Gold Beach to Brookings

Saturday 13 June

Last night's pizza was huge so the doggie bag made a good chaff bag for breakfast the following morning. The pizza was washed down by the browish liquid from the coffee drip machine in the room so I was ready for the road nice and earlyish. By 10 I had left Gold Beach in my wake and headed out to Brookings via Pistol River and not a lot else. Not a lot else that is if you don't count the biggest climb of the trip so far followed up by a series of lesser climbs all the way to Brookings.

The bike gearing is playing up a bit because I suspect the cables are stretching so I pretended to be the knowledgeable bike mechanic and did a bit of 'tweaking', luckily I managed to get back a few of the gears I had lost. The reward for 300 vertical metres was a huge downhill for nearly 7 ks. Woo hoo! Today I am riding along the coast but in forests of many different kinds of conifers and oaks which cascade down the steep slope to the road then on to the cliffs over the ocean - very spectacular. I have lost count of the different kinds of wildflowers including many hued Rhododendrons and Irisis. At home the Patterson's Curse is the weed of choice, here it is the sweet pea. They are everywhere and like the Patterson's Curse, they are spectacular but try convincing the locals of that. Today must be also be a rest day for RV's because the traffic is fairly light. All good!

Spectacular scenery today with Arch Rock, Thunder Rock Cove and Natural Bridges Cove taking a lot of beating. This is a superb part of the coast, very rugged and breathtaking.

Thomas Creek Bridge soars across the creek at a height 358 feet, over 100 metres. If I don't stop stopping to take photos I will never get anywhere before dinner time.

Brookings appears up ahead and I find my home for the night - the Harris Beach State Park. This park is spectacular, set in soaring redwood trees with manicured lawns, screens of native shrubbery and is picture perfect. The price for this - $4 for a tent site including free showers and cheap washing facilities. I pitch my tent in a grove of trees with two others, all of us cyclists. The park ranger is giving a talk tonight on the various different types of Seals and Sea Lions that can be seen along the coast so wander up there with my bottle of wine and am treated to an excellent hour long presentation.

The town of Brookings is less than a Kilometre away so I cycle into town and track down an excellent seafood meal - scallops and of course clam chowder. I found a bike shop just before dinner and the mechanic did his magic on my gears for the princely sum of $10. Today was my last full day of riding in Oregon because the California border is only about 6 miles (less than 10 ks down the road).

Sunday 14 June

Who needs an alarm clock when, just above my flimsy abode, there is a bird convention happening. I swear that there must be a million of the things blissfully caroling away just above my head. As I emerge from my tent this is bourne out by the tell tale signs of their guano which, assisted by gravity, forms large patches on my formerly pristine tent. Fortunately the bike, sheltered by a picnic bench remains unblemished.

Who can guess what country we are in?

Fuelled by two very tasty cinnamon buckwheat pancakes and several cups of coffee I head out to Hgy 101 and California. Crossing the border into California is a bit daunting. I am asked to stop by no less than 4 uniformed blokes with buzz cuts and canons strapped to their hips. Y'all carrying any fruit. Feeling guilty for harbouring an innocent bag of nuts (with dried berries) in my bag I quickly and with shaking voice declare the nuts but deny giving succour to any potential terrorist apples or bananas. Y'all have a nice day now and willcum to Keliforniiiia. Deeply relieved I pedal off into the distance wondering what would have happened if I had been caught carrying contraband.

Prior to the border I had been cycling along Oceanview Drive, a quiet detour from the busy Highway 101, my last views of the Oregon coast were spectacular and viewed in almost total solitude. Was this a road or a wide bike path? I merge back with 101 for the short trip past my welcome party and then Oceanview Drive appears again so I spend the next 15 ks or so back in peaceful rural country with little or now traffic. Oceanview Drive is a misnomer though, there is no view of the ocean. Nevertheless the ride was enjoyable, the weather has warmed up and I am cycling in front of a 15 kph tailwind. Just before the little town of Smith River my newest friend Kell, sidled up to me and we have a pleasant chat about cycling and the beautiful countryside that we are in.

Fortunately Kell is not a a cycling evangelist but a 74 year old retiree from San Francisco. He is very fit and riding a bike that looks as if it would float away if his weight wasn't holding it down. He jokingly tells me that he gets on his bike when his long suffering wife needs a break and spends a fair bit of time cycling the coast and other regions around California. We share a cup of coffee and a chat while Shirley, the proprietor, cleans up around us. Apparently it is after closing time and her soaps are waiting for her. Oblivious to this Kell and I chew the fat so Shirl resigned to the fact that we have settled in for a while finally turns on the telly and watches Days or some other long drawn out soapie.

