This is one variation on a loop of the northwest corner that we run every few years: out to Astoria along highway 102; down the coast to Pacific City, taking the quiet interior route between Astoria and Seaside rather than a busy, uninteresting stretch of the coast highway; and then back up to Highway 202 again following the Nehalem River up Foss Road and then Highway 103 To Jewell.
The shortest version of this ride is about 130 miles, and makes a nice two day loop. If you're not camping, leave the car somewhere along the Nehalem River or at Jewell, and overnight somewhere at the coast. On our ride described here, we started further east at Mist, adding 35 miles along Highway 202.
A couple of other notes. First, there's a pretty bad two mile stretch of Highway 26 to negotiate, between the north end of Foss Road and the south end of Highway 103. Narrow, winding, two lane, minimal shoulder. Also busy, sometimes terribly so - this is the main highway to the coast from Portland. You want to bike the loop counterclockwise so you're going downhill on this stretch (and so you're going the right way down the coast also), and you want to think about time of day and day of week to avoid the worst traffic.
Also, there's about a rolling, gradually uphill six mile unpaved stretch of Foss Road to negotiate. Not bad, unless you really dislike gravel. Other than that, it's a great ride in almost any season.
We're off on a ride along the Oregon coast, on a variant of a ride we take every few years. We start somewhere along the headwaters of the Nehalem River, and follow the Nehalem Highway to Astoria. Then we follow the coast south to Manzanita where we turn northeast at the mouth of the Nehalem, following it upriver back to our starting point. In this year's version we started in the tiny community of Mist and making a three day ride, with overnights in Astoria and Manzanita.
We left home about 9:30 for the drive up to Mist, about an hour or so away. We were happy to be leaving town, because the air quality north of town is terrible - we're having a spell of warm clear days with a strong air inversion, but I think there is a fire going somewhere and all the smoke is trapped close to the surface.
Once we climb away from the Columbia the air clears quickly, and by the time we arrive in Mist it is perfect - blue, windless, in the upper 50's. The ride to Astoria along Highway 202 is very pretty but fairly uneventful. We are surprised at the number of logging trucks on the road today, something we don't recall seeing before. There aren't all that many of them though, and they're essentially all the traffic we see until we near Astoria.
At Mist, departing for Astoria. Hopefully the Jetta will still be here when we return!
The Nehalem River. Up here on the plateau, it's just a lazy, meandering stream. We will cross it at least a half dozen times over the next twenty miles as the highway cuts across its meanders.
Typical vegetation up here on the plateau. A lot of open, grassy meadows backed by low ridges. The predominant vegetation is a mix of big leaf maple, red alder, western hemlock and Douglas fir.
The Nehalem again. Soon we'll part ways with it - it bends southwest while our highway bends northwest and climbs over a divide before dropping into the coastal watershed.
Jewell Meadows isn't too dramatic at the moment. If you come back here in a half year though, bring your super zoom - the meadows are the wintering home to a herd of several hundred Roosevelt elk.
For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her (Simon & Garfunkel, 1966) Stopping for a milk break in Olney, and thinking of our Emily (who of course was only minus 10 when this song came out; it was a favorite of mine way back then though, as a sophomore in college). After the ride I'm more of an IPA sort of guy, but nothing has ever worked as well as cold milk in the middle of a warm day.
When we arrive at the motel, they ask why we're there because we have no reservation - we made it for the wrong day. Fortunately they have room, so that's fine. When we get ready to go to dinner, I find that I didn't pack any street shirts - so I'm going to the nicest restaurant in town tonight in a cycling jersey (clean, fortunately) hidden under my Pendleton. When Rachael tries to unload her day's GoPro video, we find we forgot all her GoPro accessories. When I take a shower, I notice my arms are sunburned; but we forgot to pack the sunblock.
All of which is good, actually. This is a shakedown cruise to see if we're ready to head off to Sicily. We're not quite there apparently, and these are all useful reminders.
On the Astoria riverfront: just a common mallard. It is amazing how beautiful some of these birds we see all the time are when you get close enough to bring in the detail.
It was overcast at 7 this morning as we walked along the waterfront to breakfast this morning. By the time we came out, the clouds were already breaking up and it was warming up nicely. We were in store for a beautifully clear day, highs around 60, with light winds - just about as fine a day as you could hope for on the Oregon coast. About the only way to improve things would be to be here at midweek when the roads were quieter -the traffic was nearly nonstop for the stretches of today's ride that were on busy Highway 101.
