We got up at 3am and flew from Baltimore to Portland, picked up my bike, then drove to the Pacific Ocean at Warrenton, Oregon. I was originally
going to take my start picture inside the wreck of the Peter Iredale on this beach, but the bike shop did such a great
job of cleaning my bike's drive train that I couldn't bear to get it all sandy before I even started. Speaking of bears, there's one in the picture.

This obscure historical marker commemorates the only attack on the mainland US during WWII. A Japanese sub lobbed a couple
of shells up here on 21 June 1942. This monument is not well publicized--and the dog in the yard next door sounds really mean.

A few miles later--my first wildlife warning sign sighting.
(I didn't actually see any Elk).

It was a short ride today--only 13 miles from the ocean to the hotel in Astoria.

When I rode under the Astoria Bridge I made sure to cross my tire tracks from when JT and I rode the Pacific Coast in 2004. You know,
so I could connect the dots with a clear conscience. By the way, the Astoria Bridge was once derided as a "bridge to nowhere." It's still
a bridge to nowhere, but a lot of people are going nowhere because it was really busy today.

OMG, I'm going to have a head-on collision with a trolley on a bridge. Yes, the trolley shares the bike path. No, I wasn't
playing chicken with the trolley. It had already run me down from behind.

There was a brewpub in the hotel's backyard, so that's where we had dinner.

The odd food of the day was Scotch Eggs. Basically, hard-boiled eggs wrapped in a meatball and fried. Linda liked the little
heart-shaped yolks.

Yeah. There is some kind of Goonies festival going on in Astoria today. I don't think I ever saw the film. It's a big deal here.