Distance: 66km
We met up with Ned and Charlotte again in Crescent City, and headed south on the 101 together. The wind was calmer and our spirits were high - we all had a good laugh at a sign that boldly proclaimed 'Don't be a crab, eat one!' as we left the city. We saw a bunch of hippies with guitars sitting by the beach and realised we really were in California! Just outside of town there was a mountain to climb - our biggest since arriving in the USA. Ned and Sam went ahead and Charlotte and I ground the pedals together. I was glad to ride with Charlotte - with Sam I tend to be a bit sooky and complain a bit... but with Charlotte I had to just smile and keep chatting through the pain. And there sure was pain! But we got to the top - and quicker than the boys expected! Partway up we even saw some gigantic trees - had we arrived in the Redwoods?? Going down the other side was so much fun. We all laughed and jeered and overtook each other - taking photos along the way. It was one of the most fun descents I've ever done! And the seaside scenery was beautiful. Ned and Charlotte made a quick stop in a small town to try and buy some food but we had enough with us, so we continued down the road... Or rather, UP the road. We had hit another mountain. Not quite as big as the first one, but still enough to make my legs turn to jelly. Partway up there were signs pointing that the bike route went right, off the 101. We debated what to do. Follow the main road? Or take the bike route? We'd talked about meeting up with Ned and Charlotte at the upcoming camp site but which road was it on? I tried to call them. No phone reception. We chose the bike route. Around the corner the gradient got even steeper. Had we made the right decision? We keep climbing higher and higher. At least the road surface was nice and there were few cars. Then we were in the redwoods. Around us was the densest forest I've ever been in. The temperature dropped. It got darker. Wow was it beautiful. The last five miles, flying downhill to the campsite, was some of the best, most beautifully scenic riding we've ever done, massive, ancient redwoods towering above us, lining the road like a procession, interspersed with deciduous orange and red leaves, hanging from trees coated lightly by silvery crystalized mosses. At the campsite we were setting up when Ned and Charlotte arrived. This campsite had bear lockers to keep our food safe and it had cold showers for just 50 cents... But in Oregon campsites provided hot showers for free- so it wasn't such a tempting offer. Another girl, Jodie from Cleveland, turned up after dark and the five of us stayed up far too late talking and laughing...
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Distance: 41km
We awoke to the pitter patter of rain softly falling against the tent, and looking outside through the mesh, realised that we were in a thick, rainy mist. After a couple of hours holed up in the tent we emerged to find the wind had died down a little, and the rain was only a light drizzle, but on standing we both realised that our legs were completely exhausted. Riding towards Crescent City we were about to cross the border from Oregon into California when we saw a man pushing his bike and trailer with a dog he'd picked up on the road about a week or so ago. The dog had subsequently had six puppies, all of whom were now getting a free ride in his bike trailer. We'd already passed him, walking with the dog and bike, a few days before, so it seems that he and the dog have been walking almost non-stop. By lunch time we stopped at Crescent City, where we decided we were done for the day. In the evening we ate at Denny's, an American restaurant chain. Much to our surprise the food was some of the best we've ever eaten, and the price tag was equalling appealing, two mains and two deserts for $23. Distance: 101km (+12)
Just as we were about to leave the town we saw a wily old man, greasy beard hiding a crafty smile, on a face that looked weathered by centuries of strong winds. Motioning at us to pull over we slammed on the brakes, wheels screeching in the rain. 'Where y'all headed?' 'Not sure, we hear the campsite ahead is closed' 'Who told ya that?' 'Everyone in the town' Well I got news for y'all, its open to bikers, so y'all head on down, it's only another seven miles or so.' Seven or so miles through the blustering wind and sure enough, old mate was right. If he hadn't of told us, we never would have known, the place had signs and barricades everywhere indicating it was completely shut up. The following day the wind started early, howling through the pass where we were camped between two mountains. But, as we would discover later, it was nothing compared to the mountains we'd have to ride up... All day... By the end of the day I was, for the first time in months, close to not being able to go any further, so when we found an RV car park in the bay just on the other side of town I wasn't thinking, and started to set up the tent... But soon the chatter and laughter from the group of retired, botoxed millionaires in their RVs the size of super-sized busses reminded us that we'd get no sleep in a place like this, and when the manager told us we'd have to move the tent to