Sep
28
2009
by Mr Cubes
Harris Beach to Crescent City (31.6 miles)
Crescent City to Elk Prairie Campground (34.1 miles)
Total Miles: 3,206.4
Today I would pass into California, a place with no equal in popular culture. How would this long awaited event pan out? Would it meet or even exceed my expectations? I was pretty eager to find out, so made a point of getting up early and leaving the campsite before any of the other campers had even stirred from their tents.
After stopping in Brookings at the huge Fred Meyer (a two-storey supermarket) to pick up food for lunch, I took the detour through the harbour and then alongside Oceanview Drive. Some of the detours provided by the cycle route have been rather strange and not always worth the extra distance so I don’t always take them. This one, however, was a must and started the day off in good fashion. Right before the state line was McVay Rock State Park which had the eponymous rock just jutting out in the middle of nowhere. 
If only there was such a monument to actually welcome you into California. After passing a huge sign with ‘Oregon Hopes to See You Again Soon!’ on one side and ‘Welcome to Oregon!’ on the other I got my camera ready for the Californian version. It didn’t arrive. Instead, there was first an agricultural check point (which I was just waved through) and then a small wooden sign welcoming me to Del Norte County. Hmmm, and so it would turn out that for all my expectations of California, is is actually just the same as everywhere else. Well, that shouldn’t be a problem – I’ve been having a great time. More of the same will certainly work well for me.
The road to Crescent City was all flat which I was happy about due to the 
intense heat of the midday sun. Another detour took me away from the now busy 101 and through a couple of small villages and past a huge state penitentiary. In town there was all the normal coastal outlets: fast food chains and cheap motels. Having left Oregon, I now had no information on this section of the route so went off to find the visitor centre for maps and camping information. This is when I first came to realise the enormity of California. Considering it is longer than the entire length of the Great Britain, I guess it was foolish to think they might have something showing a bike route for the entire state. One thing they did show me though was an elevation chart for the ride to Elk Prairie Camp Ground. Once I saw this I decided to spend the rest of the day doing absolutely nothing. Frankly, I was terrified.
After a night in a very cheap Travelodge, I left Crescent City on a cold and cloudy morning. It took just a couple of miles before I was at the start of the first of the two climbs and I was trying hard to mentally get right for it. In the end, I didn’t need to worry…despite it being very steep, and long, it was also the start of the Redwoods State Park which completely took my breath away. 
Luckily, there was a rest area with information on these mammoth organisms to allow me to get my breath back again. It’s hard to capture the enormity and beauty of these trees, so instead I took a picture of me. Yeah. Eat your heart out George Lucas.
For anyone who is a fan of Star Wars, this was where the forest moon of Endor, home to the kick-ass teddy bear Ewoks, was created.
After a super fast descent back to sea level which gave me the opportunity to look back at the hill, I realised they never look so high once you’re on the other side. Another flat section followed before the second big climb of the day. This area was even more stunning than before. Although I had to stop a couple of times for, ahem, directions, I was enjoying the climb and my ham and cheese jalapeno rolls too.
The farther into the redwoods I got, the more impressive they became.
This is where I really appreciated being on a bicycle. Being able to stop and reach out at them, made me feel a part of the woods and I could sense the jealousy within every car that passed me by. It was a magical experience and unlike anything I had ever seen in the world before. Suddenly, California was living up to it’s reputation.
It had only been a short day in terms of miles, but with the two steep climbs and constantly stopping to pick my jaw up off the floor I had taken quite a few hours to complete it.
The campground at Elk Prairie was a popular one and it was nice to spend the evening chatting with the other cyclists about how ‘easy’ the hills were and trying to out superlative each other when describing the redwoods.
Sep
26
2009
by Mr Cubes
Humbug Mountain to Harris Beach (50.6 miles)
Total Miles: 3,140.7
Awoke nice and early and had a long chat with Uwe, the German that I had first met at Devils Lake Park. He was riding with his girlfriend on a gap year from work and was planning to fly to Australia once he got to San Diego.
Despite having a relatively leisurely morning I was still one of the first to leave and tackle the long, winding hill up around Humbug Mountain. As the road reached it’s peak, beautiful views of the coast were again exposed and I could see that
it was to be another hilly day.
Once down at sea level again, after passing a random tyrannosaurus rex, the road stayed flat for a little while before the ups and downs started. I took a nice long break at Ophir Rest Area where the other cyclists from the campsite all got a chance to overtake me. The road then led around to Gold Beach which involved crossing 
another long and busy bridge.
