Back to the Mainland

The forecast was correct and the rain passed overnight, so we awoke to a bright, if chilly morning -- temps around 45 degrees. After getting led around in circles by the GPS for about 30 minutes, I finally managed to get the bike to CAN 1 and headed north towards Nanaimo. Nanaimo's on the east coast of Vancouver island about 90 minutes north of Victoria. It's been a major seaport since the 1800s when it was a major coaling station for steamships heading to Alaska. It's now the primary hub for ferry traffice between Vancouver Island and the mainland.

The ferry was much larger then the one from Port Angeles -- capacity was about 300 cars on three decks, although there were less than 200 on our boat. There were about 40 motorcycles this time, and as usual we spent our time waiting swapping ride stories and advice on routes and places to stay. It was another sunny day, so most everybody heading to the top deck to catch some rays, and I'm afraid that my nose and the top of my balding head are telling me this evening that I overdid it.

After we disembarked, we headed into Horseshoe Bay and then jumped on the Sky to Heaven highway (BC99) heading up the fjord to Whistler. They are overhauling the road in anticipation of the Olympics later this year, and while things are nearly finished, some parts of the the road are still getting work. We made good time, but still pulled into the hotel about 10 minutes after my first meeting got underway. The suites in the Westin, where the meeting is being held, are spacious and have nice little efficiency kitchenettes, but I'm definitely glad we're not paying the regular rate for this place.

I'm not sure whether I'll be doing much blogging for the next 3 or 4 days while the meeting is on. I wouldn't want to bore you with business, but we do have some interesting social events planned, so I may write an update or two. Stay tuned.

Around Victoria

Our bed in the Delta Victoria was one of the most comfortable I ever remember, and it was certainly with some reservations that I even got out of bed this morning. However, both Gi and I were anxious to visit Butchert Gardens, which many friends and colleagues had raved about to us through the years. We finally left the hotel at a sluggardly 11 AM, looking for coffee and a pastry. I'm pretty sure Gi was disappointed when I didn't find some quaint little French coffee shop, but instead stopped at a Tim Horton's for coffee and a breakfast sandwich. (For those not acquainted with Canadian culture, Tim Horton's is more or less the Dunkin' Donuts of Canada.)

The Gardens were everything we had heard. The local planting zone is about 8A, which is only about a half zone different from Athens. However, the maritime climate means that summer is like one long spring in our neck of the woods. The flowers grow large and profuse, and we were lucky enough to hit the place right at its peak. We were also lucky enough to enjoy another day of brilliant weather. I think I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.































We could have spent the day in the gardens, but decided that we needed some time to walk around the city center during the daylight hours. Although the crowds around the waterfront can really swell when a cruise ship docks and the passengers take some shore leave, overall we found the city to be beautiful, easy to navigate, just large enough to have all the culture you would probably want for city living, and small enough that you could get away into the wilds up-island in no time. All in all, it seems like Victoria would be a terrific place to live. Of course, just like every other visit, we've lucked into some beautiful weather during the best season of the year. (I spent a few days in Vancouver last February, and it was just as damp, cold and dark as had always been described to me.)

Still, it was pretty cool to see all the float plane traffic in and out of the harbor -- some just flying circle tours around the city, but most actually flying routes to resort areas elsewhere on the island. Although the afternoon was bright and clear enough that we could see Mount Olympus across the strait (it's in one of the pictures if you look closely), a front moved in late in the day while Gi and I were enjoying an IMAX film ("Ocean Oasis"). A soft drizzle started as we left Canoe, the brewhouse/restaurant where we had dinner (two thumbs up for casual dining with the locals), and it turned to light rain after we were safely ensconced in our room for the night. Fortunately, it's a weak front and should blow through and out overnight, so the weather here and in Whistler should be back to Excellent for our trip up into the mountains.

Up the Olympic Penninsula

Last night, after considering the slow times we had made along the coast yesterday and the fact that we wanted to make sure to catch the 5:15 ferry from Port Angeles to Victoria, prudence demanded that we head back inland and take the Interstate north. Of course, wouldn't you know it, the morning dawned bright, blue and calm, but the die had been cast. So we picked up OR 18 and headed toward Portland. It was a pretty ride through the Willamette Valley and coming through McMinnville we passed the Evergreen Aviation Museum. The name rang a bell, but it was until this evening when I got online that I was able to find out that this museum is where Howard Hughes' Spruce Goose now resides. THAT certainly explains the size of the buildings, and probably also explains where the money came from to build such an extravagant set of buildings. I hope I can come back to visit inside one day.


Portland was enjoying a sunny and clear morning as we crossed the Columbia River. I don't know how it happens, but every time Gi visits, Portland is sunny and lovely. I know she's getting the wrong idea about this place.

Traffic on I-5 was pretty miserable, particularly after our luxurious tours of the backroads the past few days. I don't know when I've seen so many putzes tooling along under the speed limit in the left lane. I hate weaving through Interstate traffic, but they left me no choice. Fortunately, it was only about 120 miles from Portland to Olympia, WA, where Hwy 101 branches off from the Interstate and heads north along the Hood Canal and up the Olympic Peninsula.


