Near Century

August 5th
Standish Hickey - Point Arena Lighthouse
99.99 m, 8 hrs., 12.5 mph

I got up around 7:30 - the great thing about having other guys at your campsite is the guilt trip they induce with their early-birdness. I went to the little store across the highway, which was just settling down from the Hemp Fest traffic. The breakfast burrito turned out to be pre-made. Sometimes they get you.

My new biker friend John mentioned his room at the light house once again, and that it was 83 miles. I told him thanks but not likely.

Just a few miles down the road, I made the split onto Highway 1. Goodbye 101. The ascent of Legget Hill started shortly thereafter. It was a long grind, but not the most painful one. There were a lot of semi-plateaus throughout the hill, which made for leg rest. I decided that if I could ride this hill on my 3rd highest front sprocket, then I could ride 83 miles. Sparks of determination, few and far between - yet powerful.

The top of Legget was the highest point of the trip. The view was one of different hills (I climbed to the top of a hill), not too impressive compared to some of the other shots I'd seen. Going down the hill was a blast - so much fun! Curves non-stop. I got my first of 5 comments on my sign, as a passenger muttered "damn bikers".

I passed the Virginian dudes, then shortly got into Westport, a tiny town on the coast. The temperature changed about 15 degrees from the top of Legget to the coast, so I played jacket charades. Hot sweat turns to cold chills pretty quickly.

I had a sandwhich with the older guy that had camped with us (Steve?) It was very overpriced, which kind of made sense considering that Westport is in the middle of nowhere. Smelling the herbal wave of the shop owner, I conjectured that my money was going the way of Hemp Fest. Saw an older couple in the store... "are they the old Swiss couple that biked from Toronto"?

I came into Fort Bragg, a sweet town. And a real town! Man I miss cities, as much as I love being in the country. It's a comfort blanket, I guess. Made a stop at the bank, took a picture of a huge Redwood cross-section, took a picture of a gray squirrel at the park (huge!), and went to Safeway. Bought my first GQ. Seth Rogen! The lunch man loaded my "California Dreamin" with extra meat and free cheese. That's the joy of traveling, everyone's out to help you.

I'd ridden about 40 miles, and the sign for Point Arena said 53 miles. Sweet, it's 93 miles away, not 83. Oh well, I'm the man. The rest of the ride was full of countless switchbacks, cow pastures, and different cliffscapes than I'd seen before. I rode past a herd (that's right) of Turkey Vultures. Those things are intimidating.

The town of Mendocino is perfect for touring. Any person that wants to forget the rest of the world's problems should just go there. Perfect for any old WASP.

(White Anglo Saxon Protestant)

At mile 70ish I started to feel light-headed. But I was so emphatic over the prospect of completing a century that I didn't perceive pain, merely stupid bliss. This was my favorite ride for sure. My legs felt great. After the upside of a switchback (Navarro Beach), I stopped at a driveway to finish one of my 6 inchers. A contractor pulled up and offered to let me in the house for water. The views from that cliff-house were spectacular, and it was great to hear more about the local weather cycles and whale migrations, etc.

I made it up the toughest switch-back (so steep!), so close to a "stand-still fall". It had the moment where you wonder whether you will get another pedal stroke in. But I did it. Officially BA!

All of this on my largest front sprocket, I made it to Point Arena. The lighthouse was 2 miles down the road, which was a problem - considering that I had just 95 miles on my computer. So I rode up and down that damn road. Well, at least a 1/4 mile of it. I would turn around, only to face a hill I didn't want to go up. Turning away from that, I faced some headwind typical of a cape. Well I had to make it to 99.99 at least, in honor of the Dodgers new acquisition - Manny Ramirez. Coming to 99.8, I made a turn in a gravel parking lot, and my bike went out from under me. I was hopping with a skinned knee and a bruised elbow, too tired to laugh at myself, but excited that I had some great material to end this great day. So typical of me to make it so far in something and then remind myself that I am still the kid that was too scared to race his bike down the driveway. I walked my bike to 99.99.

The light house room was awesome. I had a shower, jumped on the bed, and ate all the York peppermints in the bowl.