It was overcast this morning when we walked along the riverfront to breakfast.
The first half of the day was away from the coast though, and very quiet. We began by a loop of Youngs Bay, and then cut across to the Lewis and Clark River where we picked up the back road into Seaside. All of these back roads near Astoria are perfect for cycling - peaceful, slow moving, scenic. It's good country for wildlife sighting too - today we encountered a remarkably sedat black tailed deer, a coyote in the middle of the road, and a pair of wood ducks.
The skies are starting to break up by the time we cycle past Youngs Bay
I'm still taking advantage of my new camera to help me relearn the birds. This is a pair of California gulls - distinguishable from the very similar herring gull by the yellow legs.
This tranquil black tailed deer seemed little troubled by our presence. I wish the coyote we startled in the middle of the road a few miles later had stayed put awhile also, but he dashed for the trees as soon as we came upon him.
We returned to the coast at Seaside, and spent the rest of the day on 101 except when we left it to pass through the coastal towns. This is some of the most scenic part of the Oregon coast, but on a busy day like today it makes for a bit of a stressful ride. Most of the time there is a decent shoulder, but with the constant parade of cars and campers on your shoulder, it's hardly relaxing.
It is still pretty early I the cycling season here, so we don't see many other bikers out - only three all day, and all at the same spot - a scenic turnout atop Neahkanie Mountain. First , we chatted for a few minutes with two young men from Austin, on the way down the coast to the Bay Area. They were one day into their tour, having started in Astoria - and with the weather we've had this weekend, they're seeing a very atypical version of Oregon. I trust they'll have their share of rain in the coming days and get a better read on where all our splendid green comes from.
As soon as the Texans dropped off the mountain, the next cyclist pedaled up - Jerry from Vancouver, Washington, riding his sparkling new bright red Bike Friday - a New World Tourist, as ours are. He's starting to train for the ACF tour of the Adirondacks he signed up for. When we asked how far he was riding today, he somewhat sheepishly said he was only about four miles into his ride - he and his wife are camping down at the bottom of the hill, at Arch Cape. She doesn't care for cycling herself, he said somewhat wistfully. After he cycled off, Rachael pointed out again how lucky I am. She's right, obviously.
Spring break at Seaside. This must be as fine of a day as you could hope for here at this time of year.
The infamous Arch Cape tunnel is longer, busier and spookier than this photo suggests. And uphill. And shoulderless. We were a bit deafened from the roar of the traffic when we finally came out the other side.
The view south along the coast from Neahkanie mountain. Manzanita is the small village by the shore about a third of the way down the beach. The inland body of water behind it is Nehalem Bay, at the mouth of the Nehalem River.
We ended the day in Manzanita, our latest favorite coastal village. We'v biked this stretch of the coast many times now, but somehow have never stayed overnight here or even pulled off too look around. It is a bit out of the way and hidden from the road, and has a much quieter and more relaxed atmosphere than most spots on the north coast. The beach is quite beautiful, with Neahkanie Mountain and rugged Cape Falcon forming a wall at the north. I'm certain we'll stay over here again the next time we pass through.
Conditions are near perfect again this morning - comfortable, calm and clear. We could hardly have done better with our timing of this trip, for the forecast is for a rain pattern to reach the coast by late afternoon.
With a long day ahead of us, we got an early start so we would feel confident about reaching our car before the rains hit. We know we will be slowed up significantly by the fifteen mile unpaved stretch of Foss Road. Before we get to Foss though, we have a couple of miles on Highway 101 to cover (thankfully, much quieter this early in the day), and then a few miles of meandering through the flood plain and dairy farms on Tidewater Road. Tidewater is a bit of a detour, adding a few miles to the more direct route that stays longer on the highway. Rachael would remind me of these unnecessary miles from time to time later in the day when we were both fighting back against our fatigue.
In Manzanita, walking to breakfast. This photo is in here mostly as a reminder to study the manual on my new camera and learn how to force the flash.
Foss Road has three sections. The first seven miles hug the north bank of the river, alternating flat stretches with short, steepish rises. This part of the road, the most pleasant, is well paved and feels like an extension of Tidewater. After seven miles, it crosses the river and immediately turns to gravel. Even more primitive Cook Road forks off to the right here and follows the river toward the bay, while Foss Road continues upstream.
Beginning the ride on Foss Road, which closely follows the Nehalem for about 25 miles. This early in the year the road is virtually empty - too early for camping and fishing, and too poorly developed for normal transportation. We will encounter only a handful of cars in the next few hours.
