Honeyman Memorial SP
60 miles
I woke feeling so much happier today. And strong. And ready to disco down the road. I started out for Honeyman and made it. It was so beautiful! The cliffs and forests are so amazing through those places. I'm wasted. I stopped at a friendly looking house and played catch with a blind dog. I talked with Paul, the owner. There was a lot of fog and a lot of really narrow shoulders. And a lot of big trucks and RVs. A little scary at times, but beautiful.
Favorites:
1. Waking happy and refreshed and ready to carry on
2. Haceta lighthouse
3. Yachets--such a cute little community!
4. Ona beach in the fog
5. Meeting new friends at the campground and sharing my meal (steamed cauliflower, red potatoes, with white sauce. They are from Canada and are doing the same thing I am.
July 9, 2011
The difference in my attitude was pronounced. I'd gone from scared and regretful to enthusiastically joyful.
As I set off on my road south, I had to cross the Newport bridge. It was fogged in but the fog was burning off. As I approached the bridge, the water below was covered with fog, while the top half of the bridge was exposed to a bright sky. There was quite a lot of traffic on the bridge, so I walked across on the sidewalk, rolling Little Red along beside me. Several placards celebrated the completion of the bridge and the construction teams who built it. Half way across, I looked down into the river. The sun shone through the mist and caused a bright circle midair. The circle was encapsulated by a faint rainbow, a macro version of those tiny rainbow circle refractions you get when you spray a hose, or look through a waterfall. It was beautiful. I looked again, standing on the bottom rail to peer down directly under me. There was another circle of light, brighter with a more defined rainbow. Protectively surrounded in the center of that light was my silhouette. I think it was God's way of letting me know I had His blessing in my travels.
It was still too early for most stores or the science museum to be open, so I rolled along for a bit before stopping at what was advertised as a bike shop. My tires felt a little low. There were several sales men outside, some helping customers, some hosing down motorcycles lined up around the perimeter. I waited for someone to offer help. And waited. And waited. Finally I approached one of the salesmen. He turned and walked inside, fervently ignoring me. That was my first experience with the pervasive anti-cyclist culture of south western Oregon.
There were several places that I should have spent a little more time exploring. Yachats is a tiny coastal village with graceful wooded hills and sweet bungalows. Signs coming into the town announced a festival on the weekend. But there were other things I really wanted to see that day, like Haceta Head lighthouse and Darlingtonia Botanical Wayside. Unfortunately, I was a few miles down the road before I realized I had passed Darlingtonia.
Riding on, I saw many beautiful thing. I passed many sweet old homes along the coast. There were a lot of wooded hills to climb, mostly small, but they would open up to some spectacular views of the Ocean. Most of my sightseeing was on or close to the road. Because I was alone, leaving my bike and wandering around wasn't a priority. I was still pretty new at this whole bike touring thing, and my main priority was making sure I got to my campsite before dark.
The closer I got the the dunes area (and the weekend), the more giant motor homes passed me, most hauling trucks and or trailers with Off Road Vehicles. Remember that anti-cyclist attitude I mentioned earlier? Most of those giant vehicles didn't move over to allow room for me on the road. Large trucks would pass, revving their engines to cloud me with exhaust. Some hit their horns a half mile behind me and held it there for half a mile after they passed me--speeding up and not giving me room on the road. There were a few close calls and some terrifying moments.
At the Fred Myer in Florence, I met a woman who was coming out to put her groceries in her panniers. She asked me how motorists at my home treated cyclists and how I got them to respect me. What could I say? Most of the people where I live do not own ORVs. I think I said something lame about there being laws to protect cyclists' rights. She lives in an area where those laws are not respected and people on bicycles represent a mindset of anti-car/ORV--thereby cyclists were enemies, less than human and an obstruction to fun. Despite all of that, this leg of the journey was incredibly lovely.
The road into the Lighthouse was long and winding. As I dropped in, I remember thinking that I really didn't want to have to ride back out of that. But it was well worth it. I parked my bike at the trail head and walked up the mile and a half trail. Haceta Head Lighthouse is a beautiful place. There is a guesthouse/bed and breakfast attached to it. They had vacancy that night and I cannot tell you how tempting it was...
When I got to my campsite, a hiker/biker site set in the big trees at Honeyman State Park, I set up my tent and got showered. As I began to prep my dinner, the neighboring camp came over and invited me to have a beer with them. After I made dinner, I took my dinner over and ate with them. This was the first time I met Guil and Véronique, a French Canadian couple from Montreal. We leap-frogged each other the entire rest of the trip, and became good friends.
When I finally went back to my tent that night, I was satisfied and exhausted. Sleep is sweet for the truly tired.
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