Seven Devils

The last day of riding, as it turns out, was a gift. The forecast was for rain and only rain for days. It had rained all night at our Sunset Bay campsite. The Airstream was dripping inside and out, most from condensation on the metal walls (this never happened in Colorado!) and some from a leak around the skylight. But the day broke with blue sky overhead and clouds in the distance. Marsha pushed me out the door, promising to meet me later in the day in Port Orford 60 miles from the California state line.
I geared up, lubed the chain from its previous drenching, aired the tires and hit the road. First turn was to Seven Devils Hill Road. Oh, that name didn't sink in until I turned the corner and had to stand. No problem, I thought, we'll knock this off and get down the road. I still had lessons to learn from DEAN or Enzo or something cosmic out there. Because after another two miles of steep I see painted into the road, "Devil #1" in white letters. Oh, I did laugh aloud at that.
A few miles of rolling and climbing and sweating later, I see the same paint, "Devil #2" followed by, "Don't you just love it!" Somebody before me had quite the sense of humor.
This road challenged my confidence not in its climbing but in its route. I had a map and the name of a road and two connecting roads to take on the way to Bandon. I left houses and driveways and chasing dogs far behind. There were no signs that this was still the official Oregon coast route. I was far out in the middle of logging country, new trees on this side and old trees over there and fresh cut dirt over yonder. At 8.5 miles I was supposed to find my next turn. It was almost 10 miles, had I missed it as Devils #3 through #5 passed by? And then Devil #7 appeared just as the road turned and the name changed to the one I was looking for. Way the heck out in the middle of somewhere on the Oregon coast. Two miles later I found the bike route sign, was confident I had always been on course, and cruised on into Bandon.
I met up with a young couple from Britain in Bandon enjoying the rugged coast. Marsha got some photos as she passed through a few hours later (will share at Pharkles later) - I didn't dare carry the digital camera any more, what with the threat of another rain day. And rain did come, but not till after I'd enjoyed a wonderful lunch at a surprise deli in a town of 25 souls along the way to Orford. The Brits were carrying all their gear on a ride from Anchorage, down the AlCan highway to Vancouver, the San Juan Islands, to Seattle, down to Portland, then the coast and now almost to California. They were heading to meet friends in San Francisco. Light rains came after lunch and this time I had a different jacket to stay dry. DEAN had taught me something about riding in the rain after all, and nobody got drenched.