Long Haul Truckered Out

And so it goes...
After
1023 pictures taken
802 miles ridden
44.5 miles ridden/day (average)
31 new friends/acquaintances
14 boxes of mac and cheese consumed
12 books finished
7 flat tires (including 1 explosive blowout)
5 climbs of 1-2000 vertical feet
4 tubs of peanut butter
3 states
2 successful hitchhikes
1 official rest day
0 crashes
and the list goes on...

It's actually July 23rd. The day that allegedly would arrive despite our doubts. Over a month ago, we packed our gear on a porch in Seattle, looking ahead with only our uncertainty and spandex.We rode and rode some more, but the days ticked by, congealing together into a sticky mass of west coast America. Suddenly it was July, and we could practically see the Golden Gate. So here we are; The last RPM's, revolved, the last hill, climbed and the last rainstorm, weathered. To have an adventure was our ultimate goal, and succeed we did.

No one told us it would be easy, and boy was no one right. After a harsh reality check in lovely Arcata, CA, we realized our biking selves were no longer the youthful, jovial whippersnappers we were in June. We had consumed ourselves. Out of respect for our bodies, minds and the trip itself, we decided to stop riding in Arcata and travel to San Francisco by alternate means. We were disappointed, we were sad and we were embarrassed, but pride still emanated. Before this trip, the farthest I'd ever ridden was 35 miles in a day. By mid-July, 35 miles was considered a quasi-rest day.
So we didn't go as far as intended, but who cares? The goal was adventure, and location was a second thought. At first we thought we let everyone down, we failed, but in retrospect, Au contraire! I have the tan lines to prove this was no Thursday night cruiser ride. I'm so happy that I even had the opportunity to embark on this journey, much less ride 800 miles over some of the most breathtaking scenery around.
In short, we did it. No one defined what "IT" was, but we did it, and with precision and dedication.

Bill Clinton once told the press: "Mistakes were made." In our press conference, our statement would be: "Lessons were learned." For example: When planning a bike tour, use pessimism to your advantage. Here we were, two strong 20-somethings. 1400 miles on our first tour? No sweat...Eh not so much. Both time and terrain are easy to under-estimate, so over budget and save yourself the stress.
Next: Pushing it only hurts you in the end. We rode 760 miles before giving ourselves a rest day. Excitement permeated the early weeks of the tour, so we got on our bikes every morning without a second thought. The human body--though amazing--can only take so much. We learned this the hard way, and our lack of rest was a factor in our burn out.
Finally, the biggest lesson of the trip: Relax! The whole point of a trip like this is to be without a schedule. Stop at a redwood grove, jump into the ocean, stop for that ice cream you've been craving all day. There's no  destination that won't exist tomorrow. We made the error of rushing to camp, and in doing so, missed some fabulous opportunities.

Now this all sounds so sour, but please don't get the wrong idea. Having never toured on a bike before, we were greenhorns and these lessons needed to be learned. As I often told Ally during my nightly complaints, "it's all in the job description." This was no beach-side getaway, and I'm sure glad it wasn't. We were tested again and again, both mentally and physically. From hills to rainstorms to unspoken tensions, this trip was the best teacher I've ever had. Classroom learning is nice, but try riding 75 miles in the rain. You'll learn a whole lot more about yourself than Mrs. Darcy could ever teach you. Conversation was next to impossible on the road, so we both spent hundreds of hours inside our own heads. I know we're good company, but after 10 hours of hearing our own stories over and over...you get the picture.

So it's over. We're home, the bikes are in the shed, panniers empty,--waiting to be bleached--and muscles recovered. We made it. Safe and sound, looking forward to the next time we load up the long hauls and set out for a west coast sunset.

Thanks for sticking with us! Couldn't have done it without you.

More like Soregon

My how time flies! Since we last spoke, big moves have been made. For example, due to budget cuts, our  terminus is now San Fransisco, CA. We've also entered our third out of 3 states, and pedaled over 750 miles! The days have begun to ooze together too much to give you a stat sheet, but we're doing more miles every day, eating significantly more, and seeing some of the most beautiful sights we ever have...so many, in fact, that we're both sick of the word "scenic."

