Biking the Oregon Coast

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I planned on biking the 400 miles of the Oregon coast with an older bike, an older truck, and a older, well lets just stop there, shall we. Pam my wife and I had biked the Oregon coast 18 years ago with all our camping gear. Pam mentioned then that it would be fun this time to see the little coastal towns through the windshield of a vehicle this time. I still have a little spit and vinegar left in me at the ripe old age of 60, so I would do my touring from the top of a bicycle seat. Pam could do exploring and shopping at her leisure and meet up with us at lunch and for camping time. This time, the "us," would be me and my cousin Paul who lives in Oregon.

Let's start at the beginning of this adventure, which is usually a very good place to begin. For the past 6 months I have been planning this trip to the west coast of Oregon. With the wonders of the internet I found out that it would cost us over $2,000 to get our butts out of Dodge by way of airplane tickets and car rental. Plus we would need all our camping gear for all the wonderful camping at the state parks along the route from Astoria to Brookings Oregon. My faithful truck may have a few miles on the odometer, at 280,000 but it’s spirit is still alive and well. Sounds like the owner! The body of both have a few nicks and dings. By taking the truck it would save us some dinero. Besides we need a good road trip of 2,400 miles to have the wind blow through our hair, since the truck doesn’t have all the modern conveniences like air conditioning.

The game plan was for Pam and I to meet up with my cousin in Astoria Oregon on August 3rd and start our bike tour on August 4th. I hadn’t seen my cuz since 1984 so we would have a lot to talk about. His grandfather was my great uncle. His grandfather and my dad use to do lot of fishing together and I would tag along.

Pam and I would be leaving Denver on Aug 1st on our road trip that way it wouldn’t have to be a race across America, since we had three days to drive the 1200 miles. We decided to drive west on I- 70 until Rifle Colorado and then we would head through the sage brush desert of Utah. Our first stop was a small Mormon town of Heber City Utah. Our motel was modeled after a Swiss chalet. Above the office they had a manequin of a Swiss farmer chasing a goat thru a wooden steeple set up on a Lazy Susan type contraption. Since it was late, the inn keeper gave us a break on the room cost and also to sweeten up the deal they gave us a chocolate bar, Swiss, what else. As we left the office the manager turned off the spinning farmer on the roof, meaning that the office was closed for the night. Our room had a Swiss touch to it with Swiss cows being milked by Swiss girls, painted on the walls with Swiss chocolate. Ha ha As we walked down the street looking for a restaurant, we were able to read different historical plaques about early Mormons. After several skirmishes with the Indians, the Mormon leader figured it was easier to feed the Indian than fight with them. So every Sunday the Indians and pioneers got together for grub and talking.

The next day we would drive into Idaho on I 84. Several times an older MG would pass us or we would pass it. At a roadside rest stop I got to talking to the antique MG owner. He and his wife were on a cross country trip to Wisconsin and then back to Portland for a MG rally. This beautiful car was built in the 60's and this trip had been quite an adventure, with numerous break downs. In Montana the car wouldn’t start and come to find out the coil and had broken in two. Then there was the time a front wheel broke loose and came off the car. After all theses calamities, the couple had kept their spirits full but their wallets empty.

That night we stayed in Baker City, Oregon. The town was founded after a prospector discovered gold in the surrounding hills. We drove through town with a eye out for a small local motel. The Geiser Grand Hotel stood guard over the main street. We checked at the desk for prices and they were a tad high for a room but the restaurant had a special on Prime Rib. The hotel was the queen of the plains in it’s time and with 12 foot high ceiling and large chandeliers, it was quite the show place. After a Prime Rib dinner we drove back thru town and found a motel to fit our budget. Our friends with the grey MG were checking in as we drove up. After unloading our gear I noticed a small motorcycle with large panniers, made for hauling gear parked by our room. I walked over and found out that the motorcyclist is a policeman in Seattle and was close to retirement. He had always wanted to travel by cycle across the USA. After hearing this same old story a thousand times his wife told him, "Go buy a motorcycle, then ride across country and call me." His plan was not only to travel the asphalt roads but to burn up some dirt roads also. He bought a BMW motorcycle that was built low to the ground for back country dirt tracks but could also be used for interstate roads. He had started in Seattle and was going to ride to Albuquerque, New Mexico on the hard pavement. A tour company than would help a group of cyclist ride dirt roads all the way to Montana from New Mexico. He had taken riding lessons on handling the dirt tracks on his cycle but the big truck zooming by at 75 MPH on the interstate was driving him a little crazy. I suggested he rent a small flat bed truck put his bike on the bed and drive it south.

The town of Pendleton Oregon, is know for it’s woolen rug company and that would be our first stop this morning. After a few hours of driving we found ourselves in the company store and on a tour of the rug making process. Pam found a rug that she couldn’t live without so we helped out the local economy besides.

