The Astoria Bridge, 4.1 miles across the mouth of the Columbia River
Cape Lookout, photographed from near Netarts
Notice the ferns growing out of each signpost. This is rain forest.
I’m staying a second night at Cape Lookout State Park. Last night rain came down, “like in winter”, one local told me. My good tent seeped water through the floor, which is a huge no-no in the tent world, and I ended up here a second night to dry all out.
i have been riding down the northern Oregon coast, considered by many to be one of the premier bike touring routes in the world. Many of my fellow tourers are foreign: Brazil, France, Germany. Oregon State Parks maintains a series of campgrounds with hiker/biker sections, often set away from the industrial RV sections; $6/night, showers included.
Seaside, from Highway 101
Choices, choices… “Arch Cape Inn” or “The Inn at Arch Cape”? I choose neither, thank you.
This morning I approached a park employee to ask about expected weather. She asked if I had seen the fog and clouds roll in last night, thick as soup, and I said I had. She told me her husband had been out in a fishing boat then. Suddenly I noticed that she was trying to hold back tears. Intuitively I opened my arms to offer a hug, and just held her for several moments. She told me that she had had a rough morning after five hours of sleep, and I gathered that she had been quite worried about her husband, on the little boat in the fog and rain. My sense is that she had been branded as “too sensitive” and was carrying that weight while also trying to maintain professional demeanor. As I held her for just those moments I told her she was OK to be worried, that I understood, that my wife struggles at times with “overly sensitive” and I’m familiar with it, and that it’s a normal and healthy response to fear and caring.
I did right for her at that moment. She apologized several times for not “being professional” and I assured her that those feelings were entirely human, and professional took a back seat to normal human emotion. A bit later she came back to thank me again, calling me an angel sent to her when she needed it. And the moment passed but the memory of the encounter has remained with me since.
This will be a short post, with plenty missed… So much to experience, with too little time to stop and write about it. Would anyone care to join me?
The only gas pump in Netarts. At $5.50/gallon, I’m glad I’m on a bike. I bought the 40 cents’ worth shown (barely) on the display, to fill a stove fuel bottle.
Sunset after a day of rain, Cape Lookout State Park