All the way to Californ I A

Two nights at the Hostel in Seaside OR still hadn’t shifted my cold and with a dismal weather forecast for the Oregon coast I reluctantly donned my wet weather gear and headed out.

The term waterproof was turning into a misnomer where my jacket was concerned, for some reason the “Event” fabric was starting to leak like a sieve; the jacket had served me well and cost an arm and a leg so I wasn’t giving up on it. After putting it in the wash and applying a liberal application of Nik spray-on reproofer, it looked a bit more up for the job!

My jacket wasn’t the only garment that received a bit of work before venturing into the maelstrom, I had lugged waterproof trousers all the way across the states and used them twice and come close to ditching them on numerous occasions. I decided they may prove less sweaty and more wearer friendly if I turned them into shorts, so with some deft use of my Swiss Army knife I was sporting a natty pair of waterproof shorts.

With all my kit ready I donned my Goretex trappers hat and headed out. A few miles up the road I decided to put on my luminous sash as visibility was dire and the traffic busy. The slight problem being my sash wasn’t in my bar bag. I had become attached to my sash, although a bit Miss Universe in it’s style, I felt that the friendliness of the drivers in Washington State was somehow due to it’s magical luminous powers!

Stood by the side of the rode I was convinced the sash was in the bike shed at the hostel, so I turned round and cycled back down the road in the rain to try and find it. Not only is it tedious back tracking over ground you’ve just cycled, but finding the sash wasn’t there was a double dose of tedium.

I headed off again up the steep hill towards Cannon Beach and decided I’d drown the sorrows of my loss in a large latte, at a superb bakery \ cafe I had found on the way through on the Trans Am.. It was going to be one of those days, the place was closed so I back tracked again to another coffee shop a mile back up the road.
I had only been on the road an hour, but the chill had already got through to my bones, it was going to be a cold, long day.

Later I stopped in Tillamook to get some supplies in for that nights camp at the lovely Cape Lookout State Park. I arrived to find Clare and David were there, having only done a short day on my rest day. There where other new faces too, Bob 71 heading to the Oregon \ California border, and Carl heading down to San Diego.

I went over to chat with Carl as I was interested in his ultralight tarp and hammock rig that looked really comfy. The last I saw of Carl he was heading through the dark woods to find the shower block, even with a site map it took me 20 minutes, I think he was navigating by the stars! I never saw him again!

Just feet from our tents, the sun set over the ocean was stunning and the highlight of a grey and wet day.
It was another grey drizzly start the next day and Claire kindly dropped me over a bowl of porridge with honey and banana to warm me up. To make things even more fun the State Park was right at the bottom of a huge climb, so I was soon up out the saddle and getting my muscles working.

I would soon be arriving in Otis at the point where the Trans Am and Pacific Coast routes cross and riding on in to unknown territory. But that wasn’t before a visit to “The World Famous” Otis Cafe, stuck on a junction in the middle of nowhere, but attracting a huge clientele from far and wide. Feeling damp and cold I opted for the German potatoes, a cross between mash and hash browns with mushroom and bacon and grilled cheese, just the carb boost I needed!

I made it to Beverly Beach State Park that night to find I was the only one there and with fresh bear warning signs up I felt a bit lonely! I needn’t have worried, half an hour later Bob appeared towing his Bob trailer and preceded to hand me a cold beer.

We went about our evening duties, cook, wash kit, take a shower etc, occasionally stopping for a chat and just as it was getting dark five cyclists turned up. These young guys had cycled well over a hundred miles from Portland OR and were all from southern Ireland. Bob commented to one that he had an English accent, I quickly butted in that they were from the Emerald Isle and the Irish lad riley remarked that he’s never been called English before.

The group got a bonfire going and sat chatting, fresh on their first day they had boundless energy, me and Bob said our goodnights and called it a day. I never saw the Irish guys again, heading south down the coast, packed light, these guys where flying!

It seemed that most days were consisting of steep climbs up onto Capes, some with old lighthouses, followed by twisty fast descents into seaside tourist towns in varying states of disrepair. Cape Foulweather seemed to be aptly named, although there was a subtle hint of blue in the sky.

