Friday, September 12, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Peter, me, Viktoria, Emma in Williamsburg, NYC. Photos by Scott.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Gianluca, me, Alessandra. Italian HC/Punk in Manhattan, New York City.
Same evening, different camera.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Partying Pittsburgh style. Unforgettable times!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
There can't be much to do in Ritzville, I guess.
They make Espresso even in George, Washington. Look at the signs above our heads.
Troy and his daughter Sara Lynn in their fruit shop in George, WA.
It took me about 5 hours to get a ride from George to Seattle.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
See how people are smiling when Adam cooks the dinner. : )
From left: Lisa's mom, Lisa, me, Debra.
Then it's time for some Japanese food. We get to the restaurant during the busiest hour and we pretty much leave last. The food is plentiful and tasty. We think we need a doggy bag, but we end up staying long enough to finish it all. Yummy!
The Japanese restaurant. I'm not holding drumsticks.
Debra and Lisa in the cafè. Notice Barack on the table.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Frances comes in the morning to pick me up by the house.
Now, if you had seen me in the last couple of years, you know who Frances is. We have done so much together and hung out so much together that most people assumed we were a couple.
We played in the same basketball team, we coached together a basketball team, we played tennis together, went hiking a lot, went to vegetarian dinners and barbecues together, ... We'd be hanging out together for 3-4 days a week. For those 2 years we were big parts of each other's lives and you can often catch me saying "my best friend in Rome" or even just "my best friend" (although my 2 best friends are both male and Croatian and I had known them for a few decades now).
So, she picks me up and we go to a nice Mexican restaurant near the lake and just a block away from Recycled Cycles, where we stop afterwards (remember, I still have to buy bike bags for my bike).
Then we drop by a post office where I have to ship my backpack and a few other things to Peter Ki in New York when my credit card decides not to collaborate. Fortunately, like endless times before, Frances helps out and the packages get shipped.
We go to her place. I've only seen it on a photo so far, It's a cool hose with a nice dining room/kitchen on the first floor, bedrooms upstairs and sort of a garage/work place downstairs.
We're soon back in town and I finally get those bags off a bike shop for 120 dollars. Sizewise, those were the cheapest on the market, since I had no luck finding them used.
I go to Debra's place to pack and Frances goes home.
At Debra's it's a full house. A young couple that lives in the same building is buying Lisa's old Vespa. Then another couple from the floor above is there for some chatting too. Shortly afterwards Frances joins us, so it's a total of 8 people.
Debra treats us with pizza and we stay up late playing "Time's Up".
I say goodbye to Frances and fix the last things on the bike so I'm ready to go in the morning.
So, this is to be considered the first day of my trip. The trip that will take me from Seattle through Washington, Oregon and California all the way to Los Angeles. By the time I reach Los Angeles I estimate I will have biked a total of over 2,000 kilometers, which is the distance between Rome, Italy and Olso, Norway.
Debra wakes me up around 6 am on her way to work to say goodbye. It was great seeing her again and spending time with her. She said she's sorry because she had to work and study all the time I was there, but nevertheless I was really happy to be with her because she's a truly amazing friend.
I get up a few hours later and get ready for the trip. I load my bike, hit the road and then about a mile in the trip I realize I forgot the helmet at Debra's apartment. Oh well.
At least I can say goodbye to Lisa. So I call her up and she's there in about half an hour.
We say goodbyes and once again I get on the road. This time for real.
I start navigating through the streets of Seattle using that Tom Tom I got a couple of days ago, but just as I get out of town the Tom Tom dies and I'm left with a really approximative map to figure my way down to Olympia.
Less than an hour into my ride I run by chance into my favourite publishing company, home of "Love And Rockets" by Jaime Hernandez. Go figure!
I just decide to ride towards the airport and then luckily run into a guy who was biking all the way to Tacoma, so I join him for the ride.
