For years I've wondered how it would be to bike along the Nestucca River from the coast to Carlton in the Willamette Valley - I'm sure it must be the quietest crossing on the northwest coast. I could never quite figure out how to fit it into a reasonable loop, but it's a natural for a one way ride. In this version, wa caught the bus to Cannon Beach, followed the coast down to Pacific City, and then followed the Nestucca east. The first few miles, until you reach Beaver and can leave the highway, are a bit uncomfortable. After that though, it's perfect - you'll have the road to yourself for the next 50 miles.
On the bus to Cannon Beach. We were lucky to get on - somehow I only reserved one space, which we found out when boarding. Fortunately there was room and the driver was willing to wait while I rushed into the depot to purchase a second ticket. Good thing it's a quiet morning.
On the road! It's a beautiful day out, but you can't really tell here because the iPad doesn't have a flash. I can focus on Rachael or on the great outdoors, but not both.
Our bus ride to Cannon Beach was smooth and relaxed - easy to deal with the bikes, relaxing to sit back and read, snooze, and take an occasional peek at the trees whizzing by. Now that we've done this a couple of times, I'm wondering what took me so long to think of it.
We get off the bus about 11, with most of the day left to navigate the 17 miles to Manzanita where we have a motel reservation waiting. Not much of a ride, so at the end we'll swing inland for a ride arctos the delta of the Nehalem River. We've planned such a short day for today because we love Manzanita, and because we have three longish days after that. Might as well start by relaxing a bit, beginning with a short detour to sit on the beach and stare at Haystack Rock.
Conditions are fine at the coast all day. It starts out a bit overcast but gradually burns off; the temperature hangs at the mid-sixties until late in the day; and the wind is mild but favorable. Given that its prime time over here, with the end of summer vacation fast approaching, the traffic on the coast highway isn't too bad - it's much better being here midweek than on the weekend, of course. Still, it's bad enough; and there are several stretches that are a bit uncomfortable - particularly the few miles leading up to and then through the tunnel through Arch Cape. In particular, there seem to be more large trucks than we see on the weekend. As beautiful as this stretch of coastline is, there are reasons we don't ride it all that often. We'll probably wait awhile before coming this way again.
Gulls are such scene stealers! I kept trying to get a clear view of Haystack Rock but this guy wasn't having it.
Rachael has never shown much interest in photography, but that may be about to change now that she's retired, has more time on her hands, and has her new phone to experiment with.
It's a lumpy ride all the way from Cannon Beach to Manzanita, getting more rugged along the way. Afte the short hop over Hug Point and the rise to the tunnel through Arch Cape, there's about. 500' climb over Cape Falcon. After that you lose it all and repeat, topping out at the shoulder of Neahkahnie Mountain, offering some of the best views along the coast.
After that we drop back to the sea and pull off the road at Neahkahnie Beach for a lunch break. I'm really surprised to sit here looking at Neahkahnie Mountain, with its nose dropping precipitously into the ocean about a mile north of us. I don't remember seeing this before, and wonder if this can really be the first time I've ever set foot on this beach.
The Oregon coast has so many stunning views, but this one from Neahkahnie Mountain south to Cape Lookout is one of my favorites. It looks magically different every time we come this way.
Fifteen miles into the ride, and it's time for our lunch break. We're on Neahkahnie Beach, just north of Manzanita, staring at the headland of Neahkahnie Mountain plunge into the sea.
After lunch we leave the coast for the back half of our short ride - an erratic 'loop' from Manzanita through the flat agricultural zone at the mouth of the Nehalem. The shape of the ride doesn't make much sense - we're just on an exploratory ride checking out minor paved roads. Nothing dramatic, but very quiet and very relaxing. Cycling-wise, this is the best part of the day.
The North Fork of the Nehalem River has its origins just a few miles northeast of here. It's much smaller than the main line of the Nehalem, which arcs for 120 miles across the northwest highlands all the way to Vernonia.
We make it to our room about 4, and about an hour later are sitting in front of a fine meal at Neahkahnie Bistro, a somewhat upscale restaurant that's new to us. Afterwards, we walk down to the beach and walk north toward the mountain for about a mile and a half, until near the end of the beach. It's a beautiful evening for a walk on the sand, with a mild headwind that stiffens and almost chills us as we approach the cliffs but then blows us back toward the motel obpnve we turn around.
