I had decided that I was probably done biking for the moment so the next few days were spent figuring out how to proceed. Again, times and places get muddled up in the life of no time or place so I will try to keep the details straight.
I could see on my maps that after Gold Beach, the first thing facing me was an 800 foot hill. Remembering the challenges of 600 foot hills, I started asking around for alternatives and learned there was a bus that left from the supermarket in town. The next day I packed up and headed in to find it. It turned out that this bus would only take me to Brookings, the next town, but it was past the hill and it was the place where I had already planned to land when I was biking.
The hill was big and one of many so I was happy to be in a bus. The very kind bus driver also dropped me right at the Harris Beach State Park $5 hiker/biker camp area. I met a nice lady at the bus stop who shared a ton of information about the buses and the area. If I got up early enough I could take the 6:15 bus to Smith River, then the 6:45 bus to Arcata. If I was really lucky and Greyhound didn’t require me to box my bike, I could even catch the 9:30 bus to Santa Rosa!
Of course with every person there is a story. Gold Beach is a beautiful tourist town on the scenic Oregon coast with many restaurants, hotels, and cute shops. You would never think it hides drug problems. The lady was in the process of moving to Brookings because her RV park was overrun with drug people and according to her, the whole town was in trouble. This isn’t the first time in my travels I’d heard about drug problems, or met someone who was afraid to talk with me at first because of all the problems she had had in the area.
But, this subject could be a whole other post. This afternoon my objective was to set up camp at the park, and set my alarm for bright and early in the morning so I could continue my travels. When I came back from walking around and hanging out in the bathroom (electric outlets, you know!) I found another biker at the next campsite. He was going from the Canadian border to the Mexican border. When he learned that I was planning to take the bus the next day, I could feel the respect drain out of him and he was done talking with me. Ok, whatever.
It was a good feeling to think that this could possibly be my last night in the tent. I kind of like the tent, like my own little cocoon, but I was very tired of being cold all the time and the thought of a warm indoor space was very nice.
To be continued…..