Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Back in the Saddle Again: Florence to Coos Bay
My first day back to riding started from Honeyman State Park where I camped in the hiker-biker sites with two other bikers. One was Gary- an older man of about 75 who had so much to say that asking a question felt like a big commitment but he had some pretty interesting travels under his belt. He rode from Ohio and had probably, at one point of another, toured across every part of the US.
The other camper was John- a big guy from Berkeley with a beer belly and a mountain man beard and paniers home-made out of white buckets, lots of screws and tape and big orange reflector strips. We each had a beer and chatted until it got too dark to see and then I went to sleep, or at least tried- giddy insomnia.
The next morning, I headed out down 101, passed a huge group of riders, stopped in a park for a picnic lunch and a few hours in, John came up riding next to me- chatted for a bit and then zoomed off. I thought I was making decent time but he and his flip flops and baseball cap left me in the dust! I spent my 60 miles alone singing Amarillo by Morning in my head and streaming an ongoing french commentary of everything I passed and awkward translations of all the street signs.
I rode through North Bend- to get there, I had to cross a bridge and press a little "biker on roadway" button beforehand, slowing the cars to an unbearable 30 mph on my account. The little logging town smelled like Christmas trees but as far as I could see, that was the only good thing about it. It was the only place along the trip where I got yelled at to get off the road and where cars seemed to very adamantly drive uncomfortably close to me. Eventually I made it- exhausted after 60 miles- to Sunset Bay State Park where there was in fact, a beautiful sunset over the crescent of water perfectly framed between two wooded cliffs.
The crowd that night was Mike- a CU Denver prof of literature who was on the final stretch of a tour from Denver, up to Canada, across to the coast and down to San Francisco. His pedometer just clicked 3000. DavidandPaula where a couple from North Carolina who rolled in all gear and gravity. Both were very chatty. While David prompted everyone for their life stories, Paula compared stats and mileage, experience, stories and equipment with us- her perceived competition. "Hey that's a great little stove you've got there. How do you like that? Is that from REI? Uh huh uh huh ya we've got a similar one. It might be the next years model, I'm not sure. But that ones working out for you?" ...Um I'm boiling water! Of course it's working out for me!
And then there was James- the self-proclaimed autistic bum who had found a way to skip between campsites, pay the hiker-biker $5 a night and, subsisting entirely in clif bars, managed to spend his whole summer camping on the Oregon coast. Not bad.
The other camper was John- a big guy from Berkeley with a beer belly and a mountain man beard and paniers home-made out of white buckets, lots of screws and tape and big orange reflector strips. We each had a beer and chatted until it got too dark to see and then I went to sleep, or at least tried- giddy insomnia.
The next morning, I headed out down 101, passed a huge group of riders, stopped in a park for a picnic lunch and a few hours in, John came up riding next to me- chatted for a bit and then zoomed off. I thought I was making decent time but he and his flip flops and baseball cap left me in the dust! I spent my 60 miles alone singing Amarillo by Morning in my head and streaming an ongoing french commentary of everything I passed and awkward translations of all the street signs.
I rode through North Bend- to get there, I had to cross a bridge and press a little "biker on roadway" button beforehand, slowing the cars to an unbearable 30 mph on my account. The little logging town smelled like Christmas trees but as far as I could see, that was the only good thing about it. It was the only place along the trip where I got yelled at to get off the road and where cars seemed to very adamantly drive uncomfortably close to me. Eventually I made it- exhausted after 60 miles- to Sunset Bay State Park where there was in fact, a beautiful sunset over the crescent of water perfectly framed between two wooded cliffs.
The crowd that night was Mike- a CU Denver prof of literature who was on the final stretch of a tour from Denver, up to Canada, across to the coast and down to San Francisco. His pedometer just clicked 3000. DavidandPaula where a couple from North Carolina who rolled in all gear and gravity. Both were very chatty. While David prompted everyone for their life stories, Paula compared stats and mileage, experience, stories and equipment with us- her perceived competition. "Hey that's a great little stove you've got there. How do you like that? Is that from REI? Uh huh uh huh ya we've got a similar one. It might be the next years model, I'm not sure. But that ones working out for you?" ...Um I'm boiling water! Of course it's working out for me!
