Well, They Talk About It Being Rainy Up Here ...

So, the forecast for Sunday night was a %20 chance of rain. That means that it's going to rain.

It woke me up a bit, but mostly it just meant that I had to try to dry the rain fly on the tent again before I packed it. I took it all to the covered picnic pavillion, packed stuff up, dried it as best I could, fixed my coffee, and managed to get on the road just before 7:30.

The roads were wet, but the sun was breaking through the clouds. I had a long way to go today, so I was pushing the pace more than I had the previous two days.

The first part of the day was fairly flat, as I went along the Cowlitz River. There was even a spot where I got onto a quiet road running through fields, passing under I-5. It was really a lovely morning.

I stopped briefly for coffee in Castle Rock, after which the road turned more into the wind and the hills returned.

There was a very long climb next, followed by an even longer but more gradual descent.

Finally, at the bottom of the descent, I turned east on Hwy 4. The wind was at my back and the road was flat for over five miles.

I knew that the Columbia River was just out of view to my left, but these overflow lakes full of lillypads were gorgeous.

The down side of this road was the logging trucks and RVs. Soome of the logging trucks were loaded, and some were on their way to get loaded. I think that this big thing was on its way back from loading the trucks.

Eventually, the road moved far enough south that I could see the river. Across was Oregon, my destination for the night.

There were a few long climbs in here, too, but eventually I got to Cathlamet.

It was about 11:30, and I was making good time. But I was really hungry, too, so I tried to find a sandwich that I could get to go. My first stop was a convenience store, but they didn't have anything. I bought some sun screen, and went down the road to the grocery store. They didn't have sandwiches, either, so I bought a box of Wheat Thins and a package of cheese. Paying for this, I asked the clerk if the ferry to Oregon ran, and he said it went every hour.

Loading my lunch on the bike, I saw that I had four miles to go to the ferry, but only 15 minutes to get there. I settled into time-trial mode and pedalled hard ...

... but just missed it.

One hour later the next one came, and 20 minutes after that I was heading west again. But this time I was in Oregon and on US 30.

About 2 pm, the rain started. Thirty minutes later, it got serious and I stopped to put on a jacket and cover the panniers. US 30 was much worse than Hwy 4 had been, too, with a lot more trucks and RVs and cars that seemed determined not to move over at all for cyclists.

It was at this point that I actually ran into some other tourists going my way. They were stopped at the top of a hill, and I pulled over to see if they needed any thing. They said, no, they were just pausing for the traffic. I asked where they were going, and they said San Francisco. Me, too, I replied. I asked where they were stopping for the night and they said Astoria. Me, too, I replied. I asked where they might go after that, and I think that this was the point that they figured that I might be interested in riding along with them. So they said something vague and I got the point and moved on.

I finally got to Astoria about 4 pm. I found a bike shop to get some chain lube, and then found my hotel. It's ... well, not expensive.

The rain paused in the evening, so I walked into town and checked things out. After grabbing dinner at a microbrewery, I went to an old movie theatre downtown and watched "Despicable Me 2." Although the movie was only so-so, the theatre owners are doing a great job trying to bring it back.

At the bike shop, the guy selling me my lube told me that this was the first real rain that they've had all summer. It was not what I wanted to hear. Hopefully, it will be brief.

Mayonnaise on French Fries

It's easy, as you ride along here in western Washington, to forget that you're not in Tennessee any more. The countryside is gently rolling, green, bucolic ... with cows and sheep and goats and llamas penned up to one side, watching bored as you pedal past. Fields are full of hay, mostly rolled now and shrinkwrapped into giant Hostess Ding Dongs to be called into play during the coming winter.

But, as Vincent Vega once said, "it's the little things."

Some are obvious, such as the mountains. Today, they shadowed my ride to left and right for the first flat 30 miles. "Come play with us, Danny," they called, as I motored along on my big wheel and kept my eyes fixed forward. Eventually, I knew that I would enter that elevator full of blood ... just not now, please. Not now.

The casinos aren't subtle, but when are they ever? Cars whizzed past me on a Sunday morning near this one, spewing fools hoping to strike a deal with the one-armed bandits. Money-changers, trading coins for delusion.

The subtlety was left to nature, really. The road was lined with blackberries, but in spite of a reportedly dry summer here they were fat and juicy and thick, unlike the sparse morsels we get back home. And there were other, less-familiar berries -- something that looked like a pepper, and bushes full of dark ominous orbs whose proliferation proved their poisonous persuasion.

Subtle ... a four-P piece of alliteration is certainly not that.

I had gotten a late start, thanks to my diligent observance of the 10pm to 7 am "quiet time" at the RV park. By the time that I had cooked breakfast, gotten dressed, broken camp, and loaded up it was almost 9 am. I grabbed a second cup of coffee at a roadside stand and headed out onto the backroads.

As I mentioned, the route was flat at first. I crossed some lovely rivers, slightly wider and faster flowing than most back home, but otherwise the same.

Another difference, of course, was the weather -- temperatures were more like December in Tennessee.

I'm glad to say that the humor is about the same. From the Barbie dolls hanging from the phone line ...

... to people willing to name their businesses with an eye towards entertainment.

I also went by this place today:

The sign said it was a school, but it looked more like a minimum-security prison. There didn't seem to be anybody there, either. Spooky ...

After 25 miles, I stopped in Rochester at this place.

The owner, Bob Connors, is a bass player who had worked with Stephen Stills and Larry Gatlin. We talked music for a while, in particular our mutual philosophy that it is best when it is organic, and he told me that he is planning a visit to Nashville in a few months and might look me up then. That would be cool.

Bob also makes a mean breve and his candy is great. He is selling this place as of this coming Thursday, but said that the new owners don't plan to change anything. It's been successful for 18 years, according to Bob, so I don't see why they would.

RandoBoy does not ride on chocolate and coffee alone, however. I stopped at a Quizno's in Centralia for a flatbread sandwich, and it was the busiest Quizno's that I have ever seen. As so often has happened during the past few days, people asked where I was heading. The lady in line behind me, when she heard that I am riding alone, promised to pray for me.

A few miles out of Centralia, the road turned up and I had a two-mile climb. Once atop the ridge, the wind came around behind me and I moved briskly along. I saw three touring cyclists, apparently doing the same route but northbound, and then went down a steep descent with a couple of riders just out for a spin. I saw "Dan Henry" arrows on the road about this time, so these were obviously popular cycling roads.

A little further on, there was another climb up onto another ridge with another tailwind. This road took me past Lewis and Clark State Park, where I had to get a picture since we so frequently visit Meriwether Lewis Park on the Natchez Trace.

Five miles more and I was in my stopping point for the evening, the City of Toledo. I quickly found the city park, which does not appear to have anyone else staying for the night. It's only $10 for tents, with rest rooms and a shower. (You have to feed quarters to the shower, but the rest rooms are free.)

My campsite is next to this really cool tree, too.

But the ground is so hard that I broke one of my tent spikes driving it in.

Tomorrow is a long day, as I finish up the state of Washington and end up in Astoria, Oregon. The people at the grocery store here were telling me that I had to visit the Maritime Museum there, and that Kindergarten Cop and The Goonies were both filmed there. Maybe that's another way that Washington is just like Tennessee -- lots of friendly folks.