Corvallis to Newport.

Sunday 7 June

Well yesterday was a nice easy one and I arrived refreshed - sort of. Corvallis is a beautiful town so I spent a bit of time looking around - ok so I got lost going to find breakfast. My saviour was a fellow being taken for a walk by a couple of big dogs he was interested in the bike but I think the dogs wanted to pee on it. When I finally found a place for breakfast I had a cup of coffee and and a bagel to prepare me for the ride to Blogdett where I planned to stop for lunch. As I left the shop a bloke dressed like Cat Weasel came over and started to chat, he then started to look solemn and said, 'I am going to ask you something, and I usually get what I ask for', (another solemn look), 'I am gong to ask you to pray with me'. OMG why do I attract these weirdos? To cut is short I explained that I had done most of my praying when I was a kid and the only time I spend on my knees now is when I have a puncture. I explained the 6 years as an altar boy bit and the going to mass 6 days a week thing, patted him on the shoulder and bade him fare well. I was out of there likety split.

There is a covered bridge just out of town at Irish Bend so I head out that way for a look because I have never seen a covered bridge before. Why do they cover them? Perhaps to keep the rain off the river. Anyway the route to the bridge is through the University of Oregon campus which is very spectacular with many old trees and beautiful buldings. 

The bridge is no longer a bridge in as much as it no longer spans water; it did once but it has been moved to dry land and has been restored. It is quite wonderful so it was worth the side trip. I ride off through pasture three feet high in which only the tops of the cows are visible. I am sure there are sheep in there somewhere unless cows now speak sheep. Occasionally squirrels scamper across the road and I have seen my first live raccoon.

I reach the Corvallis-Philomath Road and head West to the sea. This is still strange because all my life the coast has been to the East, still this is America and all things are different. Some of you Sand Gropers will disagree but ... . I am lulled into believing that this is going to be an easy day because the first 30 k's is nice and flat but there is a fair bit of traffic. Philomath quickly disappears into my mirror and then I am confronted by THE MOUNTAIN. This climb is a shock to both me and the bike but we soldier on for nearly 5 k's of grinding the lower gears and finally, reality restored I reach the top - is that snow over there - nope. Suffering from thigh failure and oxygen deprivation I collapse to the road and drink a gallon of water.

At Philomath there is a road tributary and we have picked up more traffic. Most of this is RV's For those not familiar with an RV it is the result of someone jacking up their house, putting 60 pairs of wheels under it, a tow bar and finally adding a mack truck to the front to haul this lot along the road. There is a never-ending procession of these behemoths and the noise is frightful, makes me wish that I was deaf. When I reach Blogdett after three of these hills and half of the houses in San Francisco on wheels, I am ready for some food and a bottle of valium.

The food comes in the form of some really good home made, southern fried, chicken strips and the valium in the guise of a bottle of Dr Pepper (I think I am getting to like this stuff). As I sit outside on a lovely soft log and think about what time the bus arrives. My bike is a bit of a curiosity and people are constantly stopping to chat. As I sit on my soft log a fellow comes over to talk about the bike and my trip. He is a cyclist, a local and familiar with the roads around her so he is both impressed and astounded that I am riding the highway. He points at a  T-junction over the road and tells me that the road is a great cycling route (pronounced raute in these parts). The sign post directs me to a town called Summit so I am not convinced but the Dr Pepper has kicked in and I head off (after sneaking inside and asking the storeowner if I should take the Summit Road) doubting Thomas that I am, still I head up to Summit.

Great choice, the road is a long but gentle slope with a disused railway line snaking in and out of the woods beside me. The surface of the road is like the top of a billiard table and I get up to nearly 70kph till I woos out.

Trees everywhere including ovehead, I am in a tunnel of oak, elm and ash trees. The road is winding and narrow but that is fine I only saw two vehicles in nearly ten miles. Soon I am on a long curvy downhill run hitting 60 kph and a bit slower on the curves. Woo hoooooo! The trailer follows faithfully; I hardly know it is there. Soon I level out for another ten miles or so through gently undulating pasture land dotted with contented cows, many  hued sheep and storybook farm houses.