Gi got some lovely pictures along the canal -- local people gathering clams and other bivalves at low tide, fishing boats at anchor on some of the smoothest, flatest salt water you'll ever see. I'm only sorry that she didn't catch some of the fireworks stands set up one on top of another around the Skokomish reservation. I particularly liked the one named "Illegal Fireworks." A lot of the route was windy, tree-lined two-lane -- absolutely a top-notch scenic drive -- and the traffic wasn't too bad considering that it was a Friday.


The Interstate detour got us to Port Angeles way ahead of schedule -- we were there at 3 PM for the 5:15 ferry. Even so, four bikes were ahead of us, although another eight bikes arrived later. The award for most humorous comment of the day goes to the young woman running the ferry ticket office. We pulled up to the ticket window on the motorcycle and she waved us through to go park the bike and come back inside to buy our tickets. Believe it or not, the first question out of her mouth when we walked up to the counter was, "Is there just the two of you?"

We took advantage of the interlude to catch a bit of lunch at a nearby cafe where Gi had a crab cake sandwich and I had a basket of fried oysters ... mmm, mmm. Although we had encountered some clouds coming up the east side of the peninsula, they were all burned off over Port Angeles and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. In fact, the clouds were pretty much gone from the mountains behind the city and I was actually able to see the Cascades and Mount Olympus clearly for the first time ever.


Of course, the 90 minute ferry ride to Victoria was brisk -- even a little wind coming off THAT water will put a chill in your bones. And then we ended up circling just outside Victoria harbor (kind of like an airliner when traffic gets backed up) because one of the Princess Cruise ships was just leaving port to head up the Inside Passage. When we finally got to port, it was the usual scramble of choking fumes as people kept starting and stopping engines in anticipation. This particular ferry, unlike others we've taken the bike on, loaded motorcycles last and didn't let them off early, but since the deck wasn't full of cars, we managed to jockey around and got off before most of the other vehicles.

So, we splurged a bit and for the next couple of nights we'll be pampering ourselves at the Delta Ocean Pointe resort. A long soak in the jacuzzi really helped ease the ache out of our butts, but I can't say we were highly motivated to leave the room later. We finally did force ourselves to head out for a walk on a chilly evening. The downtown center is charming and full of interesting shops. We found a tapas bar for a light, late meal (grilled chicken pizza for Gi and grilled Portuguese sardines for me), before wandering back to the hotel to crash.

The Oregon Coast

Who would have guessed that Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett would die on the same day? It was a strange way to end our day, coming off the road to hear this news.

When Gi and I came back to the room after dinner last night, we were both a bit concerned about how the place smelled a bit like a locker room. I think we're both in need of a laundry; not only to wash street clothes that we have worn, but more importantly to get some of the sweat and road grime off our biking gear. Gi's wearing mostly new gear, but mine's been around the block on several long trips and think this might be the last roundup for a couple of items. Anyway, we're hoping that Paula was able to get that smell out of our room, and that we'll be welcomed back for one of her sumptuous breakfasts some other day. At least she was till smiling when she snapped the shot of us in the frong room of the Inn.


Back in Davis we decided to change our itinerary slightly and I had booked a hotel in Lincoln City rather than Tillamook. It wasn't much of a decision given that we only saw online listings for about 3 motels in Tillmook, but about 30 in Lincoln City. It would make the ride from Ferndale a bit shorter, but it did raise some concerns about lengthening the ride on Friday. Regardless, we hit the road by about 10 AM, headed For Crescent City and the California border. The day was clear, but chilly -- as expected. In anticipation, last night I installed the connector leads for Gi's new Gerbings electric jacket, and from the lack of major complaints about the cold it must have worked. However, while we had prepared for rain and cold, I had completely forgotten about the wind. Yesterday had been fairly calm, but there was a steady, stiff breeze coming from NNW at 25-30 mph. Other than being cold enough to cut through my riding gear AND some of the insulation underneath, the wind wasn't much trouble for me, but as we banked around corners, particularly on the headlands and around exposed points, it bounced Gi all over the back seat and she had enough trouble hanging on to me that I had to cut speed back to something akin to the speed limit. We had faced some pretty stiff breezes in parts of Nevada, but this wind was much more unpredictable, and it was the first time I ever remember having to fight to keep the bike on a straight course.


After passing Trees of Mystery with its giant staues of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox, we passed through the Del Norte Coast Redwoods SP just south of Crescent City. (I'm still wondering why they misappropriated characters from the Great North Woods to represent the lumberjacks and timber barons of the Pacific Northwest.) Anyway, as far as driving through the redwoods on a highway, this is the best stretch of road, except maybe for the Avenue of the Giants. Maybe it was just the morning light and the fact that this was the main road. Anyway, we both were sorry we couldn't stop and explore some more.

Despite the wind, the Oregon coast, particularly the southern end, was one spectacular panorama after another -- abrupt cliffs, crashing waves, and rocky spires sticking like claws from swirling white waters. Only the seabirds soaring overhead, and the sea lions basking on rocks 20 feet above the water line (how the dickens did they get up that high?) could take this place with nonchalance. The wind wouldn't let a person sit at ease for a second. In fact, it was so bad that it blew spray from the waves over the road and frosted our helmet face shields with salt rime -- definitely a first for me.


