Day 91, Eugene to Florence, Oregon.

The Pacific north west such a wonderful experience, the forest. Wow!

The Siuslaw River.

Riding along the Siuslaw River.

The long awaited beach at Florence.

This is Mike. A homeless person we met today when we stopped for a break. He is from Montana, and is riding to Florence, and then south to Coos Bay where he hopes to find a job. Good luck Mike, I hope things work out for you.

As we neared the coast, the valley flattened out into foot hills. Soon they will disappear altogether.

Looking up through the forest is cool, especially with trees this tall.

I guess the time was kind of low, cause we had to walk quite a ways to get to the water.

There's Lisa at the end of our journey. Great job, you deserve a V-8.

Fern and Lisa embracing with the excitement of seeing each other for the first time in months.

Leaving Eugene on highway 126 for Florence.

Inside the only tunnel we rode through on the entire trip.

The harbor entrance where the Siuslaw River enters the Pacific.

Our first sight of the Pacific. Actually the mouth of the Siuslaw River.

Fern Ridge Lake. A picturesque body of water nestled right next to the highway.

Same lake, different angle.

Here's Fern and Lisa again after their hug.

The first shot of my bike on the beach the second I got off it.

The sand is really fine, like powder almost. I hear it gets pretty windy on the coast at times. But today was perfect, blue skies, calm winds, and gentle waves.

The beach is huge. You could get lost standing in the middle.

Nearing the one and only tunnel we rode through on this entire trip. At the entrance there is a button for cyclists to push. When you do, there are flashing lights and a bell at the top of the entrance that warns traffic of bikes in the tunnel.



Day 91, Eugene to Florence, Oregon. “The Journey’s End”. 72.23 miles. Grand total= 4,393.01 miles.

Monday, August 10, 2009. Eugene is known as one of the most likely to have your bike stolen in city in the nation.. In fact, we were warned again and again to lock up our bikes, and never leave them un attended if unsecured.

Today was sort of a bitter sweet day for me. I knew the journey would be over in just a few miles. While I checked my e-mail this morning, I went into my Trans-Am folder and looked over some of the pictures from the past three months. I was amazed at what we had actually done. I forgot about a lot of the places we’ve been, and if it weren’t for these pictures, I probably wouldn’t have remembered them except for a few sporadic moments of brilliance that comes my way every so often. I smiled to myself, and was grateful to have been given this chance.

We were on our way by 8 o’clock, but ended up headed in the wrong direction. It was all good, we turned around and was got on track with a quick look at the map. We stopped for breakfast at the first place we found that offered a safe place for our bikes where we could keep a close eye on them. We then headed down highway 126 toward Florence. A few miles down the road, there was a guy parked on the side of the road. I think he might have passed us earlier from behind. He signaled me to stop, and asked if we were going to Florence on this road. I said that we were. He then told me that this was a real dangerous highway, and that people get killed on it because of all the heavy traffic. He made it sound really, really bad and I was kind of concerned. I signaled Lisa to stop, and told her what the guy was telling me. When I looked back, the guy was actually driving on the shoulder up to us. He wanted to tell Lisa himself about the condition of the highway ahead, and pointed out an alternate route, that would ad another 20 miles to our already planned 70 mile day. We then decided to turn around and figure out what to do. At a gas station, we met a gentleman who saw our dilemma and offered some insight on road conditions. After hearing what he had to say, we decided to go on highway 126 and take our chances. It turned out to be a good choice, because the road was not nearly as bad as it was made out to be. In fact, we’ve ridden worse roads in Colorado, Kentucky, Virginia, and in just about every state we rode in.

We stopped at a place called The Gingerbread Village for lunch. Fern was on her way to meet us from Portland, where she had spent the night after flying in the previous day, and was expected to meet up with us shortly. After our meal, we went outside and I tried calling her, but there was no signal in parts of the valley. About five minutes later, we saw this silver van pulling in with Fern waving her hands wildly. It was good seeing her again. We exchanged greetings and caught up on the latest. From home. We then loaded the trailers into the van, and continued our ride the last 15 miles to Florence. It felt strange not dragging that trailer. The bike felt rally light, and surged forward with every pedal stroke I took. The miles seemed to slip by quickly, and our speed picked up 4 to 5 miles an hour without any more effort.

The weather was perfect for riding. The sun was out, it was calm, and we were nearing the end of what was another chapter in my life. As we entered Florence, the feeling of fulfillment filled my soul. It was like the dream coming to an end. The final scene being unfolded. You know what I mean. Anyway, the only thing now was to find the beach. I thought that we would have been able to spot the beach from miles away. But here we were, at the coast, and I still didn’t see the beach. We knew we were close, so we kept riding, following signs that said: “Beach”. of course beach doesn’t necessarily mean the ocean. Any body of sand next to water is considered a beach. In this case, the beach, was still a few miles away. To make a long story short, we made it all the way to the beach, and are now done with our Trans America crossing.

Thank you all for every prayer, every thought, and every gift from the heart. Weather it be money, a souvenir, or just words of encouragement. They all were great help in giving us the strength we needed in those difficult times. Aloha and may God Bless you and yours. Always, Ted.