I'm in the town of Seaside, OR, just below the Washington border. Joe (who I met in a cafe eating brunch) and I are hiding out from the rain. Yes rain. After really quite fortunate weather, and an 85 m marathon bike ride yesterday beside a wildlife sanctuary, we woke up to pouring rain this morning. We had opted for an easy day, and in fact couldn't motivate ourselves out of our respective 'tents' (he has a tarp! shoulda brought a real tent!) until ten in the morning. Then we began our leisurely cycle. Leisurely my ass. HEAD winds blowing south to north the entire time. Thick fog. The miles just crawled by. Except for the 200 meters through a tunnel where my life flashed before my eyes. Ugh I hate tunnels. Then it was the astoria bridge. Which as I finally finished, a shattered mess, Joe cycles up behind me equally shell shocked and goes 'why is there a mountain in the middle of a bridge?'

How the bridge works is after a mile and a half of cycling on this bridge, when you think - maybe you are almost done - you look a head and see looming out of the midst, a wall of cement. You think - what could that possibly be? It couldn't possibly be the bridge. But it is! In the middle of the bridge is a HALF MILE GRANNY GEAR CLIMB. Joe told me "i looked over the side, saw the water, and thought: I could just end it right now."

Finally we roll into Astoria, and immediately have to cross another bridge - the shoulders are of course a complete mess - hub cabs, giant rocks, garbage. Winds even stronger. We are going even slower. And then another 17 miles of cycling to get to Seaside where I promise Joe beer if we can only stay in the hostel (it is still pouring rain horizontally in our faces) . I win! we are in the hostel about to go get some beer. If the weather is like this tomorrow we've mutually agreed to take a real rest day (no way does today count, plus you can't see anything of Oregan's supposedly gorgeous coast, so what's the point?)

Food:
I am fueling this bike trip off of cliff bars and truck stops. After my last update, I was heading out of previous hostel in Port Townsend. The 'all you can eat breakfast' consisted of english muffins and some orange slices. Feeling pretty good. But not for long. It was cold, and after twenty miles I didn't see how I was possibly going to do another 40 that day. Plus a large climb. No way. I had given myself three increasingly desperate pep talks by the time I pull into Quilcene, WA. I longed for a starbucks. No luck. The closest is the "Logger's Diner' complete with Neon 'cafe' sign. The waitress calls me 'hon' and there is a cup of coffee on the table before I even sit down. There are about half dozen other people there, some locals, some passing through. I order scrambled eggs, hashbrowns and toast for 5.99. Now I don't know if it was the hash-browns or the three cups of coffee, or the chorus of 'good lucks' and the one 'go get em' - but when I left there wasn't a problem in the world I couldn't have solved. Hopped on my bike, and spun up Mt Walker without turning a hair. I am a convert. You can not fuel a days worth of cycling off pieces of bread and some jam. You need truck stop foods. For diner Oat Bran. All the rest of the time? Cliff Bars.

Joe: I met Joe yesterday at the diner brunch stop . He's just finished his undergrad and has until early June for this trip. I convinced him to join me for the last 50 miles and we bike pretty well together - he's on a refurbished beater bike but keeps up pretty well :)

ok ... I think its beer time!

Trip so far ...


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