Portland and the Oregon Coast 30th Sept - 9th Oct

Very bad weather, two very ghastly route options and, as always, being behind schedule meant it was a good opportunity to take advantage of Amtrak’s fine Seattle to Portland service. We boarded the train after the usual stress of boxing bikes and dragging panniers around the station, and, after a lengthy delay due to ‘police activity on the tracks’, were happy to watch the nasty weather from inside the train.

The rain was still pouring when we arrived in Portland and after an aimless trip around the less than savoury Burnside area looking for accommodation, we were very grateful to find our comfortable and dirt cheap motel in one of the funkiest parts of town. It was around the corner from an excellent ‘theatrepub’, where, unlike most establishments in the States, you could actually take booze into the cinema with you without all sorts of threatening signs and warnings (a real plus after not being able to drink beer while watching the Arctic Monkeys in Seattle!). Not only that, the film we went to see (Knocked Up) kept us thoroughly amused throughout (or maybe that was the beer laughing)! The following night, we were taken for a delicious meal and a lovely walk on the river by our family friends, Dolores and Rosemary, and caught up on a good 20 years worth of family news!

We absolutely loved Portland. It was very bicycle friendly with lots of organic and vintage shops to suit any unusual tastes. Delights included Powell Books, the biggest independent bookstore in the world, especially as their bikeracks outside were named after famous cycling books, cool bars like the Sandy Hut (otherwise known as the Handy Slut - very classy stuff!), and some choice places to eat (that didn’t have Caesar Salad on the menu, thank god!!). AND N finally found a pair of flattering cycling trousers - a mighty feat in itself, a vintage poker chip box for Paul’s birthday and her first decent legwax of the trip at the Waxon Spa, courtesy of Kristan. Not only this, there is no sales tax in Oregon so everything was thoroughly enjoyed at marginally cheaper prices! We did not want to leave…

But as always we had to. After a long hour in the post office sending home a load of stuff we didn’t need anymore, we bumped into fellow cyclist, Eric, who we’d originally met on the ferry from Salt Spring Island in Canada and made a vague plan to meet up later on that day. We got drenched a number of times as we set out and the cycle route took us up some of the most vertiginous streets in town. And town spread a long way out. There was little more to see than the strip malls of the Portland suburbs for many miles. We did venture into one of the stripmalls where Paul picked up a tax-free ipod (despite N’s protests to boycott), at which point we got accosted by several well-meaning but misinformed cycling-enthusiasts warning of the dangers of the Oregon coast at this time of year. Delayed once more, we again got soaked in the pissing rain and eventually arrived in McMinnville and our very cosy McMenamins Hotel Oregon in the dark. A few beers and a bottle of wine with Eric and an excellent night’s sleep soon cured us for our journey to the coast the following day.

However, once again it was a battle with the elements, this time with Eric for extra slipstreaming. For the first hour we were soaked with constant barrage of rain and headwinds in the freezing cold; luckily we warmed up with a cuppa in Sheridan and finally the sun came out in time for our arrival at the mighty Pacific Ocean. As soon as we leapt off our bikes to admire the pounding surf and the setting sun, we got our first introduction to the alternative west coast vibe. Eric had a very interesting chat with a fellow touring cyclist (travelling with little more than a tent and a sleeping bag in a plastic crate) who had spent most of the last week in jail for shoplifting as he’d run out of money to buy food, while we got accosted by Douglas Dewar proudly of ‘Scotch’ descent, who had a very keen interest in Israeli harvesting calendars, and felt obliged to explain their significance to us. Meanwhile the sun was setting and we had 12 miles left to go! We left Eric at a diner with his coffee and rapidly made our way to Depoe Bay with some difficulty as the scenery was so gorgeous we had to stop and take photos; so amazing, in fact, N got distracted and fell off her bike twice!

Once again, though, we learned that just because we were on a coastal road did not guarantee perpetual seaviews. We were very lucky to see the most one of the most scenic sections of the Oregon coast (from Lincoln City to Florence) in sunny weather and thoroughly enjoyed the views from Cape Foulweather (named by Captain Cook in a dreadful storm), Cape Perpetua, and of Heceta Head Lighthouse and the Oregon Coastal Dunes. The latter stretch for 40 miles but were only occasionally visible from the road - their presence was always noted, however, for the quadbikes constantly buzzing around on them. ATVs (all-terrain vehicles) were yet another type of vehicle to add to our repertoire of abbreviated and initialised American vehicles (on top of SUVs and RVs), and despite the unique, rare and endangered species to be found on these dunes, the popularity of quadbikes rules, the animals suffocate, the plants get crushed and everyone else has to tolerate the constant aggressive buzzing noises in an area which would otherwise be a realm of peace and quiet but for the waves crashing against the shore. Not only this, one of the visitor centres informed us that the ATVeer’s and their RV’s contribute nothing to the local economy as they brought all their food with them and only paid ATV dune license fees which go straight to the federal government. So we’re still wondering who benefits…

From Florence to Port Orford the road mostly follows a hilly corridor of trees behind the dunes with little to see. Adventurous moments presented themselves with the death-defying bridge into Coos Bay, one of the most dangerous parts of our journey. While most bridges with narrow shoulders have some kind of sign to warn of cyclists sharing the road, this bridge thoroughly discouraged any cyclist by advising them to walk bikes on the pavement, despite being too narrow for this purpose. As there was no other alternative, we precariously rode our bikes over the long bridge and hoped that the cross winds wouldn’t throw us into the endless stream of traffic inches from the pavement. However, the beach at Bandon was a rare highlight with some incredible rock formations (unfortunately, photos are marred by fog) and the road south from Port Orford more than made up for any lack of ‘vistas’. Cliffs, bluffs, seastacks, deserted beaches and, after a couple of days of grey skies and drizzle, the sun even managed to come out. Having bumped into Eric once again, on one of last stretches of the Oregon coast to Gold Beach we were warned by both the Park ranger and road workers (and the weather forecast) that we should be looking for somewhere to ‘hunker down’ as there was a big storm brewing out in the Pacific so we willingly took their advice and stopped in Gold Beach for a well-earned and much-needed rest day after 6 days of cycling, and 450 km from Portland.

This entry was posted on October 13, 2007 at 9:55 pm and is filed under Two for the Road - On the Road. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.