Scott has lived virtually everywhere, including lots of places in California, Oregon, Washington, and even Japan. Now he lives in Tacoma and works in Auburn at a residential place for elderly people. And he had his bike made especially for him by an Italian retired bike builder. It even has a little Italian flag on it.
We share the ride, the food and drinks and quite a few stories. He's the first person I've run into on this biking trip and I'm excited.
The biking to Tacoma takes over 5 hours. We get to a small place called Puyallup and I opt for Taco Bell over biking more without stopping. Scott tells me how to proceed for Olympia and hurries up to get to Tacoma.
Scott and I. He's the first biker I ran into. Notice the matching colors of our clothes and the poster in the back! ; )
By the time I climb up the hill I'm pretty tired and seriously consider hitting a motel for the night, hence leaving Olympia for tomorrow. The first motel I run into costs 50 dollars and it looks it should cost nowhere near 50 dollars. Hell, it looks cheaper than the 37 dollar motel in Ritzville!
So I keep going until the next one, several miles down the road and in a different town. This one's 60 dollars. Hell no. I'll rather keep on going and see what the next town offers. It's about 9 pm and it's getting quite dark. The next place is 8 miles away (12 km) and is called Roy. When I get there, people just shrug their shoulders and say there are no motels in this place. So I bike some more to McKenna. Same story, only this place's even smaller. Finally, more miles down the road I get to a town called Yelm. This place is fairly big (considering the previous two) and it does have a motel. By this time I'm so tired that I don't care about the price.
Well, to my dismay, the place is full. Shit. When the receptionist tells me it's over 20 kilometers to the next town I feel like crying. 20 kilometers on a dark road in the woods doesn't sound like the most appealing thing on earth. However, at that point I just decide to bite it and bike all the way to Olympia.
I get to Olympia at half past midnight. My hosts Danielle and Ross aren't asleep yet and they give me directions how to reach them. By the time I reach their little cottage I'm half dead.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
The place Danielle and Ross live in is super cool. It's a cottage in somebody's backyard (literally) and it's surrounded by plum trees and blackberry bushes. Inside, there's pretty much only 1 space/room sort of divided in two by a curtain.
To the right, there's a compost toilet (there's no water to flush the toilet, but sawdust to toss above your poop or pee) that is composed of a toilet seat above and a bucket underneath. The bucket gets emptied into a compost container along with all the organic waste and sits there for a year when it's ready to be used as a fertilizer. Next to it there's a shower (this time real water; you don't toss sawdust on you, no worries) and a bathtub.
In the other part of the room we have a sink, that serves both for washing dishes and brushing your teeth, and a little living space that contains a table with a few chairs and a really comfortable futon that expands into a bed, used by yours truly.
Above, there's a little loft with a bed and then shelves pretty much everywhere with tons of books and games.
All in all, a lovely place.
In the morning Danielle is off to work so Ross and I chat for a while and he prepares us an amazing breakfast. Now, you have to know that breakfast in the US is seldom similar to a breakfast in Italy. Cookies, croissants, bread with butter and jam, milk and coffee,... that seldom pops up on an American table in the morning. What they have for breakfast sounds more like something we'd have for lunch. So Ross prepared a mix of tons of vegetables (both homegrown or gotten at a farmers market) cooked together in a pan. Weird for a breakfast, but delicious.
Soon comes Angelina, his friend, and invites us to go pick some cherries in a nearby park. Two more girls are waiting for us there and we all pick cherries for about half an hour. They're so ripe and so many that we get full bags to take home.
On the way home we take a detour to Angelina's place and I check my e-mail there as Ross and Danielle don't have a phone line or wireless connection.
A random wall in Olympia. Somebody likes superheroes I lot, I guess.
I get downtown in the afternoon and meet a couple of couchsurfers in a cafe. Funnily enough, next to me is sitting one of the girls from the park this morning that I picked cherries with! That pretty much explains how small Olympia really is.
Even the police station looks nice (from the outside). Not that I was going to check out the inside really.
This is downtown Olympia.