Oops! The bitumen has suddenly disappeared and I am on a very rough gravel road that seems to be pointing more towards the sky at each turn of the pedal. I think I can, I think I can etc until suddenly I cant. The road is just not navigable the back wheel spins in the one spot so I decide that my pride wont be hurt if I get off, actually I had no choice in the end, we simply weren't going anywhere. What Have I got myself into? Shortly, the only way I could push the bike was - heave - apply breaks - step forward - heave - apply brakes, well I guess you get the picture. This went on for about a mile (that's 1.6k's in the new money) until I come to the top. I stop and rest, consume half my daily ration of M&M's and a bottle of water. I am in deep 'raccoon doo' here, if this continues I am going to have to find a flat spot and pitch my tent because the shadows begin to noticeably lengthen.

The road improves on the down side and to my great relief the sealed road reappears, I am on a roll. My reward for struggling up the gravel strewn precipice (expletives deleted) is 42 ks of gentle downhill with the occasional rise to keep the boilers steaming. The three k downhill levels out to a beautiful verdant landscape with massive hills either side and I meander beside a the Siletz River for many miles. The scenery is just so beautiful and I get to talk to the cows and sheep with the occasional short chat with a squirrel. Those little buggers move so fast.

Anvil Farm is a real treat, the farmer is also a steel sculptor and blacksmith of some note and his fences, buildings and yards are works of art. I start to notice how many flowers there are in bloom including Azaleas and Rhododendrons. The Azalea is apparently a member of the Rhodie family and the ones that I see here are native to this part of the US. Watever - there are many shades ranging from bright magenta to white and a hundred different variegated varieties. Perhaps it is a variation of cabin fever but I am now talking to myself here perhaps it is time to head for home.

Silenz is remarkable unremarkable with shabby buildings most without windows but there is a store there, the first since Blodgett many miles ago so I scoff down someting that looks like a chiko roll and tastes even worse but it is fuel. At Toledo I am sucked into the never-ending stream of RV's and massive utes (pick ups) that I left 4 hours ago on route 20. Whoa, there is yet another hill to climb before I get to Newport so down the gears till I can go no further and I grind my way to the top; I swear that someone has put some bricks into the trailer while I was chatting to myself way back along the road. Just before I enter the Stratospere the road levels out and before me is Newport and the Pacific Ocean, my first view of it since coming to the US.

The town is long bustling like any costal town during a holiday period. It also seems to have ingested a majority of the RV's that passed me during the day. These things nest in various places and bristle TV and Satellite antennae. The residents sit inside in fully upholstered splendour watching their 60 inch plasma tellies. Ah camping - it must be so good to be close to nature.

After settling in to my motel room I spend two fruitless hours and 6ks of walking looking for a cord for my camera charger until I finally give up and search for food. The time is 11pm and I really don't hold out much hope but I find a diner just next to the motel and it is still nearly full of happy diners so I claim a seat at the bar. At dinner I begin my affair with clam chowder. This is a totally delicious way to start a meal and just about every place, so I was to discover, has it on the menu at around $3 a cup with crackers or bread. There are a million different hamburgers on the menu but a burger with lashings of Danish Blue cheese is my choice. My choice of sauces is - ketchup, mustard or (would you believe) maple syrup. I pass on the sauce but I do have a Sierra Nevada pale ale and a glass of local Zinfandel to wash the lot down.

106ks and 14oo metres of climbing today so I guess I am a ready for bed. Night!

http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/Day-3-Corvallis-to-Newport316572

Eugene to Corvallis on my brand spanking new Air Glide

Saturday 6 June

The first of a string of late starts as I linger over an excellent motel breakfast and several cups of excellent coffee. I secret away two bananas and a muffin for later and sneak back to my room where I pack up and head out to the bike shop - I forgot to buy a tool bag.

The weather is dark and heavy, there is no rain but that is not for want of trying. The clouds are dark and forbidding. The weather holds out though and Huey only guides a small misty fall my way durning the whole day.

