Tour da Coast Stage Bovine

This stage is for kids and anyone else out there in cyberspace who is bored with biking and would rather see cows. We're talking bo-vine, not bo diddley, not bo jackson, not bo derek,sorry, not bo hemian, not bo jengles, not bo datious, nor bo tox, just cows. So here are a few we've seen along the road.


Curious Cow


Inquisitive cow on north coast.


Bored cow on highway 1 north coast.


Ridge Cows


Stupid cows forming a bike block on highway 1.


Plastic gnome cow in the redwoods.


Sea cows, San Simeon.


Big eared cow in Sea Ranch north coast.


Latin Cow Zone.


Boy cow.


Envious cows.


Big horned boy cows.


Canada cows.


Tired cows.


Russian cow. Vladimir. Came to reconquest Fort Ross, southernmost occupation of Russians till 1867. I offered him Oregon. But he said "Nyet, Oregon too cold and wet."

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Bodega Bay to Santa Cruz

OMG are we tired.

We left Bodega Bay Monday morning refreshed and renewed by two lovely days with Bill and Beezy Latham, our own David Latham's parents. They fed us, I made french bread and we recovered from the long ride there. But when we left we were follwed by birds. Remember the great Hitchcock film? Yup that's where we were. We rode out in a deep fog, riding together to keep each other from getting hit.


Dave, riding off into the fog at Bodega Bay.

When finally we left the hollows of mystery around BB, we broke into sunshine in Marin County, but also into much nastier road surfaces. Still in all we rode 59 miles and arrived late in the day at Corte Madera to a very kind reception by Dick and Audrey Anderson and Palmer and Joyce Wilkins. They took us to a great local Italian restaurant (Capra's) and we had an evening of talking about what a mess Jim and Lanita make of the Anderson's apartment when they are there each summer. (Just kidding, they LOVE Jim and Lanita)

Tuesday morning we took off for the Golden Gate Bridge and SF. And really the GGB was the only part we were really interested in. To get to is one must ride up numerous winding hills braving local drives who are none too pleased with cyclists.


Mike's Linear at the Golden Gate Bridge.

But there were lots of cyclists out and we had a number of nice conversations in passing.... them passing us. Riding the bridge was a hoot. I had never been on it or even close to is and it was cool to breeze over it to the other side.


In the middle of the span.

The we wound our way through SF along the Presidio and Golden Gate Parks until we came to Cabrillo Street which we took to the Great Highway which becomes the Cabrillo highway. That has carried us all the way to Santa Cruz, but not before a huge long climb in Daly City and a delightful stay at a Best Western in Pacifica.

This morning we zoomed off early and had to start with a steep hill called the Devil's slide. It was the worst shouldered road we have ridden on with the lousiest drivers. Still we climbed it unperterbed and reached the summit.


Dave riding up the Devil's slide.

That took us into Montara and a day of riding up and down hills. Nothing else is new there.

We played dodge with several rain storms as they socked into the coast. But the hills were easier to climb and we made good time because we are becoming stronger as we go. There is not much civilization between Pacifica and Santa Cruz. Lots of basic coast but nooooooooooo stores, people, or even convenience stores. Even teh whales felt ignored.

We are now ensconced in Santa Cruz with Dave fixing his rear wheel and me here at the puter. Tomorrow we are off to Monterey to rendez vous with Kate, Adam, Ella, and Jane for some fun. Ella wants to ride with Grandpa, so this should be fun.

On to Bodega Bay

We woke up Saturday morning stiff and sore from the previous day’s ride. The 57 miles had felt good the evening before, but this morning they were all knotted up in the muscles of my legs. Worse was when we looked out the window and saw the rain clouds overhead. They broke and we broke for the road. Betty and Gillette were concerned for us riding in the rain, but we were feeling lucky and so took to the road.

The luck lasted about six miles and then the sprinkles began. They were nice refreshing sprinkles for along time, but gradually developed towards rain. The ride was a series of climbs and descents around the coves along the coastline, nothing too strenuous, but a continuous up and down. My front derailleur was still malfunctioning, so I became very good at what is call the “heel shift”. You move the derailleur to where it should shift the chain and then knock the chain with your heel to get it to move over. I felt positively “old school” as I zoomed up hills, shifting down with my heel.

