Distance- 96km
Riding off in the rain we were wondering the last time we'd felt so cold. Maybe it was in Scotland or the Netherlands, I'm not really sure, but whatever the case, it was freezing. The rain began at a slow drizzle, slowly and steadily increasing to a heavy downpour. By this time we decided enough was enough, and soaking wet we pulled into a fudge and ice-cream shop. As we scooped icecream out of the thick chocolate milkshake the rain began to ease. Back on the road we quickly warmed up and soon the sun was shining through the clouds. Oregonians keep warning us that 'the rains' are due any day... but looks like we've avoided them for another day. Up and down the mountains we rode. On one mountain Sam noticed my bike was making a strange sound - the wheel rubbing on the brake perhaps - so next time there was a place to pull over we stopped. It wasn't the brake rubbing, rather, it was air slowly leaking from the tube. A check of the tyre revealed there were quite a few holes - it was an old tyre, bought in Indonesia - so we decided to fit the replacement tyre Sam has been carrying the whole way. Near the top of another mountain there was a crowd of people looking down to the rocks below - sea lions were splashing in rock pools and sun bathing on rocks. With the sun shining they looked happy in their little cove, protected from the cold wind.
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Distance- 42km
Today we were having too much fun taking photos of Oregon's spectacular coast line to do much riding. For lunch we stopped at the Italian RIviera for an $8.95 all you can eat buffet. It wasn't near a riviera, and the place didn't even seem all that Italian, but the food was delicious. Pizza, pasta, lasagne, chicken and vegetable soup, all of it tasted fantastic, and an hour later, barely able to move we clambered back onto our bikes, and sauntered off down the coast at a pedestrian pace. Distance: 106km
When we woke up in the morning we quickly realised the same routine of the past and so, packing our sleeping bags, sleeping mats, tent and clothes away, both a little bit sweaty, and stinky, we smiled to each other and pushed our bikes out through a green field and back onto the road, happy, happy to be riding towards the coast. It was beautiful weather, the sun was out all day, and I was sweating, profusely. A moment later and we're racing down a hill lined with giant pine trees and I'm freezing, shivering, and then the road heads upwards through tall everglades and its not to long before the tiny goose bumps on my arm have disappeared, sweat running down the sides of my face. By now I'm sure you've guessed it, down again, teeth chattering... it was one of those days. In the evening as we got nearer and nearer to the coast we started getting excited about the world championships in Melbourne (mostly Geelong), so we found the most budget motel in Lincoln City, and tired from the longest day we've spent in the saddle for a month, wheeled our bikes into the tiny room and collapsed onto the bed. After a whole lot of searching we found a French telecast of the race online (occasionally we could just make out some Aussie voices in the back ground), and spent the next few hours riveted to the tiny picture, desperately hoping that one of the attacks Cadel was in would succeed. Distance: 44km
The sofa bed was so comfortable... we slept longer than planned. We said bye to another great set of hosts (and a terrific dog!) and headed to the bike shop to buy Sam a new tyre and get a puncture repair kit that actually worked! A long, late lunch was enjoyed... and then it was time to head out of Portland. Despite a wrong turn early on, we were soon on the 99W road towards the coast. But it wasn't the glorious return to biking I'd expected. The bike seemed so much heavier, my legs so much weaker and the hills so much harder... two and half weeks without touring was a long time! It felt like riding through mud, it was so hard to get any rhythm. As the time to camp came upon us, I felt like crying. I wanted a shower, but there wouldn't be one tonight. I needed a bathroom, but a group of shrubs under the cover of darkness would be my bathroom. Luckily Sam was better able to readjust to the nomadic lifestyle, and he found us a perfect camping spot amongst some trees next to a hospital. It was our first night camping in America and, unsure of what to expect, we reassured ourselves that we couldn't have picked a better place in case of attack from bears or people with guns. Distance: 16km around Portland
It was good to be off the train. My eyes had almost become immune to the beauty and my ears needed a break from listening to the same guy tell everyone who sat near him his life story... We met many nice people on the train, and had some wonderful discussions about the world and travel, but, I wanted to be back on the bike! In Portland we rode to the shop where we'd purchased many of the things for our journey, Oregon Mountain Community. We were expecting a huge shop full of exciting sale items... but it was just a small showroom, as most of their business is done online. Mari had put us in touch with a good friend of hers in Portland, Brian, in the hopes we could get a shower (much needed after three days on the train!) and possibly somewhere to sleep for a night. While we waited to hear details from him we found a place to eat and use some wifi. A man offered to take us to his farm where we could camp for the night - in a show of what seems typical of American hospitality - but we were excited to meet Brian so stuck with the original plan. We met up with Brian, ate some delicious food while we chatted about basketball, then got on our way to his pace just as it was getting dark. We set off without our bags, including our wallet, putting them in his car to make it quicker for us. We hadn't gone far when, much to our surprise (or not), Sam got another puncture... he fixed about four while we were in Boston. Now he's catching up to me!! We tried to fix it, but the patch wouldn't stick and the tube kept going down. We had no wallet and no spare tube. So we had to call Brian who came back and got us. Thanks for that one mate! We had a great night chatting to Brian and his flatmate Will and playing with the gorgeous dog Winston. We have been so lucky to be looked after by all these wonderful people - Now it's time to head back onto the road and into the tent! In Chicago we ran out of the train station and jumped into a water taxi that took us slowly up the river and through the beautiful windy city. The boat ride was fun, and gave us the chance to see the city