It is gradually getting more overcast as evening approaches. We wonder if it will hold off enough to allow a good sunset, but that's still an hour or more off - too long to wait now, so we head back to the room to relax. Maybe I'll rouse myself later to come back and check out the sunset. Or maybe not.
We ended the day with a pleasant beach walk to the base of Neahkahnie Mountain and back - farther than it looks.
On the beach, Manzanita. It looks like there could be a good sunset tonight if we waited around for another hour or so. We've seen sunsets though, and we're tired. Maybe tomorrow.
Today's ride is as good as it gets on this stretch of the Oregon coast. The weather is perfect for cycling - it's comfortably warm, we have a nice tailwind most of the way, and clear skies give us dramatic views down the coast. And, being here midweek we don't have the traffic congestion you find on summer weekends. There's still plenty of traffic to pay attention to - log trucks, revoltingly large mobile homes especially keep our attention - but it's thin enough that you can watch for decent gaps when you come to a narrow patch of road, and not too stressful. And, of course, this section includes the Three Capes Loop, the minor road between Tillamook and Pacific City that gives us a long respite from the coast highway.
It's a good thing Rachael got us out the door early this morning. Bread and Ocean Bakery is very popular - we were here 10 minutes before they opened at 7 and there was already a line forming.
It's another fine morning. Pretty amazing - it's often overcast or damp in the morning over here, but not today. This is on the beach looking north toward Neahkahnie Mountain again. From this angle you can also just see the tip of Cape Falcon peeking around the end.
We've biked by this spot on Nehalem bay several times over the years, but I don't recall ever noticing this red cedar nurse log. It's obviously been here for a long time, so maybe I finally noticed it today because we're here in the morning sun when it's so illuminated.
In Rockaway Beach. This is the same steamer we saw parked in Garibaldi last month. Nice to see it in action. The green gondola car behind it is packed with tourists.
We've been taking our time today, pulling off the road to look around more. Here's another sight we've never noticed: Twin Rocks. You'd think my curiosity might have been piqued by biking through the town of Twin Rocks before now, but no.
This is the end of Netarts Spit, with the bay on the left and Cape Lookout strung across the horizon. The road ahead climbs through the small notch in the cape just above the center of the spit.
Didn't we just pass this point yesterday? This looks a lot like the view south to Cape Lookout from Neahkahnie Mountain. Here though, we're on Cape Lookout looking south to the next major promontory, Cascade Head. The gap in the shoreline on the left is the mouth of the oddly named Sand Lake; and a bit beyond is Cape Kiwanda, near where we'll stay tonight.
The perspective is a bit odd on this shot. It looks like we're climbing but actually we're on the beautiful two mile glide off the south face of Cape Lookout.
Hey, let's climb up that dune, she said. It sounded like such a good idea at the time. Tough work. We're just leaving Pacific City, at the start of a walk up to Cape Kiwanda for dinner at the very popular Pelican Bay Pub. On the way there we walked inland and away from the water, opting to stay under the trees and sheltered from the wind. On the return we walked the Beach, blown along in a cloud of sand by the strong tailwind.
Cape Kiwanda looks like a giant sand dune, but there's a real formation underlying it. It's an unusual beach in Oregon, where in most places cars are banned.
Man, is the wind blowing this evening! The whitish streaks on the beach are blowing sand racing away from us. This would have been better shot in video.
Chief Kiawanda Rock, also known as Haystack Rock. I like the original name better, since it honors the tribal chieftain the cape was named after; and to distinguish it from the other, better known Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach.
We have another fairly long day ahead of us and once we cross the crest of the coast range we will drop into the hot, smokey Willamette Valley; so we get another early start this morning. For breakfast we walk a few blocks to the Village Inn, the earliest of Pacific City's breakfast options. Rachael has done her homework and knows that it's a small place that fills up early, so we arrive a few minutes after it opens at seven. Sure enough, its small - six or seven tables; and a few of them are filled already. It's a nice, untouresty place frequented by locals. I think we're the only diners the hostess doesn't know by name.
8:30, and we're on the road for Beaver. There are two ways to get there from here: the most direct one goes south for a few miles to the junction with Highway 101, and then doubles back north through Cloverdale and Hebo. The secon, about four miles north, backtracks to Cape Kiwanda and Sand Lake before cutting east to Highway 101 a mile north of Beaver.
