I don’t like North Bend. Maybe I am wronging the city: it might be a perfectly nice city, brimming over with sense and hospitality. But that is not the face it showed me.
First of all, it was all hills along Newark, which is the road I needed to take. I went up one hill and down another just to go up the next. And these weren’t little hills, either. They were great big hills, and reaching the top took a real effort. And no sooner would I reach the top, then there was a precipitous drop and another hill. Maybe 30% grade.
Going over these hills, I was supposed to find a street called Broadway. I was looking for a bike shop that was supposed to be on Newark at the same time I was looking for Broadway, so naturally I missed Broadway (and I never did find the bike shop). So, having missed Broadway, I ended up at the end of Newark, and I didn’t know where I was or how to find my way--and, of course, there was no one to ask. Pulling out my map of Oregon, I found the street, ant found that I could get back to Virginia, Monroe, and Florida streets (which were marked on my bicycling map) by following it along. That particular street was not bicycle-friendly, but I did get to Virginia, and find Monroe.
However, I was unsure of where I was going, so I asked at a service station at Virginia and Monroe where Florida would be. The first response I received was “I don‘t know, I‘ve never heard of Florida street.” This from a local! And it was obvious that there would be a Florida, since they had every other street. But then, the woman who was working at the shop went and looked at her map, and found Florida for me: it was about 4 city blocks away.
So I was on my way--for a short while. There was a hill on Florida--not a high hill, probably only 15 feet--but it rose at least at 45 degrees! So, I walked my bike up the hill, and I did finally get to the top, only to find Sherman Street. Now, it wasn‘t clear that Sherman Street was what I was looking for. According to my map, I was looking for the 101 out of the north side of town, and there was no indication that Sherman street was the 101. So I went into a store to ask. The young man behind the counter looked at me blankly for a few moments, and I thought he didn‘t understand my question. I was pretty sure it wasn’t a linguistic difficulty, as he did not respond at all. It was more like someone having difficulty processing information. When he finally spoke, he slowly told me that Sherman Street was the 101, and would take me out of town. So, I was definitely on my way, now.
Unfortunately, the bicycling map said quite clearly in two different places, that bicyclists are required to dismount and walk across the bridge at the north end of North Bend. Now, I considered this to be a bad sign. I am often nervous at riding my bike, fully loaded as it is, across bridges that the makers of the maps clearly felt are safe, even though they have limited area in the bike lane, and they are very high. But on this bridge, the map makers felt it was important to say that bicyclists must dismount and walk their bikes across. It was every bit as bad as that sounds. There was no bike lane at all, and I had to walk on the sidewalk which is raised about 12 inches above the level of the road, and just big enough for me and my bike. And the bridge was at least a mile long. It took forever to walk across!
But I got myself across the bridge. I was taking a few minutes to recover at the other when an old man rode up and asked me where I was going, and started giving me advise about my route. Now, normally, I will take this sort of thing with good humor and allow the advise to go in one ear and out the other. I’ve found that unsolicited advise is worth about what you pay for it. But I was having a bad day already, and I was really not in the mood; especially when I thought I would have a little bit of quiet time after leaving North Bend. So, as he was still talking (fifteen minutes later), I calmly put on my gloves and helmet, mounted my bike, and took off along the causeway to the other peninsula.
I arrived at the KOA between Houser and Lakeside at about 6pm, and I decided to stay there because it would have been getting dark before I reached Umpqua Lighthouse State Park. Shortly after I arrived, I discovered that I no longer had my computer. I was frantic! I called up my daughter, and she calmed me down so I could remember where I might have left it. The only place I remembered taking out my computer was at a café in Charleston where I had lunch. Fortunately, I was able to remember the name of the café, she called them, and they did have the computer.
I had to backtrack twenty miles in the morning in order to pick up my computer. Back to the causeway, across the bridge--walking again--through North Bend, through a little corner of Coos Bay, and over to Charleston. I picked up my computer, and then I turned around and did it all again.
Not my best day.
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