Day 8: Surfwood Campground, MacKerricher State Park, California

Distance traveled: 302.8 km

Cumulative distance: 2,291.9 km

Maximum speed: 121 kph

Moving average: 62 kph

Temperature range: 14.2 - 28.4

I am working on the report but I had used up a good portion of computer juice making a booking for tomorrow night so the post will have to wait. In the mean time, here are a few pictures from my phone today. There is a story for each one!

Humboldt Forest

Cell Service Beach, Hwy 1.

Record distance on one tank.

The convenience store of grace.

The Beach.

The day started out on the grim side as there was a generous dose of London Pea Soup in the vicinity. Definitely not much to see, unless you like grey. Since there wasn’t much point in hanging around in that muck, I just packed my things and loaded up and was on the bike heading out at 8:15 am. Even though it wasn’t raining per se, the air was like rain so I was all geared up for it in my rain suit and rain gloves.

I had been somewhat perplexed by both Google Maps AND my Garmin predicting a six hour ride to MacKerricher, despite the measly 300 km distance. I had planned to stop at the park gate to ask the gals if they knew something that I didn’t but they were still in their jammies tucked under their covers so I pressed forward.

I started out on a little side road that was winding its way through Meg-sue park so I didn’t think anything was up but at a time when I thought it would have been obvious that it was time to turn onto Scenic Byway Cyberdyne 101, the GPS sent me straight on with the road that I was already riding. I don’t always remember which setting I have chosen for the Garmin but I know it is either “fastest route” or “shortest route”. If I am not in a hurry, I will often set it to “shortest” because it will take me off the well-beaten path and often on side roads that are more interesting than the way which would get me there fastest. This is my usual preference. I followed the road and at times, the pavement gave way to gravel but not like in the sense that They couldn’t make up Their minds when They built the road, I think it was leftover damage from the quake in 1905 and it was just too minor a road to worry about repairing. The good news is that this was an out-of-the-way road; so out of the way in fact that other people that I saw on it looked lost. It passed by a couple of quite pretty beaches, the first which was occupied by a lot of people and dogs and such. Keep in mind that it is 8:45 am and there is heavy fog, so it actually made for a very interesting view. Unfortunately, I hadn’t bothered with the GoPro because it was so foggy and it wasn’t safe to stop to take a picture because I was afraid the road was going to fall away into the ocean. But the next opportunity was not lost. Sadly, it wasn’t quite as interesting as the prior beach and clearly, the lost locals knew the same because it was not near as busy as the first I had seen. But I stopped because there was actually a parking area, a little park, benches and stairs down to the water. After I snapped a few pics, on I went and when the Garmin took me under Hwy 101, I smelled something fishy, and not from the ocean. I was committed to climbing a steep, moto-cross type hill but when I got to the top I stopped in somebody’s driveway (the lady driving her car out waived at me as she went by) and checked the setting on the GPS and lo and behold I had it set to “avoid motorways, speedways, interstates, autobahns, roads with six lines or more and people who call me ‘sir’”. It seems Scenic Byway 101 is one of the above in the single eye of the Garmin GPS.  Once I had changed that setting to "Whatever", it was onto slab riding on the motorway, which was, in fact, just a big, fast highway akin to driving between Calgary and Edmonton. I only stopped to change into my “winter” riding gloves at one of the many pull-outs along the way. At this one, though, clearly, nobody was lost.

This went on for a couple of hours and my increasing hunger was making me wistful for something delicious, like a latte. But out in the middle of nowhere on what is basically an interstate there aren’t too many drive-through espresso bars. However, around 10:45 I saw an exit to Myers Flats and there were the symbols on the road sign for places to buy table settings so I figured there had to be some kind of food there. A quick, i.e. 30 second ride through the entire town revealed exactly two places to buy something potentially good: an ESPRESSO bar(!) and a convenience store. There were also a few other non-descript businesses but I wasn’t paying much attention because they were not selling lattes. Not entirely sure who was the consumer base in this forgotten corner of the world but the owner of the espresso bar had told me it had been a busy summer.

