#they are very thick and delicious it the coolest shit .......

[xxplastic-cubexx]

🌝

what the hell is he planning the little bastard

[traviswsoul]

Day 24 Oregon Dunes KOA to Beachside State Park 68 miles

July 22 6:30 time, 3,064 calories, 3,363' climbed, 10.5 avg mph The couple from Alberta who were on their way home from a Harley Davidson rally were up shortly after me.  He and I had a lot of great conversations about sailing, he was a big sailing enthusiast and also spent years at a time building models of famous old boats.  He would build everything down to the pulleys from scratch and by hand.  I could tell he was excited I was exited about his hobby and he was very proud to show me pictures of them and the beautiful cases he builds to display them when I asked.  You have to keep them covered, if they get dusty their ruined, they are way to fine and detailed to be cleaned. Their little pop up bed towed behind her tri-bike and was a really cool design, it was like a pop of camper but just the size of queen size bed when folded out and the entry expanded with nylon to make a vestibule you could stand in to get ready to climb in.  The only reiterated how much I love Canadians, at one point he was literally wearing a Canadian Tuxedo, denim pants and shirt, with his hat featuring an embroidery of a bald eagle backed by a waving american flag. Although I do not understand why the bald eagle is our symbol in USA because the only times I have seen one is in Canada.  In all the places I have traveled around the world I meet Canadians, they are simply the best travelers, always great ambassadors of where their from and appropriate adaptors of where they are.  When we said goodbye that  morning he shook my hand and said to me "you really added to our trip." I was honored, what a meaningful thing to say, full of honest expression, direct and not overly emotion, classic old man, whoever is his grandson is a lucky guy. On the road  by eight I was determined to make up some of the miles I lost backtracking the day before.  I rode through Lakeside, Winchester bay, over the Umpqua River at Gardiner, and into Dunes City before stopping after 30 miles.  Well actually I stopped once before at a little bakery because the draw bridge up ahead was raised and there was a line of traffic stopped through town up to the bakery so I dipped in and grabbed and Odwalla green juice and a mini loaf of Zucchini bread that I munched on all day.  The stop in Dunes City was to get cash because I remembered the call yesterday during the rain cover fiasco from the bank saying they were sending me a new debit card, the old one had been compromised and expect the new one in the mail in a few days, in Solana Beach, 1350 miles away.  So I got a wad of cash just in case, I still need to have a debit card send to Portland. Several things happened when I rolled into Florence, the first was the pot shop.  I was knowing full well I had a long way to ride and over the last few days was starting to feel strong muscle fatigue toward the end of long rides so I decided to stop and see if I could find a solution that wasn't anti inflammatory pills.  I walked out with a bottle of cannabis extract of CBD in coconut oil. 131 mg of CBD and only seven mg of THC. This I could take a half a ml of at lunch and ride through the end of the day with the pain, and it worked!  I rode a long, hard day and felt the best I have of any days after a 70 miler. Another thing that happened here was I was low on air, I rode through one RV park scoping the possibilities with no luck then I saw a tire shop.  I rode up and around along the bank of service entrances and saw one guy near me, we made eye contact, he had a numatic drill in his hand, and I asked him if I could get some air.  At a tire shop air is simply the force that allows all of their tools to work, so to ask for air, is well, like, asking for air, no big deal. He was more than nice about it! He said, "yeah but do you have the ..." and he hesitated right as I answered him before he had to finish with a resounding "yes" as I was parking my bike and retrieving what was needed.  I applied the air pump adaptor and we fell into the usual conversation about my trip.  "where you coming from?" "what?" "no way!" "how far you going" " you know that's against the wind don't ya?" Things brings me to a point I have observed for a long time, nod you're head if you agree, the guys that work at tire shops are the nicest most professional guy I come across in service roles. (here this turns into rant about the "good old days" and the confederate flag, see if you can follow along, its quite ridiculous) With his parted hair, pressed mechanic's shirt and handson smile this guy should have been in the start of some of romantic comedy as the local small town guy, he says his yes mam's and no mam's, meets the girl from out of town, they fall in love that summer but her daddy won't have it and rips her away from what her heart longs for. they correspond through letters until she runs away and they jump in his restored muscle car and ride off into the sunset, he treats her right, he doesn't become some depressed, self loathing, womanizing piece of shit, this is a love story!  