I started day 3 in Seaside, OR with grand plans of making it to California. It turns out this was a silly idea, and I need to not make plans. But alas, I think I have pinpointed where things went wrong. Ty had mentioned to me that Cannon Beach was having it's annual sandcastle contest, and that I might want to stop and take a look. As I rode past Cannon Beach I kept wavering back and forth about whether I should go or not, and finally settled on stopping. I was there, right? I followed the signs that read "sandcastle beach parking." (Mistake 1) I knew that there was no way I would take the bike onto the beach, so I parked in the lot above the beach thinking I wouldn't mind a little walk on the beach. (Mistake 2) Then, thinking that it can't be that far I kept my gear on and grabbed my camera to go see these sandcastles. (Mistake 3)
As I approached the beach I didn't see any mobs of people, but there were all the cars driving north up the beach to park. I looked down the beach and could barely make out the cars, let alone the crowds of people. But figured a little hike on the beach couldn't hurt. (Mistake 4. Similar to 2) Off I went down the beach to see magnificent sandcastles. After a bit of walking I started to think that maybe this was too much walking to do in all the gear, so I asked some people walking back if it was worth the hike.
"Don't know yet, we're going back to meet some friends," they told me.
"Hmm." I looked both directions.
"What'd you ride down?" one of the gentlemen asked.
"2002 BMW RT."
"Really!? I have a 99 RT. I thought you looked like a BMW rider. Where you headed?"
"This is day three of sixty."
"Aww." He turned away and shook his head. "And I was starting to like you."
"I know. Sorry."
"I'm just jealous, that's all."
"Yeah, that seems to be a common trend these days."
This was how I met Giorgio, a fellow RT owner. The result of this meeting is that we walked down toward the sandcastles together and had a wonderful conversation about bikes, cops, speeding, and the other usual bike talk. I had a very nice chat and was beginning to forget that I was getting warm in all my gear. By the time we arrived at the sandcastles I thought I was going to die… I was sweaty all over underneath my gear and now I was 1.5 miles from the bike with no hope of ditching the gear. Shit.
Because I was there I figured I had better look around and see what this sandcastle thing was all about. I walked past all the people carving, shaping, and molding sand, but they had only started a few hours before and it wasn't all that impressive.
Don't get me wrong, I was impressed with some of the talent that I was seeing, but I was disappointed that nothing was finished, except this one.
Way to go, kid!
After looking a piles of sand for about 15 minutes I decided I had better head back so that I could get on the road. I set off again in the heat, sweat pooling inside my gear, thinking the whole time that I should hitch a ride with one of these smart people driving back. Everyone passing me in their cars had the windows rolled up and stared straight ahead. Maybe they sensed my frustration and didn't want anything to do with me.
When I got back to the bike I took off my jacket, unzipped the legs of my pants and sat under a tree in the ocean breeze feeling comfortable for the first time since I pulled into the parking lot. My shirt was wet, the inside of my liners were wet, everything was drenched in sweat. I sat under the tree and had a wonderful apple (Thanks, Ty) and breathed. It was during this little moment of quiet that I realized that if I am on the road for 60 days, then why the hell do I think I NEED to get to California today? What was I thinking. This was supposed to happen the way it did, so I sat back, enjoyed the nice day, and felt back to my old self.
In spite of my little moment of clarity in Cannon Beach I still managed to feel rushed all day to get somewhere. The roads were beautiful, and the scenery, breathtaking. I tried my best to relax back into the ride and enjoy it. It wasn't until I arrived at the candlelight meeting in Bandon, OR that I realized why it was that things went the way they did. The topic was expectations! Damn! how did they know!? Crazy. The meeting was small and comfortable. I love this fellowship!
After the meeting I had a smoke and then went back inside to give Tracy a hug. She looked like she might need one, and like she might give one. I was right on both accounts. After the hug I sat back down and had a great little chat with Tracy and Artie about all manner of things, but they asked for specifics of my story. After I told them some things Artie referred to my story as 'holy.' Who knew that ANYTHING about me would EVER be considered holy.
I left and went to set up camp with a feeling that everything was as it should be. A feeling I usually only get after talking with people after a meeting. Fantastic!
Oh, yeah. the Shell station… If you pass through Depoe Bay, OR, DO NOT stop at the Shell. The attendant came out and muttered some things about Oregon being the only state that doesn't allow self-service, etc, etc. Then, when asked how his day was, he grunted. Seriously?! Who does that!?