Seated outside the espresso bar were two gents, one older and the other younger (than me, of course) with their road bikes. The younger was riding his packed-for-Armageddon touring bicycle, the older, a sleek road racer. The bike, I mean. We start chatting and I had to suffer the indignity of fessing up to yet another Washington tip-over. It’s pretty obvious with only one mirror on the bike so it is not like I can just subtly change the subject. The good thing is that they are both Canadian and on their own versions of U.S. trips. Tim, the younger, is from Montreal and Ed, the older (sorry Ed, because I know you are reading this) is from…. KELOWNA! It’s practically Old Home Week in Myers Flats! Both of these guys are grizzled road biking veterans. But they are not riding together, they just happen to have met for espresso, just like I showed up. Ed is camping four miles down in Humboldt Redwood Forest and implores me to take a ride down there. Tim is riding to the Antarctic, or some place far away. They are clearly chummy and I’m not sure how long they have been sitting there but Tim wants to buy Ed a muffin before he heads off.  Tim is probably in his late 20s and Ed is a couple of generations ahead of him. Actually, Ed might be a couple of generations ahead of me! He tells me he rides… what was it? Something with a “5” in it, like, 50,000 miles a year. Maybe its kilometres. Maybe it’s dog years but it was a lot. They guy is a specimen and if you ever wonder if it is possible to be fit in your “golden years”, Ed is the living, breathing example of it. I’ll see you back in Kelowna, Ed!

And this stop was perfect timing for me because by the time I had finished my go-big-or-go-home latte and bagel with avocado and cream cheese, the sun was shining so I was able to take off my winter wear.

Based on Ed’s advice, I go off down the little side road to visit the Humboldt Redwood Forest. I had come through the Redwood Forest when I first entered California yesterday but there, it was on a fast road with little opportunity to gawk at the trees.  At Humboldt, it is a leisurely pace where there are families riding bicycles and others out on the road. You can see in my one picture the bike between two redwoods adjacent the road, for perspective. These are spectacular trees. Big in this case is really big. 12 feet across, 40 feet in circumference, height to “lower limb” 190 feet. Big in every sense.

A few miles down the highway the Garmin instructs me to turn onto Hwy 1. Though I had looked at this while I was at home, I was unprepared for what awaited me: this was far and away the twistiest, gnarliest stretch of riding I had even done in my entire riding career. Plus, I was low on gas but I didn’t realize it at the time I turned onto it. Adding to the challenge that many segments of road has sand and loose gravel coating the mountain-side (my) lane because the road is cut into side of the sandstone mountain and the stuff just sluffs off every chance it gets. If you have ever been on a motorcycle, check out this Google Maps view: Highway 1 north end. This is only really worth doing if you zoom in real close; better still looking at Google Street View.

I am going over the mountain and as I am climbing in elevation, I notice the gas gauge. It's low: embarrassingly low. Immediately, my anxiety goes up and all of a sudden, what started out as a fun, adventurous ride is now a test of the bike's gas guage. It is solidly on the "E". No fuel warning light, though, which is key because once the light flashes once, I know I have about 50-75 km of range remaining... on flat land. 

I start riding extra conservatively, keeping revs low, coasting downhill as much as practical. There are very few houses out in this area but because it is a well known road, there is a reasonable amount of traffic so i know that should I run out of gas, I won't be without resources. I pull over when it is safe so that I can see if I can determine how far it is to a gas station but of course, there is no cell service. I  have a siphon pump with me however, I have always carried it because I have a large gas tank and should some OTHER motorcycler run out of gas, I am almost sure to have enough to give. Now it looks like it might be the reverse. 

I really have no idea how far it is over the mountain range so now I am just praying I have lived a good enough life. Eventually, I reach the coast after what seems like 20? 40? 60? minutes and there is immediately a roadside turnout and people are pulled over having a look at the view. Even though I don't want to stop the bike, I pull over to check for cell service, which is available and according to Google, the next gas station is 33 miles away in Fort Bragg. Still no fuel light on the bike so I am probably safe at this point. Since I am stopped, I snap a couple of quick pictures and then press on, continuing to ride conservatively. I wave any vehicles behind me to pass. 

