...and the rainbow fish started dancing

Day 10, Stage 8 - Newport to Coos Bay
98 miles, 8hrs 40 mins (incl. 1 food stop)
It was a restless night last night, not least because I was too tired to get up and switch off the heater I'd left on to dry my clothes, but principally because Sunday's storm had knocked me 20ish miles behind schedule so I knew that, if I was to get back on track, then I was on for having to do a not- insignificant 98 mile day - longer than I'd ever ridden before, even on an unladen bike. The task seemed even more difficult when I awoke to vague recollections of switching my alarm off, something I'd obviously done 1hr 40mins before. As a result, it wasn't until 9.15 that I finally rolled out onto the damp Newport streets, though thankfully under blue skies. There was, however, no sign at all of the tailwind I'd been hoping for but the slate-smooth roads made for great early progress alongside a seemingly endless sandy Pacific beach. One thing that I was acutely aware of in the damp morning air of those early miles was the distinctive aromatic smell of the US' largest cash crop. Now I'd thought it was only a Northern California thing, but obviously not. Anyway, I pedalled on and quickly found myself in the delightful little village of Yachats, where I would have stayed last night but for the storm delays. Stopping off in the Blue Whale restaurant I ordered a breakfast so vast the waitress announced it's details to the whole cafe. Thinking about it, the order was perhaps, in no small way, influenced by what I'd been inhaling in those early miles. As I sat hoovering up copious amounts of French toast I knew Coos Bay, at some 76 miles further down the road, was a big, big ask without the tailwind I'd been counting on.

And then, out the corner of my eye it started twitching.

A few more slices of toast later and it didn't just twitch but started meaningfully fluttering. It was a multi-coloured windsock fish outside the house next door and it was positively dancing in the breeze ... my tailwind had arrived! I then knew I was making it to Coos.

The next 20 miles weaving up and around the various headlands easily gave Lake Crescent a run for it's money in terms of spectacular scenery and it was topped off by the beautifully contrasting view from Sea Lion Cave; rugged outcrops to the north and seemingly endless dunes to the south. From here a fabulous 35-40mph decent took me into the start of dune country. However, when I got to the bottom I got that cyclist's sixth sense again that something wasn't quite right about the bike. Looking down, I noticed a disconcerting wobble in the rear wheel. Now as this was a new wheel I just got before the trip I was expecting some of the spokes to work loose therefore, I had been checking them along the trip. But, when I stopped to check them this time I was more than a touch shocked to realise that at least a dozen or so spokes were looser than Ulrika Johnson's chastity belt. A 20 minute rebuild ensued and I set off, with the wind at my back for another 50 sand-dune-filled miles, stopping only for another couple of rebuilds before finally rolling into the somewhat grim Coos Bay. It's meant to be a rest day here for me tomorrow but hiring a car to get out of here for the day looks like the best option as this place ain't the prettiest, even in the sun.

So, the cyclists amongst you are probably asking, why stop at 98 miles and not go for the symbolic 100? Well I'm saving that cycling milestone as a carrot for later in the trip. I've a 113 mile day pencilled in to take me into Moab. Figured that's an appropriate place to do my first century.

Speaking of big days, the toughest day of the trip, on paper at least, is drawing closer. I'd rather not talk about it now though. Once I give the details you'll understand why.

And apologies for yet another gratuitous beach picture, but it was the story of the day.

Today, Matthew, I'm going to be a tourist

Day 9, Stage 7 - Tillamook to Newport
75 miles in a very chilled 8hrs 40mins
Before I start, whatever has happened to Matthew Kelly. Can't say I care, but...

Anyway, after yesterday's not-so-pacific Pacific tempest I was delighted to look out the window this morning to see blue sky. Despite this it actually turned out to be the coldest day so far with a chilly morning temp. of 2C and a high of only 7C. Thankfully, though, the kit is doing a great job of keeping me warm and did so again today.

The day started off with me racing to dodge the showers through fields full of Tillamook cows but I quickly became aware that both knees were aching, slowing my progress somewhat. Probably a combination of the cold from the occasional hailstorm in the morning combined with all the in-the-saddle hard pedalling into the wind I did yesterday. However, I was in no rush today and cruised down the coast through more picturesque towns with my only delay being my first puncture of the trip, just north of Depoe Bay.

I then decided to drop off highway 101 for the first time for an extremely leisurely spin along Otter Crest Loop and to finally take in some sights such as Cape Foulweather and the Devil's Punchbowl, which were both considerably better than their names suggest and well worth the detour, as the pic hopefully shows. Particularly enjoyable was watching the ground squirrels at the punchbowl (at least I think that's what they were - they looked like squirrels and living in burrows). From there I buzzed along in the cold sunshine over the bridge at Newport choosing my motel purely because it's near proximity to the Rogue Brewery.

