There's a part of me that doesn't want to write about this day, this final day on the trail with all its emotions--anticipations and disappointments. How I wished for a short day just to get it over with but knew I was going to be riding all day, 90 miles to think, worry, and wonder at what I'd accomplished.
Patrick and I were up at 5 and out of there soon after, skipping the group breakfast in favor of an extra hour or two on the road. We breakfasted early at a McDonalds. My map was old, so I was working with a set of written directions as we made our way out of Eugene along a bike path that brought us to tree farms, fields of crying goats and Joe's diner. Joe's was the last great café of the trip, full of local news, local lore, local crafts, and chocolate pie for breakfast.
We crested the last 'pass,' if that's what it can be called, soon after, catching up with the Germans and having Alvin catch up with us. The last time riding with Tim, the last time riding with Patrick, the last gas station lunch, and I was on my own headed toward Florence, picking roadside blackberries along the way and hoping my bike wouldn't mysteriously give out just miles before the end of the journey.
My boys in their favorite shirts together one last time
My mom called a couple of times to see if I'd made it yet, telling me she had a whole list of family friends to call when I made it to the ocean. 126 into Florence was extremely rough. It was getting windy and the temperature was dropping quickly. I couldn't make it to town fast enough. Ran into Alvin in town and went for a last chocolate milk run with him before heading into the absolutely terrible wind that would take us to the beach. I think the wind was almost as bad as the day going into Larned, Kansas. That day Toni said, 'The last time I worked this hard, I had a baby to show for it,' but today's victory would be the ocean.
Along this stretch, I could feel my wheel coming out of true (found out later I'd broken another spoke) and was just hoping it would hang on for those last three miles. Then the beach! The beach where 40-50 mph winds were sandblasting everything in our path. The beach where sand drifts rose up to prevent us getting our bikes to the actual ocean. The beach where I was so bundled up against the cold and sand that I knew I looked like an absolute crazy person.
To the Beach!!! A few long miles into a headwind to get this far, and we're almost there!
WooHoo! I made it! Somebody said I looked like an alien with my sunglasses and hood, but I was trying to keep from being sandblasted by 40-50 mph winds that almost knocked me over a time or two.
I had always anticipated being able to roll Kert into the water and finding a nearby driftwood log to sit and think about my accomplishment while sipping a little champagne, but that was all but impossible in a wind that almost knocked me over and filled every crevasse of myself, my bike, and my gear with sand. Tim, Alvin, and I struggled to the water without our bikes before heading back to wait for the group. I took a few half-hearted pictures, called my mom to let her know I made it, and tried to huddle down with my back against the wind. I told her I wasn't sure I could get my bike to the water, and I could tell she was disappointed. So much of this trip depended on her support both in the planning stages and throughout that I almost cried, too. Tim suggested maybe we could take our front wheels off and carry them to the ocean, but that just didn't seem right to me. Once everyone, including Radko, Maik, and Stefan, made it, the group decided to take its triumphant picture 'near' the water. The cold wind made this a miserable experience as we waited for camera after camera to get the final picture. People dispersed back toward town almost immediately, but I couldn't leave it at that and looked wistfully over the 100+ yards of sand dunes that separated Kert from the water.
But if I wanted to get Kert to the Pacific, he'd have to climb some sand drifts...
The group decided to do the picture in the parking lot instead of trying to get over the dunes to the water--the wind was really making conditions miserable.
Kert and I had come so far. And I knew how badly my mom wanted that triumphant picture with me in the ocean. We'd done RAGBRAI together over 10 years ago, and dipping the wheels in the rivers on either side of Iowa that year had been our triumph together. I looked at Alvin, knowing how badly he wanted to make it those final yards, too. He looked at me. I looked back at him. And somehow we knew we were dragging our fully loaded bikes through the wind and over those drifts. I was in favor of making two trips-one with the bikes and one with the bags-but we worked together, painfully dragging those reluctant beasts over and through the sandy mess the wind had created.
And I'm so glad we did. We got our triumphant pictures while sinking in sand and being pounded with sand and rogue surf. In any other conditions, I'd have taken a lot more pictures, but we could hardly stand up and I didn't want sand in my camera.
But Alvin and I dragged our bikes all the way to the water. I MADE IT!!!
And the work was worth it...I'm glad we struggled through the sand and got sand in every nook and crannie of ourselves and our gear as the wind sandblasted us. WE MADE IT TO THE OCEAN!
Too soon for my emotions and too late for my physical condition, we lugged those bikes back to terra firma where I called my mom to tell her I'd 'officially' made it (I think she called everybody a second time with the news!). While we were surfing an amazing tail wind back into town, Jacques called Alvin, and I got to talk to him, too. He was broken up about not being able to be there with us but happy we'd made it safely.
Donkey was sinking...and we had a dinner to attend!
When I finally got to camp, I barely had time to tell Patrick goodbye and grab a quick shower (you would not believe how much sand was on me) before going to our triumphant party at a seafood restaurant. We'd all talked about partying hard, but after 90 or so miles, almost everyone was too tired to get too carried away. The gift exchange concluded with a group gift for Alvin as Toni and I led in 'America the Beautiful' and more than one person held back tears.
Toni made this hat for Alvin to commemorate a memorable moment earlier in the trip that kept Toni riding and set the tone for dealing with hardships throughout the trip.
I just can't believe it's over. I rode my bike all the way across the country and don't have any idea what I'm feeling. . . I think everything's just all mixed up inside. Pride at making it, happiness at meeting all these great people, sadness at knowing I have to say goodbye, dread of returning to my 'other' life, disappointment at today's weather, relief that my butt will finally get a rest, etc. I think I would be happier today if I was here alone and if I hadn't met Alvin and Toni and Patrick and Tim and the rest, but that's mostly because now I don't want to say goodbye. Alone, I wouldn't have to face the painful farewells of the next day or two. . . but I wouldn't have these wonderful friends I now have, either. And I'm sad at having to leave the freedom of the road. I've accomplished so much, but that pride is tempered with an acute sense of loss tonight.
Today's ride: 90 miles (145 km) Total: 4,427 miles (7,125 km)
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George (Buddy) HallI really enjoyed reading your journal! I wish I had read it prior to my own Transam journey in 2015 (which I just got imported here from that other site). I just discovered it due to a link in a forum post on this site. I recognized so many of the places along your journey, even a lot of your photos (some were almost the same I had taken). And I definitely related to the difficulty you had with the forest fires. We slept in almost the same spot at the Dayville Church - I noted that it was only fair that I should sleep in the front of the church since I had grown up sleeping so much in the back row. Thanks for jiggling my own memories again.