Camping on the Lord's Lawn

Happy birthday, America

We ended our last conversation in Portland, OR. Our plan was to catch a ride back to Astoria, and continue like nothing had ever happened. However, we realized we are on a bike trip, and thus decided to ride back to the coast. An easy 80 miles...or so we thought. After a day full of tribulations, from my knee decided to spasm every other pedal stroke, to getting pretty well lost, we entered the hamlet of Carlton, OR. Deep in Oregon wine country, this cute little village featured quaint B&B's, classy cafes and BMWs in driveways. None of those things were encouraging. Luckily, the ladies at the Carlton Community Worship were as kind as could be, and gave us the church lawn to sleep on.  Something I hadn't anticipated about this trip is working around being homeless -- asking ourselves on a daily basis, where will we sleep tonight? And yet, we find homes and friends everywhere, in churchyards and four year-olds and dogs on leashes.  In grocery stores, outside restaurants, inside diners and on the rainy crossroads of highways.  In every town we've ridden through, we've found people interested and eager to help.  In this, we find a home for every situation and every moment.  We awoke early, on the birthday of this great nation, and rode an easy 50 miles to the coast. Fresh produce stands dotted the wayside, so naturally we sampled the fare (including an all-American cheeseburger and root beer) and enjoyed the sunshine. It felt great to be on the Great Pacific once again.

Fort Stevens State Park

The Darlingtonia californica: a
carnivorous plant local to southern
Oregon and northern California.
Darling, isn't it?

The subsequent coast was fairly uneventful. We rode through Newport, a seaside tourist town with a superb bike shop, then came Florence, Coos Bay and Reedsport in quick succession. All these coastal towns blend together after a while. Bakeries, diners, small boutiques and pastels made the rest of the Oregon coast whiz by.  We were sad to have left behind our surfboard-towing friends but more were to be made.  We played on the sand dunes south of Newport, listened to a fellow tourer, Mars, play classical guitar and then traveled to Sunset Bay, a traffic heavy, relatively boring day.  Unfortunate, given that it was Dory's birthday.  Though Dory's banana boat (that is, a banana sliced open, filled with marshmallows and chocolate chips, wrapped in tin foil and thrown in the fire to roast) birthday wishes did not come true (we failed to purchase groceries in Coos Bay and the "grocery stores" in Charleston were selling rotten bananas), the evening was saved by a new surfing friend, who produced, seemingly from nowhere, a delicious coffee cake with which we drank champagne.

A milestone!

Side note: I just finished Ken Kesey's "Sometime a Great Notion." Not only is it one of the most incredible literary feats I've ever witnessed, but it's an ideal tour guide of the Oregon coast. Every town we went through was mentioned several times, and I had a background on area before entering. Highly recommended, whether traveling through or not.

Thank you, California.

We arrived in California on July 10th, to sunny weather and giant Redwoods.  Our first BIG hill of the trip was preceded by a mild food-poisoning incident.  Dory survived, made it up the hill, and will be avoiding walnuts for the duration of the trip.  The redwoods immediately amazed us.  Those of you who have visited know that there are no words, and those of you who have not will have to imagine.  We rested at the southern tip of Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park -- our first rest day since Portland.  And here we are in Arcata, California, which seems to be the Missoula of the Pacific Coast.

Redwoods depend on dense coastal fog for
one third of their annual moisture intake. FACT

California is surprising. I was picturing a glittering metropolis full of glamour and bikinis beginning at the "Welcome to California" sign. Instead--much like Oregon--there is heavy backwood influence, small, forested towns, and big (the biggest yet) hills. Of course this will change as we get closer to our final metropolis, but surprising nonetheless. On a positive note, the first morning we woke up in CA, I could tell we were in a new place. Not only were we surrounded by the biggest feats of natural engineering I'd ever seen, but the air was new. Crisp, refreshing, downright fragrant. What a way to wake up.

More pictures, philosophical musings and self-validating blabber to come...

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