Drum roll please. (Drum roll sound followed by the crash/hit of the symbol and snare together.) 1000 Miles! Oh yea! If you travel north from Santa Monica, 1000 miles later you will find yourself in Fort Dick, California. (I know... look it up.) I don't think that I have gone via any means of travel, by myself, for 1000 miles before. I definitely feel like I have accomplished something. Although I don't like to think that I'm doing this trip for purely selfish reasons, I don't mind telling other cyclists that I pass that I have over 1000 miles under my tires. (Although the sense of pride quickly dies when I meet guys that have gone over 4000... which I have.) Not only did I cross the 1000 mile threshold that day but I also broke free from the bonds of California into Oregon. It was a truly monumental day.
My first few miles into Oregon felt amazing. The first sign that greets you is a "Minimum 6000 Dollar For Littering" sign. So it is very clean. The air smells better and it is so richly forested that it's hard to believe people have carved out a space to live among the foliage. It wasn't very windy and there was plenty of space for me on the shoulder of the 101. The day was good. I pulled into Harris Beach State park on the end of a pleasant 50 mile day. The Oregon state parks are... AMAZING! Still only five bucks, but the are much better kept. The bathrooms are cleaner than the one I was using at home and the showers are free. The bike/hike sections are superior by far. Instead of a haphazardly thrown together site, each space seems well planned out and just nice. There were some other bikers and we all chatted and bonded the quick way that bikers do. The best part of the night was that I met this touring guy named Benjamin. I though I was pretty hard core with the amount of miles I've done and traveling north and all, but he had been riding for over three months from Florida and was traveling to Eugine. Radical. Finally another Northward bound traveler. It was great because the next day we both decided to travel together which is something I've been yearning for since my dad had to leave me two days into the trip. It was great. We did more chatting than real biking and actually ended up going in the wrong direction for about five miles, but it didn't really matter. It was nice just having a companion. We shared a site at Humbug Mountain that night. It was good just to be able to share with someone all the similar experiences that we both had. The good times and the bad, the suffering and the triumphs. We went our separate ways the next day because he was going to be putting in a few more miles than me. Alone again I pushed on.