Ride report of the 400, a pre ride write up by Johnmark Larson RUSA 15962, with assistance by Sven Gunvalson RUSA 14085:

The dawn rose behind us as we headed up sleepy, dewy Gales Creek towards the promise of a proper big day on the bike. Traffic picked up noticeably on Hwy 6 even at that hour of the morning, folks towing their OHV motor toys out to their own days’ adventures. The shoulder is ample in places, narrower than we’d have liked in others, occasionally broken and bumpy and always strewn with gravel. After the summit the miles piled up quickly with a long gradual downhill all the way to the Tillamook plain, with its distinctive bouquet of sea and livestock.

The coast is full of resupply options and Tillamook (open control) is no exception. Following the 400k route, we headed north along 101 where we encountered multiple narrow bridges with disappearing shoulders. My decision to hop onto one narrow bridge sidewalk led to an uh-oh moment when I realized the opposite end of the bridge featured an abrupt drop with no warning. Otherwise it was a mostly comfortable highway shoulder cruise to Garibaldi where we discovered a hidden gem of a road snaking along the Miami River to the junction with Hwy 53.

The pastoral vibes continued up 53 along the north fork of the Nehalem River. The turnaround control is the Fish Hatchery Lane sign, but finding ourselves in need of a break we proceeded down the lane to find water and restrooms among the outbuildings scattered around the hatchery. We fought fluky headwinds on the return trip downriver to a reward of ice cream and mini donuts at Buttercup in Nehalem.

Next control was Rockaway Beach (open), unfortunately Pronto Pup was as jammed as you’d expect it to be on a perfect summer weekend. The trip back down 101 to Tillamook was uneventful except for those narrow bridges again. Rejoining the 300k route we headed towards Cape Meares into a suddenly stiff headwind along the bay, followed by a steep climb up to the junction with the old road. It’s unsigned - look for a large gravel pull out to the right with a yellow gate beyond. The old road is mostly paved, occasionally broken with some patches of gravel, but easily rideable on a road bike. The break from traffic and the view from the lighthouse control are worth it.

Climbs mean views and we earned them on the way to Pacific City, which was absolutely packed with a holiday dinnertime crowd. The Kiwanda Market was a bad choice, the coolers were out and the registers weren’t working (the solar storm maybe?) so we burned too much time. After crossing the bridge at the south end of town we realized there was another, much less crowded commercial strip including a market at the Shell station. Ah well. The bike lane out of town to 101 held so much gravel that at times it was hard to distinguish it from the soft shoulder.

Hwy 130 along the Little Nestucca River in the cooling evening was sublime. After joining Hwy 22 the traffic increased (those OHV folks heading home, felt like) and there’s no real shoulder, but after the summit with an increasing tailwind we quickly reached Grand Ronde as the sun began to set behind us. 300km riders won’t likely face time pressure, but the markets along the route as far as Sheridan close at 10pm so we made our plans accordingly, opting to motor on to the Sheridan IGA which was a scene on a warm Saturday night.

The full dark (no aurora alas), tailwinds and cool air meant it was time to make miles. Up ahead we spied a bike taillight which turned out to be a fellow rider on the Covered Bridges 400, though he was pushing a good pace and soon left us behind. The control at Ballston Park was hard to spot in the night, but note that it’s at Dejong Road, just prior to a really bad diagonal railroad track crossing. We rolled through Dayton (store closes at midnight) and the last control in Carlton, grateful to bypass the stress of North Valley Road.

Somewhere around 360km, about 11:30pm, the mood shifted as the miles began to sit heavily on our bodies. We could smell the barn. Just after Yamhill, after turning left on Laughlin Road, we heard a dog charging us down a driveway into the road, luckily a firm “NO!” turned it right around. After that the only events that mattered were the rolling hills and the miles that ticked away sluggishly. Has anyone ever been so happy to see a McMeniman’s parking lot? 

All in all, an epic route on a perfect day.

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