The Pacific

 

First I smelt it, then I saw it and finally I touched it. The Pacific Ocean, a few miles west of Tillamook Oregon. The largest ocean in the world. Separating the West and the Orient. Home to the great sea battles of the Second World war. This is the ocean that saw the attack on Pearl Harbour, Midway, Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima. It is here that the Bounty had its mutiny and it was in these seas that “From here to Eternity” was filmed. 2400 miles to Hawaii and then 4000 miles of nothing.

And here I am, a little “yidlach” from Koster “nogal” on a motorbike. I have reached the West Coast and I am standing on the beach with the sea lapping over my boots.

I had set out from Portland, a city spanning the mighty Columbia River. Down this river travels the grain and corn grown in the plains of Idaho and Montana. It is from here that my friend Garrett’s grain is shipped to the east. From here that America feeds the world. Garrett solved a minor problem for me. All over the west I had seen signs saying “The Port of this” and the “Port of that”. Discussing his farming, he told me that they ship their grain in barges from the nearby port. It was then that I realised that the rivers are the transport mechanism and the ports are where they load everything onto the barges. Another penny had dropped. I keep on learning something about this great country.

So all the rivers to the north west of the Tetons, The Rockies and the Black Hills feed into the Columbia. Into this and the Colorado, being the mighty rivers of the west, in the same way that the Mississippi and the Missouri are the great rivers of the east.

A quick update on my route, for more important things happened to me today. I wanted to get to the coast as quickly as possible and my end point was Astoria, which is on the banks of the Columbia River on the Oregon side (South). Tomorrow I take the massive bridge over the Columbia into Washington State and up to Port Angeles on Puget Sound near Seattle. From there I take a ferry on Saturday morning to Victoria, the largest and only city on Vancouver Island.

I have driven the coastal road between Seattle and Astoria on a few occasions, but never the part I was on today. This took me from Tillamook up to Astoria.

On both previous occasions I ran late and had to take the direct route from Astoria along the Columbia to Portland. Randy can be a bit of a granny at times and one of the things that makes him really edgy, is when you are late.

It was sitting eating fresh crab, north of Astoria many years ago, that the first flickers of the plan to ride across America, were actually born. Sitting in the sun on a bench near Bend WA, I idly thought of a bike trip from Seattle to Portland. I even mentioned to the CI person with whom I was travelling to a Warn distributor’s conference. We even discussed hiring Harley’s for the trip.

Mother of Mercy, I do not know what I was thinking. This is as bad as driving a Mercedes or flying an Airbus rather than a Boeing. Erotica, the patron saint of hot women and fast cars, or is it of fast women and hot cars, (I always get confused), would have instantly deleted my name from her VIP Gentleman’s Club mailing list if she had seen me in or on any of the above. So I am delighted it is my thoroughbred filly, Bonnie who is with me.

I decide not to wear my headphones for the trip out of Portland. I need to focus as the traffic is nearly as violent as it is in Seattle, breeding ground of vicious motorbike assassins. Randy wants me out by 08h00 so that he can get to a meeting. I know he will be edgy well beforehand. Highly organized, I hit the road at 07h45. I stop at a nearby Starbucks. A quick Caramel Macchiato and I am soon back on the road westbound.

Bonnie is purring along, contented with her warm up and her morning rider. However I am not concentrating properly. My mind is wandering. At last free from the past years and looking into the future. This is what I have been waiting for. My mind is once again full of ideas, some good, some crazy and some stupid.

So I think I am going to write a book. The ideas for this race through my mind. The miles disappear. So much for concentration. I miss most of the magnificent scenery. I have a few things in mind. I am inspired by a recent blog written by Poppie, a friend of mine from the Free State. She has written about 50 Shades of Grey. Highly critical about the book and the author’s poor attempt at erotica.

I think she may have missed the point, which is to get your mind started on a track. Some other people tell me her descriptions of sex are right in the mark. The fact is that either way it is a huge success, something which tells me that I am not the only one thinking about sex all of the time. 500 million woman around the world seem to be on the same wavelength.

