Recovery

Day 16 -Rehydration Day
Feeling a lot more human today but still far from ideal. Just doing a rough calc. and I reckon I'm on about a 9,000 - 10,000 calorie deficit since Friday am (which works out at about 4kgs). Still, the weather's finally brightened up and it's been beautiful couple of days here in Ferndale with only the occasional but disconcertingly random tsunami warning siren disturbing the peace in this charming little town

Forecast is looking good for tomorrow but still not sure if I'm up to doing the Mattole, or more importantly the next 3 days after.

Will see what the morning brings.

Setback

Day 15 - 'Rest Day'
Rest day, yeah right. After 2 weeks being stuffed full of all sorts, my stomach has thrown in the towel. It's 7.30 am over here and I reckon I've had about 3 hrs sleep having been repeatedly ill all night, unable to even keep water down.

It would be lunacy to attempt the monster stage tomorrow given how I'm feeling now so I'm either going to take the bail-out route or take an extra rest day here.

Off to try and get some sleep now.

The drugs do work

Day 14, Stage 11 - Prairie Creek campsite to Ferndale 77 miles in 9hrs 20mins (incl. 2 large food stops)
Total distance - 852 miles
When Fausto Coppi, a cycling great of the 40's and 50's, was asked if he had taken drugs when cycling his response was at least honest being 'when necessary'. Which lead to the obvious next question 'when is it necessary?' To which Coppi replied 'Almost always'.

Well it was 'necessary' for me today as it quickly became clear to me that yesterday's blowing up combined with the lack of any substantial food in the evening had left me with one seriously heavy pair of legs today. An early double breakfast didn't do much good so I stopped off again after a pitiful 28 miles in ~3hrs 30mins, and decided to go for the nuclear option of chemical stimulants. Namely a cup of warm caffeine - my first coffee of the trip. It worked enough to get me through the next, thankfully flat, 50 miles, worryingly little of which I can remember as I'm lying here desperately trying to stay awake.

Looking forward to a much needed rest day tomorrow here in Ferndale which looks a fantastic little town - just the sort of place I needed to be in after the past couple of days.

The pic is the start of Monday's monster stage, the Mattole Road - 73 miles and 9000ft of climbing lie up that fairly harmless looking bit of tarmac making it easily the toughest day on paper of the whole trip. So I'm signing off to get as much rest as I can for it.

Big day, in many ways bar one

Day 13, Stage 10 - Gold Beach to Prairie Creek Campsite
92 miles in 9hrs 25mins (incl. 1 food stop)
Total distance - 774 miles
Well, my Tourettes is back.

It's been a long, long day!

As I awoke at 7am having got out of the comfiest bed I've been in in a long time (at Ireland's Rustic Lodges) I wasn't best pleased to see the rain dancing in the puddles. Still, it's early, the forecast is good so it'll be burnt off soon, I thought.

So, I set out from Gold Beach, cinnamon bagel in hand, a bit miffed but set for a +90 mile day. Pretty soon the road pointed up into the cloud. I rode up. And it rained. I rode up more. And it rained more, and the visibility got worse (30-50yrds) and it stayed at 3C. After 2 hrs of numerous, wet 200-500ft climbs to viewpoints which my guidebook was raving about but which were today all showing the same shade of grey, I hit real mental low point for the trip. That's when the verbal affliction came back and this time I didn't even have any pain to take my mind off everything. I felt physically great a case of the flesh is willingly but the spirit is weak.

The meteorological and mental gloom continued for the 28 miles into Brooking (I think, I didn't care to look) where I stopped for my first franchise food of the trip in DQ. As I set off again the rain stopped, and a beautifully eerie mist started rising from the ground. Then, I spotted another rainbow fish of Yachats' ilk hung from the porch of a passing house. This one wasn't dancing but, when I looked up, the sun was starting to break through. It would take another 35 miles to do so properly but is was a start and enough to stop the flow of expletives.

I then essentially stumbled on the state line, crossing over from Oregon into California some 10 miles earlier than I had expected. 20 miles of cow-filled fields later I was in, and rapidly out of Crescent City after which the road ramped up sharply into the forest. Then something strange began to happen. It wasn't obvious for the first few hundred feet of climbing, but at around 600ft up I began shrinking, and by 800ft I was three year old again, riding a tiny tricycle through the woods. I was into the land of the giant redwoods, and I felt small. Seeing the size of them I now don't think there is such a thing as tree huggers here, they're just passing hikers who've been caught in the gravitational field of one of these leviathans. While in the forest the sun finally broke through and the road rolled out to glorious sunshine at the top of 700ft cliff overlooking the ocean. A rather hairy descent back to the sea followed - hairy cause at 30 mph it's difficult to tell if it's the shadow of a branch or if it's a large wheel-buckling crack in the road. I continued on through the sunshine and past the Trees of Mystery centre, complete with the not-insignificant wooden sculptures in the pic. Now I can understand the lumberjack, but the sky blue bull? Nope, I don't get it.

