Fort Canby State Park
After setting up the tent, I was ready to stetch my legs with a bike ride. I know I mentioned to a few of you that I was considering biking the entire Oregon coast up and down as part of this trip. I know I don't have the right bike for it ( as evidenced by M's being able to ride twice as fast as I in Ocean Shores on his rickety old touring bike.) However, I hope what it lacks in speed my mountain bike makes up for in comfort, stability and safety.
Looking at my map, I thought I would try out my theory with a trial run to the Astoria bridge. The map showed it 7 miles from Ilwaco, estimating Fort Canby being 5 miles from there, I thought I could make a roughly 25 mile run in an hour and a half. I filled the deep pockets of my new shorts with my wallet, keys, camera and GPS unit and started out of the park. My campsite was 1.25 miles from the entrance.
On the winding hilly highway 100 spur into town the going was pretty easy and I was feeling good as I approached a fork in the road about 3/4 of a mile from the park. I stopped to determine which of the highway 100 loops would get me into town faster when I noticed a beautiful view of the marina. I reached in my pocket to get my caqmera and it was not there. I was 15 minutes into my ride and faced the decision of whether two retreat 2 miles to see if I had left the camera at my campsite (as I had hoped) or press on. I chose the latter.
The hills into town weren't as bad as the ones I faced in Dove Mountain where I lived, so I soon entered the town of Ilwaco. To my chagrin the signs to highway 101 south were leading me farther north than I had hope. Approximately, 9 miles from my starting point I came to the place on the map that indicated there were 7 miles to the bridge. I underestimated my trip by 7 miles. No problem, it was a clear day at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. I should have plenty of time to make it to the bridge and back.
The going was easy, a little too easy. It looked up hill, but I was making good time. Almost 15 mph with my big tires. I thought the ride back would be even better if it were uphill on the way in. I was feeling good as what looked like a 40 pound dog chased me through the town of Chinook. I'll never know how he crossed 2 lanes of heavy traffic to get in my lane without getting hit, but I was able to step it up a notch and outrun him. The young lady in the back seat of a Honda Accord thought the episode was funny as I saw her laughing with glee when she and her family passed.
A mile or so out of Chinook I came to a tunnel with a place for bikers to push a button to activate a yellow flashing light indicating bonus points to the driver who could hit the bicyclist in the tunnel. The tunnel was scary, I must say. The lanes were narrow with a 8 inch deep and wide gutter right on the edge of the automobile lane. I held my breath and made it through despite the honking and screaming of passing motorists.
I was headed home. A mile or so to go. My only obstacles were the pickups of fisherman parked along the bank. I was right on the Columbia river and a cold wind began to impede my progress. I made to the bridge in good shape. I had a trail mix bar and contemplated whether I should make the four-mile long bridge part of my bicycle trip starting the next day. It looked fine on the Washington side, but I was unsure of the Oregon side. I decided if I was going to attempt an Oregon Coast bike ride I would break into approximately 2 hour junkets where I would drive my bike ahead a certain amount of miles, park the car, then ride the bike back over the terrain just covered. That way I would know what lay ahead of me.
I headed back to camp experiencing the same scary moments in the tunnel and a smaller dog chasing me through Chinook. As I went along I realized why I had made good time on the way out as I fought a severe headwind and the road seemed to be uphill going in both directions. With 9 miles to go at the Ilwaco turn off, I decided 25 miles would have been just about right. I got my second wind and fought my way back to the point I discovered my camera missing.
From there I looked along the side of the road all the way back to camp. The shoulder had been recently mowed, so I had a good view. I arrived at 5:45 pm (32 miles in a little over 3 hours). I discovered I had not left my camera at the campsite, but it must have fallen out along the way. I know some of you had seen how proud I was of that camera, so you can imagine how I felt (probably not as bad as J suspecting her dog was gone).
I informed the camp host a few hundred feet from my camp. He had been patrolling the area when I left, but had not seen anything. He searched on his bike for a few minutes while I rummaged through the car. I informed a few passing bicyclists also. They were simpathetic, but no camera. I drove to the front gate searching all the way. I registered with the lost and found then searched on foot every inch of where I had ridden. It was 9pm before I drug myself back to camp to call it a night.
I waited until 11 am to pack up for the Oregon Coast. My pleasant visit to Fort Canby marred by a careless blunder. I visited the beach but the park had many miles of trails I would have liked to have covered had I not spent so much time searching for my camera. I had decided to try to buy a new one in Astoria if mine had not been found by the time I left. It had not. I did leave my cell number in case it was found later.