January 11: A Jewell of a Ride
I didn’t head out today realizing it would be one of those water-squishing-in-your-boots and pooling-in-your-goggles days. But as I made my way back over the Oregon Coast Range after a delightful adventure through Jewell to Astoria and back, I couldn’t help marveling at how darn fortunate I was to be able to ride in such a breathtakingly beautiful part of the country.
Heading west on highway 26 this morning, I turned left on Fishhawk Falls Highway, making my way down towards the Nehalem River and under the arches of the overpass ahead. I’ve always felt that this spot marks a rather magical transformation from the busyness of the freeway above to the lush, quiet, and traffic-free area below.
Trees of every size, shape, and color line both sides of this bucolic woodland road as it winds its way along the shoreline and past little villages and farms. With no vehicles, pedestrians, or businesses in sight I could hear the gurgling waters beside me, gaze at the naked tree branches stretching out into the sky above, and be on the lookout for wildlife all around.
Passing through Jewell, I reflected on how aptly named the hamlet was, located at the peaceful, verdant crossroads of both the Nehalem River and Fishhawk creek. Just outside of town I stopped at the Jewell State Wildlife Management Area to admire a large herd of elk, languidly grazing on thick green grass.
Riding west and then north along Fishhawk Creek, the Klaskanine River, and then Youngs River into Astoria, I breathed in the crisp air, luxuriated at the sensation of the wind on my face, and leaned into the curves, watching for high water on the road.
Crossing over Youngs Bay on highway 101, I took in the vast, far-reaching views of the beautiful silver-blue body of water, its surface rippling slightly with the ocean breeze. Gazing to my right I could see the glorious Astoria-Megler Bridge spanning the full breadth of the Columbia River to the southern shores of Washington.
Continuing south and then east on highway 26 over the pass, I wiggled my toes in a failed attempt to maintain sensation in my feet before descending into the Tualatin Valley. Just after passing through the town of Banks I was treated to a startlingly colorful view of green fields, bright red crops, and pockets of blue sky punctuated by crips white clouds. What a great day on the bike!