Today's Sign: "Damn Bikers"

Tuff Stuff

Aug 4th, Monday

Hidden Springs - Standish Hickey St. Park
38 miles, 4 hrs, 11 mph

My legs felt pretty good today as I left the Avenue of the Giants. Stopped to talk to some Canadian bikers, then left shortly after 4 guys from Virginia passed us. Going up a steep hill, I decided to be a tough guy, especially since everyone was going slow. I passed the Canadians in the middle of the hill and the Virginians near the top. I asked them how they slept as I passed them on the crest. It was a sinister comment in sheeps clothing, but I don't think they got it, as I was the one in a wierd competitive mode.

Shortly after this sprint I pulled into Gerberville, a cool summer town that had all the amenities. I got some laundry going , ate lunch at a burger joint, realized I had lost my wallet, then found it at the laundromat. It started to get hot out (I was inland), I had a burger, and that last sprint was taxing. Sometimes I wonder why I do what I do.

I started to hit some real heat as I got back on the road, going up some hills that were fairly steep. The heat kicked my butt more than anything and I realized that I wasn't going to make my 60 mile goal for the day. I pooped out at 38 miles, stopping at Standish Hickey State Park. I camped with the Virginians and a guy from Eugene (Steve?). They thought I was long gone after my cocky show earlier in the day. Funny, while I was passing them all I could think about was "slow and easy wins the race".

Met a guy named John who worked at Amazon, he was touring from Eugene to San Fran and was pretty pooped. We talked baseball and careers, etc. He mentioned that he had a room reserved at the Point Arena Lighthouse, 83 miles away. If I made it, I could have it for free. I told him it was unlikely that I would be up for it, especially considering that the first 5 miles of the day were to be up Leggett Hill. Little did I know...

Sign of the day: "Skip, Hop, and a Jump"

Mingo Bianchi, Baseball Player

3rd of August

Eureka - Hidden Springs State Park

55 miles, 4 hrs, 13.33 avg

I stole the covers - from the bottom of the bed! They made great padding for the floor. The breakfast at the Red Lion was awesome. All this luxury seems to have made me soft, though, as I didn't really feel like riding my bike. I just wanted to suit up and go to the park.

Those of you who might object to me hitch-hiking and bumming rides for twenty miles can just sit down, as I rode a twenty mile section for the second time. "Hey, I peed there, hey there's that litter again, hey, there's that dead raccoon again, hey last time I could see the beach from here, what's with the fog?".

Having nothing new to look at was boring. I noticed my fingernails were really long. In fact, it hurts to scratch myself. Having nothing to rejoice over, discover, or think about, I started acting funny. That was just what I needed - going nuts beats boredom.

I stopped for lunch in tiny Rio Del, at this place called Mingo's. Mingo Bianchi was a ballplayer way back when. I asked the bartender about the pictures and story goes that Joe Dimaggio played with him some, at a park in nearby Scotia. There's a picture of the park and a tree Joltin' Joe hit a ball over.

I took the cutoff to the Avenue of the Giants. This is a 30 mile stretch with huge Redwoods, making the shade and scenery really nice. I stopped in a town to get groceries... it was getting late and I was in a hurry to set up camp when a guy talked to me about touring... for a 1/2 hour. I told myself I wanted to hit him, which is very odd - maybe I really am going crazy. He told me what to do in San Francisco, three times over, and I was aggravated because he of all people should know that it's near-dark and I'm not at camp yet. Small town, I guess.

So I strolled into Hidden Springs and told the ranger (who'd just heard a ridiculous complaint from a perma-camper, about another campground) that I wouldn't reveal my own stressful, bickering, no-good-for-nothing story. I wouldn't stoop, and I wouldn't make her day any worse. She insisted, I obliged.

Sign: Stories for Food

Have You Seen My Baseball?

Eureka - Arcata?!
20 miles

I woke up a quarter to 8, the sun was shining on the little spit of Samoa Beach. I guess I hadn't zipped my back pack, Raccoons got into my loaf of bread. There was sand and bread crumbs all over my bike. Lesson learned I guess.

Kendall took us all to the Samoa Cookhouse, in operation since 1893. It used to be a big cafeteria for the loggers that worked in Eureka. They had some crazy pictures of Redwood stumps that dozens of people could sit on. Just like the old logging days, you just sat down and ate whatever they cooked for the day, which was cool. A hot breakfast is a cyclist's best friend. I decided to bike south, though I kind of wanted an off day and thought of going to the hippie festival with all the guys. They were a fun group from Red Bluff, CA.