The Otter Crest Loop near Otter Rock, was a one way route with a bike lane hugging forested precipices into the sea, a great break from the the logging trucks and RVs up on the busy highway 101.
The other challenge on the 101 are the huge bridges over the various estuaries, rivers and ports along this coastline, many not having a shoulder to ride on. I was lucky on the Newport Bridge when a cycle friendly driver slowed up and followed me slowly over the bridge holding all the traffic back.

The Honeyman State Parks hiker biker area was deep in the woods and full of cyclists when I turned up, including David, Claire and Bob. The Park must hold the record for the longest walk to the toilet \ shower block, a bit scary at night that’s for sure.

The next day was full of natural delights including a Grey whale not far out to sea and a huge cave full of sea lions.

Between Florence and North Bend lies the Oregan Dunes Recreation Area, around 50 miles of huge dunes between the sea and the 101. The tourist trade has cashed in on these by renting out ATV’s and dune boards so people can go tare arsing around on them. Some areas are left for the wildlife and on a lookout over one of these areas I was joined by a coach load of “Blue Rinsers” (OAPs).

As they crowded around my bike the questions started flying and I immediately had to go into presentation mode followed by a Q&A, forgetting that as usual yesterdays cleaned cycling shorts where showing their gusset to the world on my back rack drying in the sun! Fortunately non of the crowd asked any laundry specific questions!

There are some long stretches of forested fast roads on the 101 with varying widths of shoulder to ride on and on one day it seems that that was all that was on offer. I found Claire and David stopped at Laundromat, they were a bit despondent with the route having had a few close shaves with trucks. At least the sun was starting to shine and we were soon rewarded with some amazing seascapes of rock stacks and rolling surf.

I pulled into a roadside grocery store and Deli (deep fried food store!) to get some lunch, the choice was a bit limited so I went for a Gatorade and some Potato Wedges, much to the amusement of the store owner. “Potato Wedges, Delores due hear that, the English boy wants ‘Potato Wedges’ “(in a bad English accent!), I protested at their light hearted banter. “So what do I call your deep fried potato products then?” “There JoJo’s” she insisted, “but as your English you can call them chips”. “Chips…., chips have four sides, those have three, hence wedge!” The banter continued until I had my polystyrene carton of JoJo’s, Wedges, Chips… whatever, firmly in my grasp. As usually the Deli produce was as dire as ever, but sometimes it’s any port in a storm!

Riding with David and Claire we passed a three wheeled recumbent with an old gentleman on it going up a hill, we said our hellos and pedalled passed. The next thing I see him racing up behind me rapidly, he asks if where heading for Humbug Mountain State Park, which we are…”It’s closed for a refit” he informs us, I complement him on his uphill riding speed, he smiles and advises me that the battery pack and motor helps a bit!! Might get one added to my bike for some of these hills!

We ended up at Arizona Beach instead and get a big camping area to ourselves set amongst some Pine trees in a field. With the Pacific waves crashing on the shore in the distance, I get one of the best nights sleep I’ve had in ages.

During the next days ride we get the rare chance to ride close to the beach with unhindered views. I spend the last day with David and Claire as there having a rest day, so I say my goodbyes at Brookings OR and head off on my own to cross the border into California and a night in Crescent City. Whilst unpacking this evening I spotted my lucky luminous sash hidden at the bottom of my pannier, maybe the lorries will be kinder to me again!

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Astoria Revisited

Although not quite up to the task as I was still feeling rotten from my soaking a few days before, I decided to make the most of the sunny day and get out on the road. I consumed my Super8 Motel breakfast which consists of a lot of packaged items with sell by dates a long way into the future and in the process reluctantly created a reasonable amount of land fill!



The ride was great, rolling pine clad hills and lakes surrounded by multi million dollar properties. There were also fleeting glimpses of the snow capped Olympic mountains beyond the Hood Canal.



I also spotted a few cyclists today, John & Jess, young east coasters heading out of Seattle on the first day of their tour to San Francisco. John’s bike was sporting a natty pair of rear panniers, made from plastic cat litter boxes, he bought his but there’s Instructions here on how to make your own. No doubt I’ll bump into the two of them again on route.



I arrived in Shelton WA for a late lunch, I found the Route 66 diner and was greeted by an attentive, attractive waitress, who was very smitten with my netbook! I went for the usual burger option, although the diner has two menu’s, one of which is Thai food. The Thai owner walked over for a chat and was asking about my bike and where I was heading.



