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Bonus Belated Second Entry: Well, damn... the server's down. Guess it's time to re-commence the Hostile Environment series, deciphering the barely intelligible scribblings in my cross-country bike journal (Oregon-to-Virginia). Devil's Lake to Monmouth: Travelling south on the PCH, turn left to enter landlocked America. Damned with faint praise, that line. What wonders lie within? For the last time, the road put the coast range to our backs... with it, nearly a week of cold and rain (combined with grinding the cranks with fifty pounds of extra baggage, prime suspects in the brutal attack on my knees). Ocean, good... pain, bad. The transformation in the landscape was complete. Gently rolling hills in the greenest of green farmland, bordered by the receding coast range and the white-tipped sawblade of the Cascades, dead ahead. Vineyards. Fields of hops. Vegetables of every description. Pregnant nature, birthing the good stuff. What's that I hear, the pop of food jumping from the ground? Nope, more broken spokes... a re-lacing project looms, yet another learning experience in do-it-yourself bike maintenance. As soon as a decent bike shop appears with the parts. Not In Monmouth. Small town Oregon. Like every other small town. Regular food. Minimal campground. Worse, being camped close to the neighborhood cruiser's strip... local girls in cars, looking for local boys in cars. Not funky-dressed bike vagabonds. Pelotas Cyanos (Balls, blue), an excellent description of that aspect of the trip, as a whole. The wake-up scene: Mt. Hood and Mt. Jefferson rising above the town. Nice reward for abstinence. Get Back, Jack... we're heading for a Big Town: Eugene. Bike parts. Colleges. Taverns. Braless seventies women. Ooh, la-la. |
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