We chose the first option, since it's shorter and the day is long anyway. Bad choic. highway 101 is terrible along this stretch, with zero shoulder for most off the long ten miles back to Beaver and an uncomfortable traffic burden even at this early hour on a weekday. We're both gritting our teeth the whole way and feel lucky to be in one each pieces when we reach Beaver and can finally leave the highway.
The owner of Village Inn Coffee in Pacific City sure has a favorite animal. Butterflies everywhere you look! Even the tablecloths are covered with them.
Pacific City, with Chief Kiawanda Rock towering behind, on the far side of the low ridge that separates the Nestucca from the sea. The river sits at a sharp bend in the river, which must be steadily eroding away its base. In time, I imagine the village would lose out to the river; but I'll bet global warming gets to it first.
Hebo Inn, established 1959. I first came this way in 1972, biking down the coast from Bellingham. I think the Ns were reversed on its sign back then too
At Beaver though, we leave the coast highway and bear east along the Nestucca River (which we had also been following from Cloverdale). The next fifty miles are cycling heaven, as we follow the Nestucca upriver for thirty miles to its source at the crest of the coast range, and then drop off the east side to the Yamhill River. The road is wonderfully quiet the entire way, and quite scenic if undramatic - you never really get any long views on this ride because you're mostlly cycling through a tree-lined canyon.
We've biked all four of the cyclable routes to the coast now: on Highway 30, along the Columbia River; the high route through Vernonia, Mist and Jewell to Astoria (and its variant, taking the spur spur down the Nehalem to Nehalem Bay); and up the Wilson River on too busy Highway 6 from Tillamook. After today's experience, I've no doubt that the Nestucca is far and away the best option.
After a wonderful, relaxing twentyfive miles of this, we hold a vote and decide that s time for lunch. We find a narrow footpath that breaks through the underbrush to the now small river, find a mossy rock to squat on, and break out the delicious scones we picked up this morning from Grateful Bread.
Twelve miles into the ride, we're relieved to reach Beaver and leave narrow, shoulderless Highway 101. For the next thirty miles we'll follow the Nestucca east to its headwaters on the serene Nestucca River Road.
About five miles in from the coast highway, the valley narrows and starts gradually climbing toward the summit, still about twenty miles off. It's a very lazy climb, never really steepening much.
A reminder for the future. I wasn't aware that ther was any lodging available on this road. From its website, it looks like it would be a great stopover on a bike tour - they will even provide evening meals.
Most of the ride looks like this. It is very peaceful, cycling through moss-draped maples and hemlock, with the quiet sounds of the nearby stream breaking through the stillness. Except for when we pass the occasional campground, cars are rarely seen.
Rachael, who's disinclined to ride on gravel, was uncertain about today's stage because we read that it includes this unpaved 2.6 mile patch. It doesn't amount to much though - it's really closer to well packed clay - and was almost a letdown. For miles afterward, she kept worrying that the real gravel patch was still ahead of us.
At the midpoint of the ride, still about ten miles shy of the summit, we scrambled down to the water for our picnic lunch. We were there for about twenty minutes, and heard only one car pass by above us. The ham and bacon scones we brought with us from Greatful Bread Bakery in Pacific City were amazing.
Back in the bikes, we still have another ten miles and 800' of climbing ahead of us before we reach the summit. Coming from the west though, it never really amounts to much of a climb because it's so gradual. The eastern slope is a different story though - it's definitely steeper, and we ride the brakes as we lose 1800' over the next ten miles before dropping into the agricultural belt along the Yamhill. It's a great descent - not much traffic most of the way, and a smooth, recently resurfaced pavement.
The fun is over though when we near the river. Our planned route to McMinnville is on Westside Road, but it's a narrow, shoulderless high speed death trap. After hitting the shoulder to make way for a log truck and the train of backed up vehicles behind us, we ageeed to pull off on the first side road we come to and cut across to Hihway 47. This should be fine - we've ridden 47 several times a bit north of here, and it's busy but has a good shoulder. Not here though - for reasons unbeknownst to me, the roads into McMinnville, the largest town in the valley, all seem to be two lane, shoulderless affairs.
We finally arrive in McMinville all hot and bothered, and of the mind that we'd better make the most of our visit because we're unlikely to bike this way again.
Summit shot! I hate it when there's no sign at the summit, don't you? We make do with what we have though, and pose beside a mileage sign. We're six and a half miles from somewhere, apparently, but I never figured out what.
