Day 3 – Deception Pass State Park
60 km
Woke up to a drizzling rain that became pounding before I could light the stove for breakfast. Sophie still in her tent. When she poked her head out she was beaming. Everything sodden and the prospect of a long ride in the rain, and she was unfazed. I love this girl!
After fuelling up on oatmeal we packed – everything wet – and set off. The ride down Chuckanut Drive was beautiful – even in the rain. Eventually we emerged from the forest onto a looooong, inexorably straight country road, with a stiff headwind and pelting rain. It took 90 minutes before we came to a place where we could have coffee – Sisters Drive Through, with outdoor seating for non-driving customers. At least by now the rain had stopped. Brooke (the sister on duty) served us Americanos and hot dogs, Many of her other customers, most dressed in camo gear and gumboots, had come from salmon fishing on the Samish River. There was talk of guns ‘n stuff. This is Trump territory. Trump signs outnumber Hillary’s at least two to one.
We crossed the spectacular Deception Pass Bridge and rode into the park at mid-afternoon. The wind off the water creates a constant roar as it blows through the treetops. Similar, in fact, to the roar of the military jets that seem to constantly be taking off and landing from the nearby Whidbey Island Air Force Base.
Day 4. – Port Townsend
From our campsite we can see a US Navy installation of some kind across Hood Canal. And we can still hear the occasional muscle-flexing rumble of fighter jets from the Whidbey Isl air base. For that matter, we’re camped at Fort Townsend, an old military fort from the 1850s, of which nothing now remains but weathered signage marking locations for the officer’s quarters, etc. From this spot It’s hard not to notice how large a role the military plays in America.
Day 6 – Potlatch State Park – 100 km
I met a guy of about my age dressed in camo gear (it’s very fashionable in these parts) outside the campground washrooms. He said he needed to wash the blood from his hands. He was holding a knife. This was a big guy – 6′ 3″, 250 lbs. It was dark, we were alone. I became a little concerned. Turns out he’s a hunter and had just killed an elk with a crossbow. The animal weighs 600 lbs so he had skinned and gutted it and would be returning in the morning to carry out as much as he could of the meat.
This was the most difficult day of our journey to date. We woke up to rain and it steadily got heavier. The road conditions were pretty good – consistent shoulder, rolling hills, not too steep. But wet, with a heavily gusting headwind that almost stopped me dead on a descent. Abysmal. And not helped by the absence of anywhere to stop for coffee and a warm-up for at least 40 km.
The Astoria Bridge crosses the mouth of the Columbia River. Halfway across you leave Washington and enter Oregon. But crossing that bridge is a nightmare for cyclists. First of all, it’s four miles long, and offers a shoulder exactly two feet wide. The speed limit for traffic is 50 mph, and traffic includes all the usual frighteners – logging trucks, moving vans, the ubiquitous monster RVs towing vehicles. For four miles all you can do is look at the pavement in front of your wheel and try for all you can to steer straight. It was horrific. Once we were over, I hugged Sophie in relief. She had been worried about this bridge. We had heard scary stuff. But when the time came, she didn’t hesitate, she just put her head down and carried on. Which is what’s required. Because once you’re on that bridge there’s no room for stopping, changing your mind or turning back. You’re committed for all four miles.
First of all it has to be said that Oregon rocks! The coast is spectacular, the road shoulders are (generally) wide and the beachside campgrounds are fantastic. In WA the campgrounds were in heavily forested, murky areas, often alongside the highway, with dated facilities.
Here in Oregon the state campgrounds feature free showers, clean, updated facilities and campsites in open forest with lots of light and the calming sound of the surf pounding the beach, just a short walk away. It also helps that we’re in the midst of a spell of great weather.
At Cannon Beach – a massively long strand – we ate lunch on the beach, which was surprisingly busy, with hundreds of people walking about far into the distance.
Re the rear view mirror. After a day of trying to get used to this thing, which juts from my head like an insect’s antenna and creates a massive blind spot in my forward vision, I’ve given up. (More importantly, the stupid thing looks supremely geeky.) I finally yanked it off and taped it to my handle bar, where it serves fairly well. I bought the thing because I like to keep an eye on Sophie behind me and when you turn your head while pedalling a loaded bike, it’s pretty hard to steer straight. This is not a good thing on busy roads with narrow shoulders.
Sunny and warm today – made for a good ride down the coast, overlooking the near total absence of any shoulder along the highway for most of the distance. Ironically, this could be seen as making for safer riding as you’re forced onto the road which requires drivers to slow down and actually steer a path around you. On narrow shoulders some drivers (thankfully not many) don’t bother to shift over at all, steaming past at full speed just an arm’s length away.