In the evening there's a weird show with 4 bands playing. Russ runs a record label called Bicycle records and one of the bands has done stuff with him, I believe, while another artist is a friend from Seattle. I decide to take a walk around the town and I run into Danielle who was biking from work. Another example how small Olympia is. But when you think of the amazing amount of music this town has produced (bands like Bikini Kill, Team Dresch, Bratmobile, Sleater Kinney, Unwound, Frumpies,...and record labels like Kill Rock Stars, K records, Chainsaw,...) it seems quite strange.
I get back to the hall where the show takes place and check out the next two bands that are decent but nothing that rocks my boat really. The last band is quite horrible and we unanimously decide to head home.
Before Ross manages to prepare another "American" breakfast I suggest we make pancakes with cherries we got yeterday. It works and we both get down to work. Pancakes are ready in 15 minutes and they taste delicious. Mmmmmmmmm.
We hop on our bikes and get to the farmers market. We run into a bunch of people that we met yesterday and that's yet another example of how small Olympia really is. Well, I guess I should stop saying it, but when you're in some foreign town and things like this keep happening to you, you really start woundering what's up.
We end up at the fish market where Ross' benjo player works (oh, I forgot to say that besides running a record label Ross also plays in a folk band called June Madrona) and Ross gets some free fish and seafood. He certainly knows how to live economically. Getting fruit from his front yard, vegetables from his garden, fish for free,... What more could you ask for?
Outside the fish market, Olympia.
Ross, Danielle, me in front of their cottage in Olympia.
We get back, right in time to meet Danielle who's finished volunteering at a local coop so I greet everybody and get on the road.
On the way out I stop by a bike shop to get a little computer for my bike. It tells me the speed, the distance travelled, the average speed, the hour and I think it'll be really useful on this trip. I set it up on my bike, chat a bit with bike shop assistants and get a complimentary biking map of Washington state. I hit the road again and right before I leave the city I meet one of the people from a band I saw yesterday. I just goes to show... nevermind.
The weather seems quite challenging, as it looks as if it could start pouring down anytime. Yet, it doesn't and I get to a town called Tenino and getmyself a pizza. The owner is a cool dude of Italian origin (though he can't remember where exactly in Italy) but he's super nice and gives me free cookies for my trip.
Tenino is actually quite a nifty place. I like it. I see one of the first old cement buildings here on the West Coast. I mean first for me, not first in an asolute sense.
This is Tenino, WA. The building on the corner is the old Tenino bank.
I get to Centralia in the early evening and my hosts Summer and Tom meet me in front of the Olympic hotel downtown.
This hotel is really neat. It used to be one of those speakeasy places during the prohibition era that served alcohol and it still looks that way.
I shoot some pool, but Summer kicks both mine and Tom's asses and after losing 3 games we decide it's enough humiliation so we head to Summer's place.
Summer, Tom, me. Can you tell she's just kicked our asses at pool.
Centralia is not big and doesn't seem to offer lots of entertainment on a Sunday night, so we get some wood and have a nice chat next to a bonfire. Tons of jokes and stories and generally good times.
There are 4 dogs in the house and somehow one of them adopts me so I share the couch with him sleeping in my lap. It's only 2 and a half weeks old puppy so it sleeps like a baby and I do too.
As usual, everyone's up before me. I just like sleeping late. It's cool people don't mind it. I guess one of Summer's dogs does, cos my wake up call cosists of a couple of licks on my face.
After breakfast I'm on the road again. Summer explains me what road to take and prints out a little map for me. Today I don't know how far I'm going. Portland seems a bit too far so I'm looking to stay somewhere halfway between Centralia and Portland.
It's a bit of a hilly ride, though nothing major. I enjoy beautiful countryside of the suthern Washington. It's really pretty here.
A part of the path runs along the river and it's really beautiful there too. I stop just a couple of times. The first time at a Subway, not far from the Interstate 5, for a sandwich and the second time at a random gas station to get something to drink.
