Our next-to-last day of riding(!) took us off the official Trans-Am
route. Here's the big picture for the final two days(!) of the tour:
Instead of taking a straight shot west from the Eugene area to
Florence and the coast, about 70 miles away, we headed NW, toward the
town of Waldport. Waldport is a longer ride away -- 80-some miles --
but offers two benefits: (1) Just down the road from the town is an
easily-accessible beachside state park, called, not surprisingly,
Beachside State Park, for the requisite end-of-ride wheel-dipping(*)
ritual. In Florence, apparently, there's no easy access to the water.
(2) Hitting the Pacific north of Florence will allow us to ride along
the rugged and scenic Oregon coastline for 30-ish miles, from the park
down to Florence. So that's the two-day plan.
Our immediate target, though, is Salmonberry County Park, about 6
miles past the town of Alsea OR, and about 30 miles shy of the coast.
That's where we'll camp for the night, before mounting our final
assault on Tuesday. Note: we're camping out again; we haven't done
that for a while. There's no other option in and around Alsea, is the
main reason -- that and the fact that we've spent down all our money
over the last week or two on motels and dinners out (except for what
we're holding back for our Florence lodgings and fairwell dinner).
So... on Monday morning lad and dad broke our fasts in Harrisburg,
packed our next-to-last lunchmeat-and-tomato-and-cheese sandwiches
(yay!!), and took off toward Alsea. Because we were off-route, we
weren't operating any more from a map -- just a supplementary "cue
sheet" documenting each turn, so I don't have many details to relate
concerning the route itself or the surrounding area. But I don't think
I'm omitting much -- there was really nothing particularly special
about the ride. (Other than the fact that Eric was with me. Did I
mention that I really like riding with my son?) About 30 miles in we
did have one good 3-4 mile climb that required real work -- I assume
that that little stretch took us over the final gasp of the Cascade
Range -- but after that it was all downhill. Really. For about six
weeks now people have been telling me, in all seriousness, that
"X" [whatever the next big uphill climb was] was the last one, and
once I got over that it was all downhill to the coast. Well, they were
wrong. THIS one was the last one; after THIS one it really was all
downhill.
And a lovely, zippy downhill it was for the next few miles. We were
about 35 miles into the day's ride -- break time, en otras palabras --
and there was supposedly a roadside rest area ahead to serve that
purpose about a mile after the crest of whatever it was that we
crested. But neither of us saw it, due I think to the fact that the
planet was slipping very quickly under our wheels at that point. So we
cruised on about 6-7 miles further into the mostly moribund little
town of Alsea, which did have an interesting and seemingly flourishing
"mercantile" (i.e., a little bit of everything) store as its sole node
of economic activity -- a place where you could get a cup of coffee
(which we did), something to eat (yes; ice cream sandwich), and a set
of spark plugs for your ATV (no).
Just a few miles after Alsea we pulled into Salmonberry County Park,
which proved to be a very pleasant spot for our final camping out
experience. I was a little worried that we would have soggy weather,
that close to the coast, but all was clear and dry. (We didn't even
have any dew the next morning!) The only hint of soggy was a
completely different kind -- Jerry announced that while supplies
lasted the beer was free. And there was much rejoicing! Not wanting to
hurt his feelings, I grabbed one last Fat Tire, the official Jeff
Moore's Favorite Beer of the Adventure Cycling 2010 Van-Supported
Trans-Am Tour. Steve, feeling a little nostalgic, perhaps, laid out
all of the six-pack carton sides he'd collected over the summer (which
will soon adorn his college dorm/apartment walls), which, with no
duplicates, numbered well into the 60's (see photo). Eric later
rearranged them into a reasonable approximation of a map of the USA
(lower 48 only). Beer has been very very good to us on the tour...
No cooks had been assigned to this particular evening, because ... I
don't know why, exactly, the system just ran out of steam, I guess. We
had talked about this fact at our map meeting a couple of nights
before, at which point Eric and I said we'd cook the meal if others
would help, and if someone else would do the breakfast/lunch set-up
the next day. Plenty of volunteers emerged -- Michael ("salad is not
optional") took charge of a salad, Kath promised to reprise her
spectacular, you-must-be-21 trifle for pudding, Jerry said that he'd
do pots and pans clean-up, and the Welsh raised their hands for the
next morning's breakfast/lunch duty. Done and done. Eric took the lead
on preparing a great dinner (a fettucini alfredo-like dish with bacon
and peas), including G&T's for the cocktail hour for those interested
(several were), and everyone else came through as promised. A fine
group effort.
A sign of how quickly Eric has integrated into the group: As was the
case fairly often during the tour when we camped out, when evening
fell a small campfire emerged, complete with s'mores building and
consumption (and competition, and trash-talking). I was too tired for
such late-night shenanigans -- it was almost 9:00! -- but Eric joined
the group of about a half dozen of the gang, and I could hear them all
laughing and talking and just having a fine old time deep into the
night. They might have gone on past 10! (I fell asleep, so I can't be
sure.)
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(*) Here we'll test whether I'm serious about the threat I've been
making since Kansas: rather than simply dip the wheel, extra-
dramatically throw the whole damn bike in, and never push a pedal again.
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