Getting out of Eugene is a challenge because north is still south and west is not where it should be but I finally get out the instructions, aka map, and turn it around the right way. I reach the Willamette River and onto a superb bike path through green parkland with huge Oak and Ash trees. I startle several squirrels and a chipmunk and get attacked by a mothering duck with her brood. After several kilometres of this I am back on the road out of town and headed towards the town of Century City. It seems that any collection of two or more habitable buildings is called a city in the US. There are no towns and every town has a sign beginning with The biggest.... the tallest ... , the smallest ... in the world etc etc.

I see a sign advertising a pest control business where the bug of the month is the flea. Just up the road there is a cafe where the milkshake of the month is the peanut butter and maple syrup shake (truly), followed by the phone of the month at a mobile phone shop. Not far along I came across Mister Rooter ... ! Apparently Mr Rooter is a mobile service for removing subterranean vegetable matter from ones plumbing and I can tell you that I am relieved that he has no monthly special. 

Soon I exit the industrial area and hit the open road to and into a rural landscape straight out of a children's story book. Row upon row of strawberry plants placed in mathematical array. Corn, nut trees, wheat, barley and oats. All a million shades of green. Huge irrigation plants give me a water show like no other. Speaking of which the clouds are getting darker, heavier and more menacing but the rain is holding out. There is little wind so riding is a breeze, so to speak.

Junction City arrives in time for lunch so I strike out for a decent restaurant and come across Arby's. Arby's is Fonz Chic. Chrome, old car seats and plenty of checked laminex with aluminium edging. The food is cheap and surprisingly good. The young fellow that served me was on his L's, very shy and was giggling at my funny accent. We had a bit a chat and parted the best of friends. Perhaps the $5 tip helped. Century city is a bit like Yass on a bad hair day so there is not much to look at but Trailers in various stages of decay. 

Fortified by food and my very first, draught Dr Pepper I hit the road for Harrisburg where I turn north again on a lovely quiet country road that could be designated as a bicycle path, the traffic was almost zilch.  The Willamette River sidles up to me and we ride together for about 20ks past Peoria where the Gents could only be described as rustic. The river bids goodbye and heads off to the west as I pedal happily on to Corvallis.

Corvallis is a direct contrast to Century City, it is stunningly beautiful, laid out in a grid with alternating one way streets and very little traffic. The town nestles beside the Willamette River which dominates the eastern side of the town. Buildings are many and varied but mostly date from the 19th Century and early 20th Century. There are bicycles everywhere and from within 200 metres of the place that I had dinner, there are no less than 7 good sized bicycle shops. This is also a university town so is quiet at this time of the year due to Summer holidays.

My Odometer shows that I have done 84.5ks but the distance from Eugene is only 65 (42miles) so there was some deviating from the course and some touring in Corvallis and a bit of touring in Eugene (read getting lost). The bike is a dream to ride but I feel as if I will have to surgically remove the bicycle interface if I ride it the way the seat is currently set up.

Bikeley Map for today's route - http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/315748

I'm Back!

Hello folks, well here I am at last back from my two week adventure on my new Bike Friday Air Glide. It will take a while to catch up with my blogging so be patient and don't wast too much time at work reading about my adventures.

Friday 5 June

Its 2:00am and all sensible people are still in bed. I am many things but sensible is not one of them so I am up, bright eyed and bushy tailed. My Air Alaska flight leaves from San Francisco airport, an hour and half in a bus from Petaluma, at 7:30am, and in these days of security, security, security I have to be at the airport and checked in 90 minutes before the flight is due to leave SFO.

The bus is 15 mins late and the plane is 20 mins late but we arrive in Portland Oregon on time where I have to cool my heels over a cup of coffee and something they call a cookie in these parts for a couple of hours till my flight to Eugene leaves.

Now, I am not the greatest advocate for air travel so when I do I like to think that the plane that I am traveling in is fairly new and reliable. This is a small plane, therefore not getting many points on my aeroplane approval scale. As I settled into my seat and did all those things you do when you get into an aeroplane, you know; check the pockets for goodies, play with the little light and air nozzle, try to extract the end of the seat belt from under the obese chap sitting next to (and partially on top of) you. Suddenly I am overcome with white knuckle fear when I notice that the seat arm has an ash tray in it. How old is this rust bucket. I don't think I opened my eyes or took another breath till we were on the ground in Eugene. So brave!

