We were a little slow getting out of Bandon. Ron had some business to take care of and I was doing my damnedest to avoid camping. While Ron had planned his trip to include the possibility of sleeping under the open skies, using park showers, maybe waking up in the rain and traveling with wet clothes, I was not as hardy. I do have some crude devices that might give me some cheap, last ditch protection from the elements, but if I can avoid it, I will. To that end, I was busy making reservations at appropriate distances down the road to get us into California, through The Avenue Of The Giants, and out to the ocean. We are now good to there, give or take good weather. If we get wet, it won’t be in our bed. With that peace of mind, we went out the door to meet the cool sunshine.
In World Famous Langlois, established 1881 (I’m sure the population wasn’t that big), we stopped for a coffee and snack at a small market. When I pulled up, Ron was talking with a charming couple from Quebec. Since Ron had lived in Canada for a while, he could translate for me. Just joking – their English was better than mine. They were taking a year off for a long bike trip. The couple were camping on their trek from Seattle to Mexico. Once there, they planned to ship their bikes back home and ….?
At the market, I saw this dog behind the wheel. Further down the road, there were 3 dead raccoons. Two are in my picture. At this point, I believe Ron was behind me. I don’t want to accuse a dog of going after raccoons, but I know mine would!
It was another 11 miles to Port Orford. There were a lot of rolling hills and yesterday’s tail wind was nowhere to be found. It was getting warmer as we were a little more inland. My favorite lunch stop, The Crazy Norwegian, was closed today. So, we decided to try Griff’s On The Dock. I had a crab melt that wasn’t quite as good as the one in Tillamook, but it didn’t stop me from finishing it. As my Dad used to say, my eyes were too big for my stomach. I left most of some of the best fries I’ve had. All this made the next few hills extra challenging from carrying the extra weight.
The diner was at the end of the dock pictured below. Lots of pretty ocean views in town and looking back.
A few miles down the road, traffic was stopped for some road construction. As the traffic cleared, I saw the Canadian couple pedaling up the road. I sang, without the words, Oh Canada as I past them. They took it in good humor.
It was onward, around Humbug Mountain, sometimes narrow shoulders, but only light traffic. We were getting lots of ocean views as a reward for the climbs. Then we drifted back in time, to a prehistoric age.
Earlier this spring, Becky and I had done a short hike around the “Sisters” rocks. I tried to get some shots as we passed by. No hiking this time.
As we got closer to Gold Beach, the temperature started to drop, the sun disappeared behind the clouds, and fog was rolling in. The ocean breezes were getting cold. When we came to a hill overlooking the Rogue River, I pointed Ron to the fog cloud below and said “there’s the bridge that takes us to Gold Beach!”. We couldn’t see the bridge until we were almost on it, but the remaining fog blew over by the time we crossed.
As we made our way through town to the hotel, we were scoping out a place to eat. Both of us were still feeling our oversized lunches, so we were looking for something a little lighter and quick. (Of course to a biker, light is a relative term). We decided to go ahead, check in, unload and then walk back to a grocery store to get what we wanted from their deli.
A few rain drops pecked us on the head during the walk back. We’ve stayed dry so far and hope we can make it to California the same way tomorrow. Details of the ride are here.
The Not So Lone Rider