Gold Beach didn’t really seem to have much going on – a few cafe/restaurants and souvenir shops. Still, that was enough to allow me a decent lunch in one of the cafes overlooking the ocean and prepare for the huge hill that was today’s main course.
Four miles of climbing follow, never massively steep but just persistent. I pass an elderly gentleman pushing his bike and notice the strange collection of equipment he is carrying includes a bucket and several long pieces of wood. Odd. The hill can’t go on forever though and after 30 minutes I’m at the top and suddenly, a few seconds later, at the bottom again. A very fast descent with the cycle computer recording a top speed of 40.8mph!
Smaller hills continued to Harris Beach, as well as some of the scariest bridges of the trip. By now though, I no longer have the Fear and am quite happy to look over the sides to the crashing waves below, even on the Thomas Creek bridge (the highest on
the Oregon Coast at 342 feet).
Harris Beach State Beach is another huge and superbly maintained campsite that charges hiker/bikers only $4 per night. Such a contrast to the overpriced and under managed parks in Alaska and Canada. They even offer wi-fi here, though it isn’t free, it certainly shows the future of campsites continues to evolve. By the time I had cooked my dinner the site was fairly full and by now I was starting to recognise more and more of the other campers, so it’s always good to chat and compare our experiences of the day. Darkness is soon upon us so I’m happy to have an early night, ready for my first taste of Californication in the morning…
Sep
25
2009
by Mr Cubes
Coos Bay to Humbug Mountain (57.9 miles)
Total Miles: 3,090.1
Having spent my rest day in Coos Bay sorting through my gear to see what either needed replacing or discarding, I felt quite a bit lighter. I hadn’t worn my cleated cycling shoes for awhile and decided they were no longer an essential item. Hopefully I won’t be regretting that anytime soon.
The Oregon Pacific Coast Bicycle Route had taken a diversion before Coos Bay, so I was now left to my own devices. Sticking alongside Highway 101 seemed the safe bet as this road takes me all the way to San Diego. For some reason there was a road running parallel to the highway here with absolutely no traffic whatsoever, so I was happy to take that for the first few miles. I also noticed here that my cycle computer was no longer matching up with the mile post markers, due to my changing the front inner tube from a 26x2.0” to 26x1.5”. I’d forgotten that I needed to make this adjustment in the computer so after noting that I was clocking 1.05 miles to every one mile post I was able to make the adjustment at the end of the day. No cheating here!
The small tourist town of Bandon was where I had planned to spend my lunch break, but the wind was quite strong here making a picnic an uncomfortable affair. I looked in several of the souvenir shops for a US Flag sticker for the bike, but still nothing which seemed quite surprising – Canadian ones were available everywhere. Instead I just cycled on, munching on my lunch of cheese and ham jalapeno rolls as I went. Hopes were again raised when I entered Curry County, but this turned out to be it’s official name rather than an accolade. Shame.
After the official bike route rejoined the highway I overtook a Canadian cyclist called Bryan who seemed to be struggling in the heat and admitted to stopping every few minutes to pretend to look at his guidebook. A technique I had also adopted in the mountains of Canada. The strong wind is now at my back and I’m managing speeds of 25mph on the flat, so before too long I make it to the rest area of Battle Rock. An interesting history is displayed about the area, where in 1850 Captain William Tichenor hid out on the small island whilst waging war against the native Indians. He succeeded in 1851 making Port Orford the oldest recorded town on the Oregon coast.
After a short little coastal ride which gave great views out to the ocean, I was at the bottom of Humbug Mountain and Humbug Mountain State Park. The hiker/biker section was empty, but soon filled up as first Bryan, then others reached their daily target. I went for a quick hike up the mountain, but after a couple of miles was starting to worry about the light and unnecessary damage to my legs so turned back.
This is a spectacular part of the coastline and I’d enjoyed my day’s riding. No major hills for once today, though my elevation maps showed that would only last till the morning…
Sep
22
2009
by Mr Cubes
Jessie M Honeyman to Coos Bay (46.6 miles)
Total Miles: 3032.2
No matter what my initial thoughts about a pensioner in denim attempting to cycle the Pacific Coast, I had to be impressed by his attitude. He was awake, packed and cycling before 6.30am. I was in a quandary about my day’s target, but as everyone else was also leaving the site early, I decided to too and just see where the day took me. So despite leaving at 8.50am, I was still last out of the hiker/biker area. With daily highs of around 85-90°F (29-32°C), it’s a good idea to try and get miles in before the sun gets too high and the roads get too busy.
