Try a Little Tender-nitis (USA Day 110)

We woke with the roar of the sea, enveloped by its sticky haze, and watched seals play in the shallows. Yesterday had made Amy’s foot worse, so cycling was out of the question at least until that got better. So, the decision was made: we hitch-hiked! (Hitched-hike? Hitch-hook? Hatch-hoke?)

Hitch-hiking with bikes is difficult not only for the reasons that usual hitch-hiking is difficult, but also you have bikes. Amy made a sign that said ‘INJURED’ to explain out the illogicality of two people with large steel vehicles looking to ride inside a larger vehicle, then we stood by the side of the road, our little thumbs doing what they’d been born to do, trying not to take all the rejections personally.

Florence was our destination: 70 miles away. A massively generous host there had offered to take us in for a spot of recovery time, and with nowhere to stay between our park and there, we had no choice. Our first hike-hitcher had been fishing, but had space in his van for the bikes amongst the rods, tackle and tiny dog. He took us to Newport, ‘The Friendliest City’, so it’d be easy getting a ride out of there. (It took hours.) Our second ride came by way of a nice gent on his way back from returning thousands of wrongly-sized patio tiles, but we made a solid replacement for those in terms of entertainment value so he seemed happy enough. He told us about the basalt rock formations and even drove us on a little detour to see a beach. The final ride, from Yachats to Florence, took us the longest to secure, but eventually we found ourselves lugging the bikes onto the back of a truck belonging to a police sheriff, who’d taken the day off to do a spot of hunting. Fortunately for us, less so for him, there were no elk joining us in the flatbed. He wore those cute camouflaged hunting clothes that look like little boys’ pyjamas and wished us luck as he dropped us off by the church.

We’d made it without turning a pedal. The plan now is for Amy to ice that ankle within a degree of its life, elevate it ski-jump-like and wait for improvement. While waiting, we played another of those excellent escape room games that’d we’d discovered way back in Grand Teton with Julian and Stephanie. This one, based in a secret lab, had us dipping litmus paper, decoding chemical formulae and squealing quite a lot. By the time we’d escaped that darned lab, evening was upon us.

We want to go cycling.