On we went towards Bodega Bay, but first we had to pass Ft. Ross the southernmost incursion of Russians and Eskimos onto the western edge of this continent. At the gate we ran into Vladimir again, who rode by chuckling that he was stopping in at little Russia. Vladimir is a Russian Geography teacher who was finishing a 3,000 mile ride through the US to study our land. He had videotaped us riding the night before, loving the look of our bikes.

After Ft. Ross came the climb up the Jenner grade. In the book it showed one climb to a peak then a long descent into Jenner. We climbed and climbed (remember I am heel shifting into the lowest gear) and came to a peak and looked over it and said “Ahhhhhh the long descent into Jenner!” Then we zoomed down. Only to find another long climb, not as high as the first one, but pretty long. Going up it we met a guy coming down from the other direction, a Canadian doing our ride from South to North. He smiled and said the peak was just ahead; we smiled and told him there was another steep climb as soon as he finished the descent. So he pulled out the same book we use and said, “Look at the map, one long climb then a descent.” So we explained that we had just learned the map was wrong. So off we all pedaled.

We finished the second long climb and Dave asked is we were at the Summit. I was afraid to speculate because we had been fooled once already. But zoom we went down this looooooooooong switched backed descent, two miles of screaming twisting road. And at the bottom? Another climb. Aaaaaargggh! Again we climbed rise after rise and then, when all seemed hopeless, we made it to Jenner.

Jenner is not a happy town as best I can tell. The little gift shop by the water does not stock local artists’ work because they are too pricey, but he carries the same set of trinkets we have seen in other shops. Dave did not want to eat in the fancy lunch place because we have been having so much luck with delis. So we went the gas station deli and noted that the owner had raised all the prices for the weekend. Dave got his sandwich, then the guy waited on several people. The made mine, and brought it to the check out counter. Only there was a local guy there complaining that the nightcrawler cups were all half dead. “See,” he exclaimed, opening the cup over my fortunately well-wrapped sandwich, “look at them!” Sure enough they were big lazy nightcrawlers. So he bought them and the shrimps bait and wandered off and I got my sandwich. There is no ambiance in Jenner.

11 miles to Bodega Bay but first: a hill! Not too bad really, especially since I had the shifting thing to a science. We made it into Bodega easily, if not a little winded and tired from the day. Dave’s dad gave us directions and we made it to their home. They have been taking excellent care of us and so today (Sunday the 25th) we took the day off from riding.

I spent the morning fixing the bike to make the low gears shift more easily. After lots of little tweaking I think I have it working. Sadly, in the original exchange that broke the chain, my cycling puter cord was torn out so know I have no sense of how fast or how far I have gone. Just one of the casualties of the ride. Like my pants. Now so covered in chain grease and such that no amount of Shout seems to get it out.

I got myself cleaned up and helped Dave’s mom with some bread questions. We made a batch of pain de campagne whipping it by hand. That provided some good upper body work. So tonight we will have fresh baguettes. It is the first time in three + weeks that I have made bread.

Tomorrow we are off to Corte Madera and then San Francisco. We have been blessed this week with great weather, compelling rides and great people giving us shelter and feeding us and going way out of their way to support us in this ride.

What a week!

We are at the home of Betty and Gillete Bechtel, retired to the Sea Ranch in CA just south of Gualala from service to the Church in SD, among other places. They say hi to all their SD friends.

We have had an incredible week. When last we were able to get on line we shared that we were dealing with bike shops. This has not changed, I broke my chain this week and twisted the front derailleur out of whack. But this is minor in comparison to the treats.

On Tuesday we cruised the Avenue of the Giants, the Redwood Ents that hold peace against the Orcs of development in No Cal. If you aren't sure what Ents and Orcs are, ask anyone who has seen the Lord of the Rings. The 32 Mile ride on Tuesday was so magnificent we thought about just doing it 30 more times and skipping the rest of the ride. The trees and the quietly lined road bring one to silence again and again. We will have pictures up when we are in Wi-Fi territory once more.

Tuesday night we were in Garberville, consolidating out energy for the ride on Wednesday over Leggett mountain. While the road North to South is pretty nicely graded, we did climb almost 3500 feet on Wednesday (counting all the ups we rode) before a screaming 16 mile descent down from Leggett. The most important thing is that we two geezers RODE over the mountain. we would not want to do it South to North, but our route was fine.

