Bike Odyssey 2014 – Day 29 (June 14) – Sometimes a Great…

Well, last night was comfortable, under the redwoods. But extremely cold. Two pairs of socks, long johns and jeans, 4 layers above, woolly hat down to below my eyes. Then 2 sleeping bags, one inside the other. Still perishing. Thinking tonight I might add my gauntlets to keep fingers warm and wear my motorbike helmet (face freezing otherwise). Camping can be wonderful; and motels are expensive; but the downside of very cold camping is: peeing in the night. (Sing to the tune of ‘Strangers in the Night.’) You need to, but you just don’t want to. I forgot to mention yesterday – we saw an (1) elk. This is a pretty feeble fauna count compared to, say, Steve’s African bike trip 5 years ago. But still. The elk was quietly munching, surrounded by cellphone camera-snapping tourists as if it was the Loch Ness Monster.

If last night was cold, biking was even colder, on the gorgeous Oregon coast. In Port Orford we stopped beside the celebrated Battle Rock where the first 9 white settlers held off the native population before slipping away under cover of night. (And returning with 61 more settlers and plenty of guns.) We’ve left the redwoods behind; Joe says he’s over the redwoods now. In Port Orford I was able to phone in to Roll on the Radio on whvw.com, my own usual Saturday gig, and speak on air to my super-sub, Tom Grasso, editor of Roll Magazine, our sponsor. I didn’t like to say so on air but getting out of California into Oregon is like… well, to me California is a species of giant leech. Oregon revives my spirit. A place that gives rather than takes. First thing that happened was that we stopped for gas at a Chevron station and out strode two young men to fill our bikes for us. Nowhere in America have we experienced this blast from the past (nor expected to). Oregon is another planet. Calm, quiet and not devoted to scamming the world and draining its money in exchange for Tinseltown fool’s gold.

5000 miles in, and Joe and I have developed a humorous form of twosome biking: our very different bikes determine it, Joe’s a frisky beast liberated by interesting, twisty curves, mine a tortoise at ease only on dull straightaways. We overtake each other at irregular but frequent intervals. When Joe overtakes me he roars away into the distance until he finally waits up for me to catch up; when I overtake Joe he drops way back to give himself a sporting challenge and see how long it takes him to catch me. Joe agrees: 101 is one of the best designed roads we’ve ever ridden – designed for speed but weaving glorious curves and dallying in small towns. The sight of Oregon logging depots takes me at once to a young Ken Kesey returning home from college in Sometimes A Great Notion, one of the longest and dullest books ever written by a great writer. It could at least have spawned a skin moisturizing cream called Sometimes A Great Lotion. Among my school pals the book was known as Sometimes A Great Motion, for reasons that should not grace a polite blog.