Falling in love with e-bikes on the Oregon coast

...even when falling and crashing is part of the adventure

We used the brand new tires on the SUV and trailer to good effect to get ourselves out of the heatwave, zooming over the mountains from California all the way to the coast of Oregon. We grabbed the first spot we could find at a commercial RV campground in a charming waterfront town called Bandon. 

We parked the trailer and unhitched, heading for the ocean like lemmings for a cliff. By then it was after eight p.m., but the days were so long that this far north, it was still nowhere near dark.

The scent of the sea in my nostrils and the damp of ferns and Spanish moss on the trees plumped up my dried-out skin and hair with blessed humidity. I immediately began to perk up in energy and mood.

Once we reached the beach, I ran with Koa along a cool, fog-shrouded expanse of sand and giant driftwood logs upon which storm-tossed waves crashed with the regularity of a beating heart. 

Koa and I were in heaven as I jogged along, tossing a stick for him to chase but not fetch, as was his way. Mike sat on one of the immense logs, watched the surf, and relaxed as we played. 

I eventually trotted back to give him a hug with Koa romping at my side. “Thank you for getting us out of the heat, honey. Think of me as a salamander. A freckled salamander. I curl up and dry out if it's over eighty degrees,” I told him, moving aside his hoodie to kiss the silvery top of his head.

“You’re not a Gila monster who likes to soak up the sun. I get it.”  He’d been the one to decide that we were ditching the Shasta Trinity area as I lay limply sweating in a hammock next to the trailer, ostentatiously refusing to complain. “Happy wife, happy life.”

“I’m very happy, right now.” I kissed him again.

“Then I’m happy.” 

The relief of being out of heat and fire danger brought sound sleep that night, and the following day, we moved the rig to a park near the Oregon dunes at Coos Bay called Waxmyrtle Campground. 

This unique Oregon coastal area is an off-road vehicle recreational zone. Motorbikes, all terrain vehicles, and quads are allowed on the massive sand dunes all along the ocean. After setting up our rig, we took our battery-assist bikes with their big nubby tires down to the beach to investigate.

And, oh what a beach it was! 

Mike walking his ebike down to the edge where riding is easier

The swath of sand, an even yellowish cream shade, went on and on for miles without a soul in sight. Fog hung offshore in the distance, blending the horizon line. Millions of broken white clamshells and sand dollars punctuated the expanse. 

The ocean was a loud presence, the waves chaotic and jumbled, pushing seaweed and a rime of algae-green foam up under the bikes’ tires as we rode along the edge.

The lack of definition in the landscape brought on by the low gray sky and the smooth, endless sand gave the feeling of flying through an endless dreamscape.

I whooped aloud as wind tugged at the reflective vest, no doubt an eyesore against the monochromatic landscape—but there was no one around to see but Mike, swooping and arcing up and down the beach ahead of me. (His bike is bigger, and he loves speed even more than I do.)

I stopped periodically to peruse the piles of shells collected along with wave line. They were mostly shattered, piled in drifts like broken white china, arranged in patterns I couldn’t decipher. 

fascinating clamshell patterns

When we finally decided to turn around out of sheer tiredness (nowhere near any end of the beach) I curved around too fast, hit a patch of soft sand, and wiped out. 

I lay where I’d fallen for a moment, as one does when crashing after age fifty, just to make sure nothing was broken…and it wasn’t, though the ridged pedal had hit me in the shin. I sat up and inspected, drawing up my bloodied pant leg to inspect a nice fat contusion oozing now that a layer of skin was missing. 

Mike circled back to check on me as I was dusting the sand off myself and the bike. “I hang a leg down when I turn in case that happens,” he said, and demonstrated his technique. “You never know when you’re going to hit a soft spot.”

Riding these bikes is more like riding a silent motorbike than anything else.

Our battery-assist bikes are the most wonderful, exciting game-changer of an activity that we’ve found in years; but they are speedy and powerful, and even now, six months or so after buying them, Mike and I still wipe out regularly. 

I got back on, cranked my pedals, and we soared off into sweet infinity again. 

Are the hazards of these bikes worth it? 

One hundred percent. They’ve given us experiences we never could have had otherwise, without the noise, expense, hasssle and pollution of other kinds of transport. As older people in okay but not great shape, they’ve opened a new world of mobility to us.

If you enjoyed learning a little about what it’s like to ride an ebike on the beach, hit the little ❤️ and leave a comment!