Industrial Logging Rainfestival to Portland

Portland, Oregon (556.55 miles)

Upon sheepishly leaving the Seattle area to more seemingly constant rain and realizing we’re way too close to Portland way too early, the ConBigotes team decided to set our sails west towards the Washington coast.  This was an exciting feat as we knew the route would bring forth even larger logging death trucks and a shit-ton more rain.  We left the shadows of Mt. Rainier and the Cascade foothills slightly discouraged that most of the vistas were covered by the rain clouds glued to the sky which I’ve started to yell at with fervor.

Highways 12 and 6 heading west across the state proved  interesting as we were enamored with tiny logging towns and locals alike in outposts such as Enumclaw, Morton and Mossyrock, Washington, where being gifted organic grass fed steaks is apparently a tasty perk to  purchasing 6 farm fresh eggs from the local veterinary clinic (thanks Timberland Pet Lodge).  Friendly bar and grocery store patrons seem to be just as surprised as we are sometimes at the fact that peddling southward towards the end of the Americas is indeed possible, and bullshitting over a few local IPA’s never left anything to be desired.

Hitting the coast and the 101 south was a breath of fresh sea air minus the fact that the wind seemed to now be punching us in the teeth more often than before, but Portland, and rest for our peanut butter and jelly overfed bodies, was near.  This wound us finally across the Oregon border into the bustling tourist and port town of Astoria after crossing the 4.5 mile roller coaster bridge just wider than dental floss over the mouth of the Colombia river.

Rolling into the Portland vicinity, slightly battered but not beaten, was a welcomed sight, and it was smooth sailing through beautiful Portland streets until a quick bathroom and apple stop in a park 4 miles from Ryan’s place proved to have driven a piece of glass into my rear wheel leaving the flat tire score at Brett: 2 Ryan: zero.  An hour later, a few cold porters in the fridge and a couch to flop on, we were excited to kick back and call Portland home for the next few days.  Next stop, San Fransisco and the McCalley residence.

-ConBigotes