Part 9: Ocean, Sky, Freedom: West Coast Bicycle Adventure—Canada to Mexico— Toothless Man, California

By Frosty Wooldridge

Part 9: Old man with toothless smile, the eternal ocean movement, difficult lives, coming into California

“Movement equates to the lifeblood of bicycling.  You move through space and you move through time.  You move into the morning until you move into the evening.  You transfer energy from your body to the pedals to the rotation of the wheels.  At each point, the sun lights your path while life gallops along its own journey.  You realize a wondrous connection to the natural world as you roll through it at 12 miles per hour.  You might call it the perfect speed of life. Bicycling might be deemed one of the spiritual miracles of the universe.”  FHW, West Coast Ride

(Sandi facing her demons along Route 101, West Coast, Oregon.)

Every turn and curve on Route 101 featured endless rock islands anywhere from 50 to 200 yards out into the water.  Some big, some small.  The road carved over the terrain like a giant Anaconda with no end in sight.  Each time the highway neared the ocean; we enjoyed those multifaceted islands featuring an array of seabirds perched on them whose waste turned the rocks white.  Some birds flew in groups barely skimming the ocean.  Others stood on the beaches alone or in bunches.  We watched pelicans diving for fish.  Always, a sense of life thriving with life. Endless waves crashed over the rocks creating spectacular liquid fury.  Chameleon skies painted a changing landscape against the Pacific’s blue waters. With all the dramatic scenes before us, the journey remained enthralling, fascinating, gripping and visually spellbinding.

“That’s an amazing sight,” said Sandi.  “It’s like a painting, but it’s living and moving with sparkling light and dancing waters until it becomes still in the distance on the horizon.”

We crossed the highest viaduct in Oregon at the Thomas Creek Bridge at 345 feet above the water.  As usual, we plucked dozens of blackberries off their thorny bushes and popped them into our mouths.

(Beaches in Oregon feature huge rocks, small rocks, scenic rocks, lots of birds and very COLD water from the Pacific Ocean.)

Along the way, we ran into a 70 year old extremely thin man riding his dilapidated Fisher mountain bicycle. His panniers looked like a bagman in a big city.  He resembled a homeless man on a bicycle.  On the top of his head, a black stocking cap.  When he smiled, no teeth. He wore ragged sweat pants with frazzled tennis shoes.  His T-shirt hadn’t seen a washing machine in months.

Yet, at 70 or older, with a scraggly gray beard, he smiled at the world. He laughed with us after making a silly joke.  We offered him an apple, but he said he couldn’t eat it on account of no molars to chew it.  Instead, we gave him a Cliff Bar to “gum” until it softened with saliva and he could swallow it.  After the Cliff Bar, he wanted a “group hug” and we gave it to him.  He represented a child with wonderment in his eyes.

I am amazed at what makes people happy with so little and people with so much to be so non-expressive and even unhappy.   He looked so thin as to be emaciated; yet he pedaled his bike northward with a wave of his hand and twinkle in his eyes.

“You two be safe now,” he said.

Ten miles later, I asked myself why I hadn’t slap $10.00 into his hand for an oatmeal breakfast with toast.  I became disappointed with myself. He clearly needed food to eat.  At a DOT roadblock, I tried to talk to some drivers going north to give money to give to the old cyclist.  Unfortunately, the DOT guy let the line loose before I could talk to anyone, and the cars sped past me. Then, the crew walked off the job at 5:00 p.m., so no more stopping anyone for the day.

It bothered me for several days as to why I didn’t think sooner, give something; make a difference in his life.  Next time, I will give more freely, much faster.

In the next town, we stopped for fudge at an ice cream store.  While we waited, I turned around to see an extremely obese woman limping toward the ice cream counter while leading a blind lady.  Two painful spirits struggling with life—barely able to walk to the counter for a treat.  Then they struggled to get back out to their car.  The heavy lady helped the blind lady into her seatbelt. Then, the lady struggled around the car and painfully labored to get into the front seat. It felt excruciating to watch.

(Sandi stopped at a rest area with a magnificent view along the Oregon Coast.)

How did they get chosen for such a difficult life experience?  In my existence, I’ve seen the results of the Vietnam War with horrific wounds, dreadful burns and horrible PTSD.  As a hospital medical tech, I saw the emergency ward overflow each day with traffic crash victims.  You can be young, middle aged, rich, handsome, smart and educated—yet you can suffer extraordinarily bad luck in life.  You can be born into bad circumstances or you might face them in your life.

I know each day that I am alive, I am thankful and I give thanks for mental, emotional, physical and spiritual well-being.  I am also aware that I could lose it at any moment to disease, tragedy, accident or otherwise.

At Gold Beach, we watched a stunning sunset fall into the cloud soup.  It rippled out to the right and left for miles.

(A dramatic sunset dropping through the clouds into the vast Pacific Ocean on Oregon’s coast.)

Next day, we passed through Brookings along the coast. We pedaled until reaching the sign that read, “Welcome to California.”

“Not too bad,” said Sandi.  “We’re now in northern California.  I can’t wait to see the redwoods.”

“Works for me dear,” I said.

Route 101 carried us through rolling hills, pastures, cows and horses.  We rolled into Crescent City before reaching the Newton B. Drury Scenic Parkway.  At first, we climbed into thicker forests with larger and larger trees.

We pulled into a www.WarmShowers.org rest stop at a church run by a lovely lady. There, we met Scott and Daniel.  Scott, from Northern Michigan University, toured on a magnificent mountain bike.  He ran a bike shop through college.  Daniel, a biologist from Konstanz, Germany, became our companion heading south in the morning.

From the rugged, colorful coastline of Oregon, the northern California coast brought a different flavor to our ride.   Little did we know it, but that would change as we headed into the giant redwoods.

(We always enjoyed the majestic vistas of the Pacific Ocean with its wild creatures evident for as far as the eye could see.)

We stopped into another WarmShowers couple, Dick and Kathie, who treated us to fresh honey, hot showers, warm dinner and fabulous hospitality.  They invited us to stay over and share a potluck at the Grange House where a historian presented a fabulous slide show of the development of Humboldt County of Northern California. 

We enjoyed no end to the marvelous kindness of strangers along our route.  As we pulled out of Dick and Kathie’s house, they took a shot of us to place in their two notebooks-full of touring cyclists from around the world.

(Such fun, such views, such wonder along Route 101 of the West Coast of Oregon.)

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Frosty Wooldridge
Golden, CO

Population-Immigration-Environmental specialist: speaker at colleges, civic clubs, high schools and conferences

Www.HowToLiveALifeOfAdventure.com

Www.frostywooldridge.com

Six continent world bicycle traveler

Speaker/writer/adventurer

Adventure book: How to Live a Life of Adventure: The Art of Exploring the World

Latest book:  How to Deal with 21st Century American Women: Co-creating a successful relationship

Frosty Wooldridge, six continent world bicycle traveler, Canada to Mexico summer 2014, 2,200 miles, 100,000 vertical feet of climbing: