Miles biked: 38.3 (568.1 overall)
Time on bike: 3 hours, 15 minutes, 13 seconds
Maximum speed: 29.9 mph
Roads taken: In Pacific City: Cape Kiwanda Drive ... Brooten Road, 101 South, Slab Creek Road, 12, Old Scenic 101, 18 West, 101 South, In Lincoln City: E. Devil's Lake Road, 101 South ... 101 South.
Places stopped: Otis gas station (for muffin and power bar and to briefly escape rain), Surfriders (to ask about hotel room), Four Winds Motel in Depoe Bay (to spend the night).
I woke up several times Saturday morning, and each time I could hear a light but steady rain pelting the rain fly of my tent. So I went back to sleep. Who wants to step outside to that?
Eventually, a little before 9, the rain had nearly stopped and I had slept plenty, so I forced myself out of the tent and went to take a long, hot shower followed by a needed shave.
I looked better, but the forecast didn't. When I checked it online at the local coffee shop -- while eating a delicious cinnamon roll, which the very nice woman behind the counter heated up (sorry, I don't have her name) -- it didn't look good for the day.
Or Sunday. Or Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday...
So when I saw that the precipitation had stopped a little after 9 and the sky was semi-clear, I figured I had to get on the bike and try to churn out some miles. Additionally, the thought of paying for another night at the RV site wasn't appetizing.
I packed up my gear, including the wet tent materials -- my sleeping bag also got a tinge wet from sliding off the skinny sleeping pad; probably not a good thing -- and started off biking in decent-enough weather.
My goal was to do a little over 50 miles and reach the mid-sized town of Newport, which featured plenty of campsites.
And things were going great. I managed to survive the long uphill of Slab Creek -- a needed detour from 101, the Sandlake general store lady had mentioned a day earlier -- and then zoomed into the nothing-town of Otis.
But then, while scarfing down a banana-nut muffin, the rain started coming down hard.
What was I to do, though? There was, literally, nothing in Otis. The map listed its population as "25."
So I continued south, getting wetter and wetter as I headed into Lincoln City. It might have been smart, at that point, for me to stop somewhere -- maybe get some Chinese or something -- and try to wait out the weather. But for all I knew, it wasn't going anywhere.
Thus, I stayed on the Trek, pedaling out of the city and toward a group of four small towns that hug the coast north of Newport. As uncomfortable as I was, I could handle the rain. It just slowed me down a bit.
Then, however, things got downright dangerous. As I was biking in Lincoln Beach, a sudden gust of wind almost pushed me out of the bike lane toward what I'll refer to as the "car lane" of 101 South. Now remember, 101 usually has a speed limit of 55 -- it's not like cars were moseying up behind me.
I kept pushing forward, however. There was nowhere to stop. But then another gust came. And another. And in a matter of minutes, my drenched fingers -- in my drenched gloves -- started clutching the handlebars with all my might.
That didn't make a difference. As the strong winds continued, I yelled out to the weather gods and conceded. I turned off 101 as soon as I could, unclipped and began walking my bike up the well-located sidewalk (101 doesn't usually have one).
By then, it was mid-afternoon and I was only thinking about finding a place to stay the night and watching Game 7 of the epic Celtics-Bulls series, which tipped off at 5. No other thoughts entered the mind except when I almost got blown off the sidewalk by a sudden gust.
After about half a mile, I reached the first hotel -- Surfriders. It was a beautiful place that overlooked the ocean. Yeah, the cheapest rate they could give me, at a discount, was $69.99. I asked how far it was to Depoe Town, where the next set of motels was. Two miles was the reply.
Great, I thought, only 2 more miles of this walking the loaded bike thing. (If there's a slower form of transportation besides crab-walking, please notify me.)
Then I turned to my left. A guy was asking me a question. And next thing I knew, said guy -- never got a name -- was helping me load the Trek 520 into his wife's brand-new pickup truck and telling me to hop in.
He drove me the 2 miles and dropped me at the Four Winds Motel, which was purportedly the cheapest joint in the town. I asked the lady at the front desk if she could give me a discounted rate. She didn't seem to care about my predicament, saying the "discount" was $49.
I really shouldn't have agreed to the price, but I surmise I wasn't thinking that clearly. So I agreed, found a way to fit all my stuff in the tiny room with the broken lock on the door, dried all my things by hanging them up, took a hot bath, bought a loaf of bread with which to make sandwiches, made many sandwiches and watched the Celtics win Game 7.
After the game, I walked outside and the conditions were almost perfect. No rain. Minimal wind. Empty roads. And there was still a little daylight left.
Damn, I thought, what a wasted day. I returned to my room and vowed to not stay at any more "cheap" motels, regardless of the weather.
(Update: That will be tested this evening; I'm in North Bend, it's been pouring for hours and I don't see an end in sight.)
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