The bistro was bustling and crowded. It was peak Sunday breakfast time, and we vied for a table with the locals in Astoria after cycling our first 18 miles for the day. Glancing out the door, I noticed another cycling couple locking their bikes out front. It didn't take long before we were making introductions and comparing cycling notes. Nabbing an outdoor table that had just come free, we invited our new friends to join us. Thus started our most enjoyable meal yet.
We instantly connected with Sue and Ron, who were traveling down the West Coast. Like us, they've been on the road for about three weeks, but they have a lot farther to go than we do. Advice, ideas, recommendations and observations flew in rapid succession across the breakfast table. It was so easy to relate to their experiences, and a treat to talk to folks who knew what we were doing and “got it.” I know my French toast with boysenberries was ample and delicious, but hardly remember downing every morsel. We lingered long, enjoying the beautiful morning and especially each other's company. Parting with contact information, we left savoring our fun morning.
Mom was to be our next social encounter. The Astoria Bridge is renowned among cyclists for its height, steepness, winds, heavy traffic and lack of shoulders. While many discount it's dangers, we'd read enough warnings on Crazy Guy on a Bike to make us wary. I for one flatly refused to even consider cycling over it. That's where Mom came in. Rich had the brilliant idea of using a cab to take us over the bridge. Sure enough, Mom's Taxi Service was more than happy to ferry us and our bikes across the bridge. It was Mom herself who drove the minivan cab, and was very pleasant. She had, in fact, just bought a tandem bike to ride with her husband. Best $22 we spent on the whole trip.
Our mileage was only 37 miles for the day, allowing us to get to Cape Disappointment State Park by early afternoon. With rain predicted overnight, it didn't take much to forgo our tent for another yurt. Quickly stashing our gear, we headed right for the beach. It wasn't far from our campsite, and we were pleased to discover that it also afforded us a great view of North Head Lighthouse. That saved me a hike up to see it, and left the remainder of the afternoon free to spend on the beach, even after Rich retreated to the yurt.
It wasn't long before I removed my sandals and headed for the far end of the beach. The sand was silky smooth, and the incoming tide lapped at my feet as I walked. The wind was brisk on my face, but the sun beat down with unmistakable warmth. I couldn't help but remember another walk on the beach almost exactly a year ago. We were on our Gaspé cycling trip, and our hosts for the night took us to the ocean beach park near their home in New Brunswick, Canada. It was on the opposite coast, yet a similar delightfully warm fall day spent with new found cycling friends. Once again, it all comes back to the people.