NOTE: This happened May 7-8, 2016 and I’m just now getting around to posting about it. This time I can’t really say ‘oops’. I just need to stop being lazy about things. I’ll also add images eventually, probably. ADDITIONAL NOTE: Today is October 4th and I finally added pictures. DOH!
A few weeks after my long lunch to Nahcotta, WA I realized I needed a bit of a break from work and booked an overnight trip to knock some more stops off of the Grand Tour list. May in Oregon is near perfect weather. At least that is what my weather app would have had me believe. That turned out to not exactly be the case… read on, friend.
I packed up a change of clothes (a pair of shorts, a replacement shirt, some flip-flops, boxers, and my dopp kit) and all the chargers for my various gadgets, GoPro, and whatever other stuff I seem to insist on lugging around, into my panniers and hit the road at about 9am from Base Camp Cavster (I’m really working on a name for my house, and I’ll admit I’m not in love with this one).
Holy heck, the above paragraph is awful. Moving on…
My GPS (Garmin/BMW Nav V) has a really cool feature that allows you to avoid the highways. With that turned on I hit the back roads outside of Portland. Destination – Gales Creek, OR. Gales Creek is located off Hwy 8. A super scenic ride through forests that, like most of the rest of Oregon, is nearly perfect.
Picturesque day in every way. Sun was out, temperature was moderate, shade was cool. The roads were perfect and traffic was light. I managed to make short work of the first leg of my ride and arrived in Gales Creek just after 11.
Sort of. I ran smack into the middle of a classic British car show/rally. I had too much speed going to turn down the obvious street so I did what any other reasonable human would: I used a few driveways and the sidewalk connecting them to turn around.
Spent a good half hour checking out the cars and decided it was time to mosey on. Besides, the guy ‘flying’ a drone around was getting on my nerves.
I meandered into Gales Creek at the perfect time for an early lunch/late breakfast. The ladies at Coleman’s 9N are some of the friendliest you’re likely to meet anywhere. I had a scramble type egg dish and probably shouldn’t have eaten half of it, but it was so good and I couldn’t stop.
Collecting a stamp, neglecting to take a picture, and filling both the human and machine gas tanks I was ready to move on to the next stop.
I wound my way out to the coast and turned south. I had another stamp to collect in Neskowin, OR. The next spot on my list was Cafe on Hawk Creek. As soon as I hit the coast the temps dropped, the wind kicked up, and the views completely stunned. The Oregon coastline is nothing like the sandy, easy to access beach I’m so accustomed to, having grown up in Southern California (I’m talking Blackies – utterly epic, or The Wedge -even epic-er). Rocky, rough, primitive… those are the best words I can find to describe the Oregon Coast. Oh yeah, Goonies. That one works as well.
I arrived in Neskowin at about 1pm, which was much too early to eat anything as I was still feeling weighed down by my earlier meal. That isn’t to say that the spot isn’t awesome. It was packed. People were out on the patio. The food going out looked tasty. I had an iced tea. The waitress didn’t seem overly impressed, but too bad for her. I wanted caffeine and a relax. I won.
Not only did I get my iced tea, hold anything else, I also collected another stamp, snapped a pic, and shoved off. Didn’t feel like lingering for too long. I had more miles to cover, another stamp to collect, and a hotel to find before it got too late in the day.
I continued down the coast to Waldport (yeah, I had never heard of it either) and turned east. My final stop on the Grand Tour for the day was in Alsea, OR. Upon turning inland I found the sun at my back, the temps again warming, the road twisting. Twisting. Twisting along a river. Not only were the roads amazing to ride, they were also covered in a near perfect canopy that was like a massive tunnel for miles and miles. Those tunnels lured you into some shenanigans, maybe causing you to twist the throttle a bit more than you should. Some of the best riding roads I’ve yet to find in Oregon connect the coast to destinations inland and vice versa.
Those days when things just seem to come together and the road is flowing and you’re grooving with senses heightened are the best. This was one of those days. I wasn’t putting a wheel wrong and every lean and wrist twist shoved me along ever faster. Yes, some of the people reading this might cringe, but those that don’t will know exactly what I was feeling. I never wanted it to end.
The unfortunate reality is it had to end. Eventually the signs at the roadside indicated ever decreasing speeds and I had reached my ‘dinner’ destination. Maybe it was supper. It was whatever you call a meal at 3:30 in the afternoon. My destination was on my left so I flipped a u-turn and parked up in front of Deb’s Cafe. Nearly like eating at someone’s house, Deb’s is a quaint, family run establishment. Her son was working that day so she could have the day off. Good bloke, incredibly friendly and accommodating. Oh yeah, they have a patio, just in case you were on the fence about stopping in.
I met a cool couple riding a Harley tooling around the area and having a blast. We chatted all through our respective meals and he gave me some good tips for rides in the area I really want to revisit. You really do meet solid people when traveling via motorcycle. People laugh at the ‘kinship’ thing, but it’s real and I think it is part of why I ride.
Anyhow, another meal eaten, another picture forgotten to be taken (I did take a patio pic), another stamp collected and it was time to find my hotel. My super-deluxe, ultimate luxury, negative star accommodations. (If you own the joint I stayed in, I’m sorry… it really isn’t that good. It is cheap, though!)
So, I found my hotel. I won’t tell you what the name was, but I will tell you a few things about it. It’s in Albany, OR. It probably should have been torn down a week after it was erected. The lobby probably has a cracky traveler aggressively negotiating their rate. The lot probably doesn’t feel safe. There is a gas station almost in the same parking lot (which sells beer so you can eventually forget your hang-ups about the place). They use real keys. They’re too cheap for some sort of keyring. You just get the key. I shouldn’t complain, they had enough towels to cover the bed which was comfortable enough.
I got in early enough that I bought a few beers, put the San Jose Shark’s game on TV and relaxed. A pretty ok end to an absolutely OK day.
TO BE CONTINUED
Ryan Cavalier 