Woke up in Al’s tent Camp and made my usual breakfast. The oatmeal assortment I bought had a flax version, I spiced it up with sliced banana. RV Park Bob, with his unlit spiced cigarette, waked his dog by and said he should have charged us more because our tents were taking up three spots. There were no other tent campers… He said he wasn’t the owner, and had “rules”. I politely ignored his attempt to extract more money from us.
We were on the road “early” at 8:30, the winds light, but mostly cross to tail. I led the ride as I knew that we’d soon start climbing to Crescent City and I wanted to spin at my pace. Just north of Klamath is the abomination all Minnesotan’s hate, a giant Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. We stopped to spit on them in honor of Bemidji and every other Minnesota town which claims true ownership.
They, literally, have the balls to construct these…
The climb on the way to Crescent City was winding and the shoulder was slim to none. Add in a light fog and the ride up was nearly as nerve-wracking as all the RV-ers had warned. After a couple false summits, and a stop so Bob could pen some philosophical thoughts, we crested at about 1200 feet. Luckily, no cars were overtaking us on the long, fast descent, all being held up by a logging truck.
I peed here….
Entering Crescent City, we stopped at Subway for brunch and I tried to fix a flat rear tire. Good thing it didn’t go on the decent… I couldn’t find the cause, again, so tube replacement and prayer.
Naturally God wasn’t listening and it went flat again, same spot. Seems my other Continental tire also has a metal cord poking… really disappointing. I put a Skab boot on the inside of the tire, patched two tubes and put my new tube in. More praying.
The next section was past Fort Dick and pretty nondescript. God’s answer to my prayers was to give Brian another broken spoke. Yes, rear wheel drive side. We, once again, offloaded his gear to me and Bob as we were only 7 miles from Brooking and a bike shop. Brooking is the Easter Lily capital of the world. Lots of plants and some fields which were full of white flowers. Also nice, we crossed the border into Oregon.
This shop was semi-competent, fixed the spoke, blew up Brian’s tube, literally, and provided us with a spare spoke. I bought a couple for me, just because God is not on my side.
Turns out, there was a taproom, Chetco, that is run by a guy with family in Chanhassen, Minnesota only for blocks from the shop.
I had an Imperial Stout that win silver at the world competition last year. Thai food at the restaurant next door and one mile to camp.
As advertised, free showers in Oregon, the ranger admonished us when we asked, saying “You’re not in California anymore”.
We set up camp and took a short hike to an overlook to see the sunset (and down three pints of ice cream).
We watched in complete silence.
Tomorrow, maybe Humbug State Park.
OotD: Every RV comes equipped with a barking dog.