Portland, continued, and apologies

It is hard to write these re-hashed notes from the bike trip. I am picking up from some time ago. Moraline is not on a typical "vacation." No, this man isn't "traveling." He is overcoming the human condition, and acting far outside of his species' characteristics. I would say that he is a good man, but it seems he's gone far beyond that. He is something else now, and a description of his character at this moment would be an embarrassment to greatness. This all-too-human language just doesn't get at it.

But I continue doing what I feel I must--finding these scraps of paper from these old trips--there are 3 or 4 trips--and getting back to these ideas. Maybe I was on to something towards the end of one of these trips. Maybe there is nothing there. I know it is clear I write about women and loneliness in this most recent journey, and it is abhorrent. But I, too, will criticize this muck. I must work my way through this.

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6/30/10 Portland

I wondered about the limits of my body. I am accustomed to my being fatigued--but actual pain--the saddle area, upper neck, knee: this grew weary. What I perhaps needed was 2-3 days away from the bike. [note (2/19/11):Can Moraline stop and rest, or is water always an issue? Or, even with water, even in a room, would there be a problem with spending more than one day in a small town? A journey which is unlimited in time can be good for the man with a bicycle, because he can rest when his knees or back grow weary. Perhaps Moraline has overcome weariness. Blessed be the man who knows no fatigue.] But logistically this would have affected my trip and in the interim I would have been stuck in a small town at $100 per day with 'little' to pursue--of course, I could have made the best, but compared to one of these small towns--Gold Beach, for example, it might have been to small for my spirit's attention. Eugene or Portland would have worked, two towns where a 2-3 day focus on running would have been perfect. Now I must find another shirt to wear and perhaps some pants.

But let me return to Gold Beach--the owner of Anna's Place. I can find his name and later review his place on Yelp as I has promised him [Editor's note: the writer never fulfilled him promise, but he did order a case of wine from the man.]. He had left Phoenix 6 years earlier where he had established a large restaurant and apparently was a big deal. Wanting to find love, he went to China to find wife and child. He returned with both. The mother and daughter both worked in his joint, which was now a simple wine bistro. Communication between the mother and father was scarce, a muted pidgin of silence and resentment. She interpreted my "parfait" as "I want to go to a cafe." The daughter, about 10, spoke English, but seemed alienated from the father or at least partially oppressed under his direct order and supervision. She read Chinese comics on the computer behind the counter and drew a picture of a cat for her father and showed it to him. He feigned interest and provided mild criticism. But she was provided mild relief by his "not bad"; it thrilled her.

I lingered there for two hours and he shared Danish cherry liquor which followed the Mexican shrimp, two plates of bread, crab bread pudding, and the raspberry parfait.

The next morning should have theoretically been to Coos Bay (75 miles), but instead it was 50-55 miles to Bandon.

There was much pain in the ride from Gold Beach to Bandon. 5 cyclists with run down vintage bikes and little gear were resting in the town center on their journey from Portland to San Francisco. (It is often said it is better to ride from Portland and head south, in the way it is better to die unexpectedly.) They asked me how the weather was "up there." "Of course, it varies. What city?" The question perplexed them greatly.

I do not remember the name of the girl from Los Angeles whose lips I kissed in Mendocino. It was passionate. Now I head to cycle through Portland and explore.

Eugene is the other missing piece of the journal's puzzle. It was a near 30-mile time trial to North Bend from Bandon [Editor's note: this sentence appears to be interrupted; a search for Page 9 does not materialize in a discovery. The editor has decided to invest in a scanner to help the reader understand what he is up against.]