I developed a hill "breath prayer" that helped me settle into the long climbs: "Hill, Legs, Bike, Spirit." I had to quit working as hard pedalling and just let my legs find the natural stroke of each hill. It was amazing to climb without effort (well almost without effort) but certainly without the exhuastion that came from trying to pound my way up the hills.

We made it to Westport and stayed at a cutle little Inn there. Thursday we rode up and down through coves to reach Fort Bragg, where I spent time getting my gears worked on. The we hopped out to Caspar to stay with Roy and Carol Ann Falk. She is in training for a June AIDS ride from SF to LA and we had a great evening and visit with them.

Today we rode about 57 miles to Sea Ranch CA, just South of Gualala. Exhausting ride up and down and up and down. Made more aggravating by my gears and derailleur still not being adjusted correctly. Plus Rt 1 here is very narrow and without shoulders. A beautiful ride, but one during which you had to be constanting on guard for cars. Both days we both noted that the hills seemed easier to climb and that we were not as winded. Leggett mountain was like crossing an equator of ability. Some hills are steep, but none are like what we have already conquered.

Tomorrow we are off to Bodega Bay, hopefully to get in before some rain settles in. We are both turning in early this evening, but wanted our avid readers to know that we have had a glorious week on the road.

Leggett Mountain

We steeled ourselves and took off for Leggett. From Garberville there is a long steady climb to Leggett the town where the elevation is 1100 feet. So we went up and down 400 foot climbs three or four times as we gradually got closer to the real grade of the day. But the grades were not too bad and the breath prayer “Hill, Legs, Bike, Spirit” continued to let me not overwork my legs and just climb.

We stopped for lunch at the Peg House deli and grocery where they made hamburgers to order out on the Weber on the porch. Lovely people and a good place to stock up and take stock before hitting the hill.

Leggett came up soon enough and we left 101 for 1 and the climb. Now the book says that the climb begins at 1100 feet or so, so we are climbing out of Leggett and Dave is asking if we are there yet. It was a good three miles of steady climbing before we were close to 1100 feet and then it did begin.

Contrary to the stories told, the road was well graded and while it was a long climb it was not impossible for us geezers at all. We just kept a steady pedaling up and up, up and up some more, then more up and up. I was checking the altimeter on my GPS looking for that 1930 figure (the mountain is 2000 feet, but the road only goes to 1930). Finally we reached the crest, but the area is so heavily wooded there was no “Vista Point”. We stopped just after the summit and took some pictures and then descended.


Dave and Mike after crossing the summit at Leggett Mountain.

It was a 13 mile descent. Down and down, then down some more and after that some down and down. Occasionally the road would rise a little just to give one a break and let on warm up. After that though, there was more down and down. It felt like this grade was steeper than the one we had ascended, but I was not complaining.

I zoomed into Rockport, a not dead town and one of the few residents left asked me how I was. I told him great cause the mountain was behind me, and he cracked instantly that “The next one is ahead.” It was the 600 foot rise before Westport. So back to up and up and then up some more. It felt longer and steeper than Leggett even though I knew it wasn’t. Finally we topped it too and broke free and onto the coast again.

After a quick breather we took off for Westport. Tired and in need of a place to sleep. We cycled along and I began to despair that there would be anything at all. At the north side of town was a campground, followed by a rise and a curve, followed by the Westport Inn. Whew! And they had a room! It was a cute little place run by a very nice lady who has customers of such regularity that she just leaves the keys in the door. If a door had a key you just took the room.

Dinner was found at a neat grocery deli post office gas station across the street. Pot Roast was the supper of the evening, but since we were a little late and the garlic mashed potatoes were gone, the Pot Roast became a French Dip sandwich. It was yummy.

We had a great sleep and took off in the morning for Fort Bragg.

Tour de Coast Stage 19

Although the “Avenue of The Giants” sounds like an area of high elevation it is really in a valley along the south fork of the Eel River and you get to gently ride into it without much difficulty, thus making it that much easier to enjoy the majesty of an ancient forest. It has been more than 50 years since I was last touring down this road as a brat in the back seat of a two door woody Ford wagon. As I was pedaling through the tunnels of trees it was comforting to realize nothing has really changed. The trees are practically the same. The road is almost exactly the same. And once a brat…..well…that hasn’t really changed either. The only thing different is the speed. Ten miles an hour now instead of fifty. That is an improvement. Thirty miles of wooded sanctuary and nary a car to interrupt our feast. Of course no wonder of nature can be experienced with out a few Big Foot, Ripley’s believe it or not, drive through tree, one log house, Hobbit Town, and a few Mystery Spots. All in all the best stage to enjoy so far, and no mountains!