And then there was James- the self-proclaimed autistic bum who had found a way to skip between campsites, pay the hiker-biker $5 a night and, subsisting entirely in clif bars, managed to spend his whole summer camping on the Oregon coast. Not bad.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Eugene
I spent last night in Eugene with Ariel. Staying with her in her bro-filled college house felt more like roughing it than any of the camping I've done so far. We made dinner last night which involved digging through piles of dishes and trash to get to a cutting board or pan. Consistent, the dinner came out really well. I fell asleep on the couch to a roo Eugene is grungy. But cute. The river running through town is gorgeous and there's a grocery market two blocks away from her house- Sundance- that is so fantastic, friendly and hippy-wonderful that just that market alone made me consider transferring schools. Well that and the righteously awesome urban agriculture program they have. Ariel and I walked around the farm on campus yesterday- dipping into greenhouses and picking raspberries. Everything grows here. I think I'll move. I chose between 10 different options of bulk peanut butter at Sundance and got a little jar for my trip. Off to the coast tonight- finally! My rideshare flaked on me twice but is now coming through. And off on the road again tomorrow morning.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Trust Anyway
I really value the concept of trust. It's so important I think to hand some control over to the world. We have such limited control anyway, people who try so hard to manage everything that goes on around them end up just driving themselves crazy. So why even try. Take care of the things that are within your power and leave the rest alone.
The metaphor that makes the most sense to me is getting wiped out by a wave. If you've ever been taken out by a wave, you know that the ocean is much more powerful than you are and trying to fight it is futile and will only exhaust you. So give in, enjoy the ride and soon enough- although it feels like forever- you'll be jettisoned up to the surface again. I've gotten into a lot of ridiculous situations where relaxing and waiting it out has saved me- almost losing all of my bags the first night I got to Kenya, alone, at night and exhausted. Getting off busses into cities not being able to speak any of the language and somehow trying to meet up with a friend who I have no contact with and it somehow all just... working out.
When I was in Seattle, the day before loading up my bike and heading off, I was in a cafe with Kevin- our table covered with maps, pens, and coffees- I went to the bathroom and glancing up on the wall- the only thing written on the wall, in perfect handwriting, exactly at my eye level- was a little carving that said "Trust Anyway". I love that. Despite all odds, again and again, just trust. What else can you do? So I assume that's a pretty good theme for this trip, this summer of adventure and unexpected waking into situations that no one could have planned.
But I've always put my trust into the world, the general flow of things, rarely having to trust and count on other people. I've always managed to float between the cracks unnoticed, plan things so as to only have to rely on myself. Now, however, setting out to camp and cycle alone, I have to put a lot of trust in other people. Trusting that the guy whose giving me a ride to the coast is, in fact, just giving me a ride to the coast. And trusting that, when camping alone at night, I'll be fine. I am a very trusting person and don't consider things like this "risky" but it is interesting to, every once in a while, consider how vulnerable I actually am. And remember how much of social interactions are a bit of a contract. A trusting agreement that no one will cross any boundaries... but it would be so easy to and in that situation, I would be utterly powerless. Hmm.
I'm still going to the coast and I still plan on camping alone- I'm actually really looking forward to it. But it's just an interesting new dimension to traveling. As a little girl with braids and a plastic painted ukulele sticking out of her paniers- teetering on the shoulder of Hwy 101.
The metaphor that makes the most sense to me is getting wiped out by a wave. If you've ever been taken out by a wave, you know that the ocean is much more powerful than you are and trying to fight it is futile and will only exhaust you. So give in, enjoy the ride and soon enough- although it feels like forever- you'll be jettisoned up to the surface again. I've gotten into a lot of ridiculous situations where relaxing and waiting it out has saved me- almost losing all of my bags the first night I got to Kenya, alone, at night and exhausted. Getting off busses into cities not being able to speak any of the language and somehow trying to meet up with a friend who I have no contact with and it somehow all just... working out.
