Day 12
Disappointment in the morning. The coons got to the bag of salami... Sealed in a rear pannier, they managed to unroll and pull out the goods without unbuckling it. It also had the some nut butters in it, which we sorely missed with our museli breakfast. Oh well.
The morning's ride sent us up into the hills North of Bandon. The road was quiet, and in a few places, the trees opened up to reveal many dense, low mountains. Unfortunately the openings were due to some heavy clear cuts. The carnage was intense. Stumps and slash piles as far as the eye can see in some places, with heavy manchinery ripping it apart and sorting everything-- a "real boner-killer" as Lluc called it. But, the low clouds in the valleys below bluebord skies were reason to celebrate (and downhill!).
The fellas at Moe's bike shop told us there's some new mtn bike trails up here, so we saw lots of fat-tired folks here and there. Looks like fun, but not with these road bikes.
We had made good time to Bandon. Maybe 25 miles in 2 hours or so. So we stopped to stock up on some fuel-food. Then, we cruised down 101 some more, watching the forest get drier, and noticing for the first time of the whole trip, patches of hillside with open brown grass, instead of packed densely with trees. Every day, something small changes, usually very subtle, but when you notice them, day by day, the landscape can completely change within 2 or 3 days.
Our first truly hot day. Rather thursty and started to get a little toasted, so we stopped in Langlois for water where the cigs are cheap, so they say...
It dawned on us then, California was probably only a days ride from where we'd camp that night. Hot dang, we thought, we're really cookin.
We rode through Denmark and Sixes, which both seemed to be nothing more than grange halls, before rolling in to Port Orchard. We rested at the public library (always a very accepting location where funny community goings-on can be overheard), before stopping to take in the view at the park. This coast is full of surprises around every corner.
It was here I met the character of the day. A fellow on a mountain bike with a basket full of books and a burlap sack, with a guitar on his back and a multi-colored woven beanie of perhaps 55 years rides up and goes "Hey alright cyclist cool." (There were no pauses in his speach). He gave me the ole where ya from/where ya goin and he was stoked to hear it. "I'm goin up the coast myself. Been up and down 5 times. He then began to tell me stories from his trips, one of which stood out from his rapid-fire diction, broken only by first bumps: "I was camped on the beach by paradise point and I see this chick come out of a drug store with a cigarette and I say hey, you got one for me. She says yeah, and give me a couple. I says, do you need healing? She says, probably. I say, can I touch you? She says, alright and I put my arm on her shoulder and say: you're healed. She goes, are you a prana? I saw, what's that. It's a healer. And I goes, then yeah, guess I am. Are you a dreamer? I don't know, she says. I puts my hand up in a circle so that she can see me through it and says, dream of a circle. Ok, she says. Now you a dreamer. HaHA!" Then he said, man, the other day some dude in the parking lot had the nerve to call me a nigger. It's like ever since Trump, if you's white, you think you's right. Anyway, I didn't let it get to me, I just went to the thrift store and got this mask so he couldn't call me it no more. How you like that!?"
Happy to meet the man. As we parted, he tells me "keep it light man. And people tell me to stay safe. I tell em right back, stay wild!"
It was only a short ways on until Humbug mountain, and the last stretch was the prettiest of all-- a gentle curve around the shore on a slight downhill. A real vistory lap.
Bailey met us there and rode in to camp with us. Ain't that sweet.
We spent the evening on the beach. A very peculiar one, this, with the first grey sand we've seen since Washington. And coarse too. A nice change. Good and windy, so Bailey whipped out the kite. Don't care what you say, kites ARE fun!
That dependable and ever-spactacular cosmic entertainment that is sunset was in particularly fine form this evening. Some fine cirro-cumulus to frame the event.
And the glory didn't end there. After a ferrociously delcious grilled zuchini and mashed potatoes, we went back put to the beach for a moonlit stroll. Still roaring, rhough in a ghostly light, the rocks casting moon-shadows as if oceans had appeared on the moon and we had been transported there. The show goes on and on and on.
