Across Washington into Oregon
I walked into a bank to change a few Canadian dollars and in a whispered church-like tone, as if to guard an embarrassing little secret, the lady said: “I’m so sorry, we only offer that service to customers of the bank”. I looked at her disbelievingly in the eye, but I knew I would still walk out clutching my Canadian dollars. Hey ho…..
The campground at Bruceport, overlooking the estuary of the river Wilapa, was unique. I had my own camping bay with picnic table, so I prepared my little garden before settling into some serious relaxing….
As I left the next morning I was dismayed to discover I was going to have to ride for 42km before my first coffee of the day….how bad is that? I arrived, tongue hanging out, and ordered the biggest 25oz coffee I ever had….it felt like drinking a gallon!
Down at the estuary of the famous Columbia River, as I perused the history boards about the Lewis and Clark expedition to open a passage to the west, I hear: “Hi, what time did you leave the campground?”.
It was Kurt, who had picked up a coffee 15 miles up the road, had sipped it while he was riding, and was still clutching the cup…..I make a mental note of this in favour of getting a recumbent.
We ride over the famous 4 mile Astoria bridge, struggle up the monstrous 7% climb to get off it, and check in together with the same Warmshowers host, a guy who has an open house to every passing cyclist.