Finally at 11:30 I arrive in Eugene and for a small fee I am dropped right at the front door of the Bike Friday factory where my lovely new, bright orange, Air Glide awaits me. I am in love!

The mechanics quickly install my pedals, seat and mirror while I assemble the trailer and pack all my worldly belongings in it. All this accomplished I head out to find digs for the night in Downtown Eugene.

This is a university town and as a result there are almost as many bikes as there are cars so the cycling is superb. The town is a web of high quality bike paths which quickly deliver me to the City Centre and a superb lunch and local ale.

The next job is to find a bike shop to get some of the must have stuff like a universal tool, tail-light, puncture kit and some long tights because even though it is summer the temp is very cool. All set and I head off to find a motel which I did. The Downtown Motel on 7th and Lawrence is my pick. The bed is huge, big enough for me and my bike. Dinner and a glass of wine and it is time for bed although at 10:00pm it is still quite light but I have been up since 2:00am so - good night all.

Captions.

Top Portland appears out of the clouds. This is as close to Canada as I will get on this trip.

Centre left - the Bike Friday mechanic fits all the bits that I brought along.

Centre right - who says boys cant pack a suitcase?

Bottom left - my bike.

Bottom right - my bike and me.

Off on My Odyssey

Thursday 14 May

Pandering to the little boy in me, yet again, I decided that my odyssey to the US would begin with a train trip to Sydney. Why? Why not, the station is just down the hill and trains are comfy. My mate Terry even saved me the drama of wheeling my suitcase the 500 metres to Queanbeyan railway station - thanks TB. As I contemplated how I was going to cart my suitcase around for the next three days (it weighs roughly the same as my car) Terry set about making friends will all the people at the station - he does that.

Finally, and on time, the train arrived.

My trip began at 6.45am in the pre-dawn cool of late Autumn. Sydney is a bit of a jolt. The countryside quickly gives way to car yards, bare factory walls and all manner of streetscapes. At Warwick Farm, home of Sydney’s equine F1 industry I spied a long series of stables, each home to a Shetland Pony, not much bigger than your average labrador dog, munching happily on the gourmet fodder. Is this yet another austerity measure in the uncertain economic climate - out with the full sized grass guzzling steed. Will the next Cox plate be sponsored by Mattell?

Central Station and my journey is over, for the day at least. I had fully half a day to kill in Sydney, so what to do; shopping - no there is no room left in the suitcase. Ah, I know, I will  be a total tourist dag for the afternoon so after entrusting most of my worldly possessions to the baggage person at Central it was off to ‘The Quay’ to find a ferry. Meat pie and ginger beer in hand I set off on the 12.35 Manly Ferry, for the ultimate tourist treat. A couple of miles from Sydney - a thousand miles from care.

Manly never changes, it was a seething mass of people; aren’t they supposed to be at work or something. Manly seems to have become an enclave or the nouveau riche, dark brown, leather skinned people wearing the minimum, even with the temp down in the mid to late teens. I have never seen so much mutton dressed as lamb and some of the women were just as bad.

After the obligatory beer at The Steyne Pub and a walk to the beach it was back to the Ferry and eventually Central Station where my suitcase waited. I am staying at the Holiday Inn at Mascot so it made sense to go by train again. When told that the ticket was nearly $15 (roughly a $ a minute) I said to the bloke at the counter, ‘hey I only want to borrow the train not buy it’, oh dear he was not amused. Mogadon I think!

Well here I sit at the window of my digs writing to you while watching planes take off and land and wondering why I am sitting here when I have to be up at 4am. Night then, and I will see you in Un Zud.

2009 PPPC

300ks on a bicycle - why?

Why not!

I have been bicycle touring for the best part of 15 years now and hope to keep it up for many more years. Strangely enough, I am not alone. Bicycle tourists are a tough breed; you may think that road cyclists who compete in multi-day, mega-kilometre rides at breakneck speeds over alpine ranges are tough. Pshaw! Tough is walking into a packed country pub at 3pm on a friday afternoon, wearing lycra tights.