After maybe 20 minutes, I am passing through the ocean side community of West Port and there is a convenience store with a sign that says "We have gas". This is well in advance of the Google estimate. I had been watching the trip meter since my last fill: 483 km; I so wanted to see it roll over the 500 km point for one tank but after how I had been feeling, it just didn't seem right. I stop in and announce "I have lived a good life". The owner is there with his little boy Heron and looks at me like I am from

outer space but I think he had some idea what it was about. Gas is US $6.99 a US gallon, about a buck and a half more than a regular gas station. Small price to pay. The gas pump requires me to push the nozzle into the tank in order to make the gas flow but in doing so, only allows me to fill half a tank. Even at that price, I feel like the least I can do is buy a full tank of gas so I have to hold a sleeve on the nozzle back to keep the gas flowing. US $44 for a tank of gas. Cheap. 

I ride another 20 km and then there is another convenience store with gas, so I would have made it. I think I would have made it to Fort Bragg if there hadn't been another opportunity because the fuel light never came on but that would have been another level of anxiety.

I end up riding past the turnoff into MacKerricher because it is not well marked for people on motorcycles with anxiety, so I have a little ride around Fort Bragg, a mere 6 km from the campground. There are all kinds of kids walking around town, which seems odd to me because it is not yet 2:00 pm. Why aren't these kids in school? There is also a street closed because of a farmer's market, which seems odd  to me on a Wednesday afternoon.

At the campground, it is the same routine as the night before, riding around and picking a site then reporting back to the gate to say which one I want. There are several in the area that appeal to me; what i didn't realize is that most of them are reserved so I end up with one, very open site, which is o.k. because I have learned the best thing is to have morning sun so that everything can dry off. I'm a little surprised at the $45 price, since the campground is pretty basic. I can buy a tank of gas for cheaper than that! The picnic tables look like they are about 50 years old, the bathrooms look like they are 50 years old, no soap, no paper towels, coin operated showers and they don't appear to ever have shoveled ash out of the fire pits. Adequate, but basic. What it DOES have is close proximity to the beach. Here I am, riding down the coast and I haven't even been able to set foot yet on a beach somewhere. I was determined because it was my last night on the coast.

After setting up my tent and getting my area organized, I ride back into Fort Bragg for dinner. I am so close to town that I don't see any reason to eat another meal of noodles, dehydrated vegetables and canned meat. It is either a deli with something nice to prepare or a restaurant. Easy choice, and I elect La Palapa, the best rated restaurant at 4.7 stars in Fort Bragg. It is primarily a take out place, though, according to the sign inside, has seating for 39 but there is a steady stream of take out customers while I am there.  

When I get back to camp, I am motivated to get to the beach before it gets dark. My plan is to call Nan from there so that she can see it. My next door neighbour Russell is also determined... to talk to the guy with the motorcycle. He immediately comes over to visit and likes to talk. However, as much as I would like to visit, because that is what this is about, I beg off and tell him I am going to the beach to call home. Already the shadows are long so I don't want to be doing it in the dark. 

It is a short walk, which pleases me, after my experience at Fort Stevens. It is a beautiful beach, lots of seals about and I think to myself it would be fun to swim just to say I had done it. I pull my pant legs high and let the water waves wash over me feet. 

It's freezing.

Day 7: Sue-meg State Park

 Distance traveled: 310.8 km

Cumulative distance: 1989.1 km

Maximum speed: 123 kph ("freeway")

Moving average: 73 kph

Temperature range:  16.2 - 25.2

I was up from 4:00 a.m. to 6:00 a.m. listening to my next door neighbour’s dog crying her eyes out. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs, but how is it that the dog’s parents couldn’t hear her yet REST of the campground could. But I did go back to sleep and woke up after 7. I took my time to get organized,

after all, it wasn’t raining so why the rush? I draped the fly over some bushes and stood the tent on its end with the side panels open to get some air through, and everything else was draped over the picnic table. It took about three hours for things to be dry enough to pack up, which was helped by the sun coming through the thick Douglas firs behind me.

Scenery wasn’t quite as good today; it seems like the Hwy 101 sweet spot is between Fort Stevens and Charleston. Maybe make a note of that if you think you might come down here. Nonetheless, it was still worthy, especially at lunch time when I broke down for an all-American breakfast: BELGIAN waffle with eggs, bacon and syrup. In a classic all-American diner that included a counter. After I ate, I spent a long time on the phone ordering a mirror for the bike and sorting out a destination for tonight. So long in fact, the waitresses, only slightly older than my mother, thought I was moving in with them. But I got a mirror ordered and so now I am making a side trip through 

Sacramento, and I determined a destination for the night. Sadly, California state campgrounds do not allow same-day or even next day reservations. They don’t care that I am riding a motorcycle and don’t know up from down, right from wrong or what is going to happen over the next few hours let alone days.