Personally I have not yet read the book. I have enough of this stuff in my mind without any stimulation. I have bought it for my wife and left it next to her bed. My youngest daughter is an avid reader. This I know because I gave her my old Kindle which is still linked to my Amazon account. She buys all her books c/o Dad and so I can see these waiting for me in the Cloud on my iPad Kindle App.

Next thing I know I am in Tillamook. This is the home of Tillamook cheese, the best-known cheese brand in the US. Every supermarket has Tillamook cheeses displayed. I ride past the factory. There are literally hundreds of people at their visitors’ center.

I am so inspired about what I am going to write, that I do not want to forget the core themes. I stop at a Starbucks. Unpack and armed with my laptop I buy another latte and start writing. Two hours later I leave, some key ideas cristalised.

I ride down to the ocean. People are on the beach. Summer is here and the holidays are starting. I see a Weimeraner. Miss Molly’s American sister, Seuss. We meet formally with a sniff and a pat.

 

I go back to my bike. Bonnie’s front wheel has sunk into the soft sand in the parking area as she is packing a few pounds for Alaska. I make a plan and go out forwards. I will have to remember this. Up the coast I go to the lighthouse at Cape Meares. The scene is reminiscent of the coast of the Pacific in Chile.

On Bonnie again and heading North for Astoria. A quick lunch and I keep moving. Through Garibaldi. I like this name thinking it would be an excellent nickname for Blake who already is short of hair. Maybe the name for our next Grandson!

I have definitely had too much coffee. From a coffee drought, to about ten cups today. I need to stop far too often.

 

Then through Rockaway beach. Here I can clearly see that it is beach holiday time. The WODES is over. They are here in every shape and form with, in true American style, everything hanging out. They are either walking or sitting and stuffing their faces with ice cream.

The traffic is like St. James in season. I cut inland and it abates. On the side of the road I see a sign for a fish hatchery and go in. They breed Coho Salmon, Rainbow Trout and Steelheads. They are very happy to show me around. The fish have fantastic sight and as we near the breeding ponds they all rush towards us assimilating the approach of humans with feeding.

I see a roadside shop with a gas pump and stop. The gas pump looks old and maybe they do not sell much fuel. A bad thing. But then I see the signs and this is not someone to trifle with. I go inside to pay and know I have made the correct decision. These people shoot first and ask questions afterwards. Have a look at the pictures and you will see that it is your typical American service station shop.

Back on the road and soon in Astoria. Here I am reminded that in the morning I have to make a very important decision. The route to Washington State over the Columbia entails using a very big elevated roadway. This afternoon as I approach Astoria, the wind is howling down the river. On the elevated roadway (bridge) this wind would be too strong for me on Bonnie. It will blow us into the side. If it is like this tomorrow I will have to go upriver for at least 30 miles which will add over 100 miles to my route. So I think an early start will be called for.

 

My hotel, The Elliot,  is an art deco refurbished hotel reminiscent of the Commercial Hotel in Pietermaritzburg, only much nicer. The Commercial Hotel is where I cut my teeth in that part of the world, when we started the group. No air-conditioning and the best rooms, they were awful but better than some others,  were directly opposite the main police station. At night, with windows open in the stifling heat, the noise from the charge office was deafening and continued unabated all night.

 

Here too there is limited air-conditioning, but at least it is cool. My room is on the road and I have learnt the secret of earplugs. Dinner service at the Clemente Restaurant is appalling. The only really poor service I have experienced on this whole trip. I write a scathing review on Trip Advisor having left before my food arrived.

More than 3300 miles are behind me. I have about the same amount to go  until I arrive in Anchorage.

Randy and Lynn thanks. Being with you in your homes was the best cure for whatever was ailing me. I am now feeling fantastic and ready for the adventure ahead.

 

More about my book will follow in due course. Duck for cover now!