Finally, after our coffee either evaporates or we unknowingly drink it, Kell and I part. He is over the horizon in next to no time leaving me to dawdle along smelling the roses. Back to 101 for another short stint then onto Lake Earl Drive for the final 14 miles into Crescent City during which I pass the State Penitentiary near Fort Dick (an interesting juxtaposition) where regularly spaced signs tell me not to stop for hitch-hikers and to roll up my windows. Having no room for the former and a dearth of the latter I increase my cadence and speed past Lake Earl.

Crescent City is a reasonable sized town with all the necessary shops and a great selection of restaurants. I stumble across an RV park that has 'tent sites' where, after selecting one of only two shaded sites I stumble round filling up gopher holes and smoothing the hills that used to be the holes. Finally with tent flushed clean of its little avian messages and erected I set out to explore the the town.

My restaurant of choice, seafood of course, nestles on a breakwater that stops the harbour from leaking out into the sea. There are a number of noisy sea lions sunning themselves on large pontoons put there for that purpose. They occasionally let out grunting sighs and slither into the water for a snack and after a turn around the harbour fly out of the water landing on their bellies on the pontoon or on some other poor unfortunate sea lion that was foolish enough to stay to close to the edge.

I earned my dinner tonight as the restaurant is three k's from the camp ground so the walk there and back was good for the appetite. Coincidentally, there is an excellent ice cream parlour on the way home. When I ordered my ice cream the person behind the counter excitedly said, 'you are an Australian aren't you?'. I replied in the affirmative, asking her how she knew because most people think I am a pom kiwi (for some strange reason). She said, 'oh no, I know you are an Australian because my children watch the Wiggles and you sound just like them'. Sigh! Where is my bright yellow skivvy?

Looking North from the edge of Crescent City, the rocks don't stop surfers from doing what they do.

Monday 15 June

Rest day today so there is time to wander around and look at the town. Washing done and all my house work finished I set out in search of breakfast, which I found not far from my abode. Finding a computer shop I convince the proprietor to download all my photos to a DVD for safety. An hour and $20 later I have checked my email, downloaded all my pics, done a few facebook essentials etc. With the disc safely posted to Deb for safe keeping I find a great little italian caf where I settle in for lunch. This place has a wonderful old bar that was the counter in the original restaurant in the town. The original was owned by the grandfather of the current proprietor so he is fiercely proud of it and his business. The food was pretty good as well.

The lighthouse on Battery Point is connected to the mainland by an isthmus which, in the manner of all good isthmuses, (or is that Isthmi?) is under water as the tide flows and is only exposed for short periods depending on the height of the tide. Just re-read that last para - d'uh! Alas every time I was there the Point was cut off so I didn't get to see the lighthouse. The coast is rugged here and the long breakwater provides a man made safe harbour for pleasure craft, fishing boats and the coastguard.

The next difficult choice for the day is, where do I have dinner. Fortunately or unfortunately, this is made easy, today is Monday and most places are closed but I did manage to find a place, obviously run by heathens who believed that the masses needed to be fed even on a belated day of rest. It was also fortunate that they knew how to cook. The food was excellent and the service was as good. I won't tell you what I had but I am sure you can guess.

Crescent City closes down on monday evening (and possibly every other evening as well) so there was nothing for it but to retire to the campground with the remains of my bottle of red and a good book. Life is so hard!

Coos Bay to Bandon and beyond

Thursday 11 June

Relaxed after my 'rest' day, a trailer full of lovely clean clothes and all my camping gear and with breakfast done and dusted, I head off into the fine misty rain heading for Bandon. Yep, rain! The clouds that have been ever present since leaving Eugene have finally decided to do their thing. The rain stayed with me for about an hour, just long enough to keep me cool while I climbed the 'hill from hell' or is that to hell. Yep it was, 'to hell' because after a short sharp downhill there was another climb. Ok so it was only 160 metres up but it was straight up and it happened three times in the space of 12 ks. Granny gear was the only way to go for the best part of two hours. Ok so I will stop complaining now.

My reward was a long slow downhill ride all the way from the bottom of the last roller coaster to Bandon where I had planned to stop for lunch. Over lunch I had a good look at the map and decided that the 80 - 100 k days were folly. At the rate I was going I would be at my destination about 4 days early and I was missing too much along the way. So, short lunch turned into long lunch and a search for a bed for the night. I found what was to be my cheapest motel on the Oregon Coast and one of the best.

Bandon is a wonderful town/city/village sitting on the south side of the Coquille River and by the Ocean. Originally the town was built on stumps set into the mud flats beside the river because the original settlers didn't want to cut down the trees that grew right to the river and the ocean. Then along came 'progress'. So many restaurants; so little time.