When I was in Seattle, the day before loading up my bike and heading off, I was in a cafe with Kevin- our table covered with maps, pens, and coffees- I went to the bathroom and glancing up on the wall- the only thing written on the wall, in perfect handwriting, exactly at my eye level- was a little carving that said "Trust Anyway". I love that. Despite all odds, again and again, just trust. What else can you do? So I assume that's a pretty good theme for this trip, this summer of adventure and unexpected waking into situations that no one could have planned.
But I've always put my trust into the world, the general flow of things, rarely having to trust and count on other people. I've always managed to float between the cracks unnoticed, plan things so as to only have to rely on myself. Now, however, setting out to camp and cycle alone, I have to put a lot of trust in other people. Trusting that the guy whose giving me a ride to the coast is, in fact, just giving me a ride to the coast. And trusting that, when camping alone at night, I'll be fine. I am a very trusting person and don't consider things like this "risky" but it is interesting to, every once in a while, consider how vulnerable I actually am. And remember how much of social interactions are a bit of a contract. A trusting agreement that no one will cross any boundaries... but it would be so easy to and in that situation, I would be utterly powerless. Hmm.
I'm still going to the coast and I still plan on camping alone- I'm actually really looking forward to it. But it's just an interesting new dimension to traveling. As a little girl with braids and a plastic painted ukulele sticking out of her paniers- teetering on the shoulder of Hwy 101.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Recouping in Portland
Kevin and I got very conveniently swept up from that Bar and Grill and got a ride the rest of the 25 miles to Portland. So out of the 200 or so miles from Seattle to Portland, we did 175 of them. Not bad. The roads getting into Portland would have been hectic and confusing anyway, especially after that day. Jodie, our very accommodating host, took us out to dinner after showers, to this great brew pub on Hawthorne where I ran into a barista from my favorite coffee shop in Boulder. Bizarre.
The next day, Kevin and I wandered around aimlessly and eventually got to talking about how, although as friends we get along great, in terms of traveling/living, were maybe not as compatible as we hoped. I like my vegetables cut in big chunks, he likes them small and neatly diced. When annoyed, I get quiet and direct, he gets jittery. Which pisses me off. Which makes him submissive and overly-accommodating. Which pisses me off more. When he's in a bad mood, he wants a hug. When I'm in a bad mood, I don't want to be touched. So building and stewing, we both admitted that traveling together was a huge expenditure of social energy for both of us- energy that we dont necessarily have to spare after riding 50 miles and problem solving, fixing chains, getting lost and unlost and riding alongside hectic traffic with bad knees all day. So we toyed with the idea of parting ways. For a leg of the trip at least.
Thinking of what I WOULD do if we did decide to go different directions, I called Vicki and Joel- old family friends who live in Corvallis. Vicki picked up and said it would be great to have me. Not just that but is it possible I could get there before 5 on Saturday because Joel is playing percussion in a Latin band that night, opening for Bobby McFerrin. Umm... Yes!!
So I scrounged for a ride on craigslist- mid Costa Rican fusion, food cart meal on park benches- and emailed as many people as I could, not to hear back from them until this morning. I'm getting picked up at 2. Perfect! Crazy how these things play out.
So Kevin is in a sensory deprivation saline float tank at some hole-in-the-wall we stumbled upon last night, and I'm at my temporary sanctuary- a great cafe down the street with lots of varied sitting options and free refills, waiting for the bike shop to open up so I can get my derailer tweaked.
The funny thing is I feel settled having this plan but it only takes account for the next 2 days or so and after that, I have no idea what I'm going to do. Time stretches out at times like this and knowing where I'll be sleeping any given night is a luxury. Amidst the rises and falls (I definitely had a fall yesterday- a "why am I here? This is stupid. I want to be home, watch Love Actually and make dinner with my mom. Fuck this" moment), I love this type of traveling. And in Portland, equipped with a wallet and a rain jacket, what's the worst that could happen really? Although thats not a challenge.
