Day 9 (April 28): Toledo, WA (almost)-Warrenton, OR -- 93.3 miles biked

Miles biked: 93.3 (432.4 total)

Time on bike: 7 hours, 21 minutes, 10 seconds

Maximum speed: 30.5 mph

Roads taken: Jackson Highway, SR 505, Jackson Highway, Herriford Road, Mandy/Imboden Road, Barnes Drive/Old Pacific Highway, in Castle Rock: Dougherty Drive, Cowlitz Street, Front Street, A Street, 411 ... Delameter Road, Woodside Drive (huge hill), Coal Creek Road, SR 4, Main Street/SR 409, in Oregon: US 30, in Warrenton: Harbour Drive, Main Street, Second Street, Cedar Drive.

Ferry taken: From Puget Island to Westport, OR

Places stopped: Subway in Castle Rock (for a footlong chicken breast), park on Washington side of river (for a quick breather), ferry to Oregon, general store in Westport (for roast beef sandwich), gas station in Astoria (to call Sean, get needed Power Bar), Bubba's Sports Bar in Westport (to wait for call from Sean, get out of rain, eat dinner and watch Blazers game).

I woke up Tuesday morning to the sound of rain continuously falling on the hut in which I slept, and the thought of biking all the way to Oregon and the warm home of friends Sean and Mel seemed pretty unappealing -- except for the end result.

I considered not biking at all until it cleared up. I called Dad, and he said that wasn't going to happen -- at least where I was. He mentioned that if I got down toward the Columbia and began riding west, I might make it out of the rain.

That was all the motivation I needed. I got my bike ready, using waterproof covers to protect my rear panniers, tent and sleeping bag. I bagged everything within my front panniers.

Then I put on my raincoat and rode out into the mayhem.

Truthfully, it wasn't raining all that hard as I started out south toward Toledo. But it's also true, I've found, that when you're biking 15 mph, the rain feels like it's coming down harder than if you're simply standing in it or walking.

The rain continued for about the first 15 miles or so, but then the sky started to clear -- just a bit -- and all of a sudden the precipitation was gone.

I hadn't liked the fact that I didn't start my trek until 9, considering that I had 88 miles to Astoria, OR, and then probably a few more to Sean and Mel's house in Warrenton -- which is just to the northwest of Astoria.

But when I reached the river before 1, with just 20 miles left on the Washington side and 27 on the Oregon side remaining, I felt I was in good shape. I even considered, for a moment, taking off the rain gear.

Thankfully, I didn't.

The 20 miles on Route 4 along the Columbia was pretty and not too hilly. There was a lot of traffic, but pretty decent shoulders. When I reached the small town of Cathlamet, I passed over a bridge and rode about 3 miles on little Puget Island toward a ferry that would take me over a portion of the river and into Oregon.

As I coasted onto the ferry, I felt excited. I was about to reach a new state, a new adventure, the actual "West Coast." I was just as excited about reaching my destination for the night.

Then one of the ferry's operators pointed to two large, looming hills across the river and the "V" between them and mentioned that I'd be biking through that V. That wasn't something that I wanted to hear, but he then mentioned that there weren't many hills besides the big one en route to Astoria.

OK, I thought, one big climb and then I'll coast down to the Pacific. I grabbed a ravishing roast beef sandwich at the Westport general store and prepared for the final stretch.

The Hill came upon me pretty quick. And, then, it kept going and going and going. My iPod was dead at this point, so I resorted to my memory bank to pass the minutes. First, I rattled off all the NCAA basketball champions. But the road kept leading up. So I went through Final Four teams dating back to 1980.

And, finally, I was on top of what seemed a mountain. Sure enough, a sign on top labeled the point I had reached as "Clatsop Crest," which was some 6,000-plus feet above sea level.

I got off the bike, let out a whoop about surviving the 3-mile hill and took a swig of water.

Then I got back on my ride and coasted down a nice, long hill. That would be the last pleasant moment of my journey.

All of a sudden, I was getting pelted by a hard rain that showed no signs of letting up. And then, in the wink of an eye, I was climbing another big hill.

And then another. And another. All while the rain continued to pour.

With each hill, I went back to my sports statistics. The NBA champions. The NBA Finals MVPs. And, lastly, the World Series champions. Running through the lists out loud helped take my mind off how long it took to climb each hill.

And, at long last, I was in Astoria. The river was just to my right. The long, historic bridge to Washington stretched out in front of me. And I was ready to call it a day.

The only thing was, I couldn't reach Sean by phone. A little after 6, I stopped at a gas station and got directions to Warrenton. I then biked over a beautiful bridge -- no, not the one back to Washington -- to the tiny city and rode right into downtown.

By then, it was almost 7 and I hadn't heard from Sean, so I decided to get out of the rain and walked inside Bubba's Sports Bar. And that's where I was for the next two and a half hours, watching the Trail Blazers game and indulging in the pizza buffet.

By 9:30 I was pretty worried that I'd have to find an alternative place to stay the night. The bartender helped as much as she could, dialing the local hotels for me. But one was way too expensive and I didn't get an answer from the other. She said I could ride to Fort Stevens State Park, but that was a good 4 miles north.

Riding 4 miles -- or even 2 -- at 10 didn't exactly sound pleasant to my aching legs. The idea of setting up the tent while it rained was also unappealing.

So I tried Sean one more time ... and he picked up. An incredible feeling rushed through me. I became even more excited when, upon hearing that I was at Bubba's, Sean said that he was very, very close to me.

He wasn't kidding. As it turned out, I was about six blocks from the house. It took me all of 3 minutes to reach it, and finally my day on the bike was over.

I left my ride in the garage, grabbed all my belongings and told myself there'd be no biking the next day.

We needed a break from each other.