Day 20 
Tuesday, May 1st
Barview, OR to Gleneden Beach, OR
89 miles
Day 20
Tuesday, May 1st
Barview, OR to Gleneden Beach, OR
89 miles
At that hour, the traffic along Tillamook Bay consisted almost entirely of logging trucks, whose drivers have a tendency to leave as little room as possible to the cyclists they pass. I still stopped a number of times to take pictures of rock outcroppings in the ocean and of the scenery near Garibaldi and the Miami River. Both Barview and Garibaldi had a large "B" and "G" on the hillsides above their respective communities. Garibaldi also had a tall smoke stack from the former mill.
Between here and Tillamook, i got another flat, right across the street from a Jehova's Witness church. It was a slow enough leak that i was able to roll over to the church, where i fixed the flat underneath the overhang at the front of the church. The culprit was a small piece of glass from the debris-covered shoulder. The hole was not as difficult to find as i had imagined, but the air was humid and cool, so it took a while to get the flat fixed. In addition to water vapor, the air also held the most overpowering smell of uncomposted cow shit: one sign among many of the lessening miles to Tillamook and its dairy farms. I wondered how people could live in such conditions.
I eventually reached Tillamook shortly before 8:00am. The Tillamook Cheese factory offered tours starting at 8:00, so i was grateful for the excuse not to stop and take the tour. Interestingly, the factory was just outside Tillamook's city limits. I wonder how the city feels about its most famous feature not contributing any tax revenue to city coffers.
On the way into town, i spotted a coffee kiosk advertising mochas for $2.00 and breakfast burritos for the same. I stopped to take advantage of this deal. It turns out that, at this place at least, you get what you pay for. The mocha was a bit tepid and weak, and the breakfast burritos were atrocious, containing only eggs, cheese (Tilamook, i'm sure), and a few bits of ham. Gross. I had gotten some salsa to go with it, but totally forgot to use it.
In any case, it was a ways down the road before i made the discovery about the burritos. I continued riding from the kiosk into town, mocha in hand, and made the turn toward the Three Capes Scenic Highway. A few blocks further, there was a Swiss Chalet that had gone out of business, and i decided to stop there, as it was the first outdoor bench i came across where i could sit down to eat. The Swiss Chalet was interesting. Evidence of the gradual decline of the business shown through signs on the drive-thru board. The table had scrawled on it an interesting piece of graffiti: "San Clement [sic], the REAL Surf City." Who knew that the debate raged even in Tillamook, Oregon?, though one would expect the partisans of any particular town to know how to spell the town's name.
Across the parking lot was the old Library, with boards across the cinderblock facade. Aparently, the demolition team was never informed that concrete facades do not need to be boarded up. In any case, lest one think that Tillamook has succumbed to the general decline of intellect in evidence everywhere else in the country, i should assure the reader that a brand-new library had been built just across the street. It was a Tillamook COUNTY library, so we can assume that the cheese company's tax revenue is at least nominally ending up in the City of Tillamook.
After finishing breakfast, i went across the street to the Safeway, where i browsed the aisles for a while before finally purchasing just mini, pealed carrots, that wonderful food, of which, nearly everywhere i've been, i've been able to find an organic version. I was then in need of a bathroom, so i stopped by the library, but it did not open for another hour, so i continued on down the road.
It was still early enough that i faced no headwinds heading northbound along the western shore of Tillamook Bay. At the northernmost point was the once-thriving tourist destination of Bay Ocean. Decades of erosion at the hands of the ocean meant that the entire place was wiped out by 1960, and restored, more or less, to its original condition. I went out a bit onto the Bay Ocean dike and saw some amazing wetlands.
After this, the road split off, with one fork going to the community of Cape Meade and the other up a rather steep, but seldom-traveled road as part of the Three Capes Scenic Hwy. There were beautiful views of Cape Meade and the Bay Ocean spit. After this was Cape Lookout, then Cape Kiwanda, with beach communities like Oceanside and Netarts lying between them. This was rather hilly terrain, but with gorgeous views. Between Cape Lookout and Cape Kiwanda lay enormous sand dunes that took me quite by surprise as i dropped down the hill and they appeared suddenly at the edge of a clearcut.
After Cape Kiwanda was Pacific City, where i went a bit past town to a wayside on the dunes that make up Nastucca Spit to have some lunch (carrots with some amaranth/peanut butter/honey goo).
By this time, i was becoming quite suspicious about the weather. Last i had heard, the forcast was 70% chance of rain by 12pm, and, aside from some sprinkles as i was leaving camp in Barview, i'd had no rain, nor had the winds shifted to south winds as forcast. In fact, the sun was starting to peek through on occassion. While, of course, it was nice not to be getting rained on and to still have a tailwind, i felt a bit rushed by an impending weather system.
