A Bridge too Far - Day 19 - 36 miles

The mornings are normally chilly. Today was different. Packing up the tent was a sweaty affair. It felt like summer for the first time.

I left Cape Disappointment via a scenic, hilly road. I don't know if there are other countries which build roads purely for the purpose of giving a scenic drive but I've noticed this is something they like to do in the US. I was in good spirits, looking forward to the journey into Oregon.

15 miles in, I met with my first tunnel. Before entering the tunnel I had to stop and press a button which triggered a flashing light warning motorists to watch out for a cyclist in the tunnel. People who think America is not a country that cares about cyclists should take note of things like this. Once out of the tunnel I caught sight of the bridge linking Washington with Oregon over the mouth of the fearsome Columbia River. On the road approaching the bridge I was being seriously buffeted by a strong crosswind. As I joined the bridge I was dismayed to see a fairly narrow shoulder and even more dismayed to find the crosswind to be just as bad on the bridge. In order to safely cross the bridge I had to stay within the narrow shoulder. The wind gusted so badly it was all I could do to maintain a steady course. A few inches to the left and I would veer into the course of the traffic coming from behind, a few inches to the right and I would hit the barrier and probably ricochet even more uncontrollably into the passing traffic. I had to grip the handlebars as tightly as I could, with my head down, leaning forward to use my weight to keep the steering from straying left or right. The bridge was 4.2 miles long so I had to maintain this for at least 20 minutes. Logging trucks sped past, disrupting the air-flow even more unpredictably. This was the most challenging ride of my life. My hands started to get numb, pins and needles in my fingers made me wonder how long I could keep going like this. When I thought things couldn't get any worse I reached the final mile of the bridge. At this point the bridge climbed steeply, high above the river. With the increasing elevation the wind increased and my energy levels decreased. There was nowhere to stop so I just had to keep pedalling. Finally I began the descent to the end of the bridge. As I left the bridge I pulled immediately into a car park, not even noticing the Welcome to Oregon sign right in front of me. I regained my composure and almost kissed the tarmac. I'd made it to Oregon.

I avoided the temptation to visit the city of Astoria where the Goonies was set. It would surely not live up to my expectations. The treasure would almost certainly be all gone by now. I continued south down the 101 highway and before half a mile had passed I spied another bridge. I laughed to myself, this couldn't be happening. On closer inspection the bridge had a much more generous shoulder and no wind so I made light work of it.

I was already enjoying Oregon, it was full of helpful signs for cyclists and seemed to have many more lunch options available than I'd seen in my last few days in Washington. I'd pretty much made up my mind that today I'd stay in a motel. I didn't want to take a day off cycling but I was growing a little tired of all the work associated with setting up and dismantling camp so I thought I needed a reminder of why camping was so appealing.

I arrived in the town of Seaside and pulled off of the highway to take a look around for motels. I took a ride along the beach promenade. Seaside has a seriously impressive beach with enormous waves. This would be a good place to take some surfing lessons. I found a cheap motel a bit out of town. They only had a room on the first floor and there was no lift so I had to struggle a bit to get my bike and all my gear upstairs. Once in I took the worlds longest shower and laid on the bed watching TV. It felt good to stop for a bit and do nothing. I kept thinking about popping into town for a look around or to take those surfing lessons but decided I should just do nothing for a bit.

Evening came and I popped out to find something for dinner. I was forced to walk on the hard shoulder of the highway for about a mile before reaching any sort of takeaway food vendor. I found a takeaway pizza place and ordered a large pizza. It took only 2 minutes before I was told my pizza was ready which aroused my first suspicion that something was awry. The lady then presented me with a rather beautifully prepared and entirely uncooked pizza. I did a bit of a double-take and asked something I didn't think one should have to in such an establishment. I wanted it cooked. 'We don't cook 'em here, it's take 'n' bake', she said. She could see I was about to cry and offered me my money back. I have never heard of this take 'n' bake concept before. It's seems completely ridiculous to me that you would drive to a shop and have them make a pizza for you to then take home and cook yourself. Come on America, what are you playing at?

I left the flawed-concept of a pizza parlour and headed to my only other option, a Taco Bell. I've eaten at a Taco Bell before and it was disgusting so I knew what to expect. This place actually doubled as a KFC so I was under no illusion here that the kitchen staff were in any way fussed about what they tossed into the deep-fryer. It took me a while to negotiate an off-menu combination of food that didn't contain meat and I walked away reasonably happy with my meal.

Back at the motel stuffing my face with cold imitation Mexican food, obtained via a 2 mile round-trip along the hard shoulder of a busy highway, I was very happy. I'd achieved my goal. I was ready to camp again.