"Ack. I'm sick"
Somewhere in the last few days I managed to pick up a bug. I have a feeling it was the not-so-clear water I used to fill up my water bottles at the top of Mt. Walker. My plan was to hang out in Seattle for a day, but I might have to stretch that out a bit.
I took a look a good look at my bike when I got to Laurel's house. The chain was pretty dirty, and three spokes in the back were really loose. I tightened them, and the wheel turned into a big wobbly mess. Whoops. I dropped my bike off at a shop to have it trued and cleaned, and then went exploring with Laurel and Hamo, her boyfriend. We went down to Alki beach, on the shores of Puget Sound, and played some frisbee. From there, it was off to Capitol Hill, Seattle's "alternative district". Lunch was at Johnny Rockets, a 50's style diner. Neat place, except the multiply-pierced waiter seemed to clash with the squeaky-clean 50's atmosphere. Still, the burger and chili fries were yummy.
My sickness progressed through the day, slowly getting worse. By the time we went for dinner, around 9:00, I was none too happy.
"We had dinner at Cutter's, a restaurant where Laurel's friend Salon works. Once again, good food. Except for my insistence on consuming fast food crap, I'm actually eating very well on my vacation."
After dinner we went to the Pink Door, a little bar nearby. I was very excited about going here -- it was supposed to be very eclectic. Poetry reading, open mic, that sort of thing. Instead of clapping, the audience members would snap their fingers in approval. Unfortunately, nothing was happening when we got there. Too bad -- I was looking forward to grabbing the open mic myself and giving my singing a whirl. Instead, everyone settled down to drinks and I settled into a sickness-induced fog. Home and sleep, please.
"Unfortunately, Salon had different ideas. You see, her boyfriend of four years was having an affair, and she is in the midst of a very messy breakup. She went to see him around 2 am, and around 3 came up here for a crying session with Laurel. Salon's heart is being absolutely trampled by this guy.
I'd really like to talk to Salon about what she's going through, to bestow my great wisdom upon her. It's really a matter of giving her the confidence to believe in herself as a solitary instead of a couple. Because I feel so empowered right now (because of my trip), I feel that I can pass that empowerment along.
Unfortunately, I hardly know Salon and I don't think she really likes me all that much. Oh well -- maybe if I get to know her better."
"Today was lazy day."
Hamo drove me down to pick up my bike. They did a nice job, but they didn't seem to pick up on my hints that I might also appreciate any other favors they might be willing to throw in. I tell you, I'm just no good at getting free stuff.
On the way home I picked up groceries and -- finally -- ate at a Jack-In-The-Box.
Ever since first discovering JITB on a trip down to Disneyland 6 years ago, I have loved their food. Unfortunately, there aren't any in Canada. As you might guess, I was very excited about the prospect of enjoying a grilled sourdough burger with cheese sticks and egg rolls. Mmm...my mouth is watering even as I write this.
Unfortunately, JITB was a huge disappointment.
"JITB's employees were completely incompetent. They didn't have the first clue about how to be a part of a service-oriented business. When someone asked the difference between two menu items, they stumbled their way through an attempt at answering, then finally admitted they didn't know -- giggling all the while. I'd compare it to Wah's, but you just can't compare. At a large chain fast food restaurant, I expect fast, friendly, professional service. At a family-run greasy spoon, I expect comfort and good food. Wah gave me what I expected; JITB didn't."
I went home and consoled myself with the TV. Laurel is setting up a home-based bakery. While I was there, she was practicing making chocolate cheesecakes for a potential customer. YAHOO! "Umm....gee, Laurel, this is really good, but not quite good enough. I think you should make another one. Yeah, make another one." Brian, Laurel's roommate, is one lucky guy.
"Today was recuperation day."
Laurel and Brian both went to work, which meant that I was trapped in the apartment -- no key to lock the door, and no key to get back into the building. Probably a good thing -- I needed to sit tight and eliminate the remnants of the cold. I was guzzling Echinacea tea. I was also starting to get itchy to travel again.