Within the first couple of miles from the State Park I saw the recognisable figure of Barry struggling up yet another hill in his recumbent. By now he was really starting to question his whole route and vehicle choice. This was the last time I saw him though, so I hope he stuck with it and managed to get back home to Los Angeles alright. After this there were some roadworks that lasted for over five miles. In the interests of safety, the flagger kept me to the end, which then meant I was still cycling through it when traffic was coming the other way. Not so safe there then! This did mean that as soon as the pilot car and all the cars with it had passed then I knew I would have the whole road to myself till the pilot car came back the other way. It’s nice to be able to ride in the middle of the road sometimes. And sing like an idiot at the top of my voice (despite it being ‘roadworks’ there were no workers about as far as I could tell).
Stopped in the tiny village of Gardiner to look around the excellent Tsunami Gallery. Some very beautiful paintings there should you ever be passing. Definitely worth a visit.
The next town was Reedsport which had a McDonald’s allowing me to get online and upload a blog quickly. This was the highlight of the whole town as far as I could tell, so didn’t linger long. The road of Reedsport was one very long and steep hill and the midday sun was now beating down fairly hard. At the top of this hill was Umpqua Breakwater which is some sort of clam farm. And then it was downhill all the way to North Bend.
By now it was only 2pm, but I was felling pretty tired. Riding in the heat is extremely 
draining and I was happy to call it a day. After crossing yet another long and scary bridge I looked in vain for either a campsite or other cheap accommodation, but everything except a filthy motel looked a little out of my price range. As I continued to look around I suddenly realised I had come out of the other side of North Bend and was now entering Coos Bay. Jon from Lake Quinault had told me this was a cool town so I decided to take a Best Western here in the centre of town and look around for a day or two. It was certainly the busiest and friendliest town I had stayed in for some time and my first night ended with sushi and a tiny bar with a jazz band. I wanted to relax here for awhile as the coast line continues to climb and fall all the way to Santa Barbara in California, still 1,000 miles away...
Sep
21
2009
by Mr Cubes
Beachside to Jessie M Honeyman State Park (35.8 miles)
Total Miles: 2,985.6
Since leaving Lake Quinault, my daily average has dropped considerably. Part of this was due to losing some leg strength, but the major factor was realising there wasn’t any rush in getting to the finish. Now there were more places to stop I could start later, ride slower and relax in the evening. And this is how I found myself crawling out of my tent at 10am.
A few miles down the road was the small town of Yachats which looked a nice place to have lunch, but it was a bit early for that. Instead I took a Dr Pepper in the shade of a shop front as the morning was already incredibly warm.
Luckily most of the morning was fairly flat and tall trees alongside the road offered a small amount of shade. Barry had left Beachside campsite long before I had even started to think about showering and so it surprised me when I saw him as I approached the first big hill of the day. The recumbent really does seem to have problems with even the slightest gradient which must be a concern to anyone thinking of using one to tackle this very hilly stretch of coastline. No matter how fast you are going though, someone is always going a little faster and I was then overtaken myself by two guys from Canada who were also doing this very popular Seattle to San Diego route. This is when I realise how competitive I am as I look for reasons why they go faster than me. It’s nearly always the same reason whenever anybody does; they are 
travelling light. Even when their bike looks every bit as covered in bags as mine, I know that inside they have all the superlight equipment compared to my standard ‘lightweight’ stuff. Yeah, I can be a sore loser. So I was especially happy when the gradient of the hill increased and I reeled them both back in. I may not be lightning on the flat, but I can keep up with most on the hills. At the top of the hill was Heceta Head tunnel, before another climb to a viewpoint back to Heceta Head Lighthouse. This area was packed with tourists due to several spectacular viewpoints and the Sea Lion Caves. All of their barking (the sea lions, not the tourists) was quite comical and took my mind off of the climbing.
At the top of the hill, the road turned inland to uncover miles and miles of sandy beaches. A fast descent into Florence followed and time for a late lunch. This place was fast-food heaven with every franchise I’d ever heard of on offer, but I prefer to eat in a diner. After refuelling I found a bike shop to get myself a new seatpost bolt, inner tubes and the worst customer service I’ve ever received. And that includes shopping in Paris. Still, it had to be done (but who charges $1 for a singular second hand bolt?).