I rode 20 miles to Fortuna and stopped for more breakfast. My legs were feeling good about the next 30 miles. That was disrupted when I read the paper - some of my buddies were playing a double-header at the baseball field I'd seen, back in Arcata. I decided to follow the spirit of adventure and of Vonnegut's Bokononism, which states: "Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God". So I backtracked, taking a bus this time.

Watching batting practice, I yelled out some advice to my buddy Kyle Kuenzi. All the George Fox guys (Taylor, Mitch, Dan) said, "Nate? How the heck did you get here?" It was a fun surprise. I sat with Kyle's parents and told everyone about my biking adventures. Just recruiting more blog readers. Watching summer baseball really made me miss the game, and the atmosphere in Arcata was awesome. 1,000 fans showed up to the game, including a brass band that got larger and drunker as the game went on. The umpire tried to throw them out of the game after they played "three blind mice" (referring to a bad call). Better yet, there was some animosity between the teams as players were spiking during double plays and hitting batsmen in retaliation. I almost witnessed a small town brawl, and would've joined it if it weren't for the fact that the other team was full of huge D1 guys and an honorary guest linebacker from USC.

It was a rough night, as the Kuenzi's and the club manager gave me the hospitality of a good dinner and a floor at the Red Lion Hotel in Eureka.

Mom Mom I Made New Friends!

Friday 1st
Elk Prairie - Samoa County Park (Eureka)
60.4, 4:35, 13.16

I bought Thoreau's book "Walden: Life in the Woods" at the campground, and stuck it in between my sleeping pad and pannier. I immediately passed two older Canadians, when I talked with them they mentioned that their wives were bringing them lunch. Still, I think they envied my homelessness.

I passed between a herd of Elk and a herd of tourists - the Elk were sitting on the side of the road, maybe 15 of them. At mile 27 I rolled into Trinidad and had a mondo burger. The bay there is awesome and the town is pretty up key, if that's a term.

I got a blackberry cobbler at a restaraunt there, shortly after performing my first stand-still fall in the parking lot. This is when you ride into an awquard situation, have no where to pedal, and forget to unclip your cleats. It makes for an awquard, stiltsy fall. Luckily I caught a car with my hand, so there was no physical pain to go with my embarassment.

I rode into Eureka, maybe the biggest town I've been through. Just before it I stopped at Humboldt State University in Arcata and tried to witness to a commuter-cyclist-student about the joys of touring. I also passed a baseball field full of guys my age and wondered who they played.

Anyways, Eureka was dirty and I found out that my campsite wasn't a campsite. The locals pointed me towards the beach, and I got that empty homeless feeling I haf in Tillamook. Plus it was cold out.

I saw a sign for the Samoa County Park, and when I came to it a camper waved at me. I came to his campsite and got some fortunate hospitality. It was an older guy named Kendall and his 4 nephews - Jr, Kolby, Travis, and Anthony. I had barbecued steak and and told some stories. Kendall complimented me on my trip and lent some wisdom to us all. They were great guys, I finally had a family haha. Kendall even let me sleep in his truck.

Todays sign: Do it for Anne

Can Wait

I started out and got breakfast goods from the freddies in Brookings. Crossing into California, I realized I hadn't been there since I was 8. Coming to a construction stop and seeing two signer ladies wearing Moon Boots, I realized I was in California.

I passed the Aussie and taled with him for a bit. I don't thin he knew how entertaing and disturbing he was. He vered off to get his noon pint shortly after I left him, as he struggled up a gentle slope ("my bike doesn't do hills").

I came through Crescent City and picked up some bread. I also went to the Redwoods Headquarters, which was helpful. I passed a hitch-hiker I'd seen before and congratulated him on his progress. And of course, I stopped at a coffee stand for water.

At the base of the legendary hill, I stopped to let my food digest further. I'd heard stories about this one and it's ascent bore an ominous (?) feeling in my gut. The horror tales turned out to be true, as it was completely shaded, without a shoulder, and graded at 6% without ever letting up. My lower back was screaming. Near the top I said, "that's a big honkin' tree"! I had my first look at the giant Redwoods and their Twizzler bark.

The descent was especially frightening, and I knew it would be. I almost caught gravel at one point, but I made it out by the tread of my rubber.