The next customers he walked up to had overheard some of our conversation and were asking the owner to confirm what they thought they’d heard. I wandered over and  introduced myself and told them more about ShelterBox, the charity I support and where my journey had taken me. Before they left there was a photo call with the manager and the couple, who turned out to be John & Diane Komen. I asked the waitress for my bill and she said there wasn’t one, John and Diane had paid it! It was another one of those moments of generosity from strangers that have punctuated the whole of my trip through America and have blown me away each time!



The riding so far has been quite easy, nice wide quiet roads, small towns, the odd stupidly steep hill and reasonable polite drivers;. all in all a pleasant trip to get to the coast!

The evenings stop over was to be a hostel in Elma, run by Linda and her husband as a part time hobby, along with an 18 hole Frisbee golf course in the garden, the hostel was home from home as it was literally their home! I had the bunk room to myself for not much more than the price of a camp site.



Linda advised me that the Rusty Tractor a mile down the road was the place for a good feed, so off I pedalled.

Full of brash baseball cap wearing country boys and loud obnoxious kids, the clientele left something to be desired, but the menu was certainly a cacophony of items, including a variety of meals based on Yak meat! I was tempted, but having not seen a Yak on my entire journey across America I felt there might be air mile issues for my conscience to contend with, it’s a long way to Mongolia!



I went for the enchiladas and an amber ale, both hitting the spot. I slept well at the hostel even though my cold was getting worse. Linda headed off to her day job as a school teacher and left me to lock her house up; very trusting people!



The next day was more pleasant rural riding with the large city of Centralia WA to negotiate my way across on route to the Lewis and Clark State Park. During the afternoon Mount St Helens kept poking her snow capped peak over the tree line and even from 30 miles away it looked like a big mountain and being an active volcano I just hopped it wasn’t planning to repeat it’s catastrophic 1980 eruption anytime now!

I stopped at a Safeway about 20 miles from the camp site and purchased one of their yummy fresh chill bean soups for dinner. Safeways in the UK are quite a dull supermarket, but in the US they are more akin to a Sainsburys, plus they always have a Starbucks concession inside with free WiFi and power sockets!



I arrived at the lovely State Park deep in the forest and got there only hiker\biker site, the camp host informed me there were two other cyclists a few pitches away but he couldn’t quite place their accents. He thought they might be Australian like me….. I didn’t bother arguing! The couple weren’t Aussies after all but from Newcastle in the UK and were both riding brand new Thorn bikes with lots of shiny kit on board. I think we were both surprised to find fellow Brits in the middle of the woods far off the tourist trail.



The couple, Claire and David where a few days in to their tour having flown into Seattle from the UK. They were heading on the same route as me with plans to go on into Mexico and Guatemala. Their trip had an interesting slant to it; Claire runs a coffee business in Newcastle and with Seattle and the west coast being famous for it’s coffee drinking she was using it as a good business research trip, not only that, but the trip down into Guatemala was primarily to visit the coffee plantations who supply the beans from which her companies coffee is made.

It was a good days ride through to Cathlamet WA on the Columbia river, apart from a vicious head wind for 20 miles as I cycled west along the river valley.



Earlier in the day I passed a building that is probably on a feminists hit list. The lovely old wooden barn had had it’s old advertising slogans repainted, but since they were originally painted times have changed and I somehow feel that Dr Pierces Women's Tonic for Weak Women would sell very well on the supermarket shelves today! There’s an interesting article about Dr Pierce here by Evan Ratliff.

I cycled on, passing through an area with numerous small farms dotted along quiet rural roads; in the distance there was the bang of a gun and I passed it off as hunters in the woods. As I turned the next corner I could see a truck parked a short way off the road  with two men near the rear of it.



Getting closer the bizarre scene came to light, the truck was a mobile slaughter vehicle with two men busy working away with sharp knives butchering a pig. I stopped and the banter immediately started to flow, the two butchers ridiculing me about Mad Cow disease and I them about cutting up a pig only 30’ feet from it's brothers and sisters!



The guys were real comedians and even offered to let me have a go at butchery; I refused and watched as the pigs intestines rolled out casting my mind back to a BLT I had eaten a few days before!