Set in classic Ameriana with old cars, home town values, hard work and where you don't see it, but on the other side of the tracks is the happily segregated parts of town for the brown people, school and church and cemetery, like separate but equal... you know. The one where "it wasn't racist, that's just how it was" and some times they lynched people, and didn't go to jail for it, that kind of separate but equal.  The kind of unapologetic sentiment with which some southerners are protesting taking down statues of Robert E Lee across the south because it's "Their Heritage" Some parts of Germany don't keep the swastikas on their local flag because when you make some of the worst decisions as a population in modern history you tuck your tail and humbly ask if you can go on, you don't get to wave your fucking flag.  You don't get to keep your symbols and some fond memory of the good old days as if they weren't stained by the facts of life as experienced by the suppressed, abused and owned at that time. But it's taken until 2017 for white southerners to have to face the removal of the confederate flag from their flags, license plates and city centers and even that is being protested as violating the heritage and culture! Yes, Fuck Yes, we want to violate the heritage and culture so much that it is blatantly taught as insane and a deep black scare of how terrible we can be as a people.  We don't get to wash it away saying that's just how it was, fuck that, I really want to be sure I do my part to insure that the facts of the southern heritage do not get white washed and that children do not get taught that it was anything less than a monstrosity committed by none other than those children's very ancestors.  The Germans have done an amazing job owning up to the shit their forefathers did and we need to do the same and have a conersation in a way that does not distinguish one philosophy of evil as different from the other.  Why is the Holocaust known no well as the crime against humanity that it is but America can barely converse about the slavery that we build this nation upon.  I wont even start on the genocidal foundation we build with our treatment of the previous tenants of this land, but we don't really talk about that.  anyway, sorry for that, I just got distracted by imagining that classic Americana, it was quite disgraceful, but way off topic.... After I met that friendly mechanic and got air I stopped by Sand Masters in the same town, Florence.  Jack Smith told me to stop there because his friends own it, I wish I had know sooner, I would have loved to spend a half day there.  They rent sand boards to ride on the dunes, like snowboarding on the sand.  I've gotta go try that one day!  We visited a while then I was back on the road. The Yachats brewery was a great brewery, I had a big healthy falafel salad which I had  been missing, a good beer, a cup of salmon and smoked jalapeño chowder and flat melon kombuca.  It was all delicious but I was baffled why such a killer shop that did so many things so well didn't bother to do anything to carbonate their kombucha, it was great buch, the honeydew melon flavor couldn't have been done any better but it was flat as water.  I was so tired from the day already I could have fallen asleep there on the table I was at.  I had conversation with several people around me for a while and used my muscle roller until I finally worked up the energy to go.  By the time I did a thick fog had rolled in.  It was cold and misty riding to the campsite, so much so that I had water droplets on my lenses and it was dripping off my helmet.  Technically not my first ride in the rain but it still was wet riding home through that cloud.  When I checked in the ranger offered to stick me with the others or a secret spot he described as the little hobbit nook, it was tucked in some dense woods away from the hike and bike site, which was right on the road.  A tiny path took me past an old picnic table surrounded in over head plant growth to a small tent sized clearing where the back side had a narrow path right onto the beach.  By far the coolest camp site I've had yet.  I hung up my tent to dry a little because it was wet from the night before, then I showered, set up for the night and climbed in. I made an intricate system of lines in the ceiling of the tent in order to hang things to dry, the mist and dew outside wouldn't allow it to happen there so I had to improvise.