Miles n' Miles

It's hard to believe that only a month ago a 50 km ride on a flat bike path to the Sooke Potholes was enough to thoroughly exhaust me. I made the trip from my house in Victoria a few days before leaving for the real thing in order to test my gear and bike, fully loaded. The ride only took three hours but it seemed to go on and on - all the way to the end of the Galloping Goose trail. When I finally got there, I sat on the rocks along the Sooke River, brimming with excitement for the adventure to come, and trying not to worry too much about the somewhat daunting daily mileages recommended in my guidebook.  It was hard to imagine switching those kilometres for miles, over what was sure to be hillier terrain, but I knew somehow that I would work my way up to it. Sure enough, a month has passed and I am now riding up to 60 miles a day, with plenty of photo-ops along the way.  Yesterday I climbed two mountains, including the highest peak on the coast, and still managed to log 58 miles. How did I get here?

It wasn't always so easy. Back on the San Juans, 30 miles was plenty to keep me busy, with pit stops at all the lovely island bakeries along the way.   As I got onto the mainland, a greater sense of purpose (now I was actually headed towards my destination) and fewer deliciously distracting eateries led me to push further, increasing my daily distances squarely over the 40 mile mark.   By the time I hit the Oregon coast, some of the days mapped out in my guidebook actually seemed feasible, though I had to break a few of them up to make time for all the enthralling sights along the way.  Soon I had ridden three days over 50 miles in a row. Maybe I would actually get to see San Francisco after all.

You may have noticed that my posts have dwindled in frequency throughout my trip. Unfortunately, more miles covered in the day means less time for blogging. Combined with nightly social gatherings with various members of the coastal bike posse, hitting the library on a regular basis has been a challenge. I may have to  enter the 21st century and buy a smart phone for my next tour.

Still, I have been really enjoying the blog project, and am thus determined to keep it up as best I can.  Back in Oregon, I started waking up earlier in hopes of leaving more time for biking and writing before sunset (my increasingly efficient packing routine was also a help - all of those who are acquainted with my scatterbrained tendencies would be proud!) The day after cycling with Rose, I sped through mile after hot, flat mile along the 101, hoping to leave myself enough time to stop at the library in Port Orford, the last town before camp.  Along the way I passed through the friendly town of Langlois, where the woman at the market thoroughly scrubbed the appled I bought with soap and water, despite the fact that she had five other customers waiting (sometimes it's the little things).  Just down the road, I ran into Katie and Brent, in their usual lemon and lime outfits, on their way to the same park as me for the night.

Katie and Brent

After a quick chat, I zoomed ahead, managing to make it to town a precious half hour before library closing time. It was enough to get in a brief post, abating my blogging guilt without cutting it too close to nightfall. On my way out of Port Orford, I stopped to take in one last phenomenal view of the ocean before heading towards camp.  As I stood leaning on the railing, a woman asked me whether I had seen the whales. "Umm, no." To me, the ocean is full of nothing but indistinguishable blobs. I stood there beside her for awhile, listening to her squeal in delight and point to spouts I kept missing, until I finally saw one. My first West Coast whale, or at least proof of its presence (note to self: next time bring binoculaurs).

A few miles later, I arrived in camp to find my old friend Chris standing at the registration booth in his Sponge Bob Square Pants jersey (an online discount purchase that has apprently become quite a hit on the road).  We hugged and talked excitedly as we caught up on the last few days. As we discussed our plans for the following day, we realized we were both aiming for the same campground, and decided to cycle together.

Chris' spongebob pose

I wish I could fly overhead and watch all of the overlapping routes of my biking buddies along the coast.  A happy little community of cycle tourists has started to form as we all head south, running into each other sporadically and catching up on our latest adventures. Perhaps an excel spreadsheet is in order (that one's for you, Rachelle ;) ) One of the fun things about this is watching how everybody goes about their daily routine just a little differently - especially how they eat.  Katie and Brent, for instance, like to take their time in the morning savouring a cup of gourmet coffee made from their french press.  In the evening, they make delicious concoctions filled with vegetables and fresh herbs. Wayne, another solo cyclist from Nanaimo, aims to hit as many fast food joints as he can along the way, in hopes of consuming enough calories to offset his raging metabolism (some guys have all the luck).

The secret to Chris' cycle success lies in chocolate milk. As he explained to me with impressively minimal usage of biochemistry jargon, it contains all the nutrients essential to muscle recovery, including a ton of protein.  The amount of potassium alone is seriously impressive. He drinks at least two a day.

Gary's power lies in beer, an extra of which he is always toting in his shirt pocket. While Chris and I agree that alcohol generally does not motivate us to cycle harder,  on our second sunny day of cycling together, we decided to indulge. After a beautiful morning ride off the highway (thanks to Chris' American Cycling Association map) Chris checked his phone in Gold Beach to see what restaurants were around (oh god, I am being beat in the technology department by a middle-aged neo-luddite) We decided on the Barnacle Bistro - a good choice.  I.P.A. has never tasted so good, nor a mushroom burger so delicous.
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Chris admiring his chocolate milk. "600 mg of potassium!!"

As we rolled into camp that evening, I had a feeling that Brent and Katie were close behind. Despite their leisurely mornings, this power couple always seems to catch up to me by the end of the day. Sure enough, about five minutes after our arrival, they strode in to greet us, looking as though they had barely broken a sweat. Life is so unfair.

The hill was worth it!!

Chris and I decided we wanted to cross the California border together. We were six miles away. We set out the following morning singing "California dreamin'" by the Beach Boys and "California" by Joni Mitchell. It was not long before we saw the sign welcoming us to the sunshine state - a moment of pure exuberance.  Chris lived in San Diego for many years, and said he felt strangely like he was coming home. I just couldn't believe I had made it all the way from Victoria. A man in his car pulled over on the other side of the road just to take a picture of us, smiling and laughing. We had arrived.

Enduringly Yours,

Dana