In the evening I get to Kelso. The first motel I stop at doesn't take my credit card. I continue and get into Longview. The next motel has nobody at the office, so I keep going. Finally the third motel is open, inexpensive and looks pretty tidy so I choose to stay there.
I can finally do some laundry, so I do that, watch some of the olympics and go to bed.
From Longview you cross the immense Columbia river and you're in Oregon. I've never seen so much lumber in my life. I mean huge pieces of wood ready to be shipped to a factory that will produce your bed or wardrobe. From the bridge that crosses Columbia river you see tons and tons and tons of wood.
I bike along the river for a couple of hours and stop in some recreational area to take a few pictures. Back on the road and I see another biker, biking in the opposite direction on a recumbent bike with bags and a tent hanging off the back. It's always nice to see someone else on a long trek as well.
The road to Portland is fairly nice. Just a couple of hills and that's it.
I get into the city pretty early, around 5 pm. My Tom Tom gets a bit "lost" in the center so it disorients me for a bit. I manage to find my way out to the very end of Portland (along the neverending Division street) where Ivy, Simon and Nick live.
Ivy and Dixie, the dog, are waiting for me. Shortly afterwards Simon and Nick come home and we have some awesome burritos together. I stay for a while chatting with Ivy, but she has to be up at 5 am so I just stay up late and start writing this blog.
Note: the dates of the blog are all messed up in order to make it read from the beginning of the trip to the end. I started the blog on 12th of August, writing the backlog from the very first days in the US. Now that I write this is the 17th and I'm trying to catch up. Read on.
Portland seems to be a very nice city. It gives you sense of being a safe place, plus it's very bike friendly and relaxed. I like it right from the start.
Ivy is at work, Simon and Nick went to the beach with Dixie, so I'm home trying to write some more of this and checking my e-mail.
I finally manage to get into the city only around 5 pm. I make myself a list of record stores and go to check them out in order of proximity.
The first one is Green Noise. I go through the 7" section quite quickly and am about to leave when a small stack of 7"s catches my attention. I ask whether these are for sale or not and the guy behind the counter says they are but they have to be priced. I ask how much for a Siege bootleg, Inside Out (NY) 7" on Noiseville and a Red London 7". I expect some high prices at least on then first two, but they're actually 4 and 3.50 dollars respectively. I get them. Once again, I'm about to leave when I notice another stack of 7". I ask whether those are for sale
and the guy says they belong to the customer who just got into the store and is selling them to the store. He lets me go through them and I set aside a Gorilla Biscuits "Safari" boot, Madball 1st 7", Walk Proud first 7", Insted 7", an older Misfits bootleg, PHC 7", Infest 7", Bad Brains 7" on Caroline and a few more classics.
The guy at the counter prices them fairly and I get all of them.
In the meantime I start chatting with the guy who is selling them and it turns out he's from the greater Los Angeles area. That explains Insted, Walk Proud, PHC, Infest,... He says he got them at the time and that sounds quite right as he looks a couple of years younger than me. We discover we know tons of people and have many mutual friends.
The sad part is that he's currently unemployed and is selling his record collection to pay bills. In the end, he's happy with the money he got, the shop assistant made some money for the store and I'm happy to have these records. However you turn it, it's a win win situation.
In the end it took the guy so long to price everything that no other record stores are open anymore.
Ivy meets me at a coffee shop next door and we have some crepes together.
She has some incredibly interesting and quite radical ideas about changing the world and helping the community. I listen and learn and hope that she finds the wherewithal to turn them into reality.
Today we're going to the river for some swimming and jumping off the cliffs so I can't sleep till late as I usually do.
We go to get Cameron, Oren and Lisa and drive for about an hour in Ivy's roommate's Jeep until we get to the right spot.
It's a very pretty place where the river creates a series of waterfalls and there's one high cliff (about 10 meters) you can jump off.
There's a bunch of characters there and it's pretty amusing watching the things they do. Cameron makes us a salad and we swim and chat and lay in the sun. I manage to write one more chapter of my novel.