I rode through Klamath and other towns. I started into river country, with lots of bridges and different landscapes. The side route to Elk Prairie State Park had another huge climb, but the descent was a lot of fun, through the shade of the Redwods. I stopped 50 yards in front of a 3 point Elk, who looked me over and trotted off.

Finally into camp, I was attacked by Mosquitoes and the metal tubing I bought for my tent pole broke. It still worked, just didn't look very good. I would've A-framed my tarp if I wasn't in bear country.

I came up with a name for my Lemond bike: "Can Wait", as in "LeMonday Can Wait".

Todays sign: Fornia I Warnya
Todays quote: Dickens refers to faucets as "water butts"

USA!

Wednesday 30th
Humbug Mountan (Port Orford) - Harris beach (Brookings)
Mileage?

Setting up camp, a Canadian talked to me about a blues night at some bar in Arcata and about joining him and his Russian friend. I tried to rush out of there because I wanted to beat them both and make my country proud. A couple miles down the road I realized that my gloves dropped off the back of my bike, but I figured they would see them. I wasn't giving up my lead.

This is when I started my Snickers bar craze. I eat 2-3 a day and they work wonders when my tank goes empty. All the while I'm noticing a change in the landscape, trees, and what not.

I stopped in Gold Beach for a burger and went to the book store. They have an ancient book there selling for $15,000, and a baseball signed by 13 hall of famers ($950). I finally called some people, as I've been in the woods as of late.

I hit 38 miles going down a hill, I think that's my fastest yet. I realized that my computer had been set to kilometers and figured the metric bikers must have played a part. Well they're going to have to slash my tires if they want to beat me!

I got into beautiful Harris Beach and had a french bread, olive oil, avocado and beef jerky dinner. My neighbor was a short Australian with a big beer gut. Takes all kinds, I guess.

Todays sign: Sponsor: Preperation H
Todays quote: You can't build a reputation on what you're going to do - Henry Ford

Just Another Adventure

Tuesday 29th
mileage?
Sunset Bay (Coos Bay) - HumBug Mountain

I got lost again today, trying to get out of the campsite. Good thing though, what do you know I ran into Kelli Roots from George Fox. She was camping with her family and we were both pretty surprised to run into each other. So I recruited some more blog readers.

I had to sprint up the same hill from the night before, but it only got longer and bigger this time. I was going at a slow pace and hating life. I was in the middle of a quiet back road when I got my first "F'n biker!" shoutout.

As it always does, the ascent turned into descent, and it made my eyes tear up. Sometimes a fast descent makes me slobber, but I've bee good so far.

20-some miles into it, I finally got into Bandon, a nice little tourist town. My buddy Warren told me about his hometown, which was cool.

So I went to the laundromat.

Getting back to it, I rode through Langlois, then Port Orford, which had the coolest haystacks yet. I stopped to talk with hitch hikers and told them of the upcoming camp site, which I regreted because they were shifty.

It was later at night and I finally got into Humbug Mountain state park, where I met some friendly bikers who were going north (against the NW wind). My computer was wacky all day but I think I rode around 50 miles.

Todays sign: 101 for Fun!
Todays quote: Its peanut butter jelly time! (becoming an end of the day exultation)

Trailer Nailer

Monday 28th
Washburne - Sunset Bay
75 miles, 5 hr 41 m, 13.3 avg

I left the camp about 10 30, shortly after the other guys. Meeting up in the next town (Florence?), we decided to have lunch in dunes city. I was setting a good pace, and it was nice to go on my own. I didn't see any places in Dunes City so I kept rockin. I haven't seen those guys since then, which is a bummer 'cuz they were cool.

A ways into my ride I slowed to about 14 mph, sometime around then I felt a truck whiz by awful close and their was a loud WACK on my left elbow. Something from the side of a trailer camper (siding?) hit me solid, but it didn't bruise and it didn't make me nudge, just left a white line on my elbow. I was elated, yelling "I got hit by a trailer!" for a while, I thought it was amazing.

It didn't take long for some fear to sink in as I started to realize how fast those cars are really going. It's good to have a little paranoia, and I'm lucky I didn't go over the guardrail to get it. I read in Krakeur's book that young men have some sort of hormone that overpowers the 'fear' hormone. So it looks like I don't have nerves of steel, just a brain of straw.

