Albert awoke to the sounds of the Pacific Ocean breakers crashing down on the Oregon coast – waters that had traveled all the way from Japan he thought. Unlike Albert, the winds had yet to rise and the ocean was flat and glassy. Three to five foot waves were peeling off to the left – a goofy-footer’s, frontside-cutback dream. Albert hung out for a while, beach-combing and soaking up the setting. Off in the distance he thought he could see Blue Bird and Golden Piglet having ablast, avoiding the breaking waves as they eventually rushed up the sandy shore.
Before leaving, Albert text home a Happy Mother's Day greeting and headed south. Just past the Yaquina lighthouse, right before the town of Newport, Albert exited at the Agate Beach bypass, and rode along the ocean front. The bypass loop took Albert back to Newport’s older section of downtown and the marina district – avoiding the strip-mall sprawl. From here, departing Newport, Albert rejoined 101 and crossing over the Yaquina Bay/Newport Bridge headed for Yachats – the “Jewel of the Oregon Coast”.
Just before reaching (spiritual) Yachats, Albert passed an unusual pair of touring cyclists. Both, dressed like Californian surfers (Hawaiian shorts and neoprene tops), were traveling on vintage-looking, cruiser bicycles. Along with their camping gear, Albert noticed that they were also carrying skateboards. Passing the struggling couple, weaving their way up a minor hill, Albert said “hello,” and to himself, wished them the best of luck. Entering Yachats, for the second time, like in Sequim, Albert noticed a sign advertising Eco-friendly, housing pods for sale – again, something he should find out about.
After Yachats, Albert experienced some of the Oregon coast’s most spectacular scenery and some of it’s steepest hills. This was a bittersweet experience for Albert as the winds were pushing against him, the steeply winding hills were simply brutal, and the fog rushing up and over the cliff face was down-right chilling. These conditions, up past Cape Perpetua and Strawberry Hill, lasted for over twenty miles. The exertion from climbing up the hills at least kept him warm, but speeding down them was mighty cold.
Descending, Albert passed the Devil’s Elbow State Park and continued on through the Cape Creek Tunnel. The tunnel had an uphill grade and the winds squeezing through it on the south-end, almost brought Albert to a standstill. Exiting the tunnel, the road continued to rise, climbing steeply over a barren, windswept headland with views of Heceta Head and it’s famous lighthouse. Finally, conditions eased with the road flattening out to near sea level, and Albert pulled up for eats in the resort town of Florence.
Here, after a strenuous fifty miles, Albert was able to rest and regain energy at an all-local, natural food market. Sitting outside, whilst reading some literature on the benefits of consuming and purchasing locally-grown or produced goods, he felt somebody looking over his shoulder. Quickly turning, all he saw, sitting on the fence above him, was a Jaybird. A Jaybird!...hadn’t Blue Bird mentioned a Jaybird? Now that’s odd he thought, remembering seeing a Jaybird at Lake Quinault back when he thought that he’d been talking to himself. Coincidence?
Leaving Florence, fully fueled, Albert passed Beaver Creek where he noticed signage for a Naturalist Camp. Looking down from the road that wound around and above the creek below, Albert could see, sheltered from the wind, basking in the sun, three naked women. Not wanting to be rude or intrusive, Albert turned his line of vision back to the road ahead and mulled over the thought, that with some parts neatly trimmed and manicured and others growing free and natural, how lovely a location that was.
On the road for another thirty-five miles, at one stage climbing a ridge to a thousand feet, continually with the wind in his face, Albert passed the paper-mill town of Gardiner, the port town of Reedsport, and finally, Winchester Bay, before running out of yarn at Umpqua Lighthouse State Park. Here once again, thanks to a friendly park ranger, – there seemed to be an unusual amount of friendly rangers – Albert was able to procure a cozy little log cabin, over-looking a picturesque lake. As he sat outside his cabin reflecting on the day, thinking he could see Blue Bird off in the distance doing her aerial dance, he thought to himself, that whilst being perhaps the most physically draining, it had at the same time been the most visually rewarding day so far. Albert slept.
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