Looking ahead to tomorrow, the weather system is moving across the country and as a result, the wind that was my Nemesis in Sunday, is forecast to turn into a 20mph NNW tailwind. Could well be a fun day.

Apologies for the short blog today. The bar in the Brewery was strictly mobile-free. Despite this, it was a great little sample house not least because I got I.D'd before getting any of the great beers, but also because it served a Kobe beef chili - which is either a genius or madness recipe.

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.

Rest Day Beer Tray

Well there's plenty calories in beer isn't there?

They.....have.....arrived!

Day 6, Stage 5 - Aberdeen to Astoria
85 miles, 7hrs 30mins (incl. 1 eat-til-my-stomach-hurt food stop)
Delighted to have arrived safely under glorious blue skies into Astoria in Oregon, the second state on the trip. I'm currently supping much needed celebratory ales in the Wet Dog Brewery - good call by the way, Gus.

As for the day, well I really struggled to get myself going this morning having looked out the motel window to see cold rain falling on the grey streets of Aberdeen. Hmm, sound a familiar image to anyone? Eventually I set off reasonably late at 9.10 and struggled, badly, through the first 15 miles of, yes you guessed it, trees and logging trucks. I was definitely feeling mentally beat and even had to play my joker card of finally putting on the iPod for the first time which helped lift me along until I reached the quaint small twin towns of Raymond and South Bend where I proceeded to eat enough pancakes & French toast to hurt. This was then followed by another 30 miles of slightly irritating 50-100 ft climb/descent cycles catching fleeting glimpses of the sea between the, yup, trees. And then came the rain again. But, at 59 miles in, I reached a junction where the trees cleared, the sun came out and I decided to take the longer, but I hoped more scenic, road to Astoria. At that moment, they arrived. Now I didn't see the delivery truck, nor the team of surgeons complete with operating theatre, but somewhere within the next half a mile my cycling legs were officially fitted. And I rode, and I rode, and rode some more. Stomping along out the saddle at a pace I've not got close to all trip, frequently telling myself to take it easy and slow down. At one point I actually found myself looking round to check if my kit bags had fallen off the bike it felt so fast. I remember Lance Armstrong's saying his teammate, George Hincape, described it as a 'no chain' moment - when the pedalling is so easy it feels like there's no chain on the bike. Well that's exactly how it felt, all the way through 25 miles of sunshine into Astoria. The final four miles of which were over this, the not insignificant Astoria-Megler bridge, all 4 miles of it over the Columbia River basin. Definitely one on the highlights of the trip so far. It's really quite big.

In spite of the truly awesome last 25 miles it's a much needed rest day tomorrow and I've already booked myself in for a deep tissue massage (and before certain of you gents comment, I asked the receptionist, not the concierge, though apparently I just need to dial 0 for the 'pillow menu'). All I can say is I hope said masseuse likes a challenge!

Can't see the, err, anything for the trees

Day 5, Stage 4 - Kalaloch to Aberdeen
75 miles, 7hrs 30mins (incl. 1 food stop)
Set off this morning at 8.20 under grey skies and 4C fully kitted out in my waterproofs. In truth, I didn't actually get rained on until some 20 miles into the day, then it rained lots, though, all told I only got about 1hr of rain all day (my first rain of the whole trip). When I told the local loggers over breakfast in the Spartan, though surprisingly welcoming J&J cafe at the north of Quinalt that it was the first rain I'd seen in 5 days in the state they accused me of being some sort of sun god.

On the topic of the loggers, I just have to mention the drivers the logging trucks here in Washington. Approx ever third vehicle that passes me on the roads is one of these pictured above, often with an extra trailer to boot. And while they look, and sound terrifying, I can honestly say that I can't believe there's a more courteous group of truck drivers anywhere out there. Even when I'm trundling along well into the shoulder lane of the road these guys go well out their way taking their rigs well onto the other carriageway to give me room. Now my pet theory I've come up with is that this seemingly relaxed attitude to their driving is a result of the nature of their 'quarry' - trees, there's seemingly billions of them here, they're not going anywhere and the harvesting of them means thinking in terms of multi-decades. As a result a couple of seconds being held up behind a bike isn't anything worth getting stressed about. Just a theory.

In terms of me, good news is that my knee is considerably better once again. Nothing more than a dull ache now and I was actually able to do some cycling out the saddle today. Which is just as well as the inability to stand yesterday has left me somewhat tender and swollen. It basically feels like a yellow dot squash ball has been surgically implanted under the skin of each buttock. Not too painful but very very weird. In terms of the ride today, it was very much a 'game of two halves' with a very slow 3hrs 30mins to do the first 30 miles before food followed by a respectable 3hrs 40mins for the next 45miles. Not sure what was in those pancakes at J&J's but it definitely worked.

Well, I'm shattered, so am off to bed, at only 8.30. Very much looking forward to rolling over the 4 miles of the Astoria-Megler bridge tomorrow into Oregon for a much needed rest day.

