A Scream in the Night @ Oregon Dunes Recreation Area
Content with another beautiful day, we went to sleep only to be woken at 3:30am in the morning by blood curdling screams. Helen shook Adam awake. Adam rolled over and said "go back to sleep." Then another scream escaped from the darkness of night. Adam grabbed Helen's 2 inch pink multi-tool with safety scissors (Helen would later remark "that was hot") to protect us from any would-be serial killers.
Our brains went to extremes and blood ran cold when we saw the headlamps of 2 teenagers walking to the bathroom. We jumped again when the same 2 headlamps returned from the bathroom. After some time clutching one another in the darkness we decided it was most likely someone having night terrors and eventually faded back to sleep.
After the kerfuffles of the previous night, our morning was much more monotonous. We made breakfast, packed up camp, and planned our route. The next destination was the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area. We decided to take a route including the Butler maps #3 road in Oregon, but to get there we slogged through two hours of heavy traffic in the 85 degree heat.
Before the best segment we stopped to drink water and cool down a bit. A friendly semi-retired Sheriff, seeing either the motorcycles or Adam's friend face, pulled over to talk to us. We learned that the logging trucks had ended their day around 1:00pm, meaning we'd have the road almost completely to ourselves.
After maybe a little too much small talk with the Sheriff, we set off to enjoy our road. Oregon's #3 road was a well-paved, twisty road through dense Oregon forest, lined with purple foxgloves in full bloom. The mid-day sun glittered through the canopy as we whooped over our communications system; both agreeing that Oregon's #3 road topped anything in Washington. The road ended around highway 18 so we stopped at a gas station to fill our bikes with gasoline and our bodies with water.
At this point we were really feeling the heat so we deployed our hot weather techniques. We dunked our neck gaiters in ice water and stuffed our pockets with ice. Then we set off west on Highway 101 towards the Oregon coast. We were on the road maybe 45 minutes when we were hit by a wave of cold air coming off the pacific ocean. At first the breeze felt refreshing, but it wasn't long until it just felt cold. However, we were again rewarded for our efforts with beautiful views of the coast. We pulled out at a little stop to take another sandwich cheers.
Fast forward several hours and we were in Oregon Dunes Recreational Area looking for a campsite. We passed by signs for campsites but continued past the forests hoping for one in the sand by the sea. Eventually, we took out our phones in frustration and navigated to a campsite on the dunes, but when we arrived we saw a plethora of cowboy hats, pickup trucks, and dirt bikes. Worried we were going to stick out too much in our safety gear and lack of MAGA hats, we were starting to realize that the Oregon Dunes was more of a high-octane playground for people to ride 4x4s through sand than the peaceful park for nature lovers that we were looking for.
At this point Adam gave up, daunted by the effort required to find another place. While Helen again whipped out her phone and looked for a campsite. Finding one that looked suitable Helen got on her bike and barked "follow me" over the comms. We rode our way even further south as rain drops began to putter on our visors. We were now cold and wet --all we wanted was a safe campsite and a warm campfire. We arrived at our destination just after 8pm. The rain had slowed, but we could still hear the booms of thunder in the distance. Helen, at her riding limit, went straight to an open campsite while Adam rode around looking for the check-in instructions.
Unable to find any instructions, we decided it was better to stay and ask for forgiveness if anything happened. As we took off our gear a family walked by and the dad, seeing our motorcycles, told us a story about riding his friend's 200hp border-line street legal motorcycle. He then invited us to warm up by his campfire, but we saw the camp host doing rounds so we waited at our site.
The camp host happily checked us in and we asked if he was selling any fire wood. He said he wasn't, but one look at a shivering Helen cowering in sadness behind Adam and he offered us a few pieces of wood from his personal pile. Adam used the gift from the kind stranger to start a fire. The campers next to us saw Adam attempting to stoke the fire (using a camp chair) and offered a giant piece of cardboard. Armed with the power of one man's trash, Adam finally created a roaring and treasured fire. We huddled around the fire --warm, safe, and grateful for the generosity of strangers.
