Just returned last night from a whirlwind four-day bike adventure around the Columbia River. I was an epic ride that I hope I never have to do the same way again! I'll be brief. I took the train from Seattle to Vancouver, WA and met my friend Brad and we rode into and around Portland for the day. Between Portland's abundant bike infrastructure and flat terrain (by Seattle standards, anyway) we wracked up an easy 49 miles just noodling around, crossing giant bridges, finding felafel and coffee, and checking out his favorite bike shops. Weather was glorious, mid-70s, and it was as fine a Wednesday as I can recall having.
After camping out in the yard, I awoke before dawn feeling like I'd bitten off more than I could chew but would chew anyway. Crossed the Willamette to Highway 30, took a left onto the the Scappoose-Vernonia Highway at Scappoose and climbed into the mountains. I made pretty good time for fairly loaded touring, traffic was light and the scenery lovely. I stopped and made coffee and couldn't find my camera and decided I must have left it at home, beside my toothbrush perhaps, as it was also missing. I rode some more. The terrain was mostly gently rolling hills, and apart from a decent climb at the start and a healthy climb at the end, there wasn't much to get too worked up over. The route feels remote, but there are some services at very widely spaced intervals. A few miles short of Astoria, as daylight was fading, I wandered into the Clatsop State Forest and pitched my tent and collapsed. I was so tired that dinner was water and a can of sardines, a couple cookies and lights out. It wasn't until the next, very wet, morning that I realized I had bagged my first ever 'century': 102 miles! Early the next morning I rolled down the hill into Astoria proper, and treated myself to coffee and french toast while I worked up the nerve to take on the Astoria Bridge. As intimidating as it sounded in my planning, it was nothing compared to seeing it in real life. As I approached the bridge, I was wondering how I might rework my itinerary to avoid it all together. It was raining in that classic heavy misting way that I've only seen on the northwest coast, visibility was a couple hundred yards, and the only person wearing more reflective gear than me was the flagger who told me to stop. She smiled at me at said "I can't believe you're doing this by choice..." What choice, I replied. "I can hardly swim across." We had a nice, brief conversation in the rain. She mumbled something about a bicycle into her microphone and then said "Okay, go ahead. I was only able to get you a 2 minute headstart." That was very nice of her, I thought, and having a few minutes to get used to it without traffic made a huge difference. I survived the bridge crossing, obviously, but it was the longest 21, 473 feet ever, and I don't ever want to do it again. The next five hours were the same heavy misting rain, and I didn't have a stitch of raingear; the old adage '20% chance of rain will still get you 100% wet' held true. I won't be gambling man that way again. It wasn't cold though, so I just kind of got used to it. It cleared up around mid-day and I stopped to dry out and have lunch at Bruceport county park, where I found my camera but not my toothbrush. I made it to Raymond, WA completely knackered after 66 miles, and I’d had my fill of logging trucks. There’s nowhere to camp really anywhere near Raymond, and the forest is all private tree farm, so I wasn’t comfortable with stealth camping in it. I bailed on 101 North with its guarantee of more logging trucks and their infatuation with the fog line, and took Highway 6 toward Rainbow Falls State Park. It was a fine quiet logging truck-free route, but the longest 35 miles I’ve ever ridden, even though it’s the easiest route over the coast range. I arrived at Rainbow Falls pursued by an angry Boxer trying to tear off my starboard pannier, never happier to see a campgound in my whole life. My second century in as many days, but I felt okay after a hot meal and a beer. I slept late broke camp and rode the 27 miles to the train station in Chehalis with what felt like somebody else’s legs. It was a genuine adventure, in that there were occasions where I desperately wanted to be somewhere else. And while it was fun, I don’t ever want to do another trip like it. I like touring places where I can stop and look around once in a while, see other people. Sixty miles a day, sure; a hundred? Hell no! After I left Portland, I didn’t see another bike on the road. Ever. Beautiful country down there, even in the rain. My Hunqapillar was a total champ and the most comfortable bike ever. I’d have never made a hundred miles without it, let alone twice. A scant handful of pics: http://www.flickr.com/photos/45524179@N08/sets/72157634926439361/ Thanks for reading! Shawn M. Seattle, WA -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "RBW Owners Bunch" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To post to this group, send email to [email protected]. Visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/rbw-owners-bunch. For more options, visit https://groups.google.com/groups/opt_out.