The next day, Kevin and I wandered around aimlessly and eventually got to talking about how, although as friends we get along great, in terms of traveling/living, were maybe not as compatible as we hoped. I like my vegetables cut in big chunks, he likes them small and neatly diced. When annoyed, I get quiet and direct, he gets jittery. Which pisses me off. Which makes him submissive and overly-accommodating. Which pisses me off more. When he's in a bad mood, he wants a hug. When I'm in a bad mood, I don't want to be touched. So building and stewing, we both admitted that traveling together was a huge expenditure of social energy for both of us- energy that we dont necessarily have to spare after riding 50 miles and problem solving, fixing chains, getting lost and unlost and riding alongside hectic traffic with bad knees all day. So we toyed with the idea of parting ways. For a leg of the trip at least.
Thinking of what I WOULD do if we did decide to go different directions, I called Vicki and Joel- old family friends who live in Corvallis. Vicki picked up and said it would be great to have me. Not just that but is it possible I could get there before 5 on Saturday because Joel is playing percussion in a Latin band that night, opening for Bobby McFerrin. Umm... Yes!!
So I scrounged for a ride on craigslist- mid Costa Rican fusion, food cart meal on park benches- and emailed as many people as I could, not to hear back from them until this morning. I'm getting picked up at 2. Perfect! Crazy how these things play out.
So Kevin is in a sensory deprivation saline float tank at some hole-in-the-wall we stumbled upon last night, and I'm at my temporary sanctuary- a great cafe down the street with lots of varied sitting options and free refills, waiting for the bike shop to open up so I can get my derailer tweaked.
The funny thing is I feel settled having this plan but it only takes account for the next 2 days or so and after that, I have no idea what I'm going to do. Time stretches out at times like this and knowing where I'll be sleeping any given night is a luxury. Amidst the rises and falls (I definitely had a fall yesterday- a "why am I here? This is stupid. I want to be home, watch Love Actually and make dinner with my mom. Fuck this" moment), I love this type of traveling. And in Portland, equipped with a wallet and a rain jacket, what's the worst that could happen really? Although thats not a challenge.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Day 6. Kalama to Portland
Today was the first day that I can safely say was a total fucking disaster.
The only thing more fun than putting on spandex on a rainy morning is putting on wet spandex on a rainy morning. Head out along a frontage road and turned into the mountains when the road dead ended. The road lead through although not TOO steep, relentless, never-ending mountains which- because of bad knees and low morale, were mostly walked. A valiant effort by Kevin to get back up and tough out the ride resulted in a broken chain which he was able to fix as I forced water and food on him. More relentless hills and unsympathetic trucks. Turns out we made a wrong turn which lead us even deeper into these totally demoralizing awful mountains. Each time we hit a summit, the road would descend for maybe a minute before heading back up. I didn't know it was possible to form such bad associations with such beautiful hills but I fucking hate those goddamn mountains. A truck passed by mid-desperation and we put our thumbs out desperately- to get a ride or at least ask where the hell we were. The truck passed right by and after laughing in disbelief, Kevin and I spent the next ten minutes concocting all the awful things we wanted to do to that dickhole. I'd shove my campi derailer straight up his ass. That got some laughs out of us which quickly ended as we turned yet another corner to find yet another snake of road heading straight up. We were completely resigned into walking by this point and, trying to be positive, I pulled my phone out to take a picture because the crest of the mountains, through a thin layer of trees and off into a white sheet of clouded sky really was beautiful. My bike slipped and in order to catch it, I dropped my phone and the screen shattered. Fuckin great. Although at that point it was just resentfully humorous and I took that fucking picture anyway.
No descent could have made up for all of that, although it tried. The scenery would have been gorgeous if we didn't completely hate the world at this point. We had gone maybe 15 miles in 3 hours. Maybe less. All up. In the midst of the deserted mountain road down, we passed two adorable boys with a lemonade stand. I laughed at the serendipity (the mountains were completely deserted, it was a ridiculous place to have a lemonade stand and then there was us, probably desperately in need of lemonade but way too resetful to resign into enjoyment that easily). Kevin bombed passed them and I followed.
Once we got down to the frontage road again, we stopped at the first place we could find- Fat Moose Bar and Grill, where we're still holed up. Kevin's friend in Portland who we're staying with tonight offered a ride. Thank god. That means laundry, a shower and a nap is in my very near future, yes!
