Oregon Coast trip - Day 1- Washington to Garibaldi

We are done with our first day, pulling in to Garibaldi (Port Of Garibaldi picture at right) at about 4:30 in the warmth of the September sun.
It didn't start that way. Although the weather looked promising at home, the closer we got to the beach, the more cloudy it became. It figures. We reached our start at a rest area appropriately named Dismal Nitch, a mile from the Astoria bridge, at 9:30 am, with a heavy grey sky and a light mist to greet us. The only bright spot there was a lovely grounds keeper named Theresa. She took our pictures and sent us on our way with a story of the naming of Dismal Nitch. Unfortunately, I missed ithe talk because I had to go back to the car for my helmet, of all things. With my head warmer on, I didn't immediately notice I didn't have it on.

Ellen had decided to ride both ways across the ASTORIA BRIDGE! This is no small feat. It is a very busy bridge with logging trucks blowing by .... and she doesn't regularly ride a bike. In fact, she doesn't even have one ... she used one of mine for this adventure. Go Ellen! We parted company in Astoria and Ellen headed back to Dismal Nitch and the car alone.

We took our time as the morning wore on taking pictures as necessary and chatting with our fellow beach wanderers. We stopped at the cute little town of Manzanita for lunch on the bright patio of the seafood restaurant recommended by our new best friends at the pie shop after 2 pm, just as the weather was clearing. We got to ride the last of our cycling day in the luxury of shirt-sleeves without our flashing safety vests or coat.

The altitude map for this trip is not encouraging. We gain and loose altitude so rapidly and often it looks like v-tach, LOL. The day's biggest challenges were after lunch.
Now in Garibaldi, challenge over, it was a piece of cake. We ate a dinner of fish and chips with all the local fishermen who caught them. This is a working town. Their boats are their livelihood, not their luxury. If they don't fish they work at the lumber mill. Everywhere you hear the sound of people busy.