a place next to a car park filled with what looked like aspiring gangsters sitting on the front of their pick up trucks drinking beer, we decided to leave. Despite the elderly peoples friendly protests for us to stay and join their campfire and listen to their travel stories, we packed up in the late twilight and rode back into the cold wind to find somewhere to free camp. It was so dark now that we almost missed the state park amongst the beachside mansions. Down a gravel path, through some trees; and we found a perfect patch of grass behind some bushes. Relieved, and looking forward to a peaceful night I, (unlike Shanny) exhausted and still covered in layers of sweat and dirt, easily fell asleep to the sound of waves pounding against the cliffs beneath. Distance: Yet to be determined, about 30 or so miles so far... We woke in the morning to strong winds and rain. Out on the road and the rain was manageable, but our luck had changed and with it the wind, biting cold and blowing head on into us. The wind was so strong that moving forward at any pace felt almost impossible at times, and even going down hill was a pedal grinding affair. We wanted to turn around and head back to the safety and ease of our campsite, and to the sunny weather of the days we'd left behind, but we knew we couldn't, and that the only way ahead was forward. Sitting at a roadside cafe, where I'm writing this from at the moment, we saw Ned and Charlotte drag themselves in, huddled over and freezing, and looking almost as exhausted as us. 'Wow, crazy out there isn't it!,' we all seemed to mutter at the same time. Just now, I can hear the wind screaming, it seems even louder than before, and while I'm musing silently about my ability to ride any further someone yells out at us: 'He yall, campsite 8 miles down the road is closed, yall' better hurry n get on outta here before the rain comes, it's gonna pour down tanight. Next campsites 30 miles ya hear!' Distance: 10kms
Rest day today. We left our tent set up and rode into town. Shanny asked the lady at the hairdresser if she could get her scruffy, sun bleached curls cut, 'sorry, I have to go to the village to cut the senior citizens hair, but you can come back tomorrow.' So we rode on. Next stop was DQ, or Dairy Queen. We hoped to get some internet here, but all we got was a soggy burger with bacon and cheese. So we rode on. Next stop was a cafe in Bandon's historic 'old town.' Here we picked up some delicious sausage and egg wraps that we wolfed down whilst hijacking the wifi. We met up again with the English cyclists (Ned and Charlotte) we'd met yesterday on the road and camped with last night. But then it was closing time... So we rode on. That night we pulled down some dead trees and had a camp fire with Ned and Charlotte... On the fire we sauteed onions, fried italian sausages and sizzled sliced potatoes whilst we waited for our sweet potatoes and sweet damper (with jam and cream) to cook from deep inside the flaming embers. And then, with the sun slowly setting we enjoyed our delicious feast by the light of the crackling, fading fire, the flames warming our backs. Distance: 107km
We woke up freezing cold, but relieved that we'd survived another night in the Oregon wilderness (just past Florence) without being attacked by a ferocious wild bear. Back on the road riding through a beautiful forest the sun is up but its not penetrating through the tall pines, and even though I've got two shirts, a long sleeve shirt and a big jacket on it's freezing. A couple of hours later and we pass a couple of cyclists, the wind is in our back, the sun is shining and it feels great. For a while, the wind is perfectly behind us, and we're going around 35kms an hour on a flat road, barely even trying. Amazing! The wind still behind us, smiles on our faces we ride up a beautiful old bridge. Riding down the other side someone coming in the opposite direction yells out at us and then, hocking, a burst of spittle comes shooting towards me. Fortunately I manage to miss most of it. A moment later someone behind beeps their truck horn (who has a truck horn in a car!?!?), and then, thirty seconds after that we get a 'f*%# off' blasted into our ears. Not a moment too soon and a massive nail lurches into Shanna's tire, going all the way through to the other side. Sitting on the side of the road I figure things are looking up, they could only get better from here... right? Over the next 10 kilometers on a wide four lane road with plenty of room for everyone the story doesn't change much. But, when we leave the towns and head into the forest once again, to our great relief it all stops. Things really do start getting better when we meet a really nice English couple, who we ride with until we get to a campsite just off the coast in Bandon. Open fires burning, dogs barking, massive bus like campervans lurking in the shadows, and while the sun sets we put up our tent on a delicious piece of grass that looks like it was made just for us. 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. 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. |
AuthorSam and Shanna Evans are from Melbourne, Australia Archives
September 2012
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