The final stretch for the day to the campsite was short and even though I got there quite early it was already full up. As was the hiker/biker section except for a nice pitch next to an elderly gentlemen dressed in full denim. He was also smoking a cigar and seemed to be suffering with his own version of tailwind. He spent the evening switching between offering everyone tins of food that he somehow had managed to acquire hundreds of and telling stories of the long distance cycle life (it was hard to believe he could cycle anywhere in so much denim). A good hearted guy, but he can’t have been too surprised that everyone magically disappeared into their tents as soon as he looked their way. I would have loved to have spent the evening listening to him but realised I hadn’t waterproofed my flip flops in months so was otherwise engaged. Shame.
Sep
20
2009
by Mr Cubes
Devils Lake to Beachside (47.4 miles)
Total Miles: 2,949.8
I now that I am supposed to do stretches before each ride, but choose instead to just take it slowly for the first hour. Which means that when the first hour is uphill, I'm really not going very fast at all. But it is still quite embarrassing to be overtaken by a jogger. Especially when he shouts out a cheery 'Hello!' to prove that he isn't struggling for breath in the slightest. I then entered that strange competitive state where I had to beat him by a certain landmark, though obviously wasn't willing to share the rules of the game with him. One-sided? Yes. Fair? No. Did I win? Of course I did.
On a more positive note, I had noticed that I am no longer counting down miles anymore. There were times on the Cassiar Highway where I would count every single kilometre post, which is quite demoralising when you are doing 140 for the day. Maybe I am that much fitter now, or maybe there is just so much more to keep the mind occupied.
After passing through Depoe Bay which claims to have the world's smallest navigable harbour (The rest of the country is probably embarrassed at such a claim), I found a small roadside Chinese restaurant that was offering a smorgasbord. Very difficult to turn down and after an hours worth of eating, I wobbled back onto the highway. Leaving the restaurant as I had entered was another cycle tourist who was riding on a recumbent and as such it meant his speed was so poor uphill that I managed to catch him up later in the day. We chatted for awhile, which allowed me to find out his name was Barry and originally from Manchester, but had moved to Los Angeles in the 1970's. So then I went off again, though this part of the highway was fairly rolling so he always caught me on the downhills and then I would get clear again on the uphill. Until I suffered another flat tyre...
This one seemed to just be a slow puncture, however, so I pumped it up again and hoped it would last to the next town, Newport, as I now only had three inner tubes, two of which had holes in. And luckily it did last for the rest of the day as the Pacific Coast Route detour meant I missed out on Newport completely. Shortly after was the small town of Waldport which had an impressive bridge and very little else. Certainly no bike shops.
Straight after leaving Waldport, the sign for Beachside State Beach appeared and I had managed to get there with air to spare. This meant the first task for the evening was to patch up the inner tubes and after getting myself a nice little camping spot, just a few feet from the beach, I got to work. About an hour later, with the task completed, Barry rolled in on his machine. To me, riding it just looks like a lot of effort, even though the seating position is more natural.
After making up some dinner I took a stroll along the beach, something I have rarely done despite riding along it for so long. Was just turning to evening, with a nip in the air, so I couldn't see a single other person out. 
A strange feeling coming from the overcrowded beaches of Europe.
It had been a very enjoyable day on the bike, with a little bit of everything thrown in. I had also crossed the 45th parallel, meaning I was halfway between the North Pole and the Equator (equivalent to the Bay of Biscay in Western Europe). I wonder how long it'll take me to get to the same point, somewhere near the end of my journey, in the Southern Hemisphere...
Sep
18
2009
by Mr Cubes
Manzanita to Cape Lookout (44.5 miles)
Total Miles: 2,859.0
Despite being the middle of September, there are still a lot of tourists along the coast and towns like Manzanita are probably busy all year round. I thought I might spend the morning on the beach, but even at 10am there were plenty of people about and so I decided to just start my day's riding. After the very hilly end to yesterday's ride I was expecting more of the same today, but it started totally flat and after five miles of gentle riding I stopped in the pretty little town of Wheeler. This looked set up to be a tourist trap too, but none were about and I managed to have my second breakfast of the day in a totally deserted cafe.
Shortly after leaving Wheeler, I went through the tiny community of Brighton and then started to notice a loss of control of my back wheel, a sure sign that it has lost air. Within a couple of minutes I was riding on a total flat, so it was over to the side of the road and a quick change of inner tube. The width of the shoulders through Oregon is pretty good for cyclists to ride in, if it wasn't for the fact they are always covered in glass and gravel. I couldn't find the cause of the hole, which was quite big, so just hoped I hadn't left some glass in the tyre anyway - and then suffering another immediate flat.
