Gremlin's Tall Stories

Up at 7am, only I wasn’t up, and took another 15min to actually get out of bed. Dressed and over to the main building for breakfast at $4.95, cereal and yoghurt, the usual fare and still delicious. While eating, thunder has descended on the Hotel… no, just the Harleys already leaving around 8am.

I take longer to get ready, finally departing rather late at 9.30am. The gas station was a little further up the road than I thought it would be, but still well within range. Once filled, I again settled into racking up the miles.

Oregon is a state of contrast. On one hand you have lush trees right down to the water’s edge, and on the other side of the road the sand dunes are trying to invade businesses. They really don’t mix? Some roads were only just sealed, lovely hot mix, the centre line often not painted, and other sections of the same road had badly filled potholes you had to try and avoid.

My first proper stop was north of Florence at the Sea Lion Caves. Parked up, and did the tourist thing, paying $12 to go down the side of the cliff and look at Sea Lions on the beach below. Better however, was the elevator, than took you down into one of the largest sea caves in the world, around 300 feet below the road, only 30 or so feet above sea level, where you could observe the sea lions.

Walking around in full gear was bloody hot, so I was glad to get back on the bike and get some cool air through the gear. The route was reasonably boring, straight up Highway 101 for the entire day. It wasn’t as twisty as some days, but not two lane the entire way either.

Around Lincoln City, the traffic got ridiculous, bumper to bumper and crawling. North of Lincoln City, Karen starts playing up, wanting me to take minor roads, but desperate for some freedom, I oblige. It turns out to be a rat run back to the main road, but I must have avoided several hundred cars, so no problem with that. It turns out the traffic must be headed inland to Portland, because once I pass the turn off, the traffic has disappeared.

My next stop was north to Tillamook, home of one of the last airship bases in the country, a legacy of World War II. Karen sent me proper crooked here, wanting me to take shortcuts that didn’t exist, so after detouring through the backblocks for a while, I finally ended up at the air ship museum.

The air ships used to accompany Navy boats, spotting subs so that they could either attack directly with basic equipment, or direct vessels to intercept. Not one ship in 90,000 was lost when being escorted by the air ships, which were based on both coasts. Arriving, the bulk of the group had just finished poking around, and they set off, while I bought my admission for $9, and then added on $3 for the mini guppy.

The hangars built to house the air ships had to be huge buildings and had to be made from wood, due to all the metal being used in ship and plane building. They were capable of housing 9 air ships at once, in a 3x3 formation. See pics for how 8 looked in a hangar. Two hangars were built at Tillamook, but unfortunately one was lost to fire in the 80’s or 90’s I think, when storing 35,000 bales of hay. The remaining one is a museum.

None of the serving air ships remained, but a privately built one was on display, along with a plethora of other vintage equipment, including many planes, vehicles, a motorbike and even a couple of gyrocopters!

My dad would be more impressed than I was, so I made sure I took a lot of pictures (all in the link below), and still ended up losing about 2 hours. The mini guppy was a transporter plane, and it was interesting to see the cockpit, and to think they flew around with that level of equipment. The mini guppy was capable of carry helicopters, and was even advertised to transport boats, so they arrived in brand new condition, and suffered less damage than on the road.

Afterwards, a quick meal of burger and chips, before knocking off the last 60 odd miles to Astoria. The road had tightened up a bit, and I took some scenic photos at Garibaldi, where an exploring sea captain had mistaken the river for the Columbia River, and then left in a hurry after a skirmish with Indians (don’t ask me for more details… I’m here for the scenery. History can be googled )

I think I was the last to check-in at Astoria, shortly before 6pm, changed and then headed out with some others for dinner. The Holiday Express Inn was almost directly under an extremely impressive bridge, built high enough so that ships could pass beneath. Pictures have been dutifully taken of course.

The Portway Tavern served as dinner, as the first place we headed for had their Bingo night on, and since none in the group were that way inclined it was passed over quick sticks. The Portway was good, speaking to the local Ford dealership owner and his wife (who of course offered a drive in the latest F150 for US$64,000, with remote start etc.). Gained some local knowledge and stories, and a good time was had.

Instead of returning to the Inn, we went to Astoria column, which is basically a tower on the hill. The sun was setting, so some beautiful shots were taken of the sun setting, the view, the bridge and generally making the 163 step journey worth it. I even got to have some fun with one couple. The guy was afraid of heights (why he was up there was beyond me then… it was quite obvious from the bottom what the column was) but he was eventually coaxed out onto the top deck to take in the view.

Back at the Inn it was time for a load of laundry, and it was about then I realised I had a problem…

US Quarter dollars are used heaps for the loads, it’s the highest coin they have, before it’s all bills. Quarter dollars are somewhat special… each state can produce their own, with their name on it, along with the standard quarter dollar…. I’ve started collecting them.

$2 of quarters resulted in 4 I could use, and 4 I didn’t have. Another four and I had one I could use… this is an expensive addiction. 4 for a wash, 4 for a dry, trying to disturb Murray as little as possible as he had to be up early for the first boat at 1.15pm that left Port Angeles, which was a minimum of 4 hours away (211 miles). This didn’t work perfectly, because I left the room at one point, and as I watched the door click close, realised I didn’t have my room key.

A knock on the door brought Murray to the rescue, just as I was off down the hall to ask for a spare. Once the laundry was finally done, back to the room, shower and bed.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/FiFGPTXHqVwf2U7A8