Before I go, though, I must say many, many thanks to all of you sending you messages/comments to me here and apologies for not getting back to you all. There definitely helping keeping me going along the way.

Wishing you all a good Easter weekend.

Life's a Beach

Stage 3, Lake Crescent to Kalaloch Lodge
65 miles, 8hrs 10mins (incl. food stops)
Mostly a really tough day today, both physically and mentally. The three-or-so mile climb out from Fairholm campground was probably up there as one of the least enjoyable i.e. most painful things I've ever done, and I ain't kidding. My left knee was not pleasant at all and I was going slower than walking pace. Therefore, I had resigned myself to a long, long day in the saddle, with the emphasis on 'in'. However, at the top of the climb - which, incidentally came some 410ft, earlier than the gps turd was saying it would - the knee suddenly improved. Still pretty sore but considerably better. I was therefore able to push on, albeit at a painful average of less than 10mph, until some 47 miles, of rather bland, grey-skied, trees-as-far-as-the-eye-can-see scenery when, for no apparent reason, another dramatic improvement happened. As a result, for the first time all day I was able to pedal standing up for more than half a pedal stroke. Now this excess sitting time has, unsurprisingly, not done my sit bones any favours. Slapped on the arse by an overly affectionate drunken elephant would be a fair description of how I'm feeling. Still, takes my mind off the sore knee I guess. The only real highlight of those first 47 was getting to the point where the road turned south; and knowing I'd be heading in that general direction, for the next ~1,800 miles.

All the pain and tedium was forgotten when I finally reached the mighty Pacific Ocean. An early landmark on the trip for me. I got a massive lift from my first glimpse of it and found myself suddenly spinning along the last six miles at a respectable 16mph (well it's respectable for a fully laden bike, Dave).

Now I had been thinking of camping again tonight, but figured that three nights outside this early in the trip was a bit too much to take. So, I'm safely checked into the Kalaloch Lodge. Admittedly, the room smells like the toilets at a fashion show after lunch, but I'm guessing I don't exactly smell to plush myself, and there's also no TV. But with this pic as the view from my window/bed, I'm not complaining about anything. There's something marvelously calming about watching the waves roll in and crash on the shore...

However, on a different note, the whole day was put massively into perspective by the text I received early this morning from my good friend in Edinburgh, Mike Linn, letting me know that his mother, Betty, had finally lost her battle with cancer. Personally I'll remember Betty as always smiling and wonderfully welcoming and, despite my numerous comments to the contrary about Mike, together with Chris she really did a great job in raising their two kids.

My thoughts are with you.

Things that go bump in the night

Well there was something big out there last night, though I reckon it was just a deer. Didn't dare look though. Still, managed to get as solid a 12 hrs sleep as you can when camping.

Currently sitting in the Hungry Bear cafe ( which has wifi) so thought I'd do a quick post 15 miles into stage 3. I'm just trying to force down an enormous plate of chips on top of a large plate of french toast.

Knee was hurting like heck for the first few miles but has improved massively in the past 10 miles. Clouded over today but still dry at the moment. Hoping to make it to Kalaloch before the rain that's forecast starts.

Rest day

Early Tuesday morning over here. Decided to take the rest day and not
press on today. Only another 12hrs lying here in the sun :)

Here's to global warming

Stage 2 - Port Townsend to Lake Crescent
77 miles, 8hrs 20mins (incl. food stops)
Another absolutely glorious day today with the temperature creeping up to 20C made for a beautiful 77 miles in the sun. Today's route took me along highway 101 on Washington's north-west corner, through Sequim and Port Angeles to the banks of Lake Crescent in the heart of the Olympic National Park. Sitting here at a totally calm and peaceful campsite (more on that later) it's pretty darn easy to see why it's a National Park. The scenery is just so, so big and I felt like I could almost hear David Attenbourgh's voice-over announcing the arrival of spring.

The only downside on the day, and a not insignificant one is my left knee was playing up. It had been giving me a bit of trouble in training but nothing major. Today was a different matter though, really quite painful necessitating a lot of one-legged cycling in the last few miles.

When I finally arrived at the campsite it turned out to be closed, despite every website I read saying it was open year-round. Alas, I actually ain't that fussed as it means I'm the only one here, making the setting even more idyllic. I also, obviously, had my pick of the camping sites so chose the one giving the view above, with Storm King in the distance, out my tent. Pretty awesome. Only downside is that, being the only one here doesn't exactly help my odds if any hungry bears do stumble through camp. And there are bear-proof food storage bins here so they are about, as are mountain lions. Oh great.

Tomorrow was meant to be a rest day, but with a shorter stage planned and a great forecast (and no running water/toilets here) I might just bash on with stage 3, providing the knee has improved.

Anyway, I'm turning in for the night, hugging my can of bear spray and looking forward to the sunrise over the mountains. Hopefully.