I began the route by taking a detour from the usual coastal route. This road had been recommended to me by Chris the surfer who'd ridden it a few days before. It was a great route, almost no traffic and a real change of scenery. I traded views of beaches and the ocean for a small inland mountain range and farmland.
After a couple of hours I rejoined the coastal highway and stopped for a snack. Another cyclist pulled up alongside me. His name was Ed, an American, probably 50 years old and a little scruffy in appearance. He had started riding back in May from his home in Colorado, heading north to Alaska. Once inside the Arctic Circle he'd turned around and headed south, down the west coast. I noticed a can of bear spray (highly concentrated pepper spray for use in bear attack) protruding from his handlebar bag. Like a child I asked if he'd ever had to use it in a combat situation. He said no but he'd seen many Grizzly Bears throughout his journey in the far north. In fact he told me he'd woken that very morning from his wild campsite in the woods to find a pile of fresh bear poo directly outside of his tent. This guy was tough. He'd hiked the entire Appalachian Trail a few years back. This is a 2,100 mile mountain trail through the wilderness – only 3% of hikers who start the trail make it all the way to the end. In my eyes I was talking to Superman. He even wore a shirt open at the front which billowed behind him like a cape as he cycled. I rode with him for a while. He was fast, as you'd expect from a man with several thousands of miles in the bank. He didn't know where he'd end up that day, I get the impression he covers more than 100 miles on some days. Up north when he had 24 hours of daylight he would sometimes cycle until 11pm. Eventually we went our separate ways and I was secretly glad to be able to return to my own slower pace.
I came to a fork in the road. I knew most of my crew had planned to take the shorter of the 2 available routes cutting out more than 10 miles of very hilly riding. I had a small crisis of conscience before deciding to take the longer, hillier route. I felt strong and somewhat inspired by Ed. The route was indeed hilly with several miles of climbing to reach Cape Meares State Park. At the top I found an incredible view of the bay below and a large spruce tree that had somehow grown into the shape of an octopus. It was called the Octopus Tree and was a bit of a tourist attraction.
After descending from Cape Meares I called in at a grocery store to pick up some dinner. It was a sorry excuse for a shop. The selection of vegetables included a few peppers and tomatoes, all were no doubt great in their day, but that day I'm afraid was now a distant memory. I noticed a very hairy French couple loitering around the store. I didn't trust the way they were looking at my bike so I gave them the stink eye.
Sometime after a 2 mile hilly wrong turn later I found myself at Cape Lookout State Park. I spoke with a wonderfully jolly park ranger who pointed me in the direction of the hiker/biker area. Another really wonderful spot, situated in some fairly wild woodland and only 2 minutes walk from the beach. I saw Kate and sat down for a chat with her about the day's events. Chris had also arrived and set up camp but was down at the beach surfing.
When Chris returned I asked to have a closer look at his hammock. Unlike the rest of us who are camping in tents, Chris has a hammock that he ties up between 2 trees. The hammock has a tarp over the top and a also a fly-sheet. He offered to let me have a go in it which I was quite pleased about. It was really comfortable but I'm not sure I could sleep in it for long. I'd be too worried about falling out in the middle of the night.
An hour later Elan arrived with a new couple, Brian and Beth. A pair of young Americans who'd got married 3 days before beginning their trip. This was their honeymoon and they were riding as far as San Diego. Brian was doing the whole journey on a fixed-wheel bike. I was pretty impressed that he'd been tackling the same hills I'd been battling with just the one gear to choose from.
After dinner Elan made a campfire and we gathered once again. We were joined by the hairy French couple I'd seen earlier and I felt a little bad for flashing them the stink eye. They were very nice and obviously had no interest in stealing my bike.
Another friendly and enjoyable gathering but like our energy levels at the end of the day, the fire soon died down and we all went to bed.
Lucky that didn't flash back the crook eye or you may have had to pull out the evil eye as a final gambit. Things could have got ugly.
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