Day 7

We awoke in the gray Seaside morning of Mo's yard. Lluc was up before me and made himself his coffee. I joined him soon after and we discussed the day. Perhaps we could make it near Tillamook. Not sure what the camping prospects were, but we'd find out when we got there. 

We loaded up and were off before 9. Had to drop by the post office for some postcard stamps (35 cents-- now that's a bargain). I always have liked how these small town post offices look. Nothing is more affirming of one's location.

There was a big climb to start the morning. Not quite a pass, but a darn big hill. The grade was so impressive and daunting, I thought of taking a photo but realized it would be impossible to apprehend the slope from the image: the road was straight, surrounded by a dark green canopy, and went continuously uphill. Fortunately, what went up, had to come down: we soared down 101 right into downtown Canon beach (or "Cannot Beach" as the Seasiders called it).

The vibe was distinct. Cozy, but affluently so. Fancy beach themed shops with casual clothes and upscale breweries with 'laid back' atmosphere. Nevermind all that, the beach was great.

After Canon beach, there were two more epic climbs of the same scale and grade, back to back, through Oswald West state park. Looks like a sweet place to hike, and surf apparently, through I couldn't see where all these sleepy-eyed dudes with boards were heading on the forested trails off the 101. The hills were tough, but 2 things made it worth the huff and puff: the tunnel (which Lluc dislikes but I find pretty fun to yell and howl like mad while biking through), and the viewpoint on top. We could see all of the Nehalem Bay, Cape Lookout, and things beyond I'm not even sure of yet.

We were going so fast off of that hill, we blazed right by Manzanita, and rolled over the Nehalem river, on to Wheeler, where I was stoked to see "rail riders" (little pedal-powered cars that run on the old railroad tracks). On my previous tour, especially through the Great Plains, I had spent many hours dreaming of such a vehicle. I also have a habit of waving at pretty much anyone we see not in a car, so when we saw some folks riding along, I gave em a hardy wave.

Not too long after we found ourselves in Manhattan Beach, where we couldn't resist getting out onto the sand. Great for our moral. Bad for bike chains... Lluc decided to ride the narrow sandy trail there and 20 feet from the end, stalled in the sand, wobbled and tobbled into the bushes. All I could see ware two legs sticking out of the hedge, straddling a pile of panniers... First fall of the trip! But all smiles.

In Bay City we learned there was camping in the city park, and we went to investigate. It was here a white van pulled up beside us and a curious dude said "I'm thinking of going touring and I wanna see your rigs!" We met in the park and chatted for a long while (funny how bike talk can migrate to politics, life stories. and elsewhere).

It was nice to make camp earlier in the day. There was plenty of time to stretch, clean the bikes, write, cook, and think about tomorrow. Dinner: farro cooked with garlic and hot dried chillis, with smoked trout, avocado, onion, jalapeños and salsa verde on pita bread. Yehaw.

The park was busy scene: kids running around with helmets on (on and off thier skooters and bikes), old men shootin it around a fishing boat on a trailer, and later on, the teenagers socializing at the gazebo. Oh, small town America. It can be so pleasant and unfortunate at the same time. Examples: We were looking for a cloth to clean our drivetrains with earlier and we walked by a garage sale. We asked if they had anything like a washcloth, and the woman immediately said, "oh I'll just go inside and cut you up one." Then later, we go to the only store in town for a few things, only to find it stocked with hardly more than you'd find at your average gas station/corner store. "Do you have any milk?" "Nope. Try Garibaldi, 4 miles that way." "How about a spoon?" "Nope. Garibaldi." Yeesh.

Forcast looks like rain. 2 long days ahead of us, but a few friends and relatives along the way. Onwards.