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