Day 8: Newport to Lincoln City, 54 miles

A bittersweet feeling pervades my ride today.  I am on my ‘homestretch’, the part of the coast I have visited hundreds of times, highway passages I’ve cycled time and again.  And this time, I’m just passing through.

I visit all my favorite haunts, coffeehouses, parks, overlooks, and bridges.  I see new and familiar faces, and tell each that I’m leaving, on a trip south, cycling a thousand miles.

Many are impressed, a significant number shocked to actually meet one of those crazy cyclists they’ve always seen along the side of the highway.

I stop for a rest at Washburn State Park, and as I depart, a carfull of hippies greet me.  A dreadlock headed woman calls out, “You are epic!” I laugh.

Maybe years ago, I would have let that sort of flattery boost my ego.  But I know different.  I’m only one man, following a passion for bicycle touring.  I am seeking to understand myself, to find direction.

An epic ride?  Sure.  But in most ways, I feel only a passenger, passing through, hoping to ma:ke connections to people and landscape and time.:,