Day Eleven
Eugene to Scott Creek County Park, 65 miles
As predicted, it rained hard last night, let up by mid-morning and the pavement was nicely drying by 10:00 AM. Today was goodbye to the Willamette, since I’m going to the coast instead of inland. I stopped by Fred Meyer to grab some WD40–ejecting from my pedals takes too hard of a twist—and lunch to go. I got some baked chicken on day-old discount, which chewed like rubber.
Eugene is at the southern end of the wide Willamette Valley. Today I rode south, then west, through rolling hill country between the watersheds of the Willamette River, which flows north to the Columbia, and the Umpqua River, which flows west directly to the Pacific Ocean at Reedsport.
This hill country is well settled and appears orderly and prosperous, with a distribution of woodlands, small cattle ranches, vineyards, mixed produce farms. Through the afternoon the forest changed gradually from Garry Oak—suggesting a drier climate—to tightly packed conifers.
Garry Oak (Quercus garryana)
As I rolled down the southwest slopes towards the ocean, logging operations became more frequent. Like the agriculture, these cut areas tend to be small, suggesting a more family-based economy, rather than rural-industrial.
Roads here are cyclist-friendly, good pavement all the way through the shoulder, and cyclist direction signs at most major intersections, listing not just distances but expected time to distance on a bike. These county roads dropped me onto state highway 38 at Anlauf. I could hear Interstate 5 not too distant in the east. I turned west. I realized that on this ride down the coast, I probably won’t see or hear another freeway until I reach LA. Highway 38 follows creek and river bottoms all the way to the coast.
The one exception is the Elk Creek Tunnel, where Elk Creek takes a big detour north and the road cuts under the short isthmus. The tunnel has a button to push at its entrance.
Nice
Cyclists push the button and lights flash around a sign saying “Bicycles in Tunnel. Speed Limit 30”
With just a couple of short, steep hills ahead, it’s all downslope to the coast.
My destination was to be Elkton RV Park, for a day of 53 miles. However, the private park was full. Except that there were lots of places for a cyclist to pitch a tent. The host made a phone call to the off-site owner, who said the park was full despite what he and I were looking at. He apologized for sending a solo 65-year-old senior citizen cyclist back out on the road at dusk, and then did it just the same. This is going to be in my upcoming book on…buy it to learn what I think is behind this kind of self-disempowerment.
The next RV park had one patch of gravel left for just $40/night. Ick. I kept riding, because as shadows lengthen, campsites appear in unexpected places. 11 miles down road I stopped at Scott Creek County Park. It was completely undeveloped, with what looked like a game trail heading towards the Umpqua River. Following it, I found at river’s edge the most perfect campsite I could imagine, with no traffic noise and zero electric lights in sight in any direction. And no fee. Just a clearing sky above, a just-set sun in the west, and a late-summer low-water river burbling a feet away down the bank.
The day stretched longer than I planned, and I got a burst of energy for the last 11 miles from the silliness of my ejection from Elkton RV Park, but now the fatigue of the day hit me and I could only think a part of one thought at a time. This is the time when mental mistakes happen. Go slow to go fast is what we usually say. Here, it’s go slow or don’t go at all.
Eventually I unpacked my tent, tossed the dark green rainfly over my bike and all of it’s lighty-brighty reflective bits, and settled my bed under the stars, which with this crystal clear air coming off the Pacific, and no light pollution whatsoever, were brighter and Milkier than I have ever seen at sea level. I’ve heard of this kind of night sky in mid-ocean, but I never expected to see such a night sky inland at sea level.
I slept terribly. My first night on the ground on a trip is always a twisty-turny event. Being this beaten up made it uncomfortable too. But tomorrow is a shorter day because this one was unexpectedly longer.