Americans have public access TV, where any loser can put a show on the air. One guy had a show where he took calls from people smoking marijuana. He was having a contest to see who suck from a bong for the longest amount of time. Personally, I'm all for the decriminalization of marijuana, especially for medical uses. But sometimes, you run into some good examples of why drugs are a bad idea.
"I wonder if I'm going to finish this trip. If it was just me, I might turn back. But, I've got people expecting me in San Fran, and I couldn't stand the shame of not making it. This is hard to admit, although I imagine that I could convince myself that I'd enjoy anything -- and I am enjoying my trip. It's just that my attention is starting to wander back to home, and its projects. I think, when I get to SF, that I'm going to fly/train/bus home. BUT, I really want to see Petra. BUT she won't be in Flagstaff until September, meaning I either have to continue the bike trip or kill time. I suppose I could just fly out of Vancouver."
The weather has been pretty good so far. A little gloomy and cold and times, but no serious rain. That evening an thunderstorm passed through, but it got sunny later.
"I've decided that I'm going to find some wood and start doing some carving. I'll start with a wolf. After that I'll do my totem. But the wolf should take a while. Focus! Hopefully, I can have the stamina -- intellectually -- to see this through, along with the bike trip."
"Today was an easy day, as planned. Funny -- now that I've woken up to the realities of bicycle touring, I'm calling 35 miles an easy day. Pre-trip, 35 miles would have been average."
I left Laurel's apartment around 9 am, feeling low. Except for the odd scary-industrial-truck section, and the lack of clearly labeled directions, it was a good ride. Americans seem to have a knack for bad labeling. For example: there's a fork in the road, with a sign proclaiming "no bicycles" in the middle of the fork. Just around the corner (out of sight, of course), is where the bike route begins.
"I've been doing a lot of American-bashing lately -- out loud, written, and in my head. Laurel and Brian were good to put up with it. I wonder if it's just my desire to hate America (the concept) or if Americans really are stupid. Hmm."
I hung out in downtown Seattle for a while, along the waterfront and at Pike Place market. At 10:30 I went to see Laurel at her new job downtown. She works in a cafeteria on the sixth floor of a major bank. She seemed pretty excited to show the place off, but it was just a cafeteria. I took a picture and headed back to the market. I picked up some postcards and some fixings for dinner, had lunch, then hopped onto the ferry.
This time, I was smart. I avoided the six-miles-of-shit hill section between Bremerton and Southworth and took the ferry right to Bremerton. From there, I planned to backtrack until I got to Potlatch State Park, where I had camped 5 days earlier. At that point, I would rejoin the Pacific Coast Trail heading south.
"Bremerton to Belfair was just as I remembered it: hilly and boring with lots of cars. I drove by a naval shipyard and had a glimpse of the tops of some of the big boats. Man, Americans have a huge armed force. What are they so afraid of?"
After Belfair I got on a quieter road and just like last time, I had much more fun on it, winding along the edge of the Hood Canal."
I stopped in Twanoh State Park and set up camp. I was about 10 miles from rejoining the Pacific Coast trail.
"Dinner was tasty: mushroom rice, Louisana chicken sausage, and blanched sweet peas. I'm beginning to wish I'd brought my Calphalon frying pan. Frying in the thin bottomed half-pot I've got right now is nearly impossible because the flame is too hot."
After dinner I took a walk through the woods, up to the top of some kind of small mountain-like thing. I took lots of pictures of the forest, but none of them turned out very good. As I was walking a grabbed a chunk of wood which was about the right size for carving my wolf. I took a few hacks at it with my knife, then suddenly it hit me: carving is tediously boring. So much for that plan.
"Well, the weather was excellent today. Nice 'n hot, with good tailwinds (sometimes) and hardly any headwinds."
I was still backtracking down the same road I had used to get to Seattle. As I got near the southern end of the Hood Canal, I very much had dogs on my mind. As you may recall, two pitbull-like dogs had chased me, nearly giving me a heart attack, and this time I wanted to be ready for them.
I've heard lots of advice about dealing with cyclist-chasing dogs. Some people believe in carrying pepper sprays. One shot on the nose and your pursuer will drop in its tracks. One guy even had to pick up the previously offending, now whimpering canine and move him out of the street so a car wouldn't hit him. Another school of thought is to use your bike pump as a weapon. Unfortunately, mine was rather short and flimsy, and besides: I've never been much for aggression. The final suggestion I'd heard was to spray the dog with your water bottle. This sounded like the most humane, and most ineffective, solution.