The only thing more fun than putting on spandex on a rainy morning is putting on wet spandex on a rainy morning. Head out along a frontage road and turned into the mountains when the road dead ended. The road lead through although not TOO steep, relentless, never-ending mountains which- because of bad knees and low morale, were mostly walked. A valiant effort by Kevin to get back up and tough out the ride resulted in a broken chain which he was able to fix as I forced water and food on him. More relentless hills and unsympathetic trucks. Turns out we made a wrong turn which lead us even deeper into these totally demoralizing awful mountains. Each time we hit a summit, the road would descend for maybe a minute before heading back up. I didn't know it was possible to form such bad associations with such beautiful hills but I fucking hate those goddamn mountains. A truck passed by mid-desperation and we put our thumbs out desperately- to get a ride or at least ask where the hell we were. The truck passed right by and after laughing in disbelief, Kevin and I spent the next ten minutes concocting all the awful things we wanted to do to that dickhole. I'd shove my campi derailer straight up his ass. That got some laughs out of us which quickly ended as we turned yet another corner to find yet another snake of road heading straight up. We were completely resigned into walking by this point and, trying to be positive, I pulled my phone out to take a picture because the crest of the mountains, through a thin layer of trees and off into a white sheet of clouded sky really was beautiful. My bike slipped and in order to catch it, I dropped my phone and the screen shattered. Fuckin great. Although at that point it was just resentfully humorous and I took that fucking picture anyway.
No descent could have made up for all of that, although it tried. The scenery would have been gorgeous if we didn't completely hate the world at this point. We had gone maybe 15 miles in 3 hours. Maybe less. All up. In the midst of the deserted mountain road down, we passed two adorable boys with a lemonade stand. I laughed at the serendipity (the mountains were completely deserted, it was a ridiculous place to have a lemonade stand and then there was us, probably desperately in need of lemonade but way too resetful to resign into enjoyment that easily). Kevin bombed passed them and I followed.
Once we got down to the frontage road again, we stopped at the first place we could find- Fat Moose Bar and Grill, where we're still holed up. Kevin's friend in Portland who we're staying with tonight offered a ride. Thank god. That means laundry, a shower and a nap is in my very near future, yes!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Day 6. Lewis and Clark to Kalama
It wasnt raining this morning, which made life so much easier. Lots of cows and rivers on the route through farms. The hills here and there rocked my raspy throat and lungs. It started to rain about 20 miles in and then, when it started to really pour, the hill we just crested lead straight to a burger joint featuring not only elk burgers- we were starving- but also decent coffee, an overhang for the bikes, dangerously comfortable bench seats and lots of people happy to give directions and advice. We figured out our campsite for the night from a cab driver and someone living in Vancouver gave us his card if we need anything. Might take him up on that. Great day today. The rest day was needed. The shoulder that I strained a few months ago climbing, is hurting a little bit but hopefully it won't get to be a problem. The stretch from Castle Rock- where we had those life saving burgers- to Kelso was shitty- rainy and along a pretty busy road, plopping us into a very bike-unfriendly city where the awning of a Safeway served as a welcomed respite. I raided the bulk bins for a budget snack. On the last stretch to our campsite in Kalama, it poured but felt surprisingly good and it stopped right as we got to the campsite.
Nothing is muted when you're traveling or post-excerice and especially not when they're combined. Senses are wide open and average things are incredible. Despite or maybe because of the fact that we've been lugging around 30 pounds of weight each, sleeping without mats, showering only when acutely necessary- my body feels fantastic and I'm so happy. There's this nice point of traveling at which you get into the groove of simplicity and everything mellows out- when the brain finally starts to slow down. Lovely. It's so easy to not get caught up thibking about the future when you know so little of it.
And there's a beautiful full moon tonight- go check it out!
Nothing is muted when you're traveling or post-excerice and especially not when they're combined. Senses are wide open and average things are incredible. Despite or maybe because of the fact that we've been lugging around 30 pounds of weight each, sleeping without mats, showering only when acutely necessary- my body feels fantastic and I'm so happy. There's this nice point of traveling at which you get into the groove of simplicity and everything mellows out- when the brain finally starts to slow down. Lovely. It's so easy to not get caught up thibking about the future when you know so little of it.
