Climb Every Cape, Part II

Halfway up Cape Lookout



These words of encouragement
would have been more useful at the bottom of the hill!

 In flipping through my guidebook prior to starting my trip, I came across a description of a day's ride marked by three major climbs over three capes. I recall thinking that would be a tough day, and hoping I was ready for it when the time came. When I opened my book in the morning at Cape Lookout, I realized that the big day had arrived.

There was no messing around; the route began by climbing directly up Cape Lookout (I knew the name of that park sounded hilly!) Nothing like climbing three miles up a mountain to wake you up in the morning. Luckily the sun was shining and the views from the top provided inspiration for the climbs ahead.

Cape Kiwanda

My next stop was Cape Kiwanda, a popular spot for surfing, and my first opportunity to climb one of Oregon's many magnificent sand dunes. I took my time picnicking on the beach and exploring the steep sandy ridge before hopping back on the bike for the inevitable second climb up Cascade Head.

 I'm not sure whether the hill was steeper or if I was just more tired, but this was a tough one. Just when I thought I had to be close, a cyclist headed downhill the other way gave me a sympathy shout: "It gets better!"  This was hardly comforting. If I was actually close he would have said "almost there," not "it gets better."  How, exactly, does it get better, I wanted to ask. By going back down?  Cause I kind of already knew that. Thanks for nothing, Dan Savage.

Cape Kiwanda

After what felt like an interminable climb, I finally reached the viewless, forested peak, marked by nothing but a gravel turnout. You win some, you lose some. 

Soon I was rolling into Lincoln City. Exhausted, I decided to leave the third climb for tomorrow and head instead to Devil's Lake State Park, right off the main drag.  The park itself was nothing special, but I did meet some pretty remarkable people there. First there was Chuck, the most impressive traveler I have met on my journey by far.  Chuck did not have a bicycle - he had a longboard.  And he had ridden it all the way from Arizona, heading north, into the wind (he was headed to Portland to visit a friend).  As I learned this I thought about the hill I had just flown down. "How do you brake on a big hill??" I asked, flabbergasted.

The amazing Chuck

Chuck explained that after burning through his first pair of shoes, he developed a duct tape braking system, piling the stuff on his soles on a daily basis in order to keep them intact. And you thought I was crazy, Mom. 

Props to you Chuck, wherever you are out there. 

The other person I met at the campground was Chris, a biochemist turned investment advisor. Chris was also a musician and a great conversationalist. We shared a picnic table at Devil's Lake for the first of many nights. 

On the road, the myriad worries of life boil down to the essentials: food, sleep, shower and laundry.  The abundance of towns and campgrounds make most of this a breeze, but laundry can be tricky. It was hard enough finding the time to let washed clothes dry in the hot sun of inland Washington.  I  managed to make it work only by arranging the still damp items artfully under my bungee cord straps before heading out for the day's ride.  But in the coastal rainforest of Oregon, that system was just not going to cut it. With this sad reality on my mind, and only one pair of clean socks left, I decided to take advantage of the park's city locale to visit my first laundromat. This provided a good opportunity to do some writing, and also treat myself to Dairy Queen just down the street. Oh, the night life of a cycle tourist.

Devil's Punchbowl

The next morning, the sky was clear blue. On his way out, Chris remarked that it was going to be another sunny day. Half an hour later, it was raining. Now I know why people laugh at me here when I inquire about the weather forecast (the usual response being "it could rain at any time"). I suppose I couldn't expect to stay dry on the coast forever.

In the end, the drizzle was no problem at all. Dreary enough to let Cape Foulweather make good its name, but mild enough to act as a pleasant coolant while I climbed. On the other side of the hill, I checked out Devil's Punchbowl, an area where the surf washes through a small rock aperture.  After marveling at the churning waters, I stopped in at Mo's - a popular seafood restaurant chain on the coast - for lunch. Mo's is known for having the world's best clam chowder (Jerry has vouched for this), and although cream does not make for great bike riding food, on this soggy morning I couldn't resist.

Chris taking a picture of the sunset

The sun came out in the afternoon. I stopped at the Oregon State University Science Centre, where I met Ursula the octopus and created my own solar system (it's really fun to watch what happens when you add a second sun). When I arrived at my campground of choice for the evening, I was pleasantly surprised to run into Chris. We went out to the beach to watch the sunset, and spent the evening talking about everything from families and careers to philosophy and music. It's amazing how the freedom and anonymity of the road can make conversation flow. As usual, I slept like a baby, dreaming of flat prairie highways.

Love always,

Dana