Day 12: Cape Lookout to Newport

Wednesday, June 11

Rubican’s Crossing. What a difference a day makes. The day started out misty, though not cloudy. The Oregon mists dissipated revealing a strange brightness and colour. It was the sun, you see. We hadn’t in a while. There were three long hills, but they were manageable. The only downer on the day was that my left knee started rubbing a bit. This was a direct result of the fact that not two days earlier I had boasted about my pain-free body. By the time we hit lunch at the 43 mile mark, it was swollen and hurt to peddle with. I gorged on a couple of wraps and chocolate, put my bike on the back of the van and spent the last 20 miles in it. We were looking for a small bike shop where the nice staff were apparently going to show us to a patch of a grass they knew where we could pitch our tents. What we found was a brand-new, large and bright bike shop run by a lovely couple and surrounded by its many regulars. The Newport bike shop – owned by Elliot and Daniella and their son - has a lounge with a TV and wireless internet, to say nothing of the awesome inventory. Kamilla got her bike fixed and everyone who wanted it had a chance to get a coffee. The bike club then led us through the touristy streets of Newport – which we completely took over - to our campsite: a small marina outside of town. Dinner, pasta paid for and prepared by the bike club, was waiting for us. The best part of it was that we had an informal presentation about microcredit and at least half a dozen riders spontaneously contributed. Our hosts didn’t really know who we were or what we’re riding for, only that we are a bunch of young cyclists looking for a place to stay. They learned about microcredit, and we learned about blind generosity. That was a good meal. Oh, and it didn’t rain.

Dinner was provided by the bike club from Newport Bikes, but our camping was donated by a friend of theirs. The owner of the marina, Dion, had been telling Daniella how he wants to give back to society, to do something to help. She got the email from Global Agents for Change the next day and called him up. He offered us free camping on his land, unlimited use of the computer in his store, the use of his showers, and best of all, the use of his inventory. When the stars came out a bunch of us – all over 21, of course – went down to the dock to listen to the water and try several of Oregon’s microbrews. I really like the Porter. Dion came down and talked to us about the Orcas and Seals that live in the bay, while Isaac – under 21 so a tactful distance away – played his clarinet on the dock while the water rushed below it. After some good beer, conversation and music, I quietly escaped back to the tent and crawled into bed. Natalie joined me a short time thereafter and we (almost) finished Crash. The computer died again just before the end, but she got the gist of it. I slept very that night.