard to try to catch him. I expected him to stop at Burns for the night, because there wasn't really any other option, so if I didn't catch him on the bike, I just needed to look for him in Burns. I was plotting all of this while I got a bite to eat in Juntura. After leaving town, there were two pretty solid climbs coming up. As I climbed the first, I got near the top and saw someone stopped on the side of the road. I had caught Ryan much earlier than I had expected. He was having one of those days where you just don't really want to push. I understand the feeling. We ended up riding together the rest of the way to Burns. It was a good thing we stuck together, because the last stretch before town was long, flat, and windy. Since we were together, we could take turns drafting off of each other. This makes wind SO much more bearable.
As a bit of an aside, you can learn more about Ryan by visiting his website at http://www.ryanprizio.com. He started in Connecticut on July 1st with zero cycling experience, and has learned a lot as he has traveled. He's nearing the end of his journey to the coast, but is currently mulling over what it would take to bike across the rest of the continents. Bold.
When we got to Burns, I learned that Ryan has made it this far into his trip without having paid for lodging. He has done a lot of stealth camping, traded labor for lodging, and utilized online communities like http://www.couchsurfing.org and others. I told him I planned on paying for a site, so he could just set up at my site. That night we had Thai food in Burns, Oregon. I never would have guessed that Burns would have a Thai restaurant.
It started to really cool off that evening as we were getting to our tents. In the morning it was very difficult to get out of the sleeping bag. During breakfast, I checked the weather on my phone. There was a "special weather statement", so I clicked on it. Apparently Burns, OR, recorded a new record low for that date, getting down to 28 degrees for the night, surpassing the previous low of 30 degrees. no wonder it was tough to get out of the sleeping bag.
After breakfast we stopped at a Safeway for some last minute items before heading into the middle of nowhere. We moved at a pretty good pace to Riley before taking a break. Next we pushed on to Hampton, and eventually to Brothers. All three of these places were barely more than intersections. At Brothers there was a rest area with lush, green grass to camp in. I knew that there had to be under ground sprinklers in the area, but I couldn't find them. If I could have, I would have put one of my camping pots over the sprinkler head with one of my bags on top of that. A 30 minute cycle of high pressure sprinkler water really cleans a pot well! Ryan and I gorged ourselves on beans, rice, and corn tortillas for supper. I'm bad at guessing how much rice is actually in the pot when it hasn't been cooked yet. We ended up with a lot. Anyway, I never found the sprinkler head, so at about 3:30am the sprinklers kicked on, so Ryan and I were now camping in the artificial rain of the Oregon desert.
In the morning, after we had packed up our wet tents, Ryan and I headed to the bar/gas station/restaurant/post office/convenience store for breakfast. About 70 miles back someone had recommended the breakfast at this place. It was so good, we ended up eating breakfast twice. We stuffed ourselves stupid with eggs, hashbrowns, toast, bacon, pancakes, and coffee. Cycling is a little rough at first with a full stomach, but as the day wears on, you just kind of realize that you don't need to stop to eat. Ever. We got to Bend and neither of us was hungry. I had planned on continuing on to the town of Sisters, but Ryan's knee had started hurting yesterday and was still bothering him today. He decided to stop, and I decided I'd just stop as well. We hung out at a restaurant for a while and ended up finding someone willing to house us for a night in town.
While we were in the restaurant, it started to rain. It continued to drizzle as we headed across town towards our host for the night, Diane. While cruising across town, Ryan got a flat. When we took the tire off, we found the biggest piece of glass I've ever seen embedded in his tire. I found out then that he had been riding the same tire since Connecticut. And the same chain. Like I said, he's learning a lot as he goes. I'm impressed at how well he has done on his first tour with no prior knowledge of the sport.
At Diane's place, we got set up with a guest room and a warm shower. It was fantastic. We talked with Diane about bicycle touring for quite a while that evening. Apparently she biked all over Mexico a few years back. As I planned for my departure from her place, I saw that the weather was supposed to be less than cooperative. It was going to be "unseasonably cool" and raining. I talked with Diane about bike shops in the area where I could pick up a couple of things to help keep me warm during the ride. She ended up lending me a pair of waterproof socks. You should just google them, I don't know how to explain them. I think they saved my toes. When I get to Portland I'm going to mail them back to her.
I had a pretty long day ahead of me, so I tried to get out at a decent hour. It was a short ride to get to Sisters, and beyond that I would be climbing Santiam Pass and Tombstone Pass before following the river to Sweet Home, OR. I grabbed a bite to eat in Sisters because it didn't look like there would be much option down the road. I also made the assumption that I'd be able to find water down the road. As I left Sisters, the rain picked up a little as I climbed Santiam pass. The climb in the rain wasn't too bad, but the descent was very cold. Not very long after reaching the bottom, I started to climb again, this time up to Tombstone pass. This climb was shorter, but it had a much longer descent on the other side. I took pictures of the signs warning drivers of the 11 miles of 6% downgrade to come. For those 11 miles, I may as well have unclipped my shoes from the pedals. It was nice to just cruise without all the work. I can see why so many people like having an engine on their bike. The down side was that it was still raining and I was still freezing as I sat there and coasted down the mountain. All this while I had not been able to find a place to fill my water bottles since I left Sisters. I ran out of water at the bottom of the 11 miles of 6% downgrade and still had 21 miles to go before arriving in Sweet Home. It's a good thing it was cold and rainy. I got by without more water, but I had to really tank up when I got to town. I cramped up a little early in the evening, but once the water and electrolytes had time to sink in, my muscles eased up.
In Sweet Home it was still raining, and I just didn't feel like dealing with the crappy weather in a tent. I found the first motel along that road and got a room. The next day I would bike a short 27 miles to Albany, OR. With a short day ahead, I decided to sleep in. I did the usual early morning panic about getting on the road in a timely fashion, followed by a trip to the restroom, before catching a couple more hours of sleep.
From the hotel I found a small diner where I got a late breakfast before hitting the road to Albany. The ride was another rainy one, but it was short. I got to the Quality Inn on the edge of Albany in the early afternoon and checked in.
I suppose I never explained why I took this route through Central Oregon rather than sticking to my previous plan of following the Columbia River, where I would have touched Washington. While in Idaho, I found out that District IV of Mennonite Disaster Service was having their annual meeting in Albany this weekend. I did some figuring and worked with Russ (in Eagle) on a route to get me here in time to attend and meet some people and see some familiar faces in the MDS world. Tomorrow morning is the start of their meeting, so I got here just in time. I plan to stick around through the morning before hitting the road for Portland, where I will most likely take at least two days off the bike to take in the city and visit friends. I'll probably look for some of those sweet waterproof socks for myself.
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