Riding through the Giants.


This Giant fell in 1991, (the one on the left that is).


Nice Home.


On the Avenue. No traffic!

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Avenue of the Giants

Several summers ago Kathleen and I visited the Bristle cone forest east of Big Pine. The oldest living things on earth are there, in the form of these ancient pines that twist and dip, sometimes rising to the sky, but often running along the ground. The area is not heavily forested so the grove of these trees is quite spread out. They are truly ancient wizened beings that have seen all of recorded human history (maybe a little more) and held their thoughts in their rings.

The Redwoods are astonishing in their presence. We can only imagine what their primeval grandeur was like since most of them have been logged, but those left along the Avenue of the Giants represented their kind well.

Straight, tall, thick, clustered in a forest. Dominating the road the sky and even the air. Riding through them was like being in a Cathedral as their branches met above our heads. When we were far enough from 101 and no cars were on the road the silence was deep and peaceful. I was glad there were 32 miles of them to ride through, and sorry that we did not have a week to dally and commune. These were trees you could truly hug and I did.

We worked our way through the Giants, just enjoying the quiet ride and the beauty, ending the day with a long steady climb to Garberville. There the Best Western had a wine and cheese reception so we settled in for the evening and regrouped for the Leggett ride the next day.

Tour de Coast Stage 18

Checking out of Arcata and Eureka we had a pleasant and fairly level ride through old California farm country, where all the cows are happy and all the farmhouses are Victorian. We had lunch in Fernbridge, named so because the town has a bridge, and then rolled into Rio Dell a town that coping with the fact that they are not on the main road anymore.


Carson Mansion, Eureka.


Eureka Old Town.


Happy California cows of Fernbridge.


Mayor of Rio Dell greets us.

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Bike Shops and Sunshine

Woke up today to find the sun out, the sky blue and the pavement dry all at the same time! Woo Hoo! So we got up early to head off to the Revolutions Bike Shop in Arcata, where Sean put a new tire on my bike, replaced a kinked cable to the front brake, and trued the back wheel. The bike felt smooth and off we went through Arcata to Eureka.

We went by Samoa and Manila (who knew they were in CA) and then into Eureka, the broken glass on the ground capital. Dave's front tire picked up a shard coming in over the bridge. So we stopped and replaced the innertube. We found the historic Carson Victorian home and took some pictures, then sought out a bike store so Dave could have a back-up tire should his now be shot.

All in all we spent two hours on tires and bike repair. Then off towards the Avenue of the Giants. We had a great ride along 101 with the wind at our back, turning off at Loleta to find some lunch. Loleta had no places to eat, despite advertising a cheese making factory. We continued on the little side road to Fernbridge where we found a great little Market and Cafe. Big, airy, and filled with the aroma of freshly baked cakes and pies. We got a table and had a sumptuous lunch looking out at the Humbolt Creamery and wishing they had already finished the renovations of their ice cream plant.

We briefly thought of going into the preserved Victorian town called Ferndale (shown famously in the film "Outbreak"). But the wind was coming up so we decided to continue on the back road towards Rio Dell. It was a great ride along the Eel River, with the only real hazard being the hunks of manure that spotted the road all through the dairy farms. Remember that Creamery, we met all those cows. With ever stronger wind whipping at our back we zoomed towards Rio Dell until the last three miles when we had to climb out of the Eel River Valley and up to the town and 101 as it rose towards the Redwoods. We were glad we skipped Ferndale.

Rio Dell erupts in a fancy town sign and a boulevard (the old, pre 1970s highway)leading us to a nifty little motel called Humbolt Gables Motel. The fellow running it was thoughtful and well organized and the room is nice. A long day and very productive, almost 45 miles.

As the wind picked up and the temps cooled off we made a quick trip down the road to DJ's for a malt and some sandwiches for later....lunch was sooooooo huge we only really need a snack later.

Tomorrow we will head into the Avenue of Giants and hope to reach Garberville. The day after that is the ascent to Leggett, at 2000 feet the highest point on the pacific coast. You all need to pray hard for us on Wednesday.