Sigh! I settled for lunch at 'Brewed Awakenings' where I was waylaid by the guy who owned the place. He had been to Australia in 2007 with whistle stops in Sydney and Melbourne and two weeks in Surfers Paradise. We had a great chat and he gave me some route advice about the next leg of the trip.

Dinner was one of those unforgettable meals; clam chowder (of course) and the best clam chowder of the trip so far, followed by mussels sauteed in sherry. God I love food! Well I had to walk that lot off so I took a long stroll around town looking at the lovely old victorian buildings and the remains of the old town.

Friday 12 June

Disaster! I decided to top up the air in the bike tyres and when I went to remove the pump the valve stem came out with it. This leaves a hole in the tube considerably bigger than an air molecule so all the little bleeders rushed out. OK, no big deal, I can change a tube! Well, getting the (rear) wheel off was a breeze gravity did most of the work, changing the tube etc was just as easy, now for the really easy part ... . Well let me tell you that getting the wheel back on and the brake cable back into the puller was just so much fun I spent two hours doing it. There was no way that brake cable was going back in the puller. Finally I had to disconnect the cable etc. Note to self:- do a PP maintenance course and take the bike along with me. When I got the whole thing back together and the wheel moving around without rubbing on the brake pad I was ready to chuck the whole rig into the river and find a bus.

Finally on my way to Port Orford. There is a god; the road was a gentle climb out of town for about ten miles followed by a long 10 mile down slope another gentle climb, more downhill, all this assisted by a lovely tail wind. Langlois and Denmark fell behind me in a flash and before you know it I am in Port Orford. I had planned to stay in here but there was a dearth of camping sites and almost no decent motels so I stopped momentarily, had some lunch looked at some of the local sites and soldiered on with Gold Beach firmly in my sights.

Just before Port Orford another cyclist pulled up beside me and settled in for a chat. Lawrence was travelling light but had come all the way from Seattle. After a while I asked him if he was camping or staying in motels. He told me that he was staying with family all the way. 'That's great', I replied, how lucky for you to have family all along the coast. 'All gods children are my family', came his reply. Oh no! Someone else about to set out to save me from hellfire and damnation. Is this the dreaded cycling evangelist? Lesson learned from Corvallis, I fell quiet and let Lawrence soliloquise, which he did for a short while till I think he realised that I was too far in the hellfire and damnation mire to be saved. With a bless you and a good luck Lawrence was off over the horizon. I suppose I can be thankful that he didn't lean over and try to kiss me on both cheeks.

Port Orford is home to Battle Rock which has a great story attached to it. The scenery was as good as you get along the Oregon Coast. The buildings were a bit weather worn though and there were no decent eateries. A shadow flashed from my right and Lawrence pedalled furiously out of a church driveway, dashed across the street and into another church yard. I guess Lawrence is a bit of a tart when it comes to which church he finds his family in. Hey maybe he is raiding poor boxes. He waved at me as he whizzed past just as I left town after my lunch and I heard a 'Jesus has indeed given us a glorious day', so there must have been some decent churches in town. Huey had turned out a great day, 20k tailwind, the sun had come out from behind its veil of cloud and fog and the road had enough potholes in it to allow me to hone my cycling skills. Praise the lord.

I digress however, the road out of Pt Orford and beyond the point of no return I spied a huge monolith rising out of the sea and into the heavens (to retain the biblical tone). This was one huge mountain and no road snaking around it's precipitous seaward flank. My legs turned to jelly, sorry Jell O, as I pondered the climb over this behemoth. Mt Humbug was, as it turned out, aptly named.

As I approached, the road sloped gently down hill and remained that way. For over half an hour I rode on a sloping to flat road under an arbour of oaks and birch trees, along two gurgling rivers until I emerged sometime later at beach level with a long straight run to Gold Beach. There was lots of oh'ing and ah'ing, many photographs. This was probably one of the most picturesque parts of my ride so far.

A long flat wide bridge delivered me into Gold Beach where my choice was, a motel in town with hot and cold running water and a huge soft bed or a wilderness camp ground up a 5 mile unsealed road and nothing but a pit dunny and cold (non potable water) and plenty of bugs. Tough choice but the motel won out so I settled in there and washed the grease from this morning's little mechanical marathon off my hands and face. Durning my post prandial stroll I was treated to a glorious pacific sunset.

Ahhhhh!

Captions:

Near Port Orford - flowers by he road.

Looking at the beach from the saddle of my bike about halfway up the first hill out of Coos Bay.

Some of the poles that supported the old town of Bandon.