In any case, just beyond Pacific City, the route reunited with Hwy 101, then climbed a hill that crested at a point overlooking Winema Beach. As is common on the Oregon coast, there was a wayside at the summit with guides to recreational facilities to the north or the south along the coast. This mentioned a detour along Old Scenic Hwy 101 that i had not heard of before, running from Neskowin to Otis. I reached the town of Neskowin, but did not see the road, and my maps didn't show any such road. A mile or so past Neskowin, however, at Neskowin Creek, signs for the Oregon Coast Bike Route pointed left, so i followed the road, which itself followed Neskowin Creek. The road didn't have much traffic on it, which was nice, but i was apprehensive about taking what looked on my map like a substantial detour out of the way for what didn't seem particularly scenic at the time. The creek crossings along the way, however, gave a hint of the rich flora that lay ahead. About two miles up the road, around the point where signs at Hwy 101 had advertized organic greens for sale, there was a house with a rainbow flag and a "whole earth" flag. Across the street was a huge sign reading "Herbicide!" hung some 40' up. Further down the road was another sign reading "More Spray" with two plastic bags containing paper attached to it, upon which was writted "Take". The documents inside were public documents regarding logging activity (spraying, actually) near a waterway (presumably, Neskowin Creek). The signage was not particularly expicit about anything at all, but i infer from all of this that the folks with the flags were pissed off about spraying of herbicides on land owned by a logging company across the street and adjacent to the creek.
A little further upstream was the Neskowin Valley School. After this point, there was absolutely no traffic on the road at all, aside from a work crew clearing the gutters. Just before reaching the work crew, there was a Siuslaw National Forest sign describing the Scenic Old Hwy 101. The road became considerably steeper after the school, but this was no problem with the lack of any traffic and the pleasant distraction of the scenery. The road eventually crested at around 725' amongst deep, dark, green forest, before making a lovely, even descent down the other side. It started to rain on the way down, and i thought to myself, "well, i can deal with a couple hours of rain before getting to a nice warm shower." The rain only lasted a couple minutes, however, and was not heavy. The road met up with Hwy 18 at Otis and it was back to dry conditions. It was only a short ride from here back to Hwy 101 at a rather large freeway interchange, making me even more grateful that i had taken the alternate route.
Before long, i was in Lincoln City, which was rather larger than i had imagined. I made a few stops along the waterfront to check out the beach and rocks. I was running out of energy so close to my destination, and stopped for quite a while to rest at Taft (technically part of Lincoln City, now), reading informational signs about the crossing at Schooner Creek and other local history of the Siletz Bay. The bay, the creek and the Salishan Spit were all quite beautiful, further encouraging me to stay and rest. I rode a bit up 51st St. to see if there was a cheap place to eat. I came across Mo's, which seemed decent enough, and at a decent price, but determined that i wanted to get to my destination, now only a few miles away, before it started raining, although i was starting to think that this storm was never actually going to come.
I continued across Schooner Creek, passing an installation of kinetic art and a llama farm, then across the Siletz River, at the town of Kernville. Siletz Bay was on my right, and the Millport Slough on the left, both very scenic. At an intersection just past the slough was a shop that looked like it was a market, but was in fact a dentist's office. It was rather out in the middle of nowhere, so this surprised me. A short way down the road, at the southern end of the bay, was the Salishan Lodge and Golf Links. There was also a small shopping center of incredibly bourgeois boutiques. I went in, nevertheless, feeling quite hungry--famished, in fact. It was still not raining, and i was only a mile from the beach house, so i decided to stop at the deli to get some food. While it was, like everything else there, totally bougie, the prices were not too bad. Still, i spent entirely too much money there, getting an entire pizza, two 24oz beers, a bottle of sake, and a small bag of chips and bottle of beer to tide me over until the pizza was ready. The beer was actually the only thing that i would consider overpriced, everything else being surprisingly reasonable. The chips were just enough to allow me to think again, and the beer, which was a shockingly good New Belgium variety, relaxed me enough to consider rationally how to get the pizza box on my bike on top of everything else without destroying its contents.
I checked in with Ron and rode the last mile to the beach house one-handed, with the booze in the other hand. This made negotiating the gravel roads somewhat difficult, and that last little hill up to the house was a bitch, but i managed. I fished around for the key that had been left for me by Tim & Jan, the family members who live just around the corner and who do basic maintenance, cleaning and upkeep on the place.
It was roaring hot inside, so i first turned down the heat after bringing all of my stuff in. I then planted myself in front of the television, armed with a pizza and a 24oz beer. While i had wanted to catch up on my writing, i simply couldn't tear myself away from the history channel before going to sleep around 11pm.