May 10, Day 7 Longview to Astoria

May 10, Day 7 Longview to Astoria

Starting odo 6417

Ok, so sometimes you get lucky. I feel that way right now, or maybe
it's just the beer. I've just eaten dinner at the wet dog cafe, but
more notably it's home to Astoria brewing.  I got a sampler tray of
five brews, bad ass stout, poop deck porter, stone cold strong, solar
dog IPA, and brewberry. Unfortunately they were out of bitter bitch
imperial IPA.  (IBU 100+, 8.2% abv)  Anyway, all of these were good to
excellent beers. The brewberry is described as Oregon marionberry
wheat, bad ass stout as deep and complex imperial with a creamy
texture due to the oats added at the end of the mashing process (IBU
50  8.0% abv), solar dog IPA as a big straight forward blend of citrus
notes and flavors followed by a smooth and malty finish, etc,etc.
Luckily, I have walked to the cafe!
Oh, the food was good too, and I'm sitting by the window looking out
on the bay with several ships anchored there, as the day goes from
twilight to night.  I order the fudge brownie turtle pudding pie just
to make sure I overdo things.  The brownie is reminiscent of lava
cake.

But earlier in the day...

I started late again, as it seems that tasks grow to consume the
available time in the morning. I discover that my phone has not really
charged overnight and resolve to get either the correct cable or a
charger for it, if I can just run across a Verizon or suitable store.
So I look up the closest Verizon store. I should pass it on the way
out of town, but somehow I miss it. I decide to just keep on going and
find the next store, maybe in Astoria.

It's 20 miles to Cathlamet, but somehow progress eludes me. About 3
miles out from the town, I see a red wallet in the side of the road.
Sigh. I circle back and check it out. The drivers license is still
there, along with a visa card, and nearby there is a debit card and
some kind of loyalty card. I pick up the cards thinking I'll turn them
in to the police in Cathlamet.

As I go through the little town, I see the municipal courthouse, and a
woman is walking toward it. Turns out she is a cyclist and a volunteer
at the courthouse, so I give her the cards. She tells me the ferry
schedule, and I have just missed (actually cannot get there in time)
the ferry and will have to wait an hour for the next one.  I decide to
look around the town which is quite charming. She jokes about the town
fountain down the street where water is spewing 20 feet into the air
where they are working on something.

After 30 or so minutes, I decide to head to the ferry which is about 3
mikes away. I arrive with about 25 minutes to spare, so I  turn around
and ride down a side road. I see a sharpening service so I stop in.
They have knives and various stuff for sale. I have an engaging
conversation with the guy who runs it, until suddenly I realize the
ferry will leave in a few minutes. No problem as I am just about 160
yards from it, I reluctanty say goodbye and head for the ferry which
is loading cars already - but there is plenty of time.

After a nice ferry ride across the Columbia river, I head to Astoria,
which is about 27 miles away. That should be a snap since the road
followes the river, except there are these hills, ranging from 100 -
650 feet high. This slows me down considerably. After about 15 miles
of this I loose patience and really start to exert myself. I speed up
by perhaps 2mph up the hills by increasing my cadence to about 90rpm,
and continue the pressure down the hills, aided by some good music on
the iPod. Still, the last 10 miles dont exactly fly by, but they do go
significantly faster. By the time I get to Astoria I am a bit tired,
and my right knee is telling me WTF, man! So I am happy to slow down
as I enter town.

Somehow, I have left my water bottle at last nights motel, so I stop
at the bike shop  to get another one. This bottle has a new wrinkle:
both the top and bottom unscrew, to allow easier cleaning!

I ask them about a good place for beer, and one recommends the wet
dog, the other some other place. The desk clerk at the motel also
recommends the wet dog, saying the other isn't even a brewpub, so the
wet dog it is. It's also a shorter walk, and I realize there are many
different tastes in beer.

On the way over, I encounter another jarring difference between WA &
OR and Texas. Here when you wait at a crosswalk for an opening to walk
across the road, the cars inexplicably stop. This had to happen to me
a couple of times before I realized they were stopping to let me
cross.  In Texas, the only reason they would stop is to lure you out
where they could hit you more easily - after all, cars are the
dominant life form on this planet.

There was another strange thing today. As I was riding I noticed this
thing on the road beside me. After a few moments I remembered, this is
what they call a Shadow!  It may well be California before I see that
again!