Tuesday, August 8th
Today was memorable for three significant and challenging climbs, a welcome appearance of the sun, and riding with Brian who I’d met in the campsite last night.
But I started the day alone. Immediately after leaving the State Park came the first climb to the top of Cape Lookout. It was one of the eeriest hours of cycling I’ve had yet. The road was still and quiet and the fog was dense – so thick towards the top that visibility dropped to less than 10 or 20 metres filling every available gap between wet trees and leaves.
The air was damp and the side of the road was covered in ferns and moss. It was easy to imagine something reptilian stirring underneath – everything had a mossy, prehistoric feel.
The climb was long, but easy compared with some of the hills in Dorset last month, the gradient was relatively shallow and the shoulder of the road was wide. Hoping for some sign marking the top of the lookout I was left a little disappointed but continued happily downward round a fast downhill with a number of bends. These straightened out as I emerged from the woods and found myself surveying sand dunes and open road.
I stopped for coffee at the only shop along a long stretch of farmland road which had cows at either side. The coffee was very bad, poured from a diner style pot which was kept to the side of a messy till next to some sausages which looked like they could have been rotating on the same grill for months or even years. Discreetly, I disposed of the drink in a hedge before quickly continuing with my ride. There would be better coffee ahead.
The next stop was Pacific city. A windswept coastal town which seemed fairly unremarkable except for a decent sized rock sticking out on the shoreline. The edge of the road was covered with sand which built up in sculpted piles by the curbside, I nearly lost my grip on it twice before rejoining the 101. It was a busy section of the highway with heavy traffic but thankfully a wide shoulder still, on roads like this it was best to listen to fill one of your ears with a podcast or music, keep your head down, and focus your energy on reaching more pleasant surroundings.
A lot of the coastal route is beautiful and scenic and everything you’d imagine it to be, but a fair length of it so far has been the opposite, serving just to siphon travellers from one beach or view point to the next. One of the up and downsides of cycle touring is experiencing what lies in-between places, but sometimes there isn’t much there to experience at all.
I pulled in at Neskowin, another town which seemed mostly for holiday makers in expensive beach front condos. I bought doughnuts and used the Wi-Fi and rested my legs.
There next stretch ran around 15 miles to Lincoln city – one of the busiest towns on the Oregon coast so far. Most of this I spent on a winding section of old highway i’d managed to locate to the East of the 101. It climbed steadily and the surface was rough and patchy but I had the road entirely to myself. It was around this time the sun came out and a haze was lifted from both the trees and me as the leaves glowed golden in the warmth.
The descent was fast and fun, hairpin bends and sharp corners. It was a new experience to cycle downhill like this and be confident that both me and my bike would arrive at the bottom in one piece. My previous bike had never given me that luxury.
The Old Highway terminated at another big section of the newer 101 highway. After taking the junction to Lincoln city I pulled into a turnout to study my book and maps.
It was at this point I was met by Brian. He’d stayed on the 101 for the entire day – a shorter but less enjoyable ride which had helped him catch me up.
We chatted for a bit and continued together, pulling into a Safeway to grab food for the night on the edge of the city. It was hot now, and we sat outside in the sun at a black garden table with chairs with uneven legs which rocked slightly.
After some welcome conversation we carried on together, speeding though Lincoln city which seemed like fairly trashy and worth avoiding – seedy motels, tacky shops, and too many cars.
Heading into Depoe Nay the highway remained busy but came closer to the coast which had become a lot more dramatic. Instead of sandy beaches were rocky outcrops and scenic overlooks. It was prime whale watching territory. The weather was calm but getting cloudy and a little cold as the mist began it’s descent again.
A break in the 101 came at Otter Crest – a scenic piece of of old highway which now seemed almost entirely reserved for cyclists, it headed up through trees past more views of the coast, before summiting a Cape Foulweather. With some company this final climb of the day was hardly noticeable as we chatted up the hill and I tried to ignore a growing pain in my right knee which had crept up on me after two days of riding after weeks and months of inactivity.
I was slightly sad to find the gift shop at the top of the cape was closed, but we were greeted with more prime views over the rugged Oregon coast which by this point felt familiar and vaguely comforting.
From there it was downhill to Beverly Beach State Park. A gigantic area with access to the beach beneath a section of the highway which crossed on the bridge above. We paid for camping (six dollars again) and popped into the welcome centre – a circular yurt type building filled with gold rush age black and white photos, a piece of a whale skull which had washed up in 2005, and free coffee.
At the camping area we were joined by a guy from Indonesia who had been at the campground the night before, a guy from Portland on his first tour, and two older guys who seemed to be living semi-permanently in the park, and on the road.
One was camped under some trees close to the road. He sang and played droning music on an acoustic guitar as the mist closed in again.