On Friday, I turned east and left the coast. There was one long, gradual climb, then I coasted down to Portland. Well, the outer suburbs. From there the ride looked like no fun, so I took the light rail.
But once you're in, Portland really is a great cycling city. The sun has been out and I've been cruising round from farmers market, to coffee shop, to food cart, to microbrewery.
The friendliest town on the Oregon coast? I left California last Friday. On the Oregon side of the border they have a welcome centre, on the California side there's a vehicle inspection checkpoint. I picked up some detailed cycling maps in the welcome centre and the lady there warmly welcomed me to the state.
So I was expecting good things but...
The riding was less interesting, wide highway through plantation forest. The towns felt like extended carparks for the malls. And I met my first crackpot. He started talking to me about "that radical Helen Clarke in New Zealand...at least in Australia you still have your weapons". And warned, "Western civilization is coming to an end when we can't control these refugees and when women don't respect their men".
So I was making my way up to Portland as fast as I could. Then I came upon Yachats. Actually, I stopped for Cape Perpetua, the mossy, misty (ok, rainy) forest was too inviting to go past. I spent today walking there. I'm staying in a cosy unit near the beach (the manager gave me an extra special cyclist rate), there's a good bookshop in town and good food as well!
I almost don't want to leave, but I have to get to Portland. Should be there by the end of the week.
Oh, and I can't upload photos from my camera so it's just phone pictures for now.
So, I'm riding. I left San Francisco last Monday, but it feels longer than that. So much can fit into a week and a day when you travel by bicycle, even though - or because? - it's not the fastest way to get anywhere.
Today I started on the Avenue of Giants, a road lined with redwoods so tall and straight I stared in wonder as I rode, as I had for many miles yesterday. Then, I took the back road to the Lost Coast. After a long climb I was in a farming valley. I passed through a few small towns then, after another long climb I dropped down and rediscovered the lost coast.
I should have known it was coming, but it took me by surprise - the sudden view of black sand beaches, yellow grassed dunes and cloudy mountains behind. The scattered driftwood made it seem truly abandoned.
I couldn't stop there, I had more hills to climb before Ferndale. But I arrived not too late in this quaint old town with pretty wooden houses. I ate dinner in the saloon at the inn, with two men playing bluegrass guitar.
The headwinds are gone for now, but they made the first four days hard work. On my first day I met an older cyclist who had done this ride many times before. He advised me "Go back to San Francisco, take the train to Portland and ride south". He was just out for a day ride and told me he envied me, that I could do this trip. He was 76. I think I envy him, at least I hope I'm still riding strong at that age.