The morning's ride sent us up into the hills North of Bandon. The road was quiet, and in a few places, the trees opened up to reveal many dense, low mountains. Unfortunately the openings were due to some heavy clear cuts. The carnage was intense. Stumps and slash piles as far as the eye can see in some places, with heavy manchinery ripping it apart and sorting everything-- a "real boner-killer" as Lluc called it. But, the low clouds in the valleys below bluebord skies were reason to celebrate (and downhill!).
The fellas at Moe's bike shop told us there's some new mtn bike trails up here, so we saw lots of fat-tired folks here and there. Looks like fun, but not with these road bikes.
We had made good time to Bandon. Maybe 25 miles in 2 hours or so. So we stopped to stock up on some fuel-food. Then, we cruised down 101 some more, watching the forest get drier, and noticing for the first time of the whole trip, patches of hillside with open brown grass, instead of packed densely with trees. Every day, something small changes, usually very subtle, but when you notice them, day by day, the landscape can completely change within 2 or 3 days.
Our first truly hot day. Rather thursty and started to get a little toasted, so we stopped in Langlois for water where the cigs are cheap, so they say...
It dawned on us then, California was probably only a days ride from where we'd camp that night. Hot dang, we thought, we're really cookin.
We rode through Denmark and Sixes, which both seemed to be nothing more than grange halls, before rolling in to Port Orchard. We rested at the public library (always a very accepting location where funny community goings-on can be overheard), before stopping to take in the view at the park. This coast is full of surprises around every corner.
It was here I met the character of the day. A fellow on a mountain bike with a basket full of books and a burlap sack, with a guitar on his back and a multi-colored woven beanie of perhaps 55 years rides up and goes "Hey alright cyclist cool." (There were no pauses in his speach). He gave me the ole where ya from/where ya goin and he was stoked to hear it. "I'm goin up the coast myself. Been up and down 5 times. He then began to tell me stories from his trips, one of which stood out from his rapid-fire diction, broken only by first bumps: "I was camped on the beach by paradise point and I see this chick come out of a drug store with a cigarette and I say hey, you got one for me. She says yeah, and give me a couple. I says, do you need healing? She says, probably. I say, can I touch you? She says, alright and I put my arm on her shoulder and say: you're healed. She goes, are you a prana? I saw, what's that. It's a healer. And I goes, then yeah, guess I am. Are you a dreamer? I don't know, she says. I puts my hand up in a circle so that she can see me through it and says, dream of a circle. Ok, she says. Now you a dreamer. HaHA!" Then he said, man, the other day some dude in the parking lot had the nerve to call me a nigger. It's like ever since Trump, if you's white, you think you's right. Anyway, I didn't let it get to me, I just went to the thrift store and got this mask so he couldn't call me it no more. How you like that!?"
Happy to meet the man. As we parted, he tells me "keep it light man. And people tell me to stay safe. I tell em right back, stay wild!"
It was only a short ways on until Humbug mountain, and the last stretch was the prettiest of all-- a gentle curve around the shore on a slight downhill. A real vistory lap.
Bailey met us there and rode in to camp with us. Ain't that sweet.
We spent the evening on the beach. A very peculiar one, this, with the first grey sand we've seen since Washington. And coarse too. A nice change. Good and windy, so Bailey whipped out the kite. Don't care what you say, kites ARE fun!
That dependable and ever-spactacular cosmic entertainment that is sunset was in particularly fine form this evening. Some fine cirro-cumulus to frame the event.
And the glory didn't end there. After a ferrociously delcious grilled zuchini and mashed potatoes, we went back put to the beach for a moonlit stroll. Still roaring, rhough in a ghostly light, the rocks casting moon-shadows as if oceans had appeared on the moon and we had been transported there. The show goes on and on and on.
Love you boys!
ReplyDelete