Battle Rock at Port Orford.

Typical Beach vista with sea stack and many rocks.

Left - Looking at Humbug Mountain (ok so it wasn't really that big).

Right - Back at Humbug Mountain after I snuck past.

Bottom - Gold Beach Warf back to bridge.

North Bend, Coos Bay and a day of rest.

Tuesday 9 June

My 80 k day turned out to be 95 because I didn't read the instructions carefully enough; my destination was to be North Bend but the camp ground was actually in Charleston which was another 10 miles plus change, further on. But I am getting ahead of myself here. Today's scenery was not as spectacular as yesterday's but I believe there is more to come.

This area is the Oregon Dunes National Park and the dunes are vast areas of ever moving sand. I did a side trip that, had I read the instructions carefully enough, I should not have done. The real scenic spot was further up the road and more easily accessible, as it was I did a 6k side trip down (and of course back up) a very steep hill and out to the sea. The dunes go on forever and the diversity of bird and plant life is spectacular. Every type of bird from the soaring Turkey Buzzards to tiny finches darting around in the bushes. Now I have to say the Turkey Buzzard looks great from a distance but up close and personal they would be stiff competition for Muscovy Ducks as the ugliest bird I have seen.

The closer I got to North Bend the closer the dunes got to the road. In some places I had to ride off the side lane to avoid sand that was encroaching onto the road. The sound of the traffic as it speeds past is now accompanied by the many off road vehicles that speed across, up and down the dunes. This is a serious training ground for the Dakar Rally. North Bend arrives and another bridge but not just any bridge, this one is a monster and very narrow. So narrow that cyclists are not allowed to ride across but we must dismount and walk across its nearly 2 klm length.

Ok so we are talking about a 'footpath' that is about 900mm wide and a bike plus trailer that is around 750mm from hub to hub. The drop to the road is about 300mm and the traffic is 'right there'. Slowly I negotiate the path with one wheel of the trailer falling off about half way to the top. Over the top and on the way down there is a board walk attached to the bridge rail that allows the maintenance crew to work on the water side of the railing. The path is now about 800 wide which means that I have to step down to the road walk side step fashion and push the bike and trailer along a path with only about 25mm clearance either side. Such fun! By the time I get to the other side of the bridge I am a blubbering mess and I have earned my first abuse from a motorist.

I arrive at the Sunset Beach RV and Campground where a tent site is a whopping $21 (plus taxes). I am not sure if I have just rented it or if I now own real estate in Oregon. It is a great spot under a small tree and right next to a beautiful beach. After setting up camp I head back to Charleston which is about 2 k's back up the road for an incredible meal of clam chowder, sauteed oysters and one of the best beers I have had in ages. All this along with a nice glass of Zinfandel has put me in a mellow mood for the ride home - fortunately. The restaurant allowed me to bring the bike inside where I could watch it so that was a bonus. My ride back to camp was a treat, two k's, no moon, no street lights, one tail light and a single led front light.

Wednesday 10 June

Today is a rest day so I am up bright and early (go figure) serenaded by the sounds of a million birds and the crashing waves. Now I did say it was a rest day but by the end of it I will have clocked up over 50ks on the bike and about 10 in my shoes. I decide that I will go into Coos Bay for breakfast and with that aim in mind I set out on the bike, sans trailer, for the 'short' ride. I get lost of course and why is it when you get lost you seem to find the steepest hill in town to get lost on. Well I did. Eventually I find a great coffee shop that is opened after 20ks where I sit down to what is now brunch. The town, sorry City, of Coos Bay is lovely with many old buildings and a beautiful boardwalk along the bay area.

I head back to Charleston where I buy a meal for dinner and a couple of bottles of Mirror Pond pale ale then on to my camp where I have a pile of washing that needs doing. Sorry that there are no pictures of my washing on the line but there are no lines in Amarica. it all goes into clothes dryers roughly the same size as the utes and RV's. This done I set out to explore the beach and headland as the sun sets slowly into the Pacific Ocean. I enjoy my dinner in the picnic area of the park (the only place with a light) where I get my diary up to date.

Seen on a sign just out of Coos Bay - Bonk and Bonk Investigations (I kid you not)

Bikely map of today's route - http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/319110

Florence here I come

Monday 8 June

Newport is bustling when I finally get started, I still need to find a store that will sell me a cord for my camera battery charger so I set out looking for a computer shop. Just by luck I spot a secondhand computer junkyard in a side street and finally get the resident geek to put down his spliff and float over to the door to open up. He crawls through his pile of cords to no avail until I suggest to him that is is most likely to be printer power cord. Light appears from behind his slightly ajar eyelids and he agrees. In no time at all I am the proud owner of a charger cord with an American plug. I tuck into a short stack of buckwheat pancakes with maple syrup and pecans for breakfast (note to self, eat better). These are very, very good pancakes which makes up for the 'coffee'.