Tour de Coast Stage 17

We spent the morning climbing out of Crescent up a good-sized hill into the Humboldt Redwood forest, our first clue that we were in California. Sure enough after riding four miles down this hill we saw the most remarkable site: THE SUN! It was just the same as we last saw it in Washington and we began to feel what is like to be dry again. After riding in the sun and winding through some redwood groves, a nice guy with an empty moving van who had passed us coming down the hill called me over. He basically said that we were too slow and two fat to make it through the next narrow stretch of winding wooded road alive. No argument there. He was a volunteer fireman from Fortuna concerned about our survival. So then I thought, great, time for a Rosie Ruiz end run. So without much more convincing, (I was already in the truck cab when Mike was trying to decide) we safely made it through the next narrow stretch of shoulder less 101. After 25 miles to where the road was wider again, we disembarked from the Rosie Ruiz moving van about ten miles outside of Trinidad. Now we could sneak into town the last 10 miles and feel all sweaty and exhausted when we get there. Ms. Ruiz would have been proud. When we hit the sunny coast in Trinidad, had excellent burritos, saw some orange poppies and better dental work, we knew we were in California. With the Rosie Ruiz boost we were able to make it to Arcata a day ahead of schedule and with the five-day jump ahead in the wormhole, we just might make it home in time.


Finally the Redwoods south of Crescent City

Still raining but Magestic

After a cold ride down we are on the Pacific.

Looking south

Sunny Trinidad

California for sure.

Our first Poppies. California color.

"What the Heck?" Local Arcatian tries out our wierd bike.

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Dave at Clam Beach, cruising in the sunshine.

Mike's picture of the coast south of Trinidad.

Road Angels

When last we wrote, oh Velophilous, we reported that it was raining in Crescent City. But by about 9:30 a.m. the sun was out and we trusted. So we returned the land ferry, loaded up the bicycles and headed off for the Crescent City Hills. The first rises to 1200 feet and is followed by two shorter ones right after. It's reputation if ferociously nasty to cyclers and it is pretty much earned.

The sun lasted until we began the hill and then it rained. I mentioned this to God, this rain thing again, but it continued to rain. So we walked and rode up the hill. The first three miles being the steepest and having the poorest shoulders. The Redwoods were lovely, as we trudged through the rain, but we made the crest and then the two following minor crests in reasonable time. After that the deluge and the downhill. A 6% grade for two miles followed by a 7% grade for about 3. We rode with the brakes on and I noticed a little wobble in the rear wheel. Dave watched it on one strech, but the rim was not out of true. Still it felt funny.

After a long cold wet scary descent we hit some level areas and the rain became a sprinkle. So on we trudged, planning to make it to Orick after another smaller set of hills.

At the very bottom is a place called The Mystery Trees, with a HUGE statue of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. As I caught up with Dave he was in a discussion with a guy by the side of the road, whose truck was parked in the Trees Motel lot. Pondering this mystery I rode up. The fellow was telling Dave and now me that he is a part time volunteer fire fighter and that the road ahead was particularly narrow and dangerous with lots of tight blind curves around redwoods. He was offering to drive us past the dangerous parts.

We pondered how weird this was and how safe it might be,but finally decided to take the ride. So into the back of the moving truck went the bikes and off we went. He took us about 25 miles and some the the road was indeed pretty hairy. Orick was a complete bust as a town, we would have been stuck in a terrible room in a really really really bad motel. After the last of the bad turns we had him drop us about 10 miles outside Trinidad so we could ride the rest of the way in. The wobble was worse and I stopped and looked at the rear tire. Viola, the rips you see in the pictures.


The good news was the rim was still true, but the tire was bulging. So we slowly and carefully made our way to Arcata, after checking for a tire at K-Mart in McKinleyville.

So, the lesson for the day was this.......had pride or pig headedness kept us from taking the advice of the truck driver, we would have been sleeping in a hole in Orick, or worse, pushing a flat tired bike 25 miles to find a town with a bike shop or tire shop. Sometimes angels are just there waiting.

We appreciate Brad Glass of North Coast Moving and Storage, in Fortuna CA for looking out for us.

Tour de Coast Stage 16

Even though it was always raining we saw some local color.

More local color

Maybe now it will be downhill.