One spectacular scene today was driving through the redwood forest. I realize this is lame talk about something and not have a picture but it comes with the territory on this trip. The only photos of the redwoods I managed were with the GoPro camera on top of my helmet and I need stronger cell service to get those pictures. The road is twisty but the forest is so thick and the trees so tall I needed to turn on the high beam on the bike to help me see. Because I was wearing sun glasses. I need to look cool going through the forest. But it was dark in there. 

I found the campground, which is one of several in the Sue-meg state park. When I pulled up to the gate, I asked the attendant "who was Sue Meg?" She told me it is a Yurok (local First Nation) word for “always there”. 

There is a bit of the funky chicken for picking a camp spot. They wouldn’t let me make a reservation, so I had to take a plasticized sheet showing all of the four (six?) campgrounds with a green highlighter indicating which spots were open. My job, while holding the card, was to ride around and pick THREE tent sites because other people were doing the same thing and somebody else might pick the spot that I pick before I get back. I only dropped the card one time, and had to find a level spot to park where the bike would lean sufficiently in the correct direction, then run back and retrieve the card. I picked a long, narrow deep camp site so that in the morning, the sun should shine in and help me dry my stuff if there is a lot of dew, though it seems drier here than the other places I have camped on this trip. Mainly because it is not raining.

I actually wanted this particular campground because it was the closest to the beach however, when I went for a walk thinking I would visit the beach, I discovered I would need to take a couple of days to include that in my itinerary because I am 50 vertical metres above the beach but the view is spectacular. I sent this picture to Nan and she asked me if that was the view from my tent site. Sadly, no it is not but if it was, I would stay an extra day.

Agate Beach.

One other thing: I was warned that there are both bears AND cougars in the park. There are metal storage bins in each tent site and at the gate, I was told to use mine. I was putting away my dinner items like cooking pot, stove, almonds but wasn't all that fussed as i was talking to Nan on the phone, when I heard a rustle behind me. I just about jumped out of my skin. I struggled to get my headlamp lit and when I did I saw a HUGE mountain lion staring me in the face! It had a bandit mask, dark muzzle, grey features and actually looked kinda cute. I yelled "shoo!" before it made off with my almonds. I saw on one sign around here that said if attacked by a bear or cougar, FIGHT BACK. I'll be more ready next time.

Day 6: Sun Bay State Park, near Charleston, Oregon

 Distance traveled: 410.0 km

Cumulative distance: 1,678.3 km

Maximum speed: 112 kph

Moving average: 65 kph

Temperature range: 15.8 - 21.0

Editor's note: pictures are taking 75 seconds to upload, so I am saving many for better cell service.

Rumours of my death are greatly exaggerated! I am simply without cell service! I'm having lunch in Bandon, Oregon. Unfortunately, my computer had.not charged enough to do an upload, so hopefully tonight.  I am keeping it up, though saved on my computer. 

Here are couple of pictures from my phone:

My lunch time view from yesterday.

I woke this morning to the sound of rain pelting the tent. This was at about 5:30 am so I just waited hoping to go back to sleep or for the sun to come out and just warm and dry everything out! Well, none of that happened so as I could hear the campground start to come alive, I decided to treat myself to a shower and put on all fresh clothes for the day!

Despite my best efforts, everything is wet. Some of this is just from striking the tent but I just could not manage to keep anything dry, even though the inside of the tent was relatively dry. The tent, fly, groundsheet (which was now covered in sandy mud) all weighed an extra 10 kilos (22 pounds). Since I had a water tap at my tent site, I tried washing some of the sand off but I didn’t have enough hands to make it work. Where is a pillion when you need one?

Since I did not bother with doing a tidy fold of the tent gear, I was packed and rolling out of my tent site, dressed in my rain gear at the princely hour of 8:15. It must be some kind of record.  I rode through Loop C to say goodbye to Peter  and looked for what I thought might be his van but there was no sign of life. How civilized.