Junee Pub at midnight

On Wednesday 22 April, after 6 months of organisation, I set out from home heading for Junee in NSW. Junee is a wonderful country town with some excellent examples of 19th and early 20th century architecture, five or six great pubs and the holy grail of cyclists throughout the world - a chocolate (and licorice) factory. More about that later.

In Junee I met 39 other cyclists who were gathering for The Pedal Power Pub Crawl #3 or PPPC#3. The Pub Crawl is an annual event that celebrates bicycle touring in its purest form - unsupported cycling. Each of the 40 participants have to carry all that they need for 4 days cycling including food and water for each day. No sag wagon, no bus and no common sense. There are no coffee stops until the end of the day's ride and nary a pub to be seen en-route.

Thursday (day #1) began clear and fine with just the hint of a breeze. The day's ride was a convoluted journey on secondary and tertiary roads, devoid of cars and large trucks. Pure cycling bliss. Today's trip was around 70 kilometres along quiet country roads through undulating countryside (http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/2009-Pub-Crawl-Junee-to-Temora243576). Your correspondent did his trip alone thanks to a senior moment upon leaving home (refer to a previous blog).

The country today is gently undulating with a good mix of climbing and descending and an excellent way to warm up for the days ahead. After years of drought the land is responding to recent rain and is picture perfect. Today's little adventure came via two young bulls who had stuck their heads through a fence to sample the greener grass on the other side only to discover that their budding horns precluded extraction. The two stunned creatures looked imploringly at me as I cycled past. In the best tradition of James Herriot and Harry the vet, I leapt to their rescue. It looked simple enough, yep twist the head, poke one horn through, twist the other way and ... nope the hole is too small. Try again, getting there ... push a bit harder. Beast #1 took exception to having its head twisted every which way and decided to join me on my side of the fence. Suddenly there I was, supine, staring at point blank range into the eye of the poor disgruntle beast with nothing more between us than the aforementioned fence into which the silly animal was now more firmly stuck. Fortunately the fence saved me from being crushed under the beast and I was able to extricate myself albeit with a few barbed wire cuts and a bruised ego. Well at least I now know why I am not a farmer.

The Terminus Pub is a welcome sight after 3.5 hours in the saddle. 

Day #2 dawned a little overcast but not too bad. A hearty breakfast and a farewell to the Terminus Hotel and we headed due East for Young. Unfortunately the wind was heading the other way and provided some character building pedalling until it slowly turned South-westwards and the road South-eastwards, resulting in a slight tailwind for the remainder of the day. The flat to undulating countryside gave way to a couple of challenging hills in the last twenty k's and along with some light rain it made our arrival in Young a welcome one. The coffee was average but who cared. Great day!

The route - (http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/2009-Pub-Crawl-Temora-to-Young)

Day #3 saw us pedal back the way we came for 20 k's against the ever increasing wind before turning South towards our Goal for today, Cootamundra. Today's journey of 56 k's is welcome after 80 and the wind was off our starboard side so not much of a challenge. The gently undulating countryside meant that we pedalled hard up some longish hills to be rewarded with some longish down-hills not too tough but the body is starting to remind me that it needs more bike time if it is to remain fit. Note to self - ride more often. Here is how we got there (http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/2009-Pub-Crawl-Young-to-Cootamundra)

After crossing the Stockinbingal Road a rather cheeky 1k climb at the 40k mark gave way to a long gentle down hill all the way to Cootamundra and the first coffee of the day. Again, the countryside was a picture, making the whole thing really worth the effort.

Day #4 and our final day in the saddle for this year dawned cold windy and with more than a threat of rain. A good warming 2k climb out of town warmed up the muscles before some of us turned off the Olympic Way onto the Dirnaseer Road with Bethungra in our sights. Of all the countryside we cycled through over the trip this  had to be the pick of it. Gently undulating, green, lots of great views and some beautiful farmhouses. Real chocolate box stuff. If you want to go there have a look at the route (http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/2009-Pub-Crawl-Cootamundra-to-Junee)

A rather scruffy looking Caf in Bethungra turned out to be a surprise with our genial host providing great coffee and a warm dry respite from the deteriorating weather. 

