Day 5 – June 17, 2015

Day 5 – June 17, 2015
Claskanie to Portland

Audrey

Well we left about 9am — an hour after we planned. It was too cold earlier in the morning so Gregg came back to his sleeping bag instead of making coffee. Since we were by a little river we had plenty of condensation on our tent. Had to dry it before we left. We moved it to the sun just before the wind came up again. The wind was so strong that Gregg had to put his “hot tamale” – (his large red waterproof duffle with sleeping bag and all) into the tent so it would not fly away. Didn’t work and the tent went flying a couple of times before I ran to save it. The ducks didn’t mind as they sat calmly on the banks.

Hot oatmeal and coffee and away we went. We took the old HW 30 route. Beautiful road. We went passed the Stimson Mill and into a think rain forrest. Along the Beaver Falls Rd we stopped for some pictures and took our time. I thought it was the best ride and road we had so far. For 10 miles we saw all of 3 cars – best ever!

After heaven we got into a little bit of “hell” with HW 30 and loads of traffic and trucks. Over another ridge and down into Rainer Oregon. We thought we would stop but we figured we could do another couple of miles. But just as we started climbing we felt the 18 miles and no real food. Bonking. No en

ergy for the legs or brain. When you hit this wall you just have to stop and eat something. We shared a “gu” energy gummy that gave us that little something that made us able to go another 5 miles. Yep we made it to Goble.

“Where the hell is Goble?” is the sticker that lady in the tavern gave us. Goble is somewhere. It is in Oregon, it is a place to stop. The tavern had beer, electronic lottery and gambling machines and cheese burgers, just what we needed. As we sat there they lady at the bar told us how many bicyclists stop here as they ride the Seattle to Portland ride. Many stop here, only 38 miles from Portland. We wanted to eat and head out.

As we sat there various characters came in and out of this tavern. One very shifty character with wild blond hair wandered thru the tavern. He looked like an extra from Breaking Bad. I felt there was something not quite right with this guy and asked Gregg to go out and check our bikes. He, walked out after the guy but somehow felt guilty that he was checking in on the guy and quickly came back into the tavern. The lady at the bar said “don’t worry about that guy, he is harmless”. We said we were from the “big city” and are generally suspicious of everyone.

Burgers in the tummy, beer lubricating our dried out throats, we were ready to go. Ready to get on our rides Gregg noticed that – oh no, the guy ripped us off. He had taken Gregg’s heart rate monitor watch that Gregg had left on his handle bar. Bar lady ran out and said that he is probably out by the local market at the little RV park across the road. Nope. Gone. The watch gone and lesson learned. Bummer.

Now only 38 miles left. We did it but not without stopping. First to have an iced coffee in St Helens in a “drive thru” expresso shop. Saved us. And another stop for a Dairy Queen soft serve ice cream. Another life saver.

Got to Portland and wow.  Civilization.  Beer and burgers.  Quick stop at the HOP Urban Bike Bar and then another 3 miles to the Jupiter Hotel on E Burnside.

Gregg

Clatskanie to Portland

Clatskanie

Looking around our campground, our tent on a nicely maintained grassy bank of a pretty little river, I am struck by how open it is to the public. The bathrooms are nice and clean, the showers could be used by anyone, the whole area is pretty and sort of homey. My overly political imagination can’t help but comment to myself that the people of Clatskanie have something pretty special – a solid community with a well maintained public facility, large by any per-capita standard that the people of this small town share with each other and the occasional outsiders like ourselves. I also thought, that these people are probably afraid of almost everything they see on the news about urban America. No wonder, I thought, rural American so often votes out of fear for fear mongering far right republicans. They are afraid of loosing their small town extended family for the big city social isolation among the multitude. At the same time, the signs of a strong Union past were all around us. At the tavern where Audrey ordered Marionberry whiskey and everyone is your neighbor even if you have nothing to say to each other and stickers of all the local Unions for the lumber mill workers were displayed on a glass case in front of us. Of course crime in Clatskanie may be higher than Portland on a per-capita basis, but, if we are not careful, it is what we are taught by the mass media that is our subjective reality. Both the urban and rural are subject to the same defect in judgment. We look down on each other in ignorance. We are also jealous of each other out of ignorance.

Tweeker

When we arrived at Goble, a town with few people or buildings, we were bonked. Bonked is being out of carbs (fuel). When bonked you tend to move in slow motion and your IQ drops 20 or 30 points. I parked my bike, took my handle bar bag with me and violated one of my own rules about taking everything valuable inside. The pub was vintage small town rural America. The bartender also did the cooking. While eating, a medicinal pleasure to be sure, Audrey suggested I check the bikes. I opened the door to the tavern and looked at the local tweeker – small, skinny, stringy blond hair hanging down from a bald head looking at our bicycles. He looked back at me in return. I felt a small but still significant pang of guilt. My guilt was stupid to say the least. I closed the door. As if to confirm my feelings of guilt, the good natured women who ran the restaurant said the guy outside was harmless. As I was about to mount my very expensive Co-motion bicycle, I noticed that the heart rate monitor watch I had mounted near the handle bar was gone. My confusion/guilt is mostly born, I believe, out of thirty-five years of teaching which required not judging people by their appearance. Nevertheless, I am not un-proud of myself for being such a fool with our tweeker. Maybe not everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, but I am in no position to know on a case by case basis.

Portland

Back in the heaven of nose rings and older bicycles. Nice to be here. Nice to get a good beer and hipster burger. Nice to be among my people who are not really my people at all. The highlight of Portland, and maybe the trip so far, was having lunch with one of my best friends and partner In adolescent adventure, Eric Bean. We had a great time catching up with old times and the time between then and now. I hope to see Eric again.