Rather than hit the highway right away, I rode around the park for nearly an hour looking at some of the sights. There were some old bunkers from WW II and as well, some artillery including deactivated ordinance but some of this stuff was inaccessible due to road construction.

Given that I was going so early, I resolved to stop at the first drive-through espresso bar I saw, which happened to be about 9:30. Drive-through espresso bars are very common down here. I couldn’t actually drive through because I wouldn’t be able to hold a latte while driving so I ended up walking to the window. I also ended up spending an hour messaging back and forth with a person back home who wanted to buy my wine shipping containers, which I had posted on Facebook Marketplace, in exchange for a donation to the women’s shelter. Nan will be handling that back home.

What yesterday lacked in view was more than redeemed today. It just got better and better as the day wore on. When I post this and actually see the pictures, I think I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

At one point, there was a side road between Hwy 101 and the ocean and on a lark, I went down it as it did not say “dead end” so I figured it would have to join the highway again at some point. The road led to more spectacular views, perhaps missed by those on the highway, and then turned into a one way road. I stopped at a viewpoint and was chatting to a gal from Kentucky and I told her I expected to be down there next year. We talked about what was good about Kentucky and she said the camping is great, horse farms, flowers in the spring and the Appalachians. She then said just the education is bad.

I stopped in Lincoln City for lunch when I saw a place called Kyllio’s Seafood Bar. I figured I better eat some seafood while I am on the coast so I ordered the Dungeness linguini. I somehow overlooked that it would come in a litre quart of whipping cream. There was also some tiny green flecks in it. I think they might have been broccoli. I still ate it.

The restaurant had a pretty good beach view so after eating, I took some time to look for a destination for the night and ended up booking the Sun Bay campground. With the knowledge in hand that I could take as long as I wanted without worrying about being homeless, I made a lazy effort and stopped at multiple viewpoints to take in the gaze and maybe some pictures. I can tell you that I missed photographing millions of beautiful vistas simply because there was no safe place to stop or I was too busy with the road. But it would be worthwhile doing this trip a few times and maybe more slowly. I saw numerous people riding bicycles with packs on them and as well, I saw a total of three people walking with backpacks on the highway. That’s dedication.

I also crossed over a spectacular bridge coming into this town and so I was determined I would try to find a spot that I could photograph it. I ended up above the airport looking over the bay with the bridge as well as another bridge that had a centre-swivel to allow boats through. I suspect this was a rail bridge. I had never actually seen one of these but I remember as a tyke 60 years ago that I had a toy train set with such a bridge on a swivel.

When I passed through the last city before my camping destination, I thought I might look for

something green to eat so I stopped in at Safeway and grabbed an endive salad for dinner. I didn’t need much because I still have a lump in my stomach from lunch but I thought maybe some type of vegetable might be good.

I had set my GPS to find the campground and I was a little surprised when it took me well past Charlston until it told me as I was at my destination when in fact, I was not. This was a somewhat rude awakening, so I pulled over and looked at my phone, which initially said “no service” However, after a minute that rectified itself and I was able to determine that the campground was on the correct road but Garmin had just misplaced it by a couple of kilometres.

Unbelievably, I rolled into my tent site at exactly 7:00 pm, a total of nearly 11 hours on the road. I knew my camping gear was going to be wet but I underestimated what it was going to take to dry. It was sopping. I should have opened it up and towed it behind me like a parasail. Iput all the poles in the tent so that it would be expanded as much as possible and waved it through the air like some big balloon and though I suspect it helped, the inside was nowhere near dry. I didn’t care so much about the fly since it should not touch the tent, if I do a good job getting it tight.

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.

Day 4: South of Forks, Washington

 Distance traveled: 189.4 km

Cumulative distance: 935.3

Maximum Speed: 114 kph

Moving average: 60 kph

Temperature range: 13.4 -27.0

I had planned to disparage my next door neighbours for all their talk about getting up at 4: 00 am to go fishing because when I got up at 5:20 there was no sign of activity. Nor was there any time after that up until the time when I left the campground so I guess they were good to their word. I'm surprised I didn't hear them but I certainly heard other campers at 5:20! And since I was awake, I didn't see much point in trying to go back to sleep because the campground got very busy in short order. Even at that hour, there was an endless stream of people launching their boats or getting their trucks parked or trailers or whatever. 