I explained that back in the UK pigs are dispatched with high voltage prongs to the head; The younger butcher piped up, “Prongs??? you should know we all have guns out here in the US, I just stuck a bullet through its head!” That explained the shot I had heard!

It was quite weird watching the pig being cut up by the side of the road; I didn’t feel at all squeamish and actual marvelled at the skill of the butchers wielding their razor sharp knives and pulling various offal from inside the carcass of the beast.

As I said my good byes and started cycling away the older butcher pitched in, “Talkin a guns…. Bret's a handy shot, but he prefers a moving target, we’ll wait till you get to that barn over yonder before we open fire!”

I nervously laughed and pedalled off fast, my butt cheeks gripping my saddle a little tighter as I passed the barn!



At Cathlamet WA I arrived at a Marina on the Columbia river, the place was busy as it was labour day weekend, a US annual holiday to celebrate the economic and social achievements of workers. 


I managed to get a tent pitch for $14 on a patch of grass close to the mariner and it wasn’t long before I was providing light entertainment for the yacht crews, unpacking my beast of burden and setting up my tent. Their curiosity got the better of them and it wasn’t long before a yacht owner wandered over to ask the usual questions, where ya headin, where ya from etc!




After a chat about my journey the chap said for me to join them for a beer once I had set up camp; never one to refuse a free beer I strolled along the jetty and got introduced to the various boat owners and their crew \ families. Beers started flowing and various nibbles where coming my way as I stood regaling the audience with tales of daring endeavour on the high seas of cycling!


I could have quite easily got inebriated for free, but the site of David and Claire putting up their tent next to mine gave me an excuse to head back to terra firmer and wish the salty sea dogs adieu, but not before grabbing a free beer to go!


David and Clare had also been to the grocers before arriving at the mariner so I was handed another beer. Unfortunately we had missed the days Grande Chilli Cook Off competition on the mariner so had to resort to some gastronomic delete rustled up on the camp cooker.


My menu consisted of zip lock omelette; break eggs in zip lock bag, mash up, zip the bag up, lower into simmering water until cooked, tip onto bread, eat, this was followed up by a tin of macaroni cheese!




The showers at the marina where great so it was nice to have a good scrub up before heading on to the coast and my former Trans Am finishing point of Astoria OR.




The only barrier to getting to our destination was the Columbia river which we crossed via a bridge to Puget Island and then a ferry to the far shore. The ferries run every hour and we arrived with 20 minutes to spare until the next one. Waiting at the “Wait here for Ferry” line painted on the road. 


Chatting away about all and sundry we watched as the ferry pulled away without us on board, we shot down the ferry ramp to see the skipper just shrugging as he piloted the ferry out into the vast Columbia river.




An hour later he returned and we were waiting, this time at the base of the ramp! He laughed and said “So your coming aboard this time then?”, “We where waiting at the Wait Here for Ferry sign” I retorted. A bit of sarcastic banter went back and forth, but the skipper was our only way across the Columbia river and we didn't want to piss him off!




The next few hours were spent on a fast road into Astoria with a coffee stop and a bit of business research for Clare half way.


I got into Astoria to find the town buzzing with a huge Sunday market, loads of great food, crafts etc, hung out for a while and then headed on to Seaside OR.


It was strange being back on this section of coast where I had finished my Trans Am less than a month ago, I headed for the Hostel and decided it was time for a day off the bike. As a bonus Tony my riding partner for the first part of the Trans Am came over from Portland for the day, it was great to catch up with him and nice to feel my first week back on the road had gone so well.

The sunset as I reach the Pacific coast.

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Back in the USA

In the immortal words of the Beatles, “I’m back in the US, back in the US, back in the USSR…A”, er well you know what I mean!
After my three weeks of R&R on Vancouver Island it was strange cycling a loaded touring bike again, but I shouldn’t have worried it was just like riding a bike!

I said good bye to the lovely Moreland family who had put up with me turning their spare bedroom into a bomb site and in return rewarded me with fine food, good company and some great kayaking and camping trips. I had a frothy coffee at my favourite coffee shack in Mill Bay and then headed down to the first of my two ferry rides of the day.




