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.