I was feeling great, enjoying the sunshine and thinking the stage was basically in the bag. But, it was far from it. As I started on the climb out from Klamath, with 10 miles to go, my engine spluttered to a grinding halt. I was empty, gone, finished. It's known in the cycling world as bonking (don't ask cause I don't know why) and is basically the same as 'hitting the wall' in running, only much more debilitating. Graeme Obree wrote that only a cyclist that's been through it can truly understand just how exhausted you can get on a bike in this situation. And I was there. A couple of bits of red liquorice and the remainder of my Gatorade got me very, very slowly, up the next 4 miles to the top of the Newton B Drury road - a truly stunning descent through the the Redwoods and down into the campsite for the night.

However, things still weren't finished there. Now for an area that's into it's outdoor pursuits you'd have thought that finding freeze-dried camping meals wouldn't be difficult, but every outdoors store I asked in all the way from Coos Bay looked at me rather strangely. Even the ranger in Crescent City couldn't help. But, he assured me there was a shop of some sort down here at the campsite.

Eh, nope. Nowt! If I'd had the energy then the Tourettes would have been back. I didn't.

So, dinner tonight has consisted of; one 330ml bottle of strawberry milk, 2 bits of red liquorice and half a pack of ham jerky. All told about some 500 calories vs the 7000 or so I burnt today. I'm seriously contemplating trying to tap a redwood for some sap.

Thankfully it's only a short 69 mile day tomorrow into Ferndale, my base camp for the +9000 ft day that is the Mattole Monster. However, I'll need to find food fast in the morning.

No signal here of any sort so will post this tomorrow when I find a motel with free WiFi that I can linger outside of.

On that topic, for those of you who've called/texted me in the past few days, I've been stuck on some phone network (Edge Wireless) since Tuesday that doesn't let me make calls or send texts. I not ignoring you.

Off to bed now, hungry.

Jetty cats pic

The Jetty Cats of Gold Beach

Day 12, Stage 9 - Coos Bay to Gold Beach
85 miles, 7hrs 55 mins (incl 2 food stops and countless photo/admiring the view stops)
Total distance covered - 682 miles
So, can one actually get bored of rounding headlands and seeing yet another seemingly endless beach with the waves crashing against a battalion of rocky outcrops?

Nope, not yet!

Well, today turned out to be by far the easiest day's cycling so-far as I very quickly found myself 35 miles in before I'd really woken up. The real key, I think, was that nothing was really hurt that much. Sure my left knee, buttocks and palms were all uncomfortable, and my legs are by no means feeling fresh, but relative to how I have been feeling on all the other stages I felt great. This continued through the impressive seascapes in Bandon and Port Oxford, with the biggest problem being the skip button on my headphones not working properly - I didn't realise I had so many Neil Diamond songs on my iPod.

The pic (in the next entry) is of some ferrel cats that are actually one of Gold Beach's tourist attractions. I'd actually been looking forward to seeing them all day.

I'm now getting into a bit of a routine, so here's what an average day looks for me

7.30am - Wake up, shower, repack kit
8.30am - Set off
8.35am - Find nearest garage and fill up Camelbak with 3 liters of Gatorade
11.30am - Stop for enormous amounts of food
5pm - Arrive at destination; check in, stretch, shower, have coughing fit
6.30pm - Out to find dinner
8pm - Watch Weather Channel, write blog, check out route & highlights for next day
9pm - Bed

As I said on Sunday, it ain't no holiday.

Last night in Oregon tonight as crossing into California tomorrow, into the land of the giant redwoods.

Breakfast of Champions, or Fat Boys

Day 11- Rest Day
Alas it didn't turn out to strictly be a rest day today as I had to take the bike a couple of miles up the road to North Bend to get the rear wheel rebuilt by the very helpful folk at Moe's Bike shop. However, those 5 miles confirmed to me both just how stuffed I am and also, even if I wasn't, then just how little there was to see in this town - basically think Dundee and you're not far off. So a day of much resting, laundry and excessive eating ensued. Speaking of copious consumption, this pic was from earlier in the trip, in the Sunflour cafe across the road from Wayne & Stacey's in Seattle. While I didn't quite manage it all that day, it shows the sort of quantity that's now a daily occurrence for me.

Wifi in the motel stuffed hence I'll likely not be able to post this til I set off to Gold Beach tomorrow. Edging even closer to California, and the monster day on the Mattole Road.

...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.