Sitting up on the top of the ferry relaxing in the sun I watched as the cars drove onboard and was horrified when a doddery old couple drove their Nissan into my bike, pinning it to the side of the ship. My yell of “Oi what the flip do you think your doing” fell on deaf ears (genuinely deaf ears, the guy had a hearing aid!). On closer inspection the wing of the car had luckily hit my clothing pannier, but my bike was jammed solid. On explaining to the couple what they had done I just got a dumb stare and a “We’d better reverse a bit then”, “No shit Sherlock” I muttered. A bent frame on day one would have been a bit of a bad start to my new adventure, luckily nothing was damaged.



Getting to the harbour town of Sidney I sussed out the ferry port and cycled into town to explore. In keeping with their almost namesake, Sydney Australia, Sidney BC Canada have built their own mini opera house on the quay side, not quite as grandiose, but an impressive structure non the less!

After wandering around Sidney I headed back to the Ferry port to get on the Anacortes ferry that would drop me on the American Island of San Juan at Friday Harbour.

Compared to the Washington DC immigration official, this one was far from friendly and asked me a lot of questions trying to catch me out, eventually, but almost reluctantly letting me back in the country. I forgot to tell him about the intercontinental ballistic missile stuck down my seat tube!



Whilst waiting for the ferry I got chatting to Ewan and Helen a great couple from Vancouver, originally Glasgow and Portsmouth, they where on a short cycling tour out to the islands and back via the Cascade mountains. They had booked a camp site on San Juan and being a slacker I hadn’t, with limited camping on the island my plan of just turning up and getting a pitch was looking doubtful. They kindly offered to share their pitch with me but I said I’d try my first option of going to the Lakedale Resort and seeing what was available. Luckily I got the last available biker \ hiker pitch deep in the woods by a lake and was soon cooking up a fine boil in the bag rice concoction with a generous sprinkling of dehydrated veg, yum!



I popped in to the camp shop for some odds and sods and got talking to the delightful 60 something lady working there. I could tell I was back in the USA as the dulcet English accent was picked up upon straight away.

But rather than the usually questions, the lady looked at me in a school teacher sort of way and said “Your pronunciation is beautiful, so rare to hear such eloquent use of words in today's text and email society”, I was a bit taken aback, blushed a bit and waffled on a bit more trying to use as many big words that I could think of!

I didn’t have the nerve to tell her that up to an hour before reaching the island of San Juan I had been calling it San Jew Anne not San Wharn! Well I didn’t do Spanish at school did I!

I slept well on my newly purchased lilo like air bed and the next day headed off for a loop of the island, it was pretty easy going as I left most of my gear back at the camp site, deciding to stay two nights on San Juan and leave for Orcas Island early on the third day and heading out to Anacortes later that same day.



My first stop on the San Juan loop was Roche Harbour, a “Hollywood On Sea” sort of place, with tanned portly retired businessmen with there comparatively young siliconised, bejewelled, ladies carrying toy dogs and Gucci handbags. The array of yachts and gin palaces in the harbour was a formidable sight and the place just reeked of $$$$.




I cycled on to English Camp, the former garrison of the British during the farcical Pig War between the Americans and the English, disputing the boundary between Canada and the United States. It lasted from 1859 to 1871 and only one shot was fired and that killed a pig!

My next stop was at a small coastal country park where I thought a fireworks display was in progress. A dozen or so people were stood on the cliff edge whooping and cheering, I cycled up to see what was happening and watched a pod of Killer Whales swimming passed, some with young, some breaching out of the water. It was one of those jaw dropping moments that you know no photo or description will do justice.



I stopped at a few more headlands along the coast and watched other Orcas swimming by, not something I’ll ever forget!




I headed back across the island for a late lunch in Friday Harbour before returning to the camp site. It was only a thirty mile day, but I got to see lots of history and wildlife and could see why San Juan is such a popular place.

I broke camp and pedalled the five miles back into Friday Harbour. With an hour to kill before my ferry to Orcas Island I went for a slap up breakfast and a wifi session in the cafe.



I went to board the ferry with about 20 or so other cyclists all of whom seemed to be part of organised island cycling tours. One party was a Scout group who had been touring for five days, their leader Ron, an avid cyclist got chatting to me about my travels and introduced me to the Scouts, we also had a photo shoot with me lined up with the Scouts. What it is to have celebrity status!



