Day 5: Fort Stevens State Park, Oregon

Distance traveled: 323.0 km

Cumulative distance: 1,258.3 km

Maximum speed: 114 kph

Moving average: 78 kph

Temperature range: 14.8 - 26.2

Editor's note: it is taking 75 seconds to upload one picture. You lose.

No update tonight because there is no cell service at the campground (at least where I am situated). However, I am out for a robust walk (a little more robust than I was anticipating!) and I was checking my phone to call the park to get airlifted and discovered I have three bars here. I'll be saved!

In there interim, here is one picture from my walk.

My hostel camp was a success. My host Jimmy was quite gracious about having me move in without his prior knowledge. I woke up about 7:00 am and shortly afterwards, I heard him heading out to his big corrugated metal shed so I just called out “Good morning Jimmy!” so that he would know that I was awake. But the night before when I went out just before turning out my light, I noticed that there was a light on inside the shed. I’m out in the middle of nowhere, I don’t know anybody and nobody knows where I am (unless you checked Spotwalla) and I couldn’t help but wonder if that is where Jimmy kept the college co-eds. That happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

I had initially resisted Jimmy’s offer to take a shower but on second thought, I decided this might be an opportunity and while I didn’t want to put Jimmy out, especially because of my being unexpected, it was his “business” so I thought I would avail myself. I went into the house to clean up and he told me that pressure tank is out of order so there is no water pressure. And thus, no shower. He had put out a basin of water for me to wash my face. So much for that idea. We’ll see where the next shower shows itself.

He did invite me to eat some breakfast, which was a bonus. He had “won” four dozen two-days-from-expiring eggs at the Tribal elders dinner the night before so there were plenty of eggs in inventory. He had cooked his eggs already so I just cooked three eggs in the grease that he had already used. He also offered me toast, which I declined. I didn’t want to eat all his precious rations aside from which, Jimmy is not much of a house keeper; I don’t think the dish towel has ever been washed so cooking food in his kitchen was a bit of a leap of faith. There was still food stuck to the fork that I ended up taking from the drawer.

I don’t think Jimmy has too much money but he is clearly not destitute. He had just paid somebody $500 to bury the electrical line to his house. But part of the price to stay is to get a lecture that is politically oriented, amongst other things and he freely acknowledged (warned) me of that when we first met.

The last thing at the Rainforest Hostel is to do my chores. I had said to him that in my youth when I hosteled, it had always been an expectation that the hosteler had to make a contribution of chores to help keep the place going and he said that was the expectation here, too, so I helped him stack firewood in his wood shed. It was pretty light work for me but Jimmy is (a spry)  80 so I think he appreciated it. He also instructed me to take some wood into the house. There was some wood that was rotting a little and full of bugs so he didn’t want it in the wood bins because the bugs would get into the other wood. So he had me put it on the woodpile in his living room.

It pains me to say this but today’s ride was pretty dull. The first hour and a half was through endless forest with only two brief views of the ocean. I stopped to take a couple of pictures but these are nowhere near the standard from the other day. I rode through a city called Aberdeen and it only heightened my pain as it was absolutely butt ugly, save for one redeeming feature: a billboard advertising the International Mermaid Museum.

I finally stopped for lunch at a restaurant as I was craving some vegetables or leafy greens as I had not had a vegetable, let alone a salad since Thursday night. I stopped in a logging town called Raymond and went into the first place that looked like a diner. I saw “chicken and bacon salad” on the menu so I figured that would satisfy my craving for something remotely healthy. Even though there were several gals around making themselves busy in a somewhat quiet restaurant, I waited quite a long time before someone came to take my order. The guy looked like the dishwasher… the dishwasher’s homeless brother. The guy was wearing dirty pants, a dirty tank top and a ball cap over his mop of bright red hair. I figured he was a cook just hanging out outside of the kitchen waiting for something to do until my order came and he availed himself of the TV to watch a football game. He took my order, fetched me another glass of water and kept an eye on me when there was a commercial in the game. Deep fried chicken salad is what it was. At least it TASTED good, even if not that healthy. But how healthy do you want to be? Turns out the waiter/cook/dishwasher/homeless guy is the restaurant’s owner.

With cell service I was able to target a campground and now that the weekend is done, I figure I shouldn’t have too much trouble. I also pick one fairly close so I should get there about 3:30 pm. As it happens, the Fort Stevens State Park campground does have vacancy but only for motorhomes requiring power and water. For $44. Which I have to pay in cash because my Canadian credit cards won’t work. Whatever. I’m tired of riding and I don’t want to risk being unable to find a place later. And there is no cell service.

So here I am, in amongst all the trailers and motorhomes, with only a sand pad to set up my tent, which I decide is probably a good thing since it won’t be so wet in the morning. After I set up my tent and get my clothes for tomorrow organized (it’s a clean clothes day!) I decide to go for a walk to the beach. I started out walking in my motorcycle boots but it occurs to me that I’ll regret even a short walk in those boots so I go back to the campsite to change into runners. This will be better on the beach at any rate.

I ASSUMED the beach would be just across the road, beyond the campsites over there so I wasn’t expecting much of a hike. It was only one mile so good thing I changed my footwear. On the beach, there is the derelict of an old shipwreck from 1905. The Peter Iredale foundered there in a storm and was later sold for scrap and what you see is all that remains. From the beach I decide to walk to the

Russel Battery, an old military installation with bunkers and some artillery with some parts dating back to the civil war. However, the walk seems to be extraordinarily long. I walk about two more miles and come to a sign that say it is 2.2 miles away, so I keep walking. In a little while, I discover the aforementioned cell service then keep walking After about another mile, I come to a sign that says 1.1 miles to the battery and 1.4 miles to the campground. Meanwhile, the shadows are starting to get longer. I come to a fork in the road and NO INDICATION which is the right path. I knew that the battery is not on the same path as the campground so I am starting to think I could be out here in the dark trying to find my way. I pick a way, then second guess myself and go down the other path, then start thinking about how dark these woods are getting so I decide to call for directions. I was thinking how lucky to have cell service here. I find the ranger’s office and describe my situation, that I am out for a walk and it is getting dark (it’s 7:00 p.m.) and I need to know which path to take. As I am describing my surroundings, and I have a good landmark which is a bunker that was at the intersection,

though that didn’t seem to be too helpful to the ranger, a fellow came walking with his dog and I really thought this time I’M SAVED! I ask him if he knows the way or if he is just following his dog but he does know so I ditch the ranger and say I’M SAVED! I felt a little sheepish about barging in on the person’s private walk with his dog and I probably looked a little… flustered. Peter, my benefactor with his dog Libby are from Santa Cruz and just out camping for a few weeks. He is clearly a strong walker as the two of them are keeping a good stride. Libby isn’t remotely fussed about the pace, which I find amazing for such a little dog, especially as they have been out about as long as I have.

Turns out we have a number of things in common and he is an extremely affable person. I got some tips on places to visit further along my journey, including a Mobile gas station that serves great food and occasionally has live music. I’m not sure if that place is directly on my path but if it is not, I’ll make an effort to get there.