Personally, I employ one of two strategies. The first is the "run like mad" strategy. I used this strategy quite effectively on numerous occasions. It works well if you've got a good head start -- most dogs can accelerate faster than a bicycle laden with 40 pounds of gear. The second strategy I use is the "get off my bike, say 'nice doggie' a lot, and hope the owner shows up soon" strategy. This one isn't as effective.
So, as I was cycling along I was keeping a careful eye out for these dogs. Like I said, I wanted to be ready for them. Then, it happened.
"A bee flew into my mouth. I mean, what are the odds? Fortunately, it didn't get past the front teeth. Unfortunately, it stung my lower lip. The lip quickly swelled up to three times its size. I looked like a freak -- and got a picture!"
I never did see those dogs.
Around 10 am I stopped at Denny's for breakfast #2, then went into a supermarket for some Kool-Aid. Bland water just wasn't cutting it at dinner anymore.
On my way out of the supermarket, I ran into a guy whom I had met when I had been camping with Dave and Sharon. Never did get his name, but his dog's name is Zeke. He's a Vietnam vet on a disability pension who spends his time camping around the country. According to Dave, he doesn't like Canadians. Must have an inferiority complex.
By this point my lip had un-swelled nicely. So much for that adventure.
"I stopped in McCleary for lunch -- sausage and a bagel. Read for a while, then talked to a guy who lives near the Columbia river. He started explaining all the little details for negotiating the various towns I'd be passing through -- I just smiled and nodded. Nice guy, though. He pointed out to me that one of the nice things about travelling is the people you meet. But we'll get to that."
After McCleary I biked for another hour or so to Lake Sylvia, on quiet country roads with plenty of tailwind. Lake Sylvia is a nice place -- and popular. It's got a little beach, but it's lake water (yuck!) so I didn't go swimming. I just sat on the grass and watched the beautiful women. After a while, I made dinner -- Mr. Noodles, with the last of my veggies and buns.
"And now we get to the meat of the matter. I'm lonely! Must have been all the pretty ladies. But still -- how much introspection can one soul take? After dinner I rented a canoe and went from one end of the lake to the other, taking pictures. It was nice, but I really wish I had someone to share this with. Or at least someone to talk to. Camp evenings are so boring. Besides, Ted Schredd found true love on his bike trip -- why can't I? Maybe that's what it all boils down to. Maybe somewhere in all these trees and roads and lakes is Miss Right.
My knees were pretty sore today, so tomorrow is short day -- only 30 miles. That'll give me more time to scour the shores of Lake Sylvia for her =)."
"I figured today would be an easy day."
I got up around 9:30 and had some couscous for breakfast. I went down to the beach to read, and watched kids playing in the water.
I finally got out of there at noon, and rode straight into hell: 4 hours of non-stop 20-mile-per-hour headwinds. I had to stand on the pedals all day. So much for taking an "easy" day.
"Late lunch was at Skipper's. All you can eat fish 'n chips for $3.99! Like I'm going to skip that. Back on the road, more headwinds, and the world's most boring highway. Flat, straight, and hedged in by ugly second-growth forest. If I hadn't been so pissed at the wind I would have yawned."
I stopped at a sausage market to grab some pepperoni and smoked cheese. They claimed to have the world's largest salmon on display, at 120 pounds, but it didn't look all that big.
I rolled into camp feeling tired and lonely. Hiker-biker camps tend to be in some conveniently forgotten corner of the park away from everyone else, and I hadn't run into any cyclists since Dave and Sharon. I set up the tent quickly and threw everything into it because I wanted to see the ocean. Through the trees, over the sand dune, and voila:
"Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. A huge expanse of beach, going on forever. Waves crashing forever. Making me feel small and insignificant -- man, I love that feeling. Made the headwinds worthwhile, but I was still lonely."
Well, I thought I'd try my luck at being friendly. A bunch of late-teens was sitting around a fire up the beach, so I walked up and asked if I could join them. We made small talk for a while, but gradually they all wandered off.