Several more tourist towns followed; Rockaway Beach, Garibaldi and Bay City but my next planned stop was to check out the place everyone had assured me offered cheese to rival what is so readily available in Europe. The Tillamook Cheese Factory. And this place really was full of
tourists, without doubt the biggest gathering I had seen since leaving Seattle Airport, it made me nervous to leave my bike anywhere. But there was cheese here! I had to take a chance, so I locked the frame up to the bike stand and just hoped no-one would have the nerve to walk up and steal the panniers.
The factory is fairly open and visitors are free to walk about and see the cheese making process. There are also free samples on offer, which I took the liberty of visiting twice. It really was very good stuff and I guess their plan worked as I ended up spending a few dollars in the cheese store too - opting for a roasted chilli and garlic cheddar. Yum. I have also been told that their ice cream is first class, but unfortunately the queues for this were huge and now that I'd had my cheese fix I was just concerned about the bike again. Luckily, when I returned outside it was completely untouched.
Once into the town of Tillamook itself, there was a turning for the Pacific Coast Bike Route, which took me away from the traffic and over vast grasslands with the very strong smell of cows. Felt 
nice to be riding in conditions I'm more used to in England and I was really enjoying my ride. So my mood seriously took a hammering when I got to the Cape Lookout State Park and was greeted with a sign saying 'FULL'.
I thought I should try my luck anyway though, as there 
must be room for a guy on a bike and sure enough was told that the hiker/biker sites are never full and was charged my $4. Bargain, as the regular campers in vehicles get charged $35. Was a nice site too, with access to the beach and full facilities. I set my tent up in the gloom of the huge trees and made up chilli and rice. With cheese on top, of course.
Sep
16
2009
by Mr Cubes
Raymond to Astoria (54.2 miles)
Total Miles: 2,774.5
One of the greatest things about my occasional stops at a motel is the chance to be reminded how inane 90% of television output is. I've learnt there are only a handful of channels which might ever offer something relevant, interesting or just plain funny; so I don't really spend time channel surfing. This was called into question today, when one of my staple channels, The Discovery Channel, decided to show an investigation into the existence of the Sasquatch, or bigfoot, using 'evidence' possibly constructed by pixies and goblins. Plus their current fascination with Nostradamus means they have now been binned. That leaves TBS, BBC America and the sports channels. Barely worth being nice and comfortable for.
I left the motel in heavy rain and visited the same cafe I'd dined in when I got to Raymond for some breakfast. After an hour looking at the puddles forming on my panniers I decided I had to just get out and start riding...you can only get so wet, after all.
Not long after leaving Raymond I was in South Bend, self proclaimed Oyster Capital of the World. Which means it stinks. I'm not seafood's biggest fan by any means, but this was just offensive. At least it was flat here though, so I could get out as quick as possible. The hills started again straight after, and at the top of one was a county campground that offered sites for just $5 to bikers. However, I just wanted to get changed into dry clothes and full waterproofs as had been riding in only my 'drizzle gear'. There were a lot of overweight, middle aged men dressed in camouflage gear, which made me a bit nervous to be honest. So once the rain eased a bit I was straight back out onto the road.
The rest of the ride was uneventful, the rain having stopped almost immediately after I'd put the waterproofs on and never really returning and after a quick burger in Naselle, I found myself riding alongside the Columbia River which separates Washington from Oregon. I had been told about the bridge which links the two together, but still wasn't prepared for what greeted me. Four miles of narrow single carriageway, with very little barrier and a huge 'hill' at the Oregon end. Ridiculous.
As previously mentioned, I am not a fan of bridges. I admire their work and appreciate them keeping me dry, but still have a certain scepticism regarding their motives. I'd much rather have a ferry crossing anyday, which has a very clear agenda. So in an effort to put off my date with Fear, I had a look around the Lewis & Clark information posts decorating this part of the coast. These two intrepid explorers had left St Louis, Missouri in 1803 and made it to where I stood two years later. The place had been named Dismal Nitch and was just shy of their intended destination of Cape Disappointment. Certainly sounds like they weren't enjoying it along here either. Once onto the bridge, I could feel the Fear rising within me, there was very little
shoulder, and not much room for overtaking either making it all a bit close. Luckily, it wasn't too busy and after the first mile of just staring down at the tarmac I started to relax a bit and even managed to take a photo on the move. After three miles of being just above sea level the bridge starts to climb allowing ships to pass underneath and then spirals steeply back down into Astoria's harbour. I was now in Oregon and, still slightly shaking, ready to call it a day. I found the first cheap looking motel I could and set myself down in front of the television. I guess I'm just from that generation...