This ... ain't no holiday ...

Day 8, Stage 6 - Astoria to Tillamook
65 miles, 7hrs 30mins (incl. 1 short food stop), yes really that slow.
Before I start, I have to admit that I had a sense of humour failure today of truly epic proportions. Today I was faced with the reality that this ain't some quaint little biking holiday I'm on but a full-on endurance adventure trip. It started even before I set off as I was loading the bags on the bike in the car park of the very pleasant Cannary Pier Hotel that's been home for the last couple of nights. As was forecast, it was raining, hard, very hard, and I was kitted out in my waterproofs already having resigned myself to a long and rainy day. What I hadn't counted on was the headwind, but within 500 yards I was all too aware of it. It was then I remembered back to the slightly nervous way the waitress who served me breakfast in South Bend on Friday had mentioned the 'little breeze'' that was expected in the next few days. But this wasn't a little breeze, it was a +20mph direct headwind. Given the fully-laden bike has all the aerodynamics of a Sherman tank, complete with a 30ft spinnaker sail, I quickly realised that this was going to be one seriously testing day. And so it turned out. The first 25 miles were easily the toughest flat-road cycling I've ever done (Pete, think that few mile ride into Balmoral, and some). To put it into perspective, despite being refreshed after a rest day and going full out on flat smooth roads, I only covered 8.9 miles in the first hour. I honestly thought I'd developed Tourettes in the first few hours as the all too frequent gusts of wind drew increasingly loud, abusive and irrational rants from me which were quickly carried carried away in the wind. Who knows what any locals thought of me. The only positive about these early miles was the fact that I didn't need to stop to drink, I just did a Bjarne Riis basking shark impression and inhaled the rain.

This, however, all turned out just to be mere trivial warm up to the 'main event'. Now, in reading other peoples accounts of cycling the Pacific route one couple mentioned something about un-nerving cycling along exposed cliffs somewhere on the coast. Well I think I found them today. 30 miles into the trip the road headed upwards and disconcertingly into the misty trees. Then, the trees cleared, or at least they did in the 30 yards or so of visibility there was, and I rounded the corner...

...or should I say I tried to round the corner but was confronted with a gale being funneled along the cliffs on which the road was hung. I could hardly pedal and was even blown over at one point. Looking up through the gale at the road disappearing into the mist I knew I couldn't ride into it, even if there wasn't a sheer 500ft cliff over the woefully inadequate 2 foot high wall at the side of the road. So what to do; wait in one of the 'viewpoints' in the hope it would clear? turn back, or try to press on. Following Joe Simpson's great advice of 'you've got to keep making decisions, they may be the wrong ones'' I got off the bike and tentatively pushed it up into the grey, ready at any moment to let go and watch it be blow over the cliff if need be. All the while listening for the RVs rumbling up the road out the gloom. In all my years of cycling I'd never actually been terrified before, until today.

So, it was with great relief I found myself at the summit of the climb and soon rolling down out of the mist into, and through, Manzanita. Then, somewhat in a daze through the next 30 rainy miles of probably picturesque little coastal villages onto the bizarre cheese town of Tillamook - my resting point for the night.

I actually only stopped to take one picture all day (and one video clip atop said cliffs - I look and sound more terrified than I remember) hence, today's blog snap in the laundry in Tillamook. A real shame, I think as I actually get the feeling that it was a glorious part of the world I was going through today and I suspect it would have been a fantastic day's riding on a clear, still day. Ah well, next time ;)

Still, I'm another 50 or so miles nearer the equator and due to cross the symbolic 45th Parallel tomorrow. Just hoping the weather improves.