I walked back to my campsite, still feeling lonely. I tried calling home, my friends -- is anyone there? No answers. I called my voicemail box, updating my message so people from home could keep up with my trip. Why did I bother? I think only one person ever called it. I finally got hold of my family, and talked to Mom, Grandpa, and Nan. I felt much better afterwards. Not so lonely.
"Grabbed my books 'n stuff and walked to the beach, intending to write but I forgot my pen. Read instead. Walked back here, and that was my day. Hope tomorrow is better."
"Today was a good day."
I was up at 7:20 and on the road by 8. Breakfast consisted of 6 (six!) butterhorn danishes from the local grocery. Hey -- they were small.
The first 30 miles just whizzed by. There was a nice light tailwind, and no hills. The weather was kind of overcast and cool -- blah weather, but nice for cycling. Before I knew it, it was time for lunch. I stopped in Raymond. Raymond is famous for having rusty iron people dotting the roads. It's amazing what some people will do for tourists.
I had lunch at the Pizza Loft: small mexican pizza that didn't turn out to be so small after all. Extra-yummy.
As I was waiting for my lunch to arrive, another touring cyclist noticed my bike and came inside to introduce himself. Ta da! Loneliness prayers answered.
"Mike is 55, retired, ex-lawyer, ex-husband, who had enough of the stressful world and is now cycling down the coast. His touring style is much more relaxed than mine. When he's tired, he stops, sets up his bivy sack, and sleeps. His only plan is to get to San Diego (or is it LA?). He says he's done about 11,000 miles' worth of cycle touring.
Mike and I got along really well. We're both 'corporate dropouts', so to speak. Our cycling pace is about the same. We talked about many things -- touring, politics, stress. A refreshing change from Laurel and Brian -- when I bashed Americans, he didn't just smile and nod. He rebutted. I also made the mistake of arguing with another lawyer about whether lawyers are necessary -- although Mike was a little bit softer on me. He sees a lot of flaws with everything, all the systems -- medical, judicial, etc. He's even narrowed the problem down. It's everybody, and everything we do. Who we are. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a solution."
After lunch we rode together to Bay Center, about 20 miles, passing huge stacks of discarded oyster shells. Mike is a vegetarian. He claims he can't eat anything with eyes. I suggested that he might like eating oysters then, but he wasn't into it. His only exception is tuna -- caught in the wild, and the highest concentration of protein you can get. And besides, aluminum cans don't have eyes.
We drafted along the headwindy flat parts on the way to Bay Center -- my first time drafting. I didn't notice much of a difference. Maybe I should try riding closer. Mike certainly seemed to appreciate the times when I took the lead, though.
When we got to the town -- make that village -- we headed over to the KOA. Very fancy, but at $9, relatively expensive. Instead, we rolled over to Bush County Park -- only $5. All Mike needed was a shower, so he was happy. All I needed was somewhere to put my tent. I hadn't had a shower since Monday.
Dinner was an interesting comparison of travelling styles. I set up my stove and made a delightful pasta sauce with fresh tomatoes, onions and garlic, served over macaroni al dente. Mike opened up a can of beans and a can of spinach and ate them cold.
"Mike is carrying a gun. Scary, eh? Again, I ask: what are Americans so afraid of? He claims that he could us it to his benefit, with good supporting arguments, but I feel that a gun could just as easily be misused. Besides, everyone knows that guns are just bad. QED."
After dinner I took a walk through a very ugly forest, full of dying and split trees, with none of the lush greenery you see inland. The whole cliff by the ocean is made of clay and is slowly eroding away. Huge trees line the cliff with half their roots hanging in mid-air, and the beach is lined with the grayed skeletons of fallen logs.
"There's no beauty to it -- although I did take some pictures. The whole place conveys an unsettling sense of disease. Very yucky. Might be the light -- the clouds are pretty gloomy."
Tomorrow is short day again -- but this time I'm going to do it right and wake up at a normal hour so I can avoid the winds. We're going to Fort Canby, where we should be able to see the ocean again. Can't wait. I'm already planning to stay an extra day because I like it so much."