A couple miles from Sunset Bay State Park, I got a milkshake from DQ. My stomach has been working so fast lately that I wasn't worried about it. Shortly thereafter, I took a wrong turn and had to sprint up a huge hill because of construction. I felt like an idiot but my stomach made it somehow.

Sunset Bay (SW of Coos Bay) was beautiful. I had the hiker biker site all to myself and got pretty excited about making a fire. For dinner I had squished PBJ.

Back of the bike: "Homeless"
Quote: If I don't shower, but no one smells me, do I still stink?

Peanut Butter Jelly Time!

Sunday 27th
Depoe City - Carl Washburne St. Park
55 miles?

Kyle and I said goodbye to the resort and headed to the beach for some skim boarding. Kyle is really good at it, throwing the board on the receding wave water and then riding it for a good thirty feet before crashing into a wave and flipping into the water. I'm not a big fan though - I'm terrible at board sports and I have an odd fear of falling. Plus the water is cold. La-hoo, Za-her. We also went to some of the lookout places and explored the cliffs and haystacks. We saw a blond bike tourist go by agreed that I need to catch up with her on the road, then marry her.

We had clam chowder in Depoe City and talked baseball and adventuring ideas. Looks like bouldering is the next challenge to dive into. There's falling involved, but no cold water. So I set off, with the back of the bike sign being "skim tubing". I didn't get going until 2. Also, Kyle drove the 4 miles to Depoe City, but I'm not going to be nit-picky about doing the "whole" trip.

It was kind of miserable riding so late, and the comfort of the resort made me a wimp. Still I kept on, and at mile 30 stopped at a pizza place in Waldport. I talked to a British girl for a while. She was riding a big mountain bike with twice as much gear as me, and she was on mile 80. She also mentioned that she did the Great Divide race, an offroad race from Montana to New Mexico (or something like that). Shortly thereafter, my MPH picked up.

I went the whole day without my helmet. I figure this way, they won't have to cut it out of my head.

Cape Perpetua was awesome. You ride above cliffs and look at haystacks out in the water. I hit it at sunset, and the fog had finally risen. I think it was my favorite part so far.

Finally to Carl G Washburne state park, and I met my first bikers - Ryan and Cas. They were teachers from Virginia, doing the same trip, under similar circumstances (first tour, etc.). It was nice to talk to some guys I could relate to. I was just going to put up my tarp for an A-frame because it was getting late, but I saw some Racoons and went for the tent.

Quote of the day: "If you want an Indian feather, you've got to do the dance". - me

Plush

Saturday the 26th
Tillamook to Lincoln City
65 miles

Bo dropped me off at the Union Station in Portland after Voodoo doughnuts and Stumptown Coffee. Can you believe he gave me a hug? Don't tell him I wrote that, I might not ever get another one. I mean, not that I need a hug or want one...

So I picked up my helmet and tent - I'd hid them in the woods. Riding through town I got the first bit of rain, just a misty rain though. I saw three guys putting plastic covers over their panniers (saddle bags) and wondered at the novelty.

Too much information: I let out a st. helens fart that must have twisted my hoses, because my saddle was killing me. That bleu cheezeburger would follow me the rest of the ride, which was unfortunate whenever I couldn't go fast. Breeze please! Taking breaks eased the pain. Cycling is more dangerous than you might think. I'm just hoping this "man-trip" doesn't cut off my "manliness".

My legs loved the day off, they were very fresh. I was cruising at times, into an area with hills, valleys, and farms. A nice lady named Tory gave me some water and a route that bypassed a hill. Whenever I feel like stopping, I make sure to go to coffee shops and ask for directions. Even if I know where I'm going. Too much information?

It's great though, people love to help travellers. I think people have a certain pride in knowing their area and being of use to someone. And it's easy to approach people because you know they want to help. I have a million stranger friends out here.

Into Pacific City, I met someone who must have had a disdain for tourists, or biker shorts. I was seated at a burger shack and came to the counter to say I wanted a small fry. "She'll take your order soon" he said. Man that pissed me off. I thought of leaving. It wasn't like they were buiys, and all he had to do was throw the fries in. It was like a real sit down establishment, it was a beach bum place.

Just then I read some of the drunk hiker's book. Krakeur, the author, talks about how people in isolation become aggressive and irritable. I hope I'm still in the friendly realm. I took a detour onto Old 101 to go through some old-growth forest (Neskowin Creek) and become nicer.