Some kept on the highway but a hand-full of us followed the planned route for the short 20k hop to the centre of the know universe, Illabo. The Illabo pub, one of only about 6 buildings in the town (including the Church outhouse)  was just in the right spot. We scuttled under its protective veranda just as the heavens opened up and dumped a short sharp heavy downpour onto the less fortunate including two of our number who had backtracked, up a hill for two k's to look at a railway cutting. Most unusual!

Soon the rain cleared and the sun shone, albeit fleetingly, so those of us following the plan headed out into the howling wind for the last stretch of the day, 27 ks into Junee. This proved to be a challenge for your correspondent with a few thigh-burning hills made steeper by the incessant headwind. Soon we turned South and eventually South-east when we had a howling tail wind for the last 5 ks into Junee. Just pipped to the post by the rain we arrived slightly damp at our destination 83k's after leaving Cootamundra. What a day and what a trip.

How good is it to look back over the past 4 days and say,'I did that'.

A nice warm shower, a cool beer and a superb dinner at the Junee Licorice and Chocolate Factory capped off a great few days.

Not bad for a Technobimbo

I hear people speak of their blogs, thinking while nodding sagely, that these people have 'arrived' at the forefront of computer savvy. These are the internet demigods!

I was given to wonder; what is a blog and can it be cured? Why would I want a blog even if I knew what one was? Can I clear a bloggage once I have one? I then discovered that 'interesting' people had blogs and immediately I wanted one even if just to appear to be interesting. Well I will be bloggered if I will be left out, so here is MY BLOG aka PETEONABIKE.

In the ensuing pages you will be gripped by the adventures of your humble correspondent on his pushbike - somewhere. Or perhaps be reduced to laughter at some of the inane things that a geriatric cyclist will do in the normal course of his cyclopaedic adventures. Whatever! I hope to be able to keep you informed as to where I am and what I am doing even if is just to ensure that if I do get lost at least you will be able to tell my rescuers that I was last seen on a bright orange Bike Friday Air Glide near ...

As a teaser I offer  you some snippets from my most recent bicycle adventure although I hasten to add that it was nearly a non-adventure.

Last Wednesday, 22 April, was the beginning of the beginning of the third Pedal Power Pub Crawl aka PPPC. This is the third PPPC and this year began at Junee, just north of Wagga Wagga in NSW. The PPPC is organised by Annie McDevitt and yours truly and this year starred 40 of the best from Pedal Power ACT. This ride is bicycle touring in its purest form - no sag wagon, no out and back rides and no cushy coffee stops till the end of each day. Each participant must carry all that they need for 4 days of cycling including food and re-hydration for the day. My tote was about 12 kilos but I didn't need to carry my hair dryer. I kid you not; there was more than one hairdryer secreted away in panniers and backpacks. 

However I digress. You may recall that I wrote earlier, '... it was nearly a non- adventure', let me explain.

Much planning must go into an event of this magnitude and many a cyclist has arrived at the start point of a ride sans helmet or cycling shoes, gloves or water bottles but very few have arrived with a machine designed for two wheels but with only one. Yep that's right folks, yours truly left his front wheel on the counter of his LBS (local bike shop) 200 kilometres away.

This embarrassing discovery was made in the company of two of my cycling companions who, to their credit, showed an appropriate amount of concern and sympathy albeit with the corners of their mouths twitching. I am sure they are still rolling around on the floor laughing.

Soon I was Wagga Wagga bound, credit card in hand while the others set off for their first day on the road, in the opposite direction. Three hours and $174 later I too was Temora bound but I did get the last laugh because by the time I was on the road the wind had dropped to a gentle cooling breeze. I arrived at Temora after a great day in the saddle to show off my lovely shiny new wheel and recount the tale of the missing wheel. Sigh! People can be so cruel sometimes.

More about our trip soon.