Statistics:

5/28-Trinidad, CA to Brookings, OR - 84 miles;

5/29-Brookings to Bandon and Bullards Beach State Park (BBSP) - 84 miles;

5/30-BBSP to Florence - 66 miles.

Description of Events: 

May 28, 1981: Although I could have stayed at "our" seaside plot of land for a long time, we had a job to do and it was time to get to it. After close to 1000 miles, we would finally leave California and cross into Oregon. Since I had never been to the Beaver State before, I was excited. Dave was still riding with us but he was now talking a lot about breaking off from the coast soon so he could start heading back to Eugene. The three of us got along famously, so we tried not to think too much about his impending departure and we focused on continuing to have fun while Dave was with us. He was on his own odyssey and we were privileged to have spent some time with him. I'm sure he felt the same way.

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Everything seemed to come together, in our favor, today. The terrain was fairly flat, the wind had died down, and the rest from our days off seemed to invigorate us. With my new back wheel, I was riding well and without concern. We began to make much better time than had seemed possible before. Northern California continued onward, seemingly forever. At one point before reaching Crescent City, we seemed to have ridden above the clouds. It was sunny above and there was a blanket of thick clouds below us... a very neat perspective.

After Crescent City, we came upon a fellow on a motorcycle. He had a woman on the motor bike with him and another one who had her own motorcycle. He was definitely high (on something besides life) but he was a card. We liked him. 

Unlike some bikers, he respected what we were doing. We all had a few laughs and then he laid down in the middle of the highway. It was humourous, at first, but then I became concerned the dude would be run over by a logging truck or a passing RV. I made a few jokes but then got serious with him. He extended his hand and I pulled him up off the pavement. We all laughed (nervously) and they got on their motorcycles and roared away. They might have been the last group of people we encountered in California. Memorable... and fitting, I suppose!

At some point, it started raining. By the time we crossed into Oregon, we were elated but soaked to the bone. The first town of any significance was Brookings. We camped somewhere near there. It was a damp and foggy night but  not as wet as what we had experienced near Big Sur. We had made it out of California and had racked up our highest mileage day of the trip, so far. Things were looking good.

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May 29, 1981: We rode a long way on an undulating coastline highway today, equaling our high mileage total from yesterday, at 84. From Brookings, we ticked off 27 quick and cold miles to Gold Beach. There, we took an hour break in a cafe to warm up with coffee and hot oatmeal.

As we began the 28-mile ride to Port Oroford (PO), the rain began to fall again. It was a drenching rain that lasted until we were 7 miles from PO. There, the sun came out. We took another hour off to dry off, warm up, and stock up on food at a Natural Foods Store. I bought a bag of homemade granola.

To reach Bandon, there were 27 more miles of highway to cover. Paul and I rode together for most of it. My chain was making a noise, but after stopping to lubricate it, the sounds vanished. From then on, the miles seemed to fly by as Paul and I rode side-by-side, talking, and laughing the whole way.

Bullards Beach State Park (BBSP) lay about two miles outside of Bandon. We grabbed some supplies in Bandon and then rode out to BBSP to camp. Once there, we prepared a huge feast complete with good conversation and requisite laughter, thanks to Dave. He has become very comfortable with us now and is coming up with some hilarious comments. Tomorrow he will leave us, after we reach Florence. We have planned another feast and a last night of revelry to see him off.

May 30, 1981: I had heard a lot about Coos Bay, but when we got there, nobody seemed to be around. It was quaint and looked to be the quintessential fishing town but the place seemed dead, so we didn't stop there for very long.

It was another wet, cold, windy, and hilly day along the Pacific Coast. The sun poked through, at times, but didn't stay around for very long. By the time we had fought our way to the coastal town of Florence, the tales form people we met, of more sun and warmth away from the coast, sounded pretty good. We resolved to head inland a bit before continuing North. After more than 1000 miles of scenic coastline, we were ready to see what the rest of the place looked like. This decision would change the character of the trip. 

The beach at Florence had dunes. They were scenic and made for privacy when camping. We camped one last night with Dave, who has ridden with us for 12 days. A big feast was prepared with burgers, shrimp, and baked potatoes. I toasted marshmallows over the campfire, which reminded me of picnics at my grandmother's house back in Norvelt, PA many moons ago. Those were fun times too. Dave is a great guy and we will miss traveling with him.