As it turned out though, we both enjoyed our stay in town and would probably return some day if we can figure out a safe way in. I'll have to do some research, but the obvious alternative looks like it would be to go east through Carlton to the farming roads east of 4, follow them south for a few miles, and then double back. It would add six or seven miles. But they'd be well spent.
Nick's is a well known, somewhat iconic restaurant in the valley. I'm surprised we've never eaten here. It's about time, because it deserves its reputation. Good menu, reasonable prices, and an attractive minimalist decor.
We stayed in Hotel Oregon, a McMenamins property in the heart of the historical center of McMinnville. Like many McMenamin properties, it's a rehabilitation of an older historical structure. Built in 1905, it housed a restaurant, banquet hall,the Greyhound bus depot, and the Western Union station. And, of course, it was rumored to be haunted.
On Third Street, the excitement builds - its Dragging the Gut weekend! From about five until nearly midnight, a steady procession of vintage cars will roll and roar through the old quarter, reliving the halcyon days of the cruising era. Cruising was finally outlawed in McMinnville in 1987, but it was spontaneously reborn seven years ago and is for the moment a sanctioned annual event.
After dropping in at the next door Red Fox Cafe for an early meal, we left McMinnville not long after eight. This is really early by our standards, but we're doing our best to beat the heat - the valley is moving up to the nineties again, and smoke is in the forecast. Being on the road this early we found cycling out of town to be much quieter than biking in. Not a problem really as long as we kept going east beyond Highway 47. We might give the town a second chance one of these days after all.
East of Highway 47, we travel north through low, rolling hills on our way down the Yamhill Valley. These next twenty miles are really a beautiful cycling route, through the heart of the Yamhill/Carlton wine district. We're taking the quietest route available, and for the most part we have the roads to ourselves this morning. Views are terrific - across the valley to our left rises the coast range; to our right we're walled in by the Chehalem Mountains; and on either side we bike past colorful vineyards, hazelnut groves and fields of grain. We enjoy this stretch as much as any other we experienced on this short tour.
This is the Carlton grain elevator. It's a beautiful old structure, and one of the landmaks of Yamhill Valley. A few years back it was purchased by a preservationist who is converting it into a tasting room for his local winery. It's not all about the wine here though. The white stakes support a new planting of hazelnuts (also known as filberts). Oregon produces 99% of the filberts grown in the United States.
On Yamhill Road, which turns to gravel for about two miles. It slows us down a bit, but is well worth it - it's beautiful in its own right, but also it connects up other roads for the quietest route through this stretch of the valley.
At the north end of the unpaved stretch of Yamhill Road. Rachael's waiting with her new cellphone to see if I make it up the last, steep stretch or walk it like she did.
Back on the pavement again, approaching the end of Yamhill Road. This is really a beautiful ride through here - it's one I'd like to repeat in the fall some year, after the vineyards turn yellow.
It's easy to spot the historical towns through here because of the old grain elevators. This is Yamhill, another old farming community finding new life as a wine village.
Eventually we near the end of the Yamhill and turn east and down the Tualatin Valley toward Portland. We've ridden through this country a few times recently, and attractive though it is we're getting impatient to get home and out of the heat. We stop for a brief lunch at a u-pick farm west of Blooming, but after that we soon drop down to Hillsboro and are back in suburbia. Nothing new and not the most inspiring, so we just stay on task and grind out the final miles to home.
So, how was it taking the bus this time? Great! We feel good and virtuous for leaving the car home, and pleased at how easy this is turning out to be. We're both surprised though at the potential for new rides this has opened up. In all the years we've cycled together, surprisingly Rachael and I have never biked home from the coast. We've always started over there somewhere and ridden day rides or short loops. Suddenly a whole series of longer rides on roads we have never ridden come to mind. Pretty great discovery.
We've rounded the bend and are on the home stretch. After Gaston we leave the Yamhill Valley, curve around the nose of the Chehalem Mountains, and after a short but very steep climb are on a lovely balcony road above the Tualitin Valley.
We stopped for lunch at Peachy Pig Farm, a u-pick spot on Burkhalter Road. I was transfixed by this huge, splendid black walnut tree, which must be an original planting from when the valley was first settled. For scale, you can just about make out Rachael in the shadows, sitting at a picnic table behind the white lawn chairs.