On the way back we stop at a Mexican restaurant "Porque No?" and have a great meal together.
Downtown Portland as seen from a car. __ Me, Ivy and Cameron at Porque No?
Cameron is another one with interesting ideas and challenging views and it's really great talking to him and Ivy. Two really inspirational people.
In the evening I say goodbye to everyone as I won't be seeing anyone the next morning, except for Dixie that will be there guarding the house of course.
The good faithful Dixie. _____ Me, Ivy, Nick and Simon at their place.
I wake up fairly early (for my standards. that probably means around 11 am) and get myself on the bike. Portland is the last big city for a while so I want to check the record stores here as I won't be doing that for a while.
The first three stores go fairly uneventfully. However, the Discourage records abounds with good vinyl. I don't even have the courage to check the LP section, but the 7" section is full of American, European, Asian, South American, Australian Punk and HardCore. It's not cheap or anything, because I guess the owner bases his prices on Ebay prices, but with dollar so low it's still OK.
I end up getting about 140 dollars worth of 7"s. The problem is, I don't have the time to go to the post office which means I have to drag an extra box of stuff all the way to Salem. That's life, I guess.
So I get back to the apartment, get myself ready, greet Dixie and hit the road again.
Tom Tom proves to be a major pain in the ass indicating the steepest roads around so I just ditch it and choose to ride down along the highway 99.
I get to Salem at 11 pm but as soon as I ring my bell in front of my host's house I feel I've come home. There's a whole welcoming committee who are really excited to see me and the moment I set my foot in the garage I know this is good times.
The Gatorade keeps flowing, the ice cream keeps coming and good conversation keeps good company until bedtime. There are five people there beside me: Rose (my host), Laura Love (one of the funniest girls I've had the chance to meet), Laura (Rose's younger sister), Patrick and Travis (who has just hitchhiked across the USA in 104 days).
Good, good times.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Rose wakes me up at some point and we go to the post office to mail those records. Next to the post office there's a "european shop" that Rose thinks is mostly Russian. I can't resist the curiosity to go in.
Well, I can't believe my eyes when I see Napolitanke "Kras" in, like, 5 or 6 different flavors!! What!?! All the way from Croatia! I continue checking the shop out and hey, there's Vegeta "Podravka" and Radenska 3 Srca! Amazing!!! All Croatian products.
I take over the kitchen again and I make the best I could out of stuff that was given to me. We end up eating a super rich omelette with cheese, squash and potatoes. To tell you the truth, it didn't come out so bad for a first timer.
Rose has to go to a wedding, so we say goodbye and I head down towards Eugene.
The road is pretty flat and that's a huge plus. There are HUGE blackberries growing on the side of the road, so I stop to pick some. I've never seen bigger blackberries in my life. And they taste so good.
I see an apple tree with ripe apples, so I pick one. The nature is so generous here. Lovely.
In the afternoon the wind rises and sometimes it's quite bothering.
I get to Corvallis, trying to see if I remember anything from 9 years ago, when This Side Up was on tour and was scheduled to play this town. Nothing looks familiar really.
Tonight I' staying with Ebba. She apparently lives out of town cos I cross the whole town and still have about 3 kilometers more to pedal.
When I finally arrive she's just finished the first stage of preparing the apple cider. There are many apple trees in the area, all bursting with ripe apples, so she picked a few boxes of apples and used them to make cider. Good idea, eh?
While I talk, she prepares an awesome veggie dinner, that reminds me of the meal I had in Salt Lake City. If people here ate this kind of stuff, there wouldn't be so many obese people in the US. Instead, crappy fast food is everywhere and people just fall for it.
I fix my bike seat that has become a bit loose and go to sleep.
I wake up to experience some of the neatest pancakes ever. Amazing pancakes made with a special kind of dark flour and nuts, with an apple/pear jam on the top. Yummy!
I leave Ebba and her roommate Kyle around noon. There was a storm yesterday night, but the sky seems to have cleared a bit. Not completely, but enough for a ride.
