Miles biked: 39.8 (755.3 overall)
Time on bike: 3 hours, 20 minutes, 39 seconds
Maximum speed: 31.9 mph
Roads taken: In Bandon: 1st Street, Edison Avenue, 4th Street, Ocean Drive, 7th Street, Beach Loop Road ... 101 South.
Places stopped: Langlois general store (for one of its famous hot dogs; at least they're famous in the Northwest), Port Orford Library (for quick blogging session), "Crazy Norwegian" restaurant (for clams dinner and homemade Marionberry pie a la mode dessert), Humbug Mountain State Park (for the night).
I woke up Wednesday morning and didn't like what I heard.
The wind was howling, rain was falling, and it sounded like get-blown-into-the-middle-of-the-road weather.
So I went back to sleep, hoping it'd magically become calm when I awakened again.
Nope, same thing.
I didn't want to stay at the hostel, as great as it was, another night. Not only would it cost $20, but I couldn't stomach the thought of simply staying in one place -- a place not very big -- for a full day.
But something about the wind coming off the water scared me from getting on the bike and heading toward Humbug Mountain, which sat about 38 miles away and offered a state park in which to camp.
So I loitered all morning, walking around the town a couple times and browsing the local book store. I also showed my great lack of will power, eating all the sandwiches I'd made for the day (so much for my plan of not buying any additional food).
Finally, at 1, I decided that something needed to be done. I'm not the kind of person who can just sit around and do nothing. I had to make a move.
I'm usually awful when it comes to making decisions. So that didn't help.
At that point, I considered two options.
1. I could set out for Humbug Mtn., weather be damned, and see what happened.
2. I could backtrack 3 miles over the bridge -- where I'd walk the 520 -- and stay at Bullards Beach State Park.
As I equipped the bike with all my equipment, I was about 53-47 toward going with route No. 2. I could spend the afternoon at the library, I figured, blogging and maybe catching up on what was transpiring in the sports world. I could follow that up with a nice dinner in town, maybe watch a little hoops and then head for the campsite without getting too wet or cold.
It sounded all right and safe, as I headed out on 1st Street, but it simply wasn't for me. Because after about an eighth of a mile, I had changed my mind for the 437th time.
I was going for it, wind and rain be damned. I climbed the steep Edison Avenue hill with a determination I hadn't had when I woke up both the first and second times.
I turned onto Beach Loop Road and made sure to keep the bike steady as I was hit by wind gusts from the side.
And I told myself, "Nothing will stop you from reaching your destination today. Nothing."
As it turned out, the weather wasn't too bad as I got away from the water. Sure, there was a little wind (and I think I was biking into it; it definitely wasn't helping me). And, sure, there was rain most of the afternoon.
But I never felt in danger, especially with wide shoulders for much of the route. And after the first 10 miles, miles started flying by.
I stopped in the tiny town of Langlois (population: 50 people) for one of their famous hot dogs, prepared with honey mustard and pickles. It, undoubtedly, hit the spot.
Then I pushed it to Port Orford, where I visited yet another library (they have 'em in every Oregon city; even Langlois had one!) before stopping for dinner at the Crazy Norwegian.
And that's where I tasted the most delicious dessert, so far, of this trip. The place's homemade marionberry pie, with a scoop of ice cream, was as delectable as could be.
I finished every crumb and then headed back to the bike for the final 5.3 miles to the campsite.
And what a beautiful last few miles they were, as I wended my way on 101 above the ocean and a yellow light on the horizon. The sun was trying to peak out after a long day behind the clouds, and it finally did after I reached my spot for the night.
The only negative was that I couldn't find a place with cover, so I had to set the tent up and hope it wouldn't rain for the sake of my bike.
But I forgot about that little detail when I walked out to the beach and saw the suddenly bright sun lined up directly with a rock in the rough surf. It was the coolest beach I've been to, with a tiny sand bar, separated from the mainland by a mini stream, and with Mt. Humbug -- 1,756 feet -- looming above the water just to my left.
Route 101, on which I'd just been, was just above me.
I admired the scenery and then chatted for a while with one of the park's hosts, who was walking her dog.
She told me about the campsite in Brookings, where I planned to stay Thursday night, saying that it was even nicer and provided better sunsets.
With that thought in my mind, I prepared for my final full day of biking in the picturesque state of Oregon.
Then I climbed in the tent, with everything peaceful around me...
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