Gi and I have decided that the highway engineers from Oregon and Georgia were trained in the same school. Pretty much everything on rural Oregon roads seems designed to frustrate drivers; infect, every Oregon road map should come with a warning sticker that says, "Caution, you may be traveling slower than indicated by this map." Oh, and another thing while I'm complaining. What is it with the mandatory station attendant who must come and pump your gas for you -- or in the case of motorcycles, punch in an access code after you've swiped your credit card so that you can pump your own gas?

A couple of places to note along the road were the ever-enticing Oregon Dunes -- about 30 linear miles of beach backed by huge dunes. I still have an image of jumping off the top of a dune and rolling down etched in my memory from a trip to these dunes made with Mom, Dad and Jan at a time when i was too young to be having memories.

Unrelated, but still worthy of note, was driving by the Rouge Brewery in Newport, at the mouth of the Rogue River. I thoroughly enjoyed a bottle of their Mocha Porter with dinner last night.


Anyway, a 7 hour drive ended up being nearly 8.5 hours, and we were cold tired and hungry by the time we hit Lincoln City. Fortunately, the hotel proved to be a pleasant surprise perched above a big, wide sandy beach. You could even drive down to the sand and park your car on the beach -- something I hadn't seen in a long time. Anyway, the girl at the front desk recommended the Andaman Thai Cuisine restaurant, and we'll now second that recommendation. Service a bit slow at this Mom and Pop stop, but that was due to Pop. (He was very nice, though.) However, Mom's cooking was terrific. I'm not sure Lincoln City deserves the food -- the place should have been packed if it all tasted like what I ate. After dinner we still had time to kick our shoes off and walk the beach at sunset.

Our Day in The Redwoods

We had a couple of choices for how to spend our extra day in the redwoods. There's a little traveled coast road that runs south out of Ferndale along a section of coastline called "The Lost Coast" before doubling back into Humbolt Redwoods. Alternatively, we could run north through Eureka and Arcata to Redwood National Park and Prairie Creek State Park to do a little hiking amongst the big trees. Gi really wanted time off the bike, so north we went. The day was beautiful, as you'll see from the photos, but had I calculated the distance up to Prairie Creek and back to Ferndale, I'm not so sure we would choose the same way again. I guess The Lost Coast will have to wait until next time.

It had been 40 years since my last visit to this area. In 1969 I visited Prairie Creek State Park with my 6th grade class from Bird Street Elementary (Oroville, CA) where we attended the dedication of the Children's Grove of redwoods and accepted them on behalf of the children of California. We drove through Prairie Creek on this visit via the Parkway, but didn't actually trek back in to see the Children's Grove. We did stop and hike the 1 mile loop through the Lady Bird Johnson Grove. The tree I parked the bike next to is at the parking lot near the trailhead -- it's big, but definitely not one of the really big ones. You can't help but hold these trees in awe, and whether you are looking up trying to see their tops or just stretching your arms out to gauge the size of their trunks it's hard not to think about what these forests must have been like before the loggers arrived on this coast.



























Gi was amazed by the ferns, which sometimes reached nearly over her head. The rhododendrons were still in full bloom , and we were treated to a variety of other wildflowers, including iris and foxgloves (where light from gaps in the canopyreached the forest floor). The trillium flowers were long since past, but the trifoliate leaves were the biggest I had ever seen. As with most of the other plants in this area, the combination of diffuse light, cool and stable temperatures, and lots of fog seems to lead to all sorts of giant plants.

Along the road between the Lady Bird Johnson grove and Prairie Creek we spotted a herd of Roosevelt elk grazing in a meadow just off the road. I remember the stories from when I was a kid how these elk were nearly extirpated, and I seem to recall that the total population dropped to less the 100 individuals. I had not seen them before, but I understand that the herd is now around 5000.

On the way back to Ferndale we stopped at Trinidad to get get drinks, and then drove down to the cliff above the harbor. It's a beautiful spot and it's easy to see why it has become a little enclave of expensive homes hugging the wind-swept cliffs. I had a flashback while I was there and recalled that this was the same beach where my 6th grasde class had gone exploring tidal pools after the redwood dedication ceremony. Humbolt State has their marine station there, and I remembered that our teacher had arranged for a "marine biologist" to accompany us on the beach to explain what we were finding amongst the rocks. It would have been great fun to go back down to poke around, but there wasn't time.

Back in the area near Ferndale I finally noticed the tsunami warning signs that we subsequently noticed along all the low-lying stretches of coast. Gi was too tired to bother looking back to smile -- sorry!

There's a huge, but mostly deserted beach about 3-4 miles west of Ferndale. Not much in the way of tidal pools, but a lot of sand that you can have pretty much to yourself most days. I tried to run the bike up a windy little road above the beach, but eventually found myself in a dead-end at some sort of fenced off naval facility.

Finally, it was back to town and dinner at the other real restaurant in town -- the Ivanhoe. Although the meal didn't quite rate s high as the night before at Curly's, my filet was excellent and Gi seemed to enjoy her past del mare.