What do you know, but I get a call from my buddy Kyle Seymour, from George Fox. He was at a Ford foundation conference in Lincoln city, at the Salishan Resort! After eating at a great cafe in Otis, I pulled up to my new condo. There had been heavy fog off and on throughout the day, and riding through it produced dewlike drops on my arm hair. That with the bike high and the impressive resort, plus the satisfaction of riding 65 miles, made me feel pretty cool about life. It was good to be with Kyle and my friend Warren, living in style. They even had oatmeal soap. Who would have thought of such awesome timing and good fortune? Good fortune good fortune, no one says that anymore.

Back of the bike sign: Modawkin' (Madsenese for "moving")
Today's quote: "It's all about the journey man" - Andy, from Seaside Prom Bike Shop

Portland Pit Stop

Friday the 25th

I rode the bus into Portland this morning, said goodbye to the new friends. The ride was only an hour long, I sat in the back with a guy who said he was really good at crossword puzzles and snuck sips out of his 40. In Portland, I went to the east side to chat with Wade frrom the Belmont Foundation and post some blogs. Had lunch and Wade gave me some electrolyte tablets that you drop in your water bottle. It works better and is a lot lighter than all that gatorade powder.

City life was a nice change. I mostly babysat my bike all day, made some more signs, called friends, and soaked in the sun. With my shirt off of course - even though my small nipples look more like zits (thank you, Justin Kelley).

So I ran into some friends from Fox, and then took gear back to REI with no hassle. I wanted a longer sleeping pad and I returned bike shorts in the name of Thoreou.

It was my friend Kyle's 21st, so we went to Henry's for dinner. My body told me it didn't need any liquid carbs. It was good to see all the baseball buddies - Bo tooke me back to Newberg and my blankie.

It's tough having good friends in two states.

And then My Legs Died

Seaside - Tillamook
50 miles

Eric took me to Seaside bright and early. I spent 2 hours at the PignPancake sipping on coffee, waiting for the bike shop to open. Once it did I got a new tube and the owner told me I could get Armadillos (a really tough, sturdy tire) in Cannon Beach, 8 miles up the road.

I spent a couple hours in Cannon Beach, getting the tires, putting them on, getting some pizza and going to the bank. The tires were costy but worth it, I don't think I'll have to worry about getting a flat now. I was really edgy the whole time, like I had to get on the road or something. It was weird.

This is where the hills turned into mountains. It's a good thing I couldn't see how big they were, otherwise I might have really despaired. But I just plugged away and it all worked out. But these hills were huge. I think they are suppose to be some of the biggest of the ride. Coming into the towns below "Mt. Neahkahnie", it finally flattened out. And then my legs died. I couldn't even go up a tiny slope w/out aching. Torture.

After some sitting around and drinking water, my legs came back. Then I tried not to push it too hard, I didn't want to lapse back. Then, out of nowhere, I just started going great. I don't know if it was the french bread or the gatorade, but I was cruising. Stopping at the beach to drink up, a guy asked what "I think I can" was suppose to mean. I talked with him and his friend for a good 1/2 hour and made my way back to Tillamook. And my was the cheese factory glorious.

This is where I became homeless. I tried the city park, the police station, and the fire dept. I asked a bunch of people if they knew where a park was, just hoping they'd offer me a spot on their couch. I took on a bitter attitude towards the phrase "good luck". And it was freezing cold out. I bought some pajamas at Fred Myer (they will pack light). That was when I looked homeless.

I finally made my way outside of the town (an officer said there was an $800 fine to camp in town). I got a call and pulled over to talk to my buddy. Three homeless Portland teenagers asked me if there was a campground, and I told them there was an RV park nearby. I knew it was there the whole time, but I was looking for some sort of adventure for the night. Anyways, these kids and I walked to the RV park. They had hitch-hiked, and they had that awful Portland smell to them.

It's funny because right when I was flaming over people saying good luck, I found some kids that were in a worse situation than I was. I tried to help them in any way I could, giving them food and $5 for cigarettes. I took a strengths test the other day and it said one of my 5 strengths was empathy. Maybe I'm just lonely.