And there's a beautiful full moon tonight- go check it out!
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Day 4 Centralia to Lewis and Clark old growth forest
Kevin and I left this morning after stocking up on oatmeal and fruit from the continental breakfast at the hotel we begrudgingly paid for. The ride was hilly and hills, I found, are a lot harder with an extra 30 pounds on the bike. It felt great to work a little harder though. It was so quiet riding through the hills, amplifying the sound of my derailer clicking away above the mellow farmland, the smell of rain and fresh cut grass. The clouds socked us in in a way that held everything in place and muted every movement and noise around us. We picnicked next to a creek in the beginning of the old growth forest and later found a campsite deep in it, everything dripping with moss and dew. It rained in the kind of way where water was just held in the air, clinging onto things without falling.
Today, day 5 I guess, we decided to stay here for the day. It rained in the morning so we made breakfast and coffee in a little rain shed up the road, over maps and a tiny magnetic chess set. Kevin's knee is not so good and my cold is in the stage where blowing my nose is like kicking off a siphon and I'm running out of things to blow it in. So we hitch-hiked to a town nearby with an old bumbly guy who insisted on giving us a very complete tour of everything in the one-block town before letting us out in front of a cafe, the only place in town that sells anything not deep fried. Lovin the country music. My goal for the night is to write a country song on the uke. Seriously, how hard could it be? I got that twang down!
Today, day 5 I guess, we decided to stay here for the day. It rained in the morning so we made breakfast and coffee in a little rain shed up the road, over maps and a tiny magnetic chess set. Kevin's knee is not so good and my cold is in the stage where blowing my nose is like kicking off a siphon and I'm running out of things to blow it in. So we hitch-hiked to a town nearby with an old bumbly guy who insisted on giving us a very complete tour of everything in the one-block town before letting us out in front of a cafe, the only place in town that sells anything not deep fried. Lovin the country music. My goal for the night is to write a country song on the uke. Seriously, how hard could it be? I got that twang down!
Monday, July 11, 2011
Day 3
Elma to Centralia today. It was so gorgeous! Best ride so far. We followed quiet streets though farmlands and meadows. We had a late start and Kevin's knee hurt for the ride so we took it easy. Picnic for lunch in a field of daisies off of the road. We stopped at one point later on where a path cut off from the main road. It was lined with tall grasses and fairy tale flowers and blackberry bushes, leading up through a dark wet forest until it cleared and dipped down into a perfect still meadow of flowers. I was constantly hungry for the whole day. Were going through Gatorade powder at record speeds. Stopped for cherries by the side of the road, Kevin's lip had a run in with a bee and the bee won- that and his knee made for a quiet, stewing ride for a little bit. When we got into Centralia, we headed straight to the nearest cafe which was a starbucks. It was like an oasis of air conditioning and huge arm chairs. I got a large coffee and obviously I don't speak Starbucks because I got a coffee big enough to take a sponge bath in. I could probably have fit my entire head in the cup. It was a little ridiculous. The campsite we were planning to stay at no longer existed and we didn't have a backup plan or any more daylight so we got a hotel room for the night. 35 miles today. I'm itching to do more but Kevin's knee takes precedence. I just hope it passes and doesn't last for the whole trip. It's probably not a bad idea to take it slow though to start. We still two weeks to go and I'm totally sick. Which means that in a few days, Kevin will probably also be totally sick.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Day 2
I, pre-coffee, scoured maps as Kevin explained thermal dynamics to me. Rode along the water some more until it T-ed with Highway 101. Gorgeous but trafficky. In a little town called Mcreavy, we stumbled upon a county fair and walked around dazed in bike shorts. It's funny passing through Americana as yuppie cyclists, wearing ray-bans, clacking through the supermarket in clip-in shoes, sucking on energy gel. We ended up camping on a lawn in an RV park- all the different forms of "camping" all indiscriminately translate to a little red teepee on maps. But it was actually great. There was another group of cyclists camping there, we were so exhausted from the day that we were thrilled to have a place to cook and sleep, free firewood, a bottle of wine and chili and I was asleep 3 minutes after getting in the tent. It feels so good to be exhausted in that way- like every pore of the body has been flushed out and cleansed. 50 miles
