Friday, September 21, 2007

The Oregon Coast and the return to California


View of the Northern Oregon Coast











Out to dinner with "The Brothers Alta" (Me, John, Tom, Steve, Steve's daughter Jackie, Don and his wife Connie)









I trade in my bike for an afternoon of surf kayaking with Don









Exploring sand dunes that merge with the coniferous forest








When in Rome...I am annoyed by all the dune buggies, but since I can't escape them I opt for a ride







Some habits are hard to kick...but when you are riding 50 miles a day, why not?






Arches and Coves along the Oregon Coast









After 2 1/2 months away, I return to California










After my time with the Brown Bears in SE Alaska, I am feeling more comfortable with the California Golden Bear







The legendary Paul Bunyan and his Blue Ox "Babe"









Roosevelt Elk resting in the tall grass










Leaving Astoria
After 2 days enjoying Stump Town coffee, walking, the farmers market, and friendly people in Astoria I continue my ride. The weather is excellent, warm, clear, and calm. With rested legs I feel great and enjoy a fantastic day of riding. 15 miles into the ride I pass four bikers riding with only handle bar bags. We run into each other 4 or 5 more times during the day before they pull me into their circle

Surf Kayaking, life outside the U.S., and old friends...travels with "The Brothers Alta"
At some point during the day I have been adopted by the group. 30 years ago Tom, John, Steve, and Don worked, lived, and played together in Alta, UT. Now with kids grown and less time devoted to careers these four guys have reunited for a bike adventure down the Oregon Coast. From our first encounter I feel connected to this group, they are a vision of me and my friends in 20 plus years, that connection of friendship, history, and adventure.
Their trip is van supported by Don's wife Connie and Steve's daughter Jackie and at a pace that allows for chances to play and explore along the way. Three times I try to pedal on ahead, but like leaving Port Townsend, I am unable to extract myself and get on track with the "schedule" I have lay ed out for myself. They have rich stories of living in Afghanistan, Honduras, and other places around the world, river trips, and living life. It is great to have conversations that don't revolve around the trip, the route, the next days destination...
Three days out we do a short 12 mile day to Cape Kiwanda. After a mocha and fresh scones (like Phil used to make), I lock up the bike and get into a kayak. Don and I head out to paddle along the coast and play in the waves. It is so familiar to feel the rise and fall of the swells and a different joy than the bike brings when I slide down the face of a wave. I can't stop smiling, laughing, and hooting and hollering.
I finally pull away after four days, only to be reunited two days later at a state park down the road. After much teasing about my pace (you know..."Harwell Time"), I say my final goodbyes and head off on my own again. My solo ride is short lived as I spend the rest of Oregon riding with John and Michael who I meet later in the day. These are the interactions I envisioned on the ride, ones which were so hard to come by riding through Washington.

The Oregon Coast
I try to remember when I last traveled along the Oregon Coast only to realize that I have never been on the Oregon Coast before. What a place to explore. The beauty, riding conditions, State Parks, weather, courteous drivers, and places to explore are unparalleled.
A couple of days in, I hit the sand dunes. I have never seen anything like them, sand dunes intertwined with the coniferous forest. Vast dunes with islands of 100 - 200 foot tall trees. A short distance south is the start of the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area. A few days of riding through areas of massive dunes. I layover midway down to play and explore. Unfortunately, where I stop is also a major dune buggy area. I think about what a fun place it would be to explore miles of dunes interspersed with forest. Sliding down the dunes, stopping to do yoga in the sand, catching some shade in the little islands of trees. The area for safe foot travel is small, with most of the dunes crawling with thousands of dune buggies. Since I can't escape them I opt for a ride to see what this is all about. Brown Bears and the Astoria bridge have got nothing on the fear I experience riding in a dune buggy. I have now tried it once, checked it out, don't think I'll be going back...but it is a thrill, I can see how people would be drawn to it. The other interesting aspect is that the vehicles on the dunes keep the non-native grasses at bay which keeps the dunes from being inundated by the forests. Once again, something that at first glance seems horrible isn't all bad.
The southern half of Oregon I ride with Michael who has come over from Germany to ride from Portland to Santa Barbara and John (could be Geoff Ruth's older twin brother). We are on the same pace for a few days. We ride together here and there, meet up at coffee shops, cook dinner and camp together, and laugh a lot.
Along the southern coast, the beaches give way to steep cliffs, arches, and sea stacks. The towns become more interspersed and smaller. The riding becomes more fluid, 20-30 mile stretches without stop lights, intersections, and stores.
I stop at the top of a long climb to rest and take in the view. The ocean is calm and glassy with slow moving swells spilling over into perfect waves. It is quiet, I am alone. A rare break when there is no traffic, no wind, no other bikers. As I gaze out over the ocean, whale spouts begin to break the surface, this time they are Gray Whales, likely some of the 200 or so local to Oregon. I feel connected to Alaska, alone with these magnificent giants of the sea. Over the next couple of days I see more whales along the coast, some times by myself and other times with fellow onlookers (it is reassuring to see some of the RV crowd taking time to experience the wonders of the Natural World).

California, when road work delays are welcome sights
I had been hearing about how Oregon is the prime riding of the coast and that California brings a more harrowing experience, where shoulders disappear, hills steepen, and traffic increases. The thousand foot, shoulder less climb out of Crescent City has been weighing on my mind for a while now. After a longer than normal stop at a cafe, I make my move up the hill. Part way up there are long delays for road work. I sweat and huff and puff my way past the waiting cars of frustrated drivers on my way to the flag man. Usually they tell me to wait for the back of the line, but here I am told to keep on going. What is one of the big dreaded sections of Northern California is transformed into a delight. John catches up with me and we ride the climb and descent together, completely free of cars. We sing, laugh, circle and weave our way up and down the hill, just the two of us, the road, and towering Redwoods. The rest of the day is spent riding, chatting, and taking pictures with bears painted gold and giant Paul Bunyan statues. The final miles are a gentle coasting on a car less road through Old Growth Redwoods and into Elk Prairie campground, home to the Roosevelt Elk (largest of North American Elk).