Today I'm riding down to Eugene which should take me about 4 hours or so. Eugene is at the end of the valley, so it's pretty flat all the way to down there. From there on I'll have to go across the hills and mountains to get to the sea.
However, sometime halfway through the trip there's a motorcycle accident on the road. Someone is laying on the side of the road, motorcycle on the asphalt, bags everywhere,... Two ambulance cars are already there and then little by little the road gets crowded with 2 police cars and a firefighters vehicle. The road is closed and they're expecting a helicopter to come pick the injured any moment. They put bright orange road cones on a field next to the accident for the helicopter to land. The helicopter takes the person away and the volunteers inform us that the road will be closed for about an hour and a half for the official investigation of what happened. I don't have much choice but to wait. Fortunately, a police officer sees me and gives me the sign to pass. He apologizes for not doing it earlier and wishes me a safe trip. Not even half an hour down the road I see a bag full of pennies. Some are still in the bag, while some are scattered around. I stop and pick them up. There's tons of pennies. Over a hundred, minimum. It's amazing what you can find on the side of the road in America. So far I found: 2 mobile phones (both non functional of course), 1 bungee rope (turned out VERY useful), 1 screwdriver (didn't pick it up, but would have been useful), a bag full of pennies and various clothing accessories. I only took the bungee rope and the bag with pennies with me. Anyway, the biking starts getting more and more difficult because of the wind. It's blowing in my direction and it's slowing me by at least 5-6 kilometers an hour. While I'd ride 25-26 kph on a flat road, now I'm barely going 19 kph. I finally get to Eugene. It's pretty much as I remember it. Not very big, nice, green and quite hippyish. Looks like a place I could easily live in. My Tom Tom helps me find Sherman, my next host. She's just come back from biking for a month around Ireland, so she is excited to have a traveller doing pretty much the same thing in the United States. Time to have a glass of water and chat a bit, the BEST vegetarian sushi I've ever had is ready. I must be looking hungry cos Sherman cuts another loaf of sushi the second I've finished the last piece of the first. We chat a bit on the couch and I check my e-mail. She suggests me her couchsurfing friend David in Coos Bay, where I haven't managed to find a place to stay yet. I e-mail David and hope he's available. Tomorrow I'll be biking probably the most dangerous route so far and Sherman sounds fairly concerned talking about the road I'll be taking. Especially since there's a thunderstorm going on as we talk.
I wake up quite early (for me). It's barely 9 am. I get to check my mail and see that David from Coos Bay has written me back. There are good chances I have a place to stay in Coos Bay.
I check that bag of pennies and count 148 pieces! Wow! That doesn't account for much money ($ 1.48) but I wonder what was somebody doing with a bag of pennies. Some were even quite old. From the 60's. Oh well.
The sky is gray but it doesn't mean it's necessarily going to rain. I get ready, chat to the guy who lives upstairs, leave a note for Sherman, grease my bike chain and get on the road.
The stories about the bad road between Eugene and Florence (my next stop) scared me a bit last night, but at least I know what to expect. Plus I started my biking quite early today so I should be in Florence before it gets dark.
There's a bit of the wind, and although I'm riding different direction from the previous days (west) it's still against me. By the time I get to my first stop, about 35 kilometers later, it's already raining a bit.
I get a burrito and some tater tots and keep on going. It keeps raining on and off. If it wasn't for the rain and the wind, this would be the most beautiful part of my trip so far.
Just as the rain starts being a serious pain in the ass, I ride by two hitchhikers. I feel so sorry they have to hitchhike in the rain in the middle of nowhere. Plus how likely it is that someone would just pick them up here in the middle of the woods. They'll be wet by the time they get a ride. I wave at them and say something; they wave back.
The road is winding a lot and goes up and down the hills. Sometimes the shoulder is almost inexistent and I have to ride on the road. The rain intensifies. The wind does too. The road is wet and slippery and the rain hits my face hard. Dang, it doesn't take much more for the worst case scenario.
