So, as I left my campsite in the morning, I saw another couple leaving the site with their bikes, said hey, and continued to pack up my gear. About twenty miles later, I ran into the guy in North Bend, but he was alone. I didn't ask where his friend was, but talked for a bit with him before he rode on and I rested for a spell.
Just past North Bend there is a big climb and a ton of short but steep rolling hills on a stretch called "Seven Devils' Road," (though I think there were more than seven and each successive devil seemed to be more pissed at me.) It was especially tough because it was very foggy/misty and where I knew there would be an amazing overlook, I could see nothing but a wall of fog. Lots of work climbing for no pay-off. It's like Mother Nature's little prick tease.
So, up on 7 devils road, I ran into that guy again (whose name, I learned was John). It didn't stand out to me when I last spoke to him (though we were stopped at the time) how ill prepared he was for riding. He had on long pants and a sweatshirt, no helmet, and grocery-type panniers on his rack. He said that he and his "partner" (like he's a cop or something) were going to meet up in the next town because they rode at different paces. I thought it was weird, but whatever. After about of mile of riding with him, he nearly crashed when he lost all his bags on a bump. I asked if he needed help, but he said to keep riding so I did. A bit later, my chain slipped and I stopped for a bit and he caught up and we rode together again for a while. Not long after that we pass a property with barking dogs and a gate to keep them in. I notice a largish dog (turns out it was a pit-bull, er Staffordshire Terrier) cut through some trees and around the gate and so I book it and tell John to do the same. But he didn't know what was happening and ended up getting bitten on the leg and losing his bags again. Lucky for him, as soon as he stopped, the dog turned back to go home. I stopped just up the road and brandished the only weapon I had which was my bike lock. I stuck around to help him out for a spell and we ride on. Later up the road at an intersection, we found his "partner" who was a woman who looked like she was wearing a costume: boots up to the knees over tights, a turtleneck, down vest and rainbow suspenders. Strange, especially for the touring cyclist. I found out that he was from NYC and she was from San Francisco. I didn't get much of the details of their relationship (partnership?) other than that they had planned to meet up in Seattle and then bike from Astoria, OR to Arcata, CA. I presume it was some sort of weird craigslist hook-up.
Just past Port Orford, I camped at Humbug Mountain State Park and met a guy named Tory who was biking down to San Diego. He's just finishing school in Olympia and he's studying audio, so we hit it off nicely. We stayed up chatting and he said he's talking about visiting Chicago next spring, so I told him to drop me line if he does. In hindsight, I should have extended that offer to Dusty and Frannie while I was at it.
It was finally a warm(ish)evening and it was comforting to hear critters running around in the woods as I slept, save for the posted warning at the registration booth that the last bear sighting occurred only 5 days before. I saw Grizzly Man. All I have to do is touch a bear's poop and we'll be lifelong friends.
For the day:
Rolling time: 6:42:09
Distance: 83.77 miles
Avg speed: 12.49 mph
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