The next fifteen miles are unpaved, and primarily surfaced with light gravel. We've probably ridden this stretch five or six times over the years, and the quality varies from year to year and season to season. The first five miles or so are the worst quality and the most difficult riding - the gravel is heaviest and the profile is lumpier, with frequent steep little rises and drops. The gravel seems to pile up and be the worst where it is steepest and at times reduces us to walking. The last time we came I don't recall it being so bad - maybe it had been recently graded - but this spring it is as rough as it's ever been.
We really don't care for gravel much, and tend to avoid it. This road allows such a natural loop that would be impossible otherwise though (biking on very busy, shoulderless and winding highway 26 is out of the question for safety reasons), that eventually we suck it up and try again. This time we have our Bike Fridays, much better in gravel that our Cannondales, so that helped. A bit.
We credit two of our more interesting local ride memories to this road. One year long ago, we drove up to the beginning of the gravel stretch and began there, thinking that we would get the worst out of the way first rather than facing it at the end when we were tired and wanted to just get home. Three miles later, after most of the worst of it, we were stopped at the top of a rise looking over the Nehalem, when I discovered that I had left my wallet back at the car. So that was interesting.
And then, a few years later, we left the car beyond the gravel, just past the Salmonberry bridge. I forget why now but it must have been because we were on a two day overnight to Cannon Beach and wanted to balance the length of the rides. Somehow we missed the sign that the bridge was out, and did not discover this until returning to our car the following afternoon. We had to cross the shallow Salmonberry, wheeling our bikes across narrow planks while we walked barefoot through the cold river (actually, I think I chivalrously shuttled them both and Rachael walked the plank). A small but steep cliff faced us on the opposite bank, and we hauled our bikes up using a rope we fortunately found lying around. Luckily the bikes weren't damaged, because we were due to depart for Europe in about a week.
Ah, memories. Today was much less interesting, but as challenging as ever. It is definitely a beautiful ride though.
Pretty slow going ahead. The next fifteen miles of Foss Road are mostly gravel, but only the first ten are bad. After that it improves to an alternating mix of compact dirt, short stretches of crumbling asphalt, and gravel.
If you don't mind gravel, Foss is a beautiful road - especially this time of year when the alders are just beginning to leaf out, the river is full and many small waterfalls cascade down from the hillside.
One of the few spots with a clear view of the river. The road is always very close beside it, but the trees normally block it from anything but a broken view.
The bridge across the Salmonberry, at its confluence with the Nehalem. We are always glad to get to this point, because on the other side the pavement begins again. We have a history with this bridge. Perhaps 10 years ago on this loop we began by driving in from the north side and parking just beyond this point. Two days later we arrived here late in the day and found that the bridge was out - it's center span was missing. Fortunately it was late summer so we could ford the river, but then had to haul our bikes up a fifteen foot cliff on the other side before getting back to our car,
Beyond the Salmonberry, the pavement resumes. There follows another pleasant four miles until the road ends at highway 26. There is no choice at this point but the highway, which we follow east for an interminable two plus miles until we reach the turnoff to route 103, the beautifully named Fishhawk Falls Highway. Today, the traffic is awful - we leave the highway in a hurry at several points to let a camper and the trailing string of cars whiz past - and we are relieved to escape with our skins intact.
A mile later we stop to eat lunch on a grassy hill beside the road and then start up again, still 25 miles from the car. We ride without a break because it's getting late in the day. I don't stop for photos because most of it is backtracking part of the first day, but also because I'm in a survival zone. The day before we set off on this three day loop I biked an 80 miler to Multnomah Falls, the longest ride I've taken in a number of years. 250 miles in four days is starting to push against the limits of my idea of a good time.
We talked quite a bit about this ride on the drive back home. The gravel isn't really that bad - I'm sure that folks that thrive on roads like this will wonder what the big deal is - but I think we've probably had our fill of this one. And I don't want to see this stretch of highway 26 on a busy weekend again. Next time I think we'll extend the loop by a couple of days by biking down to the Three Capes and cutting back along the Little Nestucca to Carlton. That's a road I've wondered about for years but we've somehow never tried.
Inside the Lucky Laborador brew pub. This has a pretty thin connection to today's ride - it's the next day, and I'm having an IPA here as I catch up on the journal. I just think it is so cool to have a brew pub with an interior bike rack. This place is about a half mile from home, but I just stumbled across it for the first time recently and decided to try it out. I'll be back.