The drive along the Columbia River was very interesting with high cliffs and historical plaques along the way. By dinner time we had arrived at Astoria with hopes of finding my long lost cousin Paul. I had a phone number for his wife and after settling into our room, I gave her a call. Paul had gotten the days a bit confused and he and his family had arrived a day early. Paul was camped out at Fort Stevens State park waiting for us, according to his wife Rennie. She and the kids were driving back home and hoped I could find Paul in the trees of the camping area. I had a phone number for Paul but I couldn’t raise him. We drove over to the park with hopes that a friendly ranger could give us a hand. According to Ranger Rick, it’s against the law to give out that type of information, I could be a Al Kidda, instead of just a crazy relative. He did wave his pencil as a clue, over campsite map that could lead us to the quarry. After driving around a bit I parked the truck and walked through a wooded section of the park. I found Paul talking to a fellow biker that had grand plans of cycling to Key West Florida from Seattle. This was his first day and it looked like he was going to get his fuel from Coor’s Light from the empties laying about.

We loaded up Paul's gear and headed back to our motel which had a extra bed. After a fresh fish dinner we looked over my plans for biking the coast. My ranger Rick buddy said we could have trouble getting camp sites because the recession had kept all the local yokels, local.

(43 miles) The next morning Paul and I jumped on the bikes and got a early start heading south. The temperature was cool with a fog covering the long bridge that lay ahead of us. Paul had a different route planned out of town so we could skip the bridge, and maybe not become a grease spot from a passing lumber truck from hell, before the trip started. The upside of this decision was that it took us to Lewis and Clark’s winter camp at Fort Stevens. The early explorers used this camp and lasted out the cold wet winter. The museum and rebuilt camp was done with style and detail. After a few hours of visiting the site we moved on down the road.

Our plan was to meet Pam each day half way between our final camping spot and have a picnic out of the back of the truck. Our first stop would be Manzanita, a coastal tourist town. Cannon Beach just before lunch, with it’s hay stack type structures made of solid rock jetting out of the beach was spectacular. Shortly after the beach we had to bike through a long tunnel. A light can be turned on, by the means of a timer, just before a biker enters the tunnel. It’s kind of a race to see who gets extinguish first the light or our legs as we buzzed through the tube on a slight incline. Manzanita had it fair share of tourists, all looking for something different but all needing a parking space, which is limited. Pam found a parking space for only RV’s but since we were going to eat out of the back of the truck and stay with it, we decided to change the rules a tad. A young parking policeman came by on his bike and kept a eye on our progress as we devoured our meal. After lunch, Paul and I rode our bikes into the main part of the town so Paul could buy a book. After going around the block several times Pam gave up the idea of parking and drove to the Nehalem State Park in order to acquire a camping spot.
The park ranger had one space open because of a cancellation. The state parks in Oregon are some of the best I have ever used. If you are a biker hiker then a space is $8.00 a person per night. The site comes with a picnic table and after riding a bike all day the hot showers, with limitless hot water were perfect. The views are top notch also with beach side settings. Pam had been able to buy some fresh salmon, so we had pasta with salmon on the barbie, what a treat. We had brought coolers full of goodies from the Denver, so we had all the comforts of home.

(50 miles)The next morning Aug 5th we woke to fog and drizzle, the norm for the coast. It was the perfect temperature for biking but a bit cool for sitting around at night. By early morning Paul and I had biked into the Tillamook Cheese factory, we were going to meet Pam here at noon. We had a few hours to wait, which was nice with lots to see and smell. By noon Pam showed up and we had a picnic in the parking lot and than took a small cheese tasting tour. After a few purchases of assorted cheeses we moved on down the road. We all wanted to visit the Cape Meares Lighthouse but it was few uphill miles out of the way. Paul and I where huffing and puffing by the time we made it to the turn off for the light house. We had stopped at the crest of the hill when Pam pulled into the parking area. A trail lead up to the biggest Sitka pine tree in Oregon so it was a relief to get off the bike and walk for a spell. The trail was through a rain forest of large trees and tiny bright flowers. The tree was massive and with a few pictures taken we walked back to the road. The highway down to the light house would be easier with Pam driving and our bikes locked up in the parking lot above. The light house sits on the point of land that jets out into the rolling sea. The light comes from a bright lantern behind a unreplaceable glass lens that reflected light out into the ocean. It’s been out of service for a few years and is now a museum. Last year vandals took a high powered rifle and shot through the windows of the tower and destroyed the lens that stood behind. They caught the clowns but no one seems to know what the state of Oregon is going to do to replace the lens.