Down to the Bay
I leave tomorrow, continuing south towards the bay, well rested after a couple of days in Arcata. There are steep climbs, shoulder less sections, rides through the Redwoods, ocean vistas, and more people to meet along the way. I will arrive at Olema Ranch Campground on Saturday September 29 and ride into SF on Sunday, September 30. The plan is to leave Olema by about 9:30 and spend some time in Fairfax (with a stop at the Fairfax scoop of course), leaving Fairfax at 1:00 from the parking lot between Sir Francis Drake and Center and then riding across the Golden Gate Bridge at 3:00, leaving from the Vista Point. I would love for people to join me on this ride. The ride from Olema is advanced 32 miles, from Fairfax is moderate 16 miles, and the ride across the bridge is easy just a mile or so. If you want to join me for any of these sections and/or to camp with me at Olema Ranch Campground on Saturday night, let me know 415-297-2919.
I look forward to seeing many friends and family in the Bay Area and hope to get to ride with a number of you. Thank you to everyone who has sent emails, commented on the blog, and called or left messages on my phone. I haven't had the chance to respond to everyone, but you all are on my mind often and every time you reach out to me it helps make riding the hills and traffic a little easier.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Bike Touring 101


A return to my Yurt days makes it hard to leave Port Townsend. There is no better place that I have found to sleep than in a Yurt.









I'm not in Port Townsend any more, and definitely not in S.F. yet!





One of many ominous Tsunami warning signs along the coast







I make my first friends along the ride











Riding with Kelvin down US 101











Jerry, also on his way from Canada to The Mexico border











Taking a rest break















Peeling Myself Away
Port Townsend, what a place! My mom and brother pulled out of town Wednesday morning, I was originally scheduled to follow later that day...but what's the rush? So Wednesday turned into Thursday but Thursday turned into Friday, and why leave on Friday when I can leave on Saturday? It got a little embarrassing as I would see people around town, a quizzical look on their face..."I thought you left yesterday, or the day before that?"
In the end I finally pulled myself away on Saturday. With a send-off from Amanda, Lampy, Chloe, Sam, Duncan, and Maggie, I got on my bike, waved goodbye and was on my way. A call from the Lampert/Webby family that night helped ease the transition.

Anatomy of a Ride
My day starts promptly at 7:00 AM when I turn off my alarm. At 8:00 I start stirring, tired, sore muscles throughout my body. The next few hours are spent stretching, eating, packing up, looking over the day's route, and mentally preparing for another day ahead. By 10:00, 10:30, or a couple of times as late as 11:30 I am off like the wind.
0-5 mph starting or stopping speed
5-10 mph riding up big hills, nasty head winds, or when the donuts wear off
10-18 mph This is where I spend most of my time (I have been averaging 12-15 mph
over most stretches)
18-25 mph All of a sudden the world looks pretty good from the seat of a bike
25-30 mph Startin to pick up speed, I drop to the lower bars and hold on tight
30-39 mph RIPPIN' the donuts must be kickin' in
40+ mph I'll know when I hit it?
The first hour is spent getting into the grove of the day. My pace is lite as I warm up and get the feel of riding again. I usually stop after about 25-30 miles to have a huge lunch, stretch, and take a break. The second 25-30 miles are a little tougher, but I am in my groove at this point. All in all, I ride for about 4-5 hours per day with another 2-4 hours of breaks and time to explore and shop for food each day.
Before I get to camp I stop at a grocery store and stock up for dinner and breakfast the next day. In camp is time to stretch, clean-up, eat, look at the next day's route, and not long after dark I am in bed. My appetite for food and sleep are insatiable, 9-10 hours each night.

The Lonely Road
I spend a lot of time in my head, listening to music, thinking about all sorts of stuff, and taking in the subtleties not experienced in a car. From the first camp it set in that this was going to be a long and lonely stretch. I have a few interactions with people here and there, but mostly it revolves around questions about how far am I going?, where did I start?...then there is some parting comment, "you got a long way to go" "sounds like a great trip" "Huh." The most impressionable comment came from a guy in his 60's who chatted me up for a while, then after a long pause he said, "It sure seems like it would be more fun if you had some one else to ride with you." Most of the time I agree with him, but that is not the reality for this next stretch, so I try to focus on the benefits of riding alone, ask myself why I chose to do this, what do I have to learn...
About the third day I encounter another biker, Kelvin from Canada. We are working off of the same book and have a similar time frame for traveling south. Day six I meet Jerry, another solo biker, again working off the same book and time line. I hear about some other folks who I am yet to cross paths with. There is a little group of us scattered within 25 miles of one another, meeting at campgrounds, passing each other on the road, stopping to take breaks together. I see or chat with some one from this group every day or two.

Where to Next
I crossed over the Columbia River yesterday and arrived in Astoria, OR. The bridge is 4 miles long, shoulder less, windy, and loaded with cars. It is the most harrowing part of the ride so far. Like arriving in Ketchikan, it is the transitions into towns where traffic picks up as does the pace of life which are the biggest challenges. Tomorrow I will ride south down the Oregon Coast for the next 10 days, followed by another 10 days to S.F.