Flatstoria

Artic - Astoria
61 miles, 4 1/2 hr, 13.6 avg speed, 5 flats?, 1 enchilada

The tent was pretty comfy. The great thing about camping is that you wake up early with the birds, but you're still refreshed. I don't get it, but I love it.

There was more of that hill to go - lots of it. I trudged on forever and saw at least 40 logging trucks packed w/ some good looking lumber. I know what good looking lumber looks like because I want to buy a Key logger's shirt - the train engineer type.

I stopped off in Raymond for a big old Enchilada. I talked to Justin Sweeney, who informed me of the normal and current weather patterns of Alaska. But hey, it was much better than talking to the other side of the booth. In the store I bought some French bread and cold pressed Olive Oil, like my mom said I should. Standing in line I got some funny looks from the wood-folk, and I really wanted to ask how much money I'd have to pay to get them to wear bike shorts.

On the road again, and I finally caught some sun, then some water. About time, I was now out of the woods. A deer jumped over the guard rail, not more than 15 feet in front of me, then ran across the street past a trucker slamming the breaks. I heard the other day that those poor beastards are blind, and that's why they act like idiots. It's good to sympathize.

In South Bend (a nice little place) a guy passing in a truck yelled "I know you can!". My bike sign was "I think I can".

At mile 30, the fun began. Pffft flat tire. I took everything off my rack, changed it (which took a while considering my excellent handiwork) and went on to mile 32, where it went flat again. I went through 3 tires, two poorly done patch jobs, some duct tape, etc. I somehow made it the 6 miles towards Astoria, where I finally saw the beautiful mouth of the Columbia and the hugh jass bridge. After another hour of salvaging my rubbers, I hitch-hiked into Astoria. My buddy Eric picked me up and we talked baseball and what not. I also took shower #1. If it weren't for the timing of the flat around his town, I really would have been stranded.

Back of the bike sign: "I think I can"
Quote of the day: "It was now too late and too far to go back, and I went on. And the mists had all solemnly risen now, and the world lay spread before me" - Dickens

Come As You Are

7-22-08
Elma to Artic
37 miles, 3 hours

Today started off a little late, but for two good causes. First, Jay took me into Elma, where I bought a bivy tent. He made sure that we set it up and told me the ifs and buts about it. The great thing about being stupid is you learn something new every day. Then I made sure to get nine holes of disc golf in, with the new disc Jay sold me. It's a Roc disc, so I wrote "I'm ready to (Roc)!

I set off for Aberdeen and my legs were not happy. It dawned on me that I am riding my bike a long way. In Aberdeen I had my eyes examined by a nice doctore who gave me the contacts I've been missing. I talked to some guys at a music store about Kurt Cobain, since this was his hometown. They told me about the famed bridge he supposedly lived under. There's an idol for you.

After disrupting traffic I made some good headway towards Raymond. There was what seemed to be a 3 miles climb, which I rocked at 6 mph. After taking some pictures I made a 1/2 mile descent before I realized I forgot my helmet... back to 6 mph.

I came to a campsite pretty quick, in Artic, a nice place where you get to pick raspberries out of the owner's garden. I forgot some details about setting up the tent. Jay would have been less proud of me, but I got it up.

I hope I never have kids. I'll be the dad that takes two hours to set up the tent, and all the neighbor kids will make fun of me. Then my children will likely develop insecure identities. I wish I didn't make fun of boy scouts so much when I was little, their children are going to be congressmen.

At night I talked to some campers. Dave and I talked about books forever and Micah gave me one of Jon Krakauer's books. They were both nice guys. Micah was a little too nice thanks to Mr. Beer and it took me a while to get to bed. He shook my hand at least 15 times. We had a good talk though, both of those guys made me feel like I'm doing the right thing with this trip.

Today's back of the bike sign: San Fran or Bust
Quote: Keep the rubber side down - Wade Trimmer

Read the Signs! 7-11-08

Monday:
Silverdale - Elma
76 miles, 5:46 on bike, 13 mph avg speed

So I left Grandi's and looked for a back way to Gorst, the oasis in the desert. Olivia left me at the end of the driveway. I went down a road that said "dead end", just because I thought it would get me there. Lesson #1, read the signs. A friendly old lady with her dog helped me to find the city on a hill and I was on my way to Shelton. Things were looking good as a driver went out of his way to yield to me. He must have been a biker.