All fuelled up I set out for Florence, at last I am heading south towards my intended final destination, wherever that may be. My first task is to negotiate the long Yequina Bay Bridge. This is no mean feat. Typical of Oregon's regard for cyclists there is a push button at the beginning of the bridge which sets a swag of flashing lights ablaze to warn motorists that there is a cyclist on the bridge. All the way across I wonder if the lights are still flashing but I survive and after leaving the bridge I wave merrily at the long line of traffic I have collected and get several waves and 'Hi's' as they pass me.

There are a couple of steep climbs today but the first part of the day to Yachats is a bit of a doddle. I cycle mostly in sight of the coast and the scenery is spectacular, huge rugged cliffs and sea stacks way out to sea but mostly along the coast. Yaquina Bay was the first landfall in this neck of the woods for our very own Captian James Cook who called the place Cape Foulweather. He was obviously not happy with the weather or the place so didn't stay long enough to find the Bay.

Seal Rocks is spectacular and remarkable for the fact that there are no seals here nor are there very often, if ever. The birds, however, love the spot and return en masse every year to nest and raise their young as do the Oregon RV's. The coast is starting to get rugged again after many miles of long beaches and flat dunes. Waldport and Alsea Bay appear just in time for lunch. The Alsea Bay bridge is incredible and just one of many wonderful bridges I will cross over. There are so many bays and ravines on the coast that the bridge makers were kept at it full time.

This bridge was long and a bit scary because there was no edge to ride on. The traffic was, again, very patient and stayed behind me at a lesurely 25 kph whih probably doesn't even register on a mph speedo. Yachats is next and the chance for a breather before the first big hill of the coastal run. Well it looks big on the map profile but it was not bad so perhaps I shouldn't have had that extra doughnut.

Heceta Head is famous for its lighthouse and is truly a beautiful spot. I rode the 300 metres down to the beach but the walk was a bit too far and I was running out of time again. I think I worry too much about leaving the bike out of sight.

Today's little bit of excitement is a tunnel through a massive headland that seems to go up forever into the ever present ceiling of fog. The approach to the tunnel is over a bridge just after Heceta Head. The bridge is an engineering marvel and the tunnel, although short is very narrow. There is a push button at the beginning of the tunnel that, when pushed, sets flashing lights going that warn motorists that there is a cyclist in the tunnel. This is comforting and to my surprise the cars and RVs behind me stay there patiently until I emerge from the other side. I wave thanks and usually get a wave in return. This is a major highway but nobody seems to be in a major hurry to get anywhere, even the mullets in their huge utes (pek urps. I actually saw one with a double gun rack in the rear of the cabin - I smiled but kept my head down).

Next stop Florence after a very pleasant day in the saddle. Florence is a a fairly big town but the camp grounds are all about RVs so my tent stays packed up for another night but I find a motel with a huge room and a very hot shower. The Silver Sands Motel has a huge king sized bed and a massive bathroom at less than a third of the price of the Best Western just up the road. All the moteliers along the way are happy for me to put my bike in the room so this is a relief.

I take a long walk around the town and eventually settle in for dinner at a hamburger joint near the motel. I have long learned that one doesn't just order a hamburger with the lot. For a start, nobody does pineapple on a hamburger. So it goes like this:

'I will have a cheeseburger with bacon please.'

'(stunned look) Um, what sort of bun, whole-meal, rye, play dough, wheat ... ?'

'Rye please'

'Rare or well done?'

'(I assume that we have moved on to the meat) Rare please'

'What dressing would you like with that?'

'What are my options?'

'Italianmustardmayochiliketchup ...?'

'The first one (whatever it was)?'

'Cheese?'

'Yes please (isn't that normal with a cheeseburger)'

'(rolls eyes) What kand o cheese sirrrrr?'

'What have you got?'

'American Pepperjack, American Blue, American, American Brie, American ...'

'Blue oh wow, definitely blue'

'You want fraas (I stifle a chortle remembering one of those irreverent blond jokes)'

'No thanks'

'etc ... '

By the time I have finished my order I realise that I should have ordered a beer first to help with the ordering process and also it is now almost time for breakfast.

Anyway the beer was great and the well done hamburger excellent even the chips that I didn't want were an unexpected treat. I left the 25 different little sachets of sauces on side of the table though.

Well it is time for bed. Bye.

Bikely route map for the day - http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/318424

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