Going blind inspired cyclist Devon Raney to bike Oregon’s coast with a crew of friends, surfboards in tow
Text and images by Jeff Hawe
Some people subscribe to a philosophy that adventure begins only after things go awry, when plans are tossed out the window due to an unforeseen circumstance. When Devon Raney and a collection of unlikely cyclists, mostly surfers in search of waves, set off southward via U.S. Route 101 from Washington to the Mexico border in 2013, they weren’t sure what kind of adventure they were in for.
The journey was the brainchild of Raney, who is energetic and driven, and brims with chiefly qualities. Raney encountered one sort of unforeseen circumstance in 2008, when he hit his head in a surfing accident. This triggered a hereditary disease known as Leber’s, which results in central vision loss. Within a month his eyesight began degenerating. Now in his mid-30s, Raney is 85 percent blind.
Because of this, the coastal tour was more than just a scenic surf trip. “It was about finding a new way to realize a dream in spite of significant road block,” says Raney, a resident of Bainbridge Island, Washington. He enlisted friends to pilot his tandem bike for sections of the winding route. Others tagged along solo, with saddlebags and surfboards in tow, ready to catch some waves along the coast.
“Honestly, the place I feel least blind is in the water, on a wave,” says Devon Raney, who led a crew of friends to cycle the U.S. coast from Washington to the Mexico border, and surf along the way.
The crew arrived in Oregon 13 days after setting out from Raney’s driveway. They found surf in Seaside, a small coastal community in northwestern Oregon, and then spent a night near Manzanita at Nehalem Bay State Park. The next day, they rode knee-high waves under the hot sun, then packed up and got back on their bikes. Along the way, when the ocean conditions were too lackluster for surf, they stopped for coffee and conversation with any colorful locals they came across.
Next, the crew rolled into Pacific City, where Raney was slated to compete in the Cape Kiwanda Longboard Classic surf competition. Raney grew up as a surfer in Southern California, and the ocean’s waves are a natural place for him. “Honestly, the place I feel least blind is in the water, on a wave,” he says. His friends give him tips on the subtleties of where to line up for a wave, and what the ocean’s conditions are like. He surfs with a sixth sense, and when the conditions are good, he surfs impressively.
But the day of the competition, the sets rolling into Kiwanda were 10 to 12 feet high, choppy and intimidating. Raney had to convince the friend who had signed up to spot the waves for him that he could paddle out without drowning. After Raney surfed a large wave in his competition heat, an extra-large set washed him and his spotter to the beach. Content that he completed what he signed up to do, Raney was OK, and possibly even elated, that he did not advance to the next round.
There is something exceptional about coastal Oregon, according to Raney. Cycling it highlights its best traits. “The 101 is a classic mix of Northwest [cycling]. You get spectacular ocean views broken up by quaint towns where you can rest up,” Raney says. This isn’t to say that it’s always a picture-perfect experience. Not long after the competition, rain descended. Over the next eight days of their journey, Raney and his crew pedaled through a steady downpour that could have rivaled the storm that floated Noah’s Ark. Only rarely did it lighten to a shower, and not once did they see the sun. But the many miles of riding through rain were tempered by the people they met in diners along the way. “We’d come in wet, dripping all over the floor, and they’d be cool while mopping up after us,” Raney says. “The highlight of my day became meeting people in the diners. The weather was bad enough where just a smile would make my day.”
One afternoon, while speeding toward the bottom of Brush Creek, just south of Port Orford, Raney and his friends began to feel the warm sunshine on their backs. In that moment, it dawned on them: The storm was breaking up. They pulled off the highway into Humbug Mountain State Park, pitched tents, and were on the beach by sunset, paddling into shoulder-high surf breaking fast along the sand. Grinning ear to ear, Raney and a friend hooted at each other and traded waves.
“My notable achievements in life have come with sacrifice and hard work,” Raney says. “When the sun came out … and the surf conditions turned to perfect glassy walls, I knew we had earned it. It was as if Mother Nature was saying fine, here you go, have some perfect weather and great surf for the rest of your journey.”