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August 11, 1999 |
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Eugene to Haceta Beach, OR Clouds, apprehension and tension swirled all around our atmosphere this morning. On most days, uncertainty about the route, the traffic and the hills measured about a 6 on the stess-o-meter - today it blew beyond the hilt. Spitting sarcastic comments as he cycled away, I understood how he coped with his feelings. Ultimately, we were to meet today at Haceta Beach. Our original plan routed us to the Jesse Honeyman Memorial State Park where I'd heard of an easily accessible area for Brian to dunk his tire in the water. Arrangements were made for the press, our friends and relatives to meet at this park between 2 and 3 p.m. Details usually allude me - concepts are my thing. From the inception of this trip, friends pondered to me directly and amongst themselves, just how I would manage to pull it off. To me, it was very simple. Start on one coast, end the other. Everything else would just come together. For whatever reason, last night, I called the Haceta Beach Visitor's Center where an informative man confirmed there was indeed a body of water at Honeyman, only it was a lake. Brian required salt. Hmmm. Where to now? All beaches in Oregon, by law are public. Access was the tricky part. Sand dunes, craggy rocks and homes protected the shore. The man suggested the north or south jetty, but I was fearful one or all of us wouldn't be able find them. He mentally cruised the coast, looking for access, and finally remembered the Driftwood Shores Hotel. Perfect. I called to verify access and parking options. It all sounded good, now to contact everyone with the revised location. I met Brian along the route before he entered the one and only tunnel of the trip, which measured about a half mile. The amount of fear it evoked was not commensurate with it's length. Drivers are alerted, via a flashing light, that a cyclist is in the tunnel. Not enough warning for this over-protective wife, I devised my own safety plan. Waving my arms furiously to slow down a speeding truck, I then hopped in the RV and pulled in front of a stream of cars, so I could set the pace and distance between my love and my bumper. As we exited the darkness, an oversized truck carrying a gargantuan-sized load approached from the opposite direction. I wouldn't allow myself to imagine our meeting in the middle of the tunnel. We cruised toward the coast and met for the final sag stop. No time for sentiment, Brian wolfed down a sandwich and a couple of burritos. Only 2 miles from Florence and another 3 to Haceta Beach - and then the trip would be complete. Easily finding the hotel, I parked the RV, gathered the champaign bottle, the camcorder, the camera, the phone, the notebook and a hankey - just in case. Within seconds, my family arrived; Kathryn, my sister-in-law, my nephews Evan and Pace, her sister, Nancy and her son, Gavin and her parents Anne and Charlie (who we've tried to adopt for several years)! Scouting the beach for access and the media were my priorities. I left the clan momentarily to find the reporters. Upon finding them, we headed back to the beach area, luckily just in time to catch Brian riding on the sand toward the water. I guess it would have been appropriate to have missed the finale - just as I'd missed many of the sag stops. Running to greet him, he was enveloped by the loving, sandy arms of the kids and cheers from the adults! Anne placed a hand-grown bouquet in his hands as we all stood in disbelief. Soon our friends from Atlanta, Shelley and Jeff arrived. He made it. 3769 miles. He dunked his tire in the water. At one particularly painful point in the journey, we joked Brian would bend the bike over his knee and throw it, like the professional golfers do with their clubs! Brian reached into his bike bag to retrieve the sand and water he'd carried from the Atlantic Ocean and placed some grains of sand in each of our palms. We phoned home. Brian's mom and brother were doing great, as were my folks in St. Louis. The rituals performed, the interviews complete, the joy overflowing. What next? Disneyland? Laundry? Food seemed a more pressing desire. We gathered the kids and the belongings, rejoiced at dinner and headed off to the RV park that Shelley spotted on the Suislaw river. On a beautiful river front spot, we were quietly alone, relaxing when 2 couples carrying a wine bottle approached us, saying they'd read about this amazing cyclist who was riding across country! Here he was, (half) live and in person. Congratulating us, they offered the wine and a donation and requested Brian's photograph and autograph! Wow. We thanked them profusely for their well wishes and sat, once again in disbelief. Putting our heads on the pillows, we
were unable to decifer the real dreams from the slumber dreams. |
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