Up at 0600, rested, not feeling lagged. What happened to jet lag? Read on. Perhaps the adrenalin of near disaster disposed of some of it. Lots of tasks AM. We'll do without Satnav till Aberdeen.
Off on H101, listening to music in my crash helmet: Doors, Beachboys, Dyllan, great! Aberdeen yukh! Even uglier than the Scottish version. Over the bridge and down H101, with J recce'ing ahead to look for a suitable lunch stop in Raymond. He did well, and found Slater's Diner - a real retro 50's place blasting Connie Francis, Bill Hayley, Buddie Holly -style toons. Posters on the wall all dating back. My favourite caption beneath a huge Burger "It ain't healthy, but it sure tastes good!"
Harley folk are my new friends. We greet each other on 101 with a low left hand gesture that I have been practising all morning. It is all one big happy family. It is like dog owners meeting in the park. Conversation between strangers is simple as you have so much caninery in common. And while you are rapping away, the dogs are making friends and sniffing each others' backsides, which is, I suppose, where the analogy breaks down. A small man with a very tall wife and an enormous Harley approached me in the car park. Our caninery was typical. They were headed North on 101: J and I were headed South, and so on. I watched them leave, wanting to hear his powerful Electroglide fire up, but mainly to see who drove and who rode pillion.
Time no issue off we went at a leisurely pace. J now in teaching mode, still critical of the way I take corners Take a R corner with pressure down with hands and feet on the R handle bar and running board, and press till you get the right incline for the bend... it works! Practice important as R101 a lot more twisty oon this 160 mile stretch of WA.
Just before the State border we decided to take a look at Cape Disappointment and the famous old lighthouse there. Through a stretch of windy, hilly, forested and tiny roads we reached a car park and parked up. A brief steep climb and we emerged onto the bluff above the cape looking at the windy Pacific below, and to our left the view we had come to see, the old lighthouse perched at the edge of the cliff. Battered and rusty, it had the appearance of long disuse, like an old man's willy. It was a disappointment, but what did we expect?
Over the magnificent Columbia bridge. Wind so strong that I had to lean the Harley against it and push like an arm wrestling contest. Into Oregan and the port of Astoria.Batteries on all equipment low, and so grateful to be guided to our hostel the Norblad Hotel near the riverside. A shower and relax in our four berth room on a bottom bunk, while J went off for another recce. My thoughts wandered. Feeeling down about news received today: Terry and Lewis Clark didn't make it at Guildford Crown Court, convicted of Armed Robbery. A matter of regret but a tough one. Even tough ones can be swung around. Not this time. Father and son down.
Jet lag pounced as I ruminated thus and I drifted into deep sleep, waking up a couple of hours later. J ad researched some watering holes that might appeal and we settled for the Albatross, a 5 minute walk from our hostel with amusing beers and a Prohibition theme. I can't handle strong beer, but J tried some Belgian concoction that was Viscous and dark, which lasted him almost the entire evening, while I happily tossed off a couple of cans of light lager. All of this washed down by yet another burger, this one presenting with a knife stuck dramitally in the middle and looking like the leaning tower of Pisa. Mine host was Eric, a lanky Yanky who had made a career of doing up joints like this one and selling them on as going concerns.He was vastly amused by my story of abject commercial failure many years ago at the Royal Oak in Kent. He also looked mystified, as though failure in this field was something he didn't really understand.
We have about 200 miles to do tomorrow down the Oregan coast and so, as Pepys would say, now to bed.
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