Our next stop would be Cape Lookout State Park. Pam had made a wrong turn and I was able to get to the park before her or Paul. There wasn’t any camp spots left and I could only get hiker biker sites. The very down side was the rule by this ranger of no parking of support vehicles within 15 miles of the park. Being a smart ass and being tired I said “Should we park back in Portland!” While driving down to the camp site, I noticed a parking lot the size of 2 football fields empty. We unloaded our gear and walked into the site which was a distance off the road. Then after dinner we decided to have a shower. Pam and I drove over to the showers and Ranger Man came running out of his little office. “ You can’t park here!” he said. “We are just going to take a shower.” I said. “By the way why can’t we park in the empty lot?” I asked. “It’s a $350.00 fine if you do!” said Ranger Rick. “But I have a cancellation on a spot if you want that.” he said. So we got a refund on the hiker biker and ewe had to gather up all our gear and move it across the park. From then on we made reservations for future camp spots, but you had to do it 2 days in advance, then there was the $8.00 per site fee for just the paper work. The whole deal was something for us to talk about for a few days.

(65 miles)The next day would be a motel day in Newport for Pam and I. Paul would camp out just below Newport so we didn’t have worry about park reservations and ranger rules. The beaches along the coast are very sandy and wide. If you see a woman wearing a bathing suit in the water everybody stops to look. Not for her figure but the temperature of the water, it’s in the 60's and everybody wondered how this fool could stand the frigid water. The beach could be miles long with a 1/4 mile wide beach without a living soul near the ice water. The constant wind blowing south in our direction of travel helped us out and the kite flyers. We stopped at Pacific City to watch some kite flyers, that had $5000 kites floating in the air. They were in ths shapes of sea creatures, the kites, not the flyers. Octopus with 50 foot arms and squids made up the sailing event.

After a short coffee break at Neskowin, Paul and I decided to meet at were the road forks off. On the left towards Vogel’s Campground (not related) was a road that went around the mountain. If you went straight this road would lead you over the mountain. I forgot my own instructions and didn’t stop and went up the mountain. It was a steep climb and all was going fairly well, when I noticed it was hard to steer my bike. A small staple was sticking out of my front tire and I was losing air fast. I pulled over and change the tire but when I went to pump up my tire, this tube wouldn’t hold air. I kept looking back for Paul to come up the hill, than Pam came driving by with a toot of her horn. I found out my new tube had a tear in it and air was gushing out, faster than I could put it in. I fixed the old tube and pumped it up with the pump from the truck. We waited for Paul in the town of Lincoln and than I remembered I was supposed to wait at the fork in the road. As Yogi Bera says if you come to a fork in the road “TAKE IT!” Which I did, just the wrong one!


I had reserved a room in Newport, Paul and I got there first. Pam was out shopping, saving us money, left and right. Paul rode onto his campsite and Pam and I explored by truck the harbor. We had a great sea food dinner as we watched the fisherman come into the harbor below our window right at table side. Now it was laundry time with sweaty biking clothes making up the bulk of the load. Pam had loads of fun watching all the different people come in and use the laundry, every size, shape and color and I am not talking about the clothes.

(55 miles) As we worked our way south my cuz kept telling us the weather was going to get warmer. I think it was wishful thinking on his part. Every morning would be cool with mist and by late afternoon the fog would burn off. Another tunnel with the same type of flashing lights was just before the town of Florence. This time the tunnel, just for some more excitement had mud along it’s walls. The bike tires on this slippery mess kept trying to send us out into traffic.

The scenery was changing as we passed by large sand dunes. Along with the dunes was dune buggies and motorcycles. They were roaring around the dunes as we pedaled by. The Jessie M. Honeyman State park was located in one of these dunes along with a fresh water lake in it’s center. After getting our camp set up Pam headed back to the town of Florence just to look around. She came back with a fresh caught tuna and a Dungess crab. Paul didn’t have a chance when Pam and I dug into the crab, shells and butter was flying. We put the tuna on the barbie and with a beer, life couldn’t have been better.

We noticed a lot of kids running around and the campground was full as usual. Most of the sites were reserved from a adoption agency that gets together every year and have a camp out. Lots of the kids were snow boarding on the sand dune right in the camp ground. The whole place was noisy with kids running around and families gathering around talking.

(55 miles) Paul and I had a pretty easy day with a lot of rolling hills ahead of us. At the town of Lakeside I had gone behind a large billboard sign to water the flowers when I noticed a little green plastic container stuck in one of the supports for the sign. After opening it we found out it was from a Letterboxer. This a group that hides these boxes all over the world and with clues from the internet the members try and find the boxes. Inside the box was a roll of paper with names of people that had found it. We wrote down our names and than I put it back where I had found it. This would be Paul’s last day of bike riding and later his family would pick him up. Pam was out shopping so Paul and I stopped into a burger joint at the town of North Bend. After lunch when we walked outside we heard a car horn and it was Paul’s family. A side road led us into the Sunset Bay camp area. Within a hour of bike riding we were all talking in the parking lot of the state park. Pam and I said our goodbyes and the other Vogels headed home.

