You know it’s raining when…

• I ditch my glasses. Better to have slightly blurry vision than try to see through speckled, foggy glasses.
• We can hear the ocean waves. We know they are there. We just can’t see them.
• We skip Cape Lookout.
• I change into dry socks at our breakfast stop. Oh, does that feel good.
• I have to peel my cycling gloves off my hands. It feels better without them.
• Rich has a dark stripe down his back – roadspray from his back tire. I’m not sure why I don’t.
• We don’t stop to chat with other long distance cyclists that we pass. A simple wave and a knowing look says it all.
• We hardly take any pictures. In fact, Rich has to use fake decoys for his “bird of the day.”
• I start taking to myself. Out loud. “Okay. Enough already. You can stop now.”
• I agree to skip the longer scenic route without an argument. Just getting there takes priority.
• Rich says it’s not a good day for ice cream.

You know you are lucky when…

• Rich has a blowout, and not a drop of rain falls while he replaces the innertube and tire. In fact, he sits on dry pavement.
• We can both grin and bear it.
• We reach the motel and the biggest downpour of the day comes while we are settling into our warm, dry room. Good thing we didn’t do that scenic detour after all.
• The front desk clerk is a closet gourmet, and keeps refilling a plate with homemade cookies.
• Rich praises my ziplock bag packing system.
• Tomorrow’s forecast looks much better.

Progress to date: 20 days, 1002 miles

Everything feels different. For two days our bikes rested in a garage while we rejuvenated ourselves and visited relatives. By the end of that time we were itching to get back in the saddle. A good sign. But in that short span of time, so much has changed. We are calling this Part 2 of our trip, as it bears little resemblance to the first 960 miles we cycled.

This morning's weather forecast

The most glaring change is the weather. The days of endless sunshine and 90 degree heat are long behind us. The clouds have moved in and the first major rainfall in months soaked the area overnight. More showers are predicted. Add to that moving over to the coast with its own weather patterns, and cooler wetter weather is inevitable. Our mantra on leaving this morning was, “We know we're going to get wet.” And yet, we didn't! For today, anyway, our amazing luck held and we felt no more than a few drops now and then. We called that a day without rain.

The scenery is entirely new on this stretch. At 11:40 this morning, 983 miles after leaving the Glaciers, we made it To the Sea! Cycling the coastal highway, the wind and the waves are now our constant companions. Last night the stormy weather really churned up the sea, and all day long huge waves pounded the shore.

Fog joined with the gray skies to tone down the views. And the crashing waves produced thick root beer foam which rolled over the rocks. Despite the monochromatic hues, the ocean was impressive and a commanding presence.

Our first view of the sea, just north of Florence

Heceta Head Lighthouse barely visible from the viewpoint

Our picnic spot

Even our menu choices have been transformed. A few days ago, zapped by the heat, we sought out tall glasses of cider and a cool meal. Tonight, steaming hearty bowls of Slumgullion really hit the spot. This cheesy clam chowder is a specialty of the Luna Sea Fish House, a small local eatery where all the seafood is hook and line caught by their own boat. Just the type of home town place we love to find.

The desert and rivers provided beauty, but the sea is built-in entertainment. We were barely settled into our motel when we ventured back to the water. I never tire of walking the beach, watching the waves and feeling the wind on my face. The only thing left to make it perfect would be a colorful sunset. And we had that too. There is a lot to like about being back in the saddle.

I wasn’t going to admit it. The whole idea goes against my purist nature. But the circumstances beg disclosing the truth. So here goes. For the last three days, we have gotten rides the final few miles to our destination. Yes, we took the sag wagon.

#1 – The Good Samaritan Sag

Arriving on the edge of Portland, despite having over 50 hilly miles behind us already, we decided to push on and cross the city. We knew that Portland was bicycle-friendly, and we found the Springwater Corridor Trail to be a fabulous way to traverse the city. Not only was it a smooth and protected trail, but at each intersection the cars all stopped to allow us to cross. We were really impressed.

There were plenty of other cyclists on the trail and when one asked us about our trip, we struck up a conversation and cycled together for several miles. Unsure of how to find our bridge across the river, our new friend Doug immediately offered, “Here, follow me.” It just so happened that his house was en route to the bridge, and Doug invited us in for a cold drink. It didn’t take much encouragement, and we enjoyed extending the visit and sharing cycling stories.

Doug expressed concern about the route to reach our motel due to construction, heavy traffic and steep hills. Before we knew it, he’d convinced us to let him take us and our bikes to the motel. I felt pretty sheepish until we actually drove the route, and I saw the shoulderless passages and narrow lanes. He was right, we were a lot safer in his truck. Not only were we extremely grateful for the lift, but our day was greatly enriched by meeting such an engaging fellow cyclist.

#2 – The Great Host Sag

It was a fun day of cycling through the wine country south of Portland. I finally got my chance to visit a vineyard when we found one just a short distance off the road. It was a small family affair, and we enjoyed taking to the owner as well as learning about their operations. We had small samples of just a few wines, knowing we still had many miles to cycle, but managed to arrange to ship a case back home. How could we resist when the grapes were from the Eola-Amity Hills?

While we were at the winery, the temperature soared into the 90s. In that heat, we were eager to reach our host home for the evening. With just two miles to go, we were dismayed to find a roadblock with local police redirecting traffic away from a brush fire. Faced with a six mile detour, we had just decided to wait for the road to reopen, when a car stopped in front of us. The driver got out and announced, “Hi, I’m Curt, your host for the night!” Discovering the roadblock, he had come to our rescue and whisked us off to his house. Talk about great service!