I stopped in Allyn for lunch and sneaked ahead of a huge line of cars backed up at a Construction site. Not too exciting, but somewhere along the line I thought of a name for my other bike, the white "Mistral". I like to introduce it to other bikes as "Mistrial - you know, O.J. Simpson?" I figure Bronco Blanco is a clever name for that bike. Get it?

I got on to Shelton and couldn't resist the Ultimate Redneck store. I've wanted a safety orange construction shirt for a while now and I figured it would be good for visibility. Then I road my bike for an eternity.

Leaving my bike at a bus stop while I went to the convenience store was a bad idea. I met a talkative (sp?) guy with a lot of crystal in his eyes. Crazy angry crack eyes. No more bus stops for me.

At 62 miles my legs died. I was pretty stoked to finally get to McCleary. Then someone told me there wasn't a camp site for 12 miles. Yay for adventures! At mile 6 I realized this bike trip was a great idea. I saw a sign for "Disc Golf and Hostel" in Elma. Sweet! A combo made in heaven. I ended up playing disc golf with a bunch of nice strangers, who gave me a few tips, and the owner (Jay) took me to the grocery store. Needs met.

Image - a hole at the disc golf course.

Up 'til Now

It's been nine months since I had "the epiphany", my crazy idea of riding a bike down the 101. I didn't even know people did that. I didn't even know where the 101 was, I just thought I'd ride my bike straight to Mexico on some green, red, and white road.

The first step towards the tour was riding my '72 Schwinn 5 miles from Newberg to St. Paul... except that I got a flat on the 2nd mile. Good thing Bo was there to go get the truck. The next step was buying the "Mistral" (it's a mistrial, you know, OJ Simpson?), a fifteen year old ten speed converted to a single speed, made by the now defunct Canadian Cycle and Motor Company. They're into hockey sticks now.  Somewhere along the line was riding up that huge hill to Sherwood... then in December, riding twenty miles into Portland. Or twenty three miles from Kingston to Port Townsend. That bike had a high gear ratio too, it wasn't easy. What else did I go through? It's so hard to get a job when you request three weeks off. Good thing I have an uncle. Also, how about these bike shorts... do I really have to wear that?

Well, I finally found the bike of my life on Craig's List, a Lemond Etape. Twenty minutes after it was posted - what a pretty steal. Put on the pedals, new break pads, a chain, a rack and panniers from Half Link on Whidbey Island, a bike computer... the credit card has taken a beating, but that's what my upcoming corporate slav.. tenure is for. Oh ya, I had to get a new wheel as well. $120. I should have listened to Bo when he said not to cross the trolley tracks. That hurt.

Anyways, I'm about to leave Grandi's house here in Silverdale. Ian (my little brother) and I road here from Hansville yesterday. Twenty miles. Today I need sixty to get to McCleary. I've never gone that far. Maybe I shouldn't listen to the crazy ideas I get on my Schwinn.

Today's back of the bike sign: "Maiden Voyage"

Today's quote: "Early to bed and early to rise"

Dear Friends and Family

Hi, my name is Nate Brown. I'm a senior at George Fox University in Newberg, OR. I plan on riding my bike down the 101, from Seattle to San Francisco, starting July 21st and ending early August. For me personally, this goal has required extensive research, planning, conditioning, and financing. I’ve put a lot of thought into the trip and I’m excited for the adventure, and whatever stories I’ll get out of it. It’s one of the first things to keep me up at night since Little League.

The trip is also a ministry opportunity, as a benefit to the Belmont Foundation. This organization “seeks to effectively respond to the American crisis of fatherlessness by equipping the faith community to provide life long, trust based mentoring relationships with young men in an effort to affect long-term change.” I heard of this through reading Donald Miller’s “To Own a Dragon”. I’m excited to play a part in this ministry, as I know at my very core that I would be far less advantaged if it were not for the Randys and Ryans (my step-dad and older brother) in my life .

Thank you for your prayers and encouragement. If you have any questions, send me an e-mail, or call. I will post entries pertaining to the trip on this blog. Make sure to visit belmontfoundation.org. Materials-wise, I have few needs. I plan on writing bike manufacturers and nutrition companies for sponsorship, and my uncle JT is footing my hotel bills. Just kidding, I’ll be camping :)

Thanks for reading!


Nate
ael.braun@gmail.com
360.204.1838


“A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives”
Jackie Robinson