I arrived on Orcas and set off for a five hour tour before my next ferry arrived. Orcas like San Juan is a very pretty island with a good mix of forest, arable land, secluded coves and drift wood covered beeches. It also has Moran State Park and the 2409’ Mount Constitution with it’s 4.7 mile stupidly steep climb.

I made it up to a scenic look out point that provided amazing views of the islands below, but a bid for the summit would have meant me missing the ferry so I turned back and enjoyed the steep switchbacks to the lake below!



I made it to the ferry with 10 minutes to spare and enjoyed the scenic trip to Anacortes on Fidalgo Island, passing more of the San Juan Island chain on route. It had been a long day and I cycled the last 10 miles to the Deception Pass State Park to camp for the night.

Unlike the many other passes I’ve blogged about, this one isn’t on a mountain, but rather a narrow sea passage through a steep rocky gorge spanned by two large arched steel bridges. The tide races through the pass at break neck speed and small boats rocket through from the Straight of Juan De Fuca (had problems pronouncing that too!) to Skagit Bay.



The other side of the bridge on Whidbey Island was the Cranberry Lake campground where I set up camp in the secluded hiker biker pitches. It wasn’t long before I was dosing off when suddenly I started to get cramp in my left calf muscle, the pain was excruciating, then it moved up to my thigh, double agony. I tried to stretch my leg out but I was in my sleeping bag and inside a tiny tent, then the same happened on the other leg. All four main leg muscles cramping up and I was unable to fight it, after 10 minutes most of the pain had gone and I eventually got to sleep.



I woke the next day to the sound of heavy drumming rain on the tent, I tried to put off the inevitable but eventually crawled out and started packing. Before I set off I was already soaked through, my Event jacket not keeping the water out like it used to. The riding was dismal probably the worst rain I’ve ridden in in the USA, combined with the wind chill I was really feeling cold and my fingers were going numb.



As I passed Whidbey Naval Air Base, fighter jets were taking off every few minutes up into the rainy sky, the roar from the engines audible for miles.

During a brief lull in the rain I stopped for brunch at the pretty little coastal town of Coupville and enjoyed a coffee and large sticky bun from the lovely bakery\restaurant by the beach. I didn’t ask to eat in as I would have created a small lagoon with the water that had now ingressed into all layers of my clothing.

I made it to the Port Townsend ferry and did my best to dry out a bit during the choppy 30 minute crossing, this was followed up by further thawing in Starbucks before I braved the elements again to head to the Old Fort Townsend State Park.

The Hiker \ Biker area was in a dark wood of large old cedar trees surrounded by ferns and moss; it was quite eerie in a fairy tale sort of way and the “Warning Cougar” signs didn’t help. There was a lone female cyclist with just a tarp and a bivvy bag in the woods, she was on her way to the Columbia Gorge; I decided to sleep just outside the woods and thought “rather you than me” sleeping under a bivvy in those woods in the pouring rain. I was also slightly paranoid that if I did have another cramp attack she may be perturbed by the muffled screams and groans coming from my tent!



It was a late start the following day as I made use of the morning sun to dry my tent over a fence whilst chatting about the art of snake handling with the Park Ranger (like you do!).

I kept close to the shore line through small bays and inlets via Port Ludlow and Paradise Bay, before arriving at the 7,869 feet (2,398 m) long Hood Canal Floating Bridge.

The draw bridge was up as I crossed and I sat waiting at the lights with a 70 year old cyclist called Mike who had done the Trans Am at the age of 61, as the lights went green he shot off across the bridge on his carbon fibre Trek Madone leaving me in his tyre dust!



I carried on through scenic back roads lined with very expensive properties, many of which were for sale; this had been the theme right across the USA, the economy was obviously still taking it’s toll.

I got into the urban sprawl of Bremerton and headed for a Super8 motel; the wet and the cold of the day before had started to give me the shivers, perhaps sleeping in a damp tent, in damp clothes to try and stay warm wasn’t a good idea! Hauled up in the motel with the heater on and a hot bath made all the difference.

It was a great first five days on the road and I was starting to feel strong on the bike again, I just need to stay healthy and hope the weather warms up a bit!

And just for the hell of it; two novelty road names in as many days!




 
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