I feel I'd better hide for a while. I see a sign for a camp. The ramp goes downhill so I follow it to the first building and take a shelter.
I stay there for a while hoping the rain will stop, or at least slow down.
Some guy approaches me. He asks me if I had spoken to anyone. Well, no I haven't. He says I can stay there for a little while, but I can't wait there for the rain to stop or slow down because the camp is private.
I say it's OK, but really wonder what's wrong with this guy. There's rain blasting outside and all I'm doing is taking a shelter. How wrong can it be?
I prepare myself for the rain and get ready to go. He's back. He's making sure I'm not staying any longer. He starts asking questions about the trip and so forth. Then he says, I'd give you a ride to Mapleton (about 10 km away) if I weren't so tired. I say it's OK. 5 more minutes of chat and he decides he's not that tired anymore and offers to ride me to Mapleton. After all, he's not all that bad, I think.
He comes over with his pick up truck. We put the bike on the truck and hit the road. We're in Mapleton in about 5 minutes (probably about 40 minutes ride for me). He decides he's actually going to drive me to Florence (another 20 kilometers). Wow! I wonder why he had to act like an ass first to make up for it later.
We chat about the war in ex-Yugoslavia and about the religion (the guy belongs to the Baptist church) and get to Florence really quickly.
He drops me off and drives back to the campground. I'm happy I got to Florence alive and maybe even sooner than I expected. I imagine the guy is happy for this random act of kindness towards a complete stranger. The rain has definitely slowed down and I first look for a Mexican restaurant to eat something. Then I find a cheap hotel and crash for the night.
The first thing I do in the morning is looking up the sky. It doesn't look promising at all, but at least it's not raining.
I get myself some pancakes with jam for breakfast and get going. Every now and then I see the sun for 5 seconds, but then it disappears forever.
By the time I get to Reedsport it's raining again. I talk on the phone to my host for tonight David who tells me I'm not far from Coos Bay where I'm headed but pretty much there's nothing between Reedsport and Coos Bay.
I get a sandwich at Subway hoping the rain will stop while killing time. Not a chance.
However, the rain is not too heavy so I get my rain gear and get on the road. I see another two bikers who do the same.
I have a raincoat and helmet but I'm still getting soaked. And everything's so wet that it appears rather dangerous riding in such conditions.
I'm glad my host was wrong because after half an hour or so I see another tiny town. It's called Winchester Bay. It's seriously tiny. I can only see a few houses and a handful of shops. I take shelter under a roof of a drive through restaurant called King Neptune's and wait for the rain to stop. The biking couple I saw earlier gives up as well and decides to call it a day and stop in this place.
I wait for a couple of hours then decide to get inside to warm up and get some food.
In the meantime David calls me to see what's up. I tell him where I am at and he offers to come pick me up. It's amazingly fortunate that so many Americans drive pick up trucks.
He comes with his big, black pick up truck in less than half an hour. We load the bike in the back and head to Coos Bay. Phew, that was an amazing save, I must say, and super kind of David to do that.
Rain is following us all the way and pretty much doesn't stop the whole night.
The house David built himself probably has the best position in the area. It directly overlooks the whole bay and the view stretches out for miles. However, what's really stunning is the house itself. This house is something you hardly see in Hollywood movies. It's 2 floors high, with an open ceiling above the first floor, huge glass windows practically everywhere, wood and marble are the two predominant materials inside the house and everything is furnished in the smallest detail with a lot of style. And if you think the view from the gigantic living room is amazing, then you miss the superlatives when you walk upstairs. Personally, I've never seen a house like this.
This is the house David built for himself.
David shows me my room and my bathroom and I pretty much get lost in the labyrinths of the house.
He has built a dancing studio in the other wing of the house and around 7 pm his dancing partner Caitlyn comes and they practice for the dance they have to perform this Saturday.
While they're dancing I wander around the house and get the dinner ready.
David and I chat for a few hours about anything and everything and I get on internet after he goes to sleep. I hope tomorrow is sunny.