This place isn't a typical "tourist" place, it is one devoted to campers who like to fish.  The place smells pretty strongly of fish because the scraps are thrown into the water right there, camp sites are only a few feet apart so motor homes and trailers are packed in tight but nobody seems to mind. Everybody there is doing the same thing and enjoying themselves. I reiterate I was invited to the pot-luck tonight so Sally and her family obviously know people around. People there are do-it-yourselves-fish-charterers and it is clear that everybody is there for the same thing. From almost the moment I was up, there was a steady stream of boats launching or going out to sea. I could sometimes see three or four boats at a time heading out.

My new best friend Sally had offered me her park pass to visit Cape Flattery up past Neah Bay. I had thought about it the night before but this morning, since I was up early, it just made sense to get up there in the morning light. First however, I had to get the camping gear a bit drier and I then needed to pack up. It was a vigorous start to the morning with the temperature at a balmy 6 degrees and everything soaked like it had just been in a monsoon. It was clear all night and the dew showed it.

It was a pleasant ride up to Neah Bay as there were many fishing boats out as well as some tugs pulling barges, freighters and a couple of cruise ships all going through the Juan de Fuca Straight. Foggy in places but not so foggy that my view or vision was at all impaired.

The park is at the end of the world. I was told twice that Flattery Point is the highest latitude part of the continental U.S. A. Somebody can fact check that but it looks likely as it is right around the 49th parallel.

Sally's park pass got me an easy admission and when I got to the end of the road and parking lot, I disrobed my moto gear, extruded my tank bag backpack straps and hiked the short distance through rain forest to the end of the earth, about 15 minutes.

I was treated to the following scene on the way down. One of the most beautiful I have seen.

The view of the lighthouse at the point is the view that people are ostensibly coming to see but I think these other scenes are at least comparable.

I spent an hour at the park. It would be great to spend a few hours watching the changing light. I did have the good fortune to be there as the fog was lifting.

I can't believe my good luck at having met Sally because it is unlikely I would have made the trip out to the point. This was as good as it gets. I saw her briefly when I went back to the campground and to her place to deposit the park pass in the agreed upon spot. I had also dropped off my two dry bags in her yard and she was quickly off on another errand (of mercy, no doubt) but after she left and as I was packing the bike, the rest of her family returned from fishing. Her brother showed me pictures he had taken that morning of a pod of humpback whales that had visited them while fishing. The whales had come as close as about 20 feet. It was quite spectacular. 

I hope this does not become a pattern but by about 3:30 pm I was looking for a camp spot without much luck. I visited a couple of state camp grounds that were full, turned off the highway to a couple of others but it was unclear if they were five km or fifty km away so turned back, then decided to investigate a promising spot off the highway. It looked suitable, flat, not too rocky and trees around to hang food. However, I also discovered, as I walked around inspecting the prospects, a large pile of reasonably fresh bear scat (probably within the last 24 hours) as well as plenty of coyote poo.  I guess I am no longer the adventurer I once was.

What I did find worked out quite well. Driving down highway 101, I spotted a state sign that said "hostel 1/4 mile". As I passed the hostel, I noticed it had a nice big yard so I decided I should check it out and ask the warden if I could camp there.  As it turns out, the hostel is a person's home and there is no answer at the door. However, it DOES say hostel on the highway and there is an old "park" sign, so I figure it is as good a prospect as any and hopefully, when someone returns, they are not packing and run me off.

I set up my camp, cook some dinner and I am washing the utensils out when the homeowner Jimmy returns. He pulls into the yard and I saunter over. He does not look in any way fussed, though I did feel a little like an interloper. However, he quickly explains that this is not the first time he has come home to find someone in his yard and it is all good. Payment is by donation with the recommended amount $10. He tells me he will leave the door to the house open all night so I can use the bathroom.

OK, one last point before I go to bed. I don't know what it is about riding in Washington but my bike seems to have bad luck here. I had a tip-over in the gravel at the campground and obliterated my left side mirror so I will be looking for a bike Band-Aid on Monday. I had a tip-over last October in Washington as well.