Pam and I drove back to the first town of Charleston and bought some muscles and we had another crab for dinner.

(90 miles) Today I would ride to Gold Beach right past the Rogue River bridge. Than I would meet Pam and she would take me back to Humbug Mountain State park. That way I would only have 30 miles to pedal tomorrow to Brookings and the end. The scenery was great with large rock formation sticking out of the sandy beaches. A tail wind was a welcome feeling on my back side as the wind pushed me along. Hundred of small fishing boats dotted the bay as all the fisherman where looking to land a salmon on the Rogue River.

Back at the camp ground we met up with a couple of bike riders that had started in Vancouver BC and where headed to LA. I had talked to them several times along the route. It was the wife’s first bike trip and maybe her last, but we tried to give her some inspirational upbeat ideas.

(30 miles) This would be the last day for the biking part of this trip. Pam and I drove back to Gold beach and had breakfast. Then I jumped on my bike and headed towards Brookings and the end. Foggy cool weather was along the shore but it was the right temperature for what I had to do. I crossed the last mountain and than a clean ride to the California border.

I changed my clothes and Pam and I headed to Crater lake, the easy way by truck power. The Smith River forest was grand with deep timber and a blue river. By 6:00 pm we drove up to the Crater lake lodge. It costs $250.00 to stay here with a 2 year wait and the dinner reservation was booked until 9:00 pm. So we had a picnic in the truck. The lake is huge and I have heard if you give everybody 80 gallons of water out of Crater lake in the world you would have water left over. The lake is 1,900 feet deep, with no streams feeding it, the water comes from snow melt and rain fall.

We drove north towards Portland since Pam had to fly home the next day. At the town of Chemult we found a old hotel. We got the last room that was made for a large family, the room had 4 beds. The ceiling was made of old timbered beams. I think they filmed the Walton’s or maybe Psyco here. Ha ha

The next morning we woke up alive which can be a good thing. Outside of Portland is a small town of Newberg and one of Pam’s friends from work bought a winery here 8 years ago. We gave Dr. Mclure a call and stopped by to see his operation. What a nice spread with rolling hills and grape vines for as far as the eye can see. The operation is run by his whole family. It cost $55,000 to get the grape vines ready and another $55,000 to harvest and bottle the wine, before they can sell one bottle!

After checking into out motel by the airport in Portland we took the train into town for our last meal. Our last dinner would have to be a seafood dish which it was. We looked around the city a tad and than took the train back to the motel.

The next morning after dropping off Pam at the airport I drove towards Mount Hood with a idea of spending a few days hiking around the mountain. I stopped at a national forest headquarters to get some information on the Timberland Trail around the mountain. The heavy set lady told me most of the trail got washed out in 2006 and the other parts aren’t marked that well. I picked up a few maps and drove on anyway. The lodge at Mount Hood is beautiful. The Civil Conservation Corp did a great job in the 30's. Large beams and carvings on the wall were every where and they even carved the furniture.

After taking a few pictures I found the trail and followed it. Lots of people were hanging around the trail head and a few were heading to Paradise Park. I followed the Pacific Coast Trail until it died at a big wash out at Devil’s Canyon and then the trail braided out in 4 different directions. The Paradise Park was starting to sound real good about now. I followed a trail that lead me back to the base of the mountain at Paradise Park. It had turned into a hot sunny day and 7 hikers were all hanging out under a pine tree. They looked like cows you might see in a pasture. The group were all from Texas and had been walking for several days. This was their last day and the thought of a good breakfast tomorrow morning at Mount Hood lodge was calling to them.

After a 30 minute chat I continued on my way in the hopes of finding a camp site that was shaded from the sun. I met 2 other hikers with the same idea, but all the sites were in the open. I camped on the end of a long open plateau. Since Mount Hood is a extinct volcano all the ground is composed of sandy ash material. The stuff gets into everything. My tent was directly in the sun so it turned into a Easy Bake Oven within 15 minutes. I decided to hike up a little closer to the mountain. The wild flowers with the icy glacier made a great contrast.

During the night the wind kept blowing hard and then it would stop. As I headed back towards my truck, the wind was blowing constantly, with clouds of sandy pumice blasting my face. I felt sorry for the construction workers doing maintenance work on the high scaffolding around the lodge. The wind was blowing the fellas all around. I talked to them and they had a dead line to get their work done before the snow flies.

If any one asks, if you drive 75 mph from Mount Hood to Denver, how long does it take, it’s 24 hours. The whole trip was a lot of fun and we got to see a lot of country from the seat of my truck and the seat of my bike.