After a couple more stages of cold rain and windy coastline, we decided it was time for the Wizard of Oz stage.
Oregon was fun but we felt more rain would not be enlightening and we were desperate to escape this weather system and dry out. So I sloshed my Nikes together three times saying “There’s no place like home state. There’s no place like home state. There’s no place like home state.” And it was magical. We fell into a wormhole and came out 250 miles south just inside the border of California and at the southern tip of the stubborn weather system. We didn’t feel that we’d missed much, since the second half of Oregon was pretty much like the first. In fact if you ride a just a couple hundred yards in Oregon that would be a good sampling. So even though it is still raining we know the sun is over the next hill.

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Land Ferry

After spending twelve of our first fifteen days in rain, including the pelting rain from Lincoln City to Newport where we arrived not only wet, but crusted in grime as well, we made a pastoral decision for the sake of Oregon. Rather than not enjoy every additional mile in the state, we decided to employ a land ferry to get us around the persistent low pressure system plaguing the coast and around the narrow windy shoulders promised for the days ahead. We were also losing days in Oregon because of the rain and because we had to wait for bicycle parts to reach us.

The Land Ferry is run by U-Haul and it allowed us to ferry the bikes and us from Newport to Crescent City. We got to actually see all the lovely coast. This bought us back five-six days of cycling that might have been lost at the end of the ride in order for us to be back in SD to catch planes to London.

Riding in the rain (and hail) and cold is a different sort of experience than riding in sun or overcast. You spend your riding time watching the road for hazards and listening for trucks and RVs. The best drivers in the road and most gracious are the loggers who make space for you and appreciate that you make space for them. The worst are the small cars who could hug the yellow line, but seem to feel a need to honk wildly at you as they come zooming up from behind. This is not helpful!

We are now hoping that if we encounter rain it will be at least warmer than it has been (often in the mid forties) and that it will not persist quite as voraciously. This will allow us to enjoy what we are seeing instead of surviving it. Enjoyment was the point of the trip, after all and we have earned our wet riding merit badge as far as we are concerned.


We have only seen four other long distance riders along the way. A couple heading to Las Vegas and two women who we passed in Florence. It is nice to know that our partuclar early spring lunacy is shared by others. The nice thing is that there is no competition for motel beds.

So we are off to breakfast here and then will decide when to take off this morning. You see, it is raining in Crescent City!

Lincoln City

We left Tillamook with some sunshine and a few sprinkles and hauled ourselves along 101 towards Neskawin, which we thought would be our endpoint. It turned out that a clinic in Lincoln City could give me my last Hep B shot (for the Africa trip) so we hauled our poor bodies over an 800 foot rise (2 miles) and then zoomed into Lincoln City. It looks like a beach town with an active Casino, so there is a mixture of genre's here.

We settled in at an Ashley Inn Suites with a very nice room. The GM has done this same ride and was so enthusiastic about our effort that he let us sneak in and use the jacuzzi while the pool is being serviced. We sat for a bit at the Starbucks next door and the guy there rode his bike from Disneyland to Disney World. He invited us to stay with him, give us rides, his wife works for an Irish non-profit doing development in the third world. He was interested to hear of the parish's work in Kenya, so we had a great chat.

Well we have stalled as long as we can at the restaurant, we're going to walk over and look at the beach

Tour de Coast Stage 13

This was supposed to be our big day. 150 miles. We were really going to hall ass. But my bike wouldn’t fit on the bus. So while I was trying to figure out what to take off my bike, the bus took off. So now we have another fifty measly miles in the cold rain up hill. At speed of bike which is a little faster than speed of slug. Every night I check for moss between my toes. My bike is now all green. But we get to see great scenery. Green trees. All the same. One after the other. Real slow. Fascinating.
Actually, we are taking a day off from riding in beautiful downtown Tillamook, the home of the famous Tillamook supermarket cheese bricks. Mike is waiting for a steering part from the Linear Factory so we are taking the opportunity to dry out and rest up at St. Alban’s , Tillamook. It’s been a great town to spend a day in the people are great and I found a café that plays 70’s blues all day and has wifi bleeding in from an Ebay store next door.

Since we’re not goin’ anywhere today, hear are a few past pics.


Must be a Club up a head.


Oh, here's the club. Raymond Wash.


People of Raymond, Wash.


Why didn't I think of that? I geuss the economy is a little tough here.


Great. Only four states to go. Oregon, California, California, and California.


Nice cabin in Cannon Beach Oregon.


Looks more like a shopping hazard.


Maybe if we wait awhile we'll get some donuts and coffee.


This is the hail that we road through yesterday.


Maybe we'll get luckey here.


Cheezy town.

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