Long Beach, WA. 4335 miles.

Took I-5 out of Blaine early this morning and said goodbye to the interstate for a good long while as I took RT 20 down to the Port Townsend ferry across the bay to pick up 101for the long run around the Olympic penninsula.

It took a while to get into the dense Northwest rainforest but once you’re there you go a whole without seeing the sky. Twisty roads wind through the pine forests seemingly forever until slowly the leafy underbrush starts to appear and you know you are getting close to the Pacific. The sky threatened rain for a while but I managed to make it through into blue skies for another day, though it never quite got above 50 degrees.

After over 4000 miles I finally made it to Ruby Beach, the most western point of the trip and the first time I reached the Pacific Ocean. The driftwood logs piled up at the tree line and it was unlike any beach I had ever been on, but seeing the horizon and knowing I had nowhere left to go in that direction took a bit out of me.

The afternoon run seemed to take forever. The roads through the timber towns of the coast are bleak and congested and the stretches on the 101 between them are green and lush but twisty and tiring and filled with enormous lumber trucks that take far too much liberty with their narrow lanes.

The tidal regions are eerily beautiful but the crosswords off the ocean across their expanses are stronger than anything I hit in the mountains and by the time I made it to Long Beach I was thoroughly exhausted. Still, I came to Long Beach for one reason: There are stretches of the beach where driving and riding are not only allowed but encouraged. I unloaded my luggage at my favorite motel of the trip, the Seaview, and headed to the beach to let the Thruxton finally see the ocean.

If you’ve never been beach riding before, and honestly I didn’t know it was a thing until I saw this British Customs video, just do yourself a favor and get to Long Beach as quickly as possible. Holy god is it fun. Once you get used to the traction (or lack thereof) on the hard packed sand, you get the confidence to start speeding up and before you know it you’re shooting right along the surf line. It’s like no other riding experience you’ve ever had. The seagulls leap up from the surf and fly along with you, 5 feet from your head trying to match your speed. When you loop around for another pass, they come with you. It’s like playing fetch with a dog only it’s riding a motorcycle super fast on the beach with a flock of birds.

I went by a local bar afterwards to get a drink and something to eat and the locals told me about a 30 MILE stretch of ridable beach up the peninsula so I decided to stay an extra day tomorrow and ride up to the point where there is a bald eagle nesting area far off the roads. Then it’s off to Portland to see some old friends before picking up the PCH this weekend.

Wyatt Neumann was a phenomenally talented photographer and director, a loving husband and father, and a passionate motorcyclist. On June 11th he was doing what he loved riding in Delaware when he suffered a brain aneurysm which caused him to lose control of his motorcycle. He died shortly after. Wyatt was instrumental in both inspiring this trip and planning many of its routes and logistics. The title of this site was unapologetically stolen from his series of photographs from his own travels. He leaves behind a wife and two young children. A memorial fund has been established to help his family in this very trying time. Please consider donating. Any amount will help. Thank you.

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