from an angle we might never have gotten otherwise. Actually, although it didn't live up to its 'windy city' moniker, we decided that this one one of the most beautiful cities we've seen anywhere in the world! Running back to the station we collected our bags and prepared to board a different train. Chicago to Portland took about 47 hours. Might sound like hell to some people, but we think it was a fantastic journey, well worth a sore neck from sleeping in a chair for two nights (or three in total for us). Check out the photos, I think they are some of our best ever. Water on the windows. We pass a town, it looks a shell of its former self, the former self I imagine for it. The station looks deserted, as though men were once here, in some other time, but no longer. It isn’t. A man gets on the train, wheezing, desperate, lunges forward, smells of smoke, disarray. The train draws alongside a building, ghostly, dark, windows smashed, long ago, haunting. Vines are growing through, trying to possess it. Trees, deciduous, slowly turning shades of red and orange with the seasons. Some relent the change, desperate to avoid decay they hold on to there green foliage. A woman coughs. At first a slow and steady hackle, then a wheeze, whine, until it builds, from some unseen force it gathers momentum, and then it takes on a life of its own. She can’t stop. And when it seems she has, the moment has passed and the coughing begins again. Rushing, panicking, arguing, seats are reserved, but there are no seats, it seems, for the eclectic bunch of passengers, gathered in the isle. Eventually, somehow, people disperse, find their places, the argument gone, and all that remains is silence and air, the noise of the train, rolling along on the tracks, foliage, bushes, grasses, trees, shades of greens, red’s, orange. A man coughs, the woman starts again. I walk into the next carriage, and look around me. I’m surrounded by empty chairs. Empty chairs? Why I’m still asking myself this question I don’t know, after eight months and twenty one countries I should know by now that there are no answers, or that the question is not worth worrying about. Air blows through the train, I can hear it, circling above me. Shanna tries to take a photo, nothing but a blur, we’re going too fast, ‘I’ll just have to remember it with my eyes.’ She says. And I’m wondering, what do we remember things with? A tap on the back, I turn around, she’s gesturing wildly, pointing outside with her eyes. We’ll just have to remember it with our eyes. ‘It’d be good if we had our bikes…’ ‘How come’ ‘Because it’s really pretty out there.’ ‘Do you wanna be back on the bike?” Nods. We will be soon. Distance: 5,000km!! Wow, what a trip! The views were spectacular, America is an amazing place, even more incredible than we expected. The train travelled through New York, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Chicago, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Washington and Oregon. We'll tell you all about it and post some photo's very soon! Distance: various km riding around Boston
100km on day of the bike race The tent arrived in Boston, Sam spent a day seam-sealing it and we have no more excuses for staying in Boston... so tomorrow we leave. Our time in Boston has been like a holiday and being with Mari and Jenny has been like staying with old friends. It's been a terrific rest period and we're feeling eager to continue our exploration of the United States. Our last day in Boston we participated, with Mari and Jenny in a big big ride with thousands of people. We did the longest distance - 50 miles - and despite narrow dirt and gravel tracks where you couldn't overtake, head winds and some terrible bumpy roads, we loved it and completed the course in times we were happy with. It was so nice to ride without the bags and see some spectacularly beautiful parts of Boston, its forest, beach, harbor's, city buildings and rural cemeteries that we never would have seen otherwise, and, it felt good to overtake people on their fancy road bikes! :) We saw so much of this beautiful city on the ride and met some really nice people along the way... plus there were free massages at the end! It's sad to know we're leaving tomorrow, and we're feeling a little scared about spending three days and nights on a train... you probably won't hear from us again for a few days! Distance- 400km The bus ride took five hours. Just getting out of Manhattan at rush hour took 55 minutes- you could probably ride it on a bike in less than twenty. Not that we were in a hurry. But, now that I'm thinking of it, aren't bikes great! Anyway, we both fell into our seats, exhausted, and almost immediately I began day-dreaming, wathching, looking out through the evening light, softly departing in its slow progression over the big apple. Children, throwing basketballs, into hoops, women, embracing at a bus stop, old men, standing motionless, looking around, expresionless faces telling unknown stories, then looking at me... no they aren't looking at me, looking through me, at something else, something I can't see, can never see. Hair in braids, big black and puffy jackets with sweaty foreheads poking out from underneath, the sun glinting in peoples eyes, in the windows, out over the changing shapes of Manhattans city skyline. Churches, grandiose, massive, dwarfed by the colossal concrete and glass structures that surround them, a beauty, peculiar, different and all their own. This city has a heart. My eyes close for a moment and I think I can see it, it breathes, sometimes it seems coarse, aggressive, and others, relaxed and laid back. Dangerously so, people walk out in front of cars, nonchalant, not knowing or caring, just walking, on another planet, in another place, with a different set of eyes. Music plays in the background. Drums and bass, beating on into the dying rays, fading with each other, into some other time. The door thrusts outwards, for a moment, and the bus driver turns. I catch a glimpse, I can see a cap on his head, 'New York Yankees,' sunglasses perched on top. He takes it off, there is no hair. His skin, dark and luminous, glistens from the suns dying rays that still, desperately clinging to the day in a futile attempt to stop the encroaching twilight, penetrate the thick glass windows, and then slowly, hesitantly evaporate into the moonlit night. A dark night, punctuated with splashes of light, splayed across the window. And tomorrow, a 50 mile bike race through the city streets. |
AuthorSam and Shanna Evans are from Melbourne, Australia Archives
September 2012
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