Bike Trip Day 1
Ever since doing a little impromptu bike trip in Holland two summers ago- from Amsterdam to Brussels, I've wanted to do another one. Simply because it is THE best way to travel. It is the perfect pace to go at so that you can see everything, stumble upon local happenings, farmers markets, music festivals, it is so easy to meet people when traveling on bike because everyone wants to know what the hell you're doing, where you're from and everyone is eager to dish out advice which sometimes is helpful. But almost always nice to receive anyway. Also waking up in the morning from some beautiful campsite knowing that all you have to do that day is bike and eat and find another beautiful campsite is so nice. Food tastes amazing when you're doing so much and the constant activity means that you're almost always hungry. Which for me, is the most wonderful thing in the world. Biking along through sprawling countryside lends itself to so many incredible picnic sites. And the whole body exhaustion of being outside all day everyday, cycling for hours and hours usually results in- for me at least- giddy, slap happy enthusiasm which is better than any high you could pay for. So I planned this trip thinking I have to take advantage of a summer during which I don't have a lease or a job. Finding someone to do it with was difficult so I had no idea what was going to happen about 3 weeks ago, when my friend Kevin gave me a call and said he was getting tickets to Seattle with his bike. Perfect. So here I am.
Day 1. Kevin and I woke up way too early after not nearly enough sleep. I had a sore throat, it was drizzling outside, I blinked some fuzzy contacts into my eyes and started packing my bike up. By the time Kevin and I packed, I was very clearly carrying pretty much everything. Pre-coffee nihilism and dread quickly turned into post-coffee adventure mode and unabashed enthusiasm. Kevin and I bonked our loaded bikes down the staircase of the apartment where we stayed the night before and we took off, riding very precariously through Seattle traffic to our bus stop. We sat on the bus cringing as we watched our bikes sway on the front rack. We got to a port and onto a ferry to Bremerton which- right on a gorgeous lake across from Seattle, should have been really cute. But it was not at all. It was in bumfuck nowhere, filled with a bunch of bumfucks and all of the streets we had to turn on were ridiculously steep and unrelenting. After getting lost every turn we made and battling hills for two hours, we estimated to have gone about... 3 miles. Awesome. Only 997 to go. Eventually, we got on a pretty mellow road in between a gorgeous clear lake and an enchanted Jurassic Park forest until we found a campsite surrounding by mossy trees and a creek and little rays of sunlight coming through the trees making the plants look luminescent. We enjoyed trying to start a fire with wet wood for about 2 hours. A very mentally taxing day but a good start. About 25 miles finally covered.
Day 1. Kevin and I woke up way too early after not nearly enough sleep. I had a sore throat, it was drizzling outside, I blinked some fuzzy contacts into my eyes and started packing my bike up. By the time Kevin and I packed, I was very clearly carrying pretty much everything. Pre-coffee nihilism and dread quickly turned into post-coffee adventure mode and unabashed enthusiasm. Kevin and I bonked our loaded bikes down the staircase of the apartment where we stayed the night before and we took off, riding very precariously through Seattle traffic to our bus stop. We sat on the bus cringing as we watched our bikes sway on the front rack. We got to a port and onto a ferry to Bremerton which- right on a gorgeous lake across from Seattle, should have been really cute. But it was not at all. It was in bumfuck nowhere, filled with a bunch of bumfucks and all of the streets we had to turn on were ridiculously steep and unrelenting. After getting lost every turn we made and battling hills for two hours, we estimated to have gone about... 3 miles. Awesome. Only 997 to go. Eventually, we got on a pretty mellow road in between a gorgeous clear lake and an enchanted Jurassic Park forest until we found a campsite surrounding by mossy trees and a creek and little rays of sunlight coming through the trees making the plants look luminescent. We enjoyed trying to start a fire with wet wood for about 2 hours. A very mentally taxing day but a good start. About 25 miles finally covered.
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