Curt and Barbara live in an airpark, but that didn’t mean anything to me until they gave us a tour of their house. I was totally unprepared to learn that the large structure behind their house was an airplane hangar! In fact, the street behind their home wasn’t for cars at all – it was a taxiway for them and their neighbors to get to the airstrip at the adjacent airport. Curt graciously rolled Barbara’s airplane outside so we could get a picture of it. That led to chatting with several neighbors, and getting a peak into their hangars as well. Not only are these folks avid pilots, but they all share a passion for building their own airplanes. Imagine! It was all fascinating to us.

#3 – The Family Sag

This is day 17 of our trip, and we have cycled every day so far. We are due for a rest day. It’s no coincidence that we plan to take a couple of days off in Eugene, as Rich’s brother Stewart and his wife Kathy live here. They happen to live at the top of a very steep hill (a 20% grade with roads that go straight up) and we were instructed to cycle to a park in town where Stewart would come to collect us. So our rest began we even finished our day’s journey.

I may bristle at the idea of sagging. But the demonstration of hospitality and kindness in each case has led to great experiences. Sometime it’s worth letting up on one’s principles. Even to sag.

We were on our bikes for a long time. Setting out before 8:00am and reaching our motel about 6:30pm. Sure, we covered more miles today. But the real reason was that we found so many great places to stop, ogle the view and take pictures. And the fact that it was the most perfect fall day, with sunshine and clear skies just added to opportunities.

Starting from Hood River, we traveled through the western end of the Columbia River Gorge. The scenery changed dramatically, and before long forested mountains replaced the stark desert bluffs. It was much more the kind of terrain I had expected to see in Washington and Oregon, and I have to say that I far prefer the lush green surroundings.

Since we put our cameras through their paces today, I think the story is best told through the photos.

This view of Mt. Adams greeted us first thing this morning! Up until now, it was too cloudy to see it. A great start to the day.

We stopped for a mid-morning break at Cascade Locks, where there was a beautiful park down by the river.

We rode on a beautiful bicycle path through the woods. It had a most unique way to scale the hillside - long stairs with a groove for pushing up our bikes! Thank you, Rich, for hoisting my bike!

Passing through the waterfalls area, several long thin falls were visible right from the road.

We climbed another section of Historic Highway 30 with its Figure 8 switchbacks to reach Vista House.

Women's Forum State Park was even higher yet. You can just barely see Vista House off in the distance.

Finally leaving the Columbia River, we crossed this wonderful old bridge over the Sandy River.

This was one of the most enjoyable days yet. The air was crisp yet warm, golden leaves lit up the woods, and the sky was an incredible blue. Pedaling took on a more relaxed aura, mingled with stops to enjoy the sights. And plenty of photo opps.

All day long, while cycling I worked on composing a title for this blog post. The only problem was that it kept changing as frequently as the scenery. So why choose? Instead, I bring you my collection. After all, that was part of the journey.

False Start – We had great aspirations for taking local roads to avoid the interstate highway. It started out well enough, but when the road turned inland, it also got very steep. And it became a dirt road. A rough one. It was no longer fun. At the rate we were going, it would take all day just to reach The Dalles. Surrendering to the circumstances, we retreated and joined the freeway traffic for 12 miles. Surprisingly, it wasn't bad. There is a lot to be said for eight-foot shoulders and a flat road that never left the water's edge. But you didn't hear that from me.

Battered by the Wind – After 13 straight days of tailwinds – an unprecedented string of luck – we finally had to face the music… er, wind. Right in the face, blowing straight through the gorge. We'd heard about this wind, and now we've experienced it. Cycling directly into it, there were times when I thought I wasn't moving. And it didn't seem fair to have to pedal going downhill. But what was worse were the gusts. Coming around a corner after being sheltered from the wind, we were suddenly slammed by the wind at unexpected moments. I learned to be very wary of its unpredictability.

The Best Winding Road – Although I was happy to be back on a quiet two-lane road, when Rich pointed up into the hills to show me cars scaling the heights, I doubted the wisdom of our choice of route once again. But my fears soon turned to wonder and admiration for the man who engineered this road back in the days of Model-T Fords. Instructed that the grade could never exceed 5%, he designed a series of switchbacks that were infinitely cyclable and commanded amazing views. Historic Highway 30 from The Dalles to Hood River is not to be missed.

We continue to be grateful that we chose this time of year to cycle, as traffic is so light. We probably met fewer that a dozen cars all the way along this road. The twists and turns that we found so delightful would have been a nightmare if we had to contend with heavy traffic.

The last five miles of the road were closed to cars, so we had the luxury of enjoying the nascent fall colors and completing our descent with the road to ourselves. This section also included the Mosier Twin Tunnels, which had become too small for newer larger cars, but were restored for use by bicycles. The fascinating thing is that the two tunnels are end-to-end with just a short gap in between.

At the Pinnacle – I considered cycling the heart of the Columbia River Gorge to be one of the pinnacles of this trip. I couldn't help being excited when we set out this morning, knowing we were finally going to do it. With each mile it only got better, fulfilling all my hopes and expectations. And reaching Rowena Crest at the top of that windy road was certainly a high point – in more ways than one!

For today the joy was truly in the journey.