Port Townsend

Out of the corner of my eye I could make out three, maybe four photographers snapping away. I think, although I did not look, if I would have looked up, I would have seen a boom mike.

“Did you come to Port Townsend just for this?” an excited voice asked. How could I break the news that we did even know what festival we were currently at.

So I replied, “Yes! We did!” with a huge smile and nod.

Just twenty minutes earlier Melissa and I had gotten off the Port Townsend ferry and entered the town with one purpose: to stock up on food before pitching our tent at the state park a few miles down the road. We rode down the town’s Norman Rockwell-ish main street while people (and I can’t say for certain if I imagined this or not) waved and smiled at us. The air of the town felt different. It felt . . . festive.

I had been concerned with looking to my right while riding through town, where we could see the cold gray water that we had just crossed. But in a quick glance down a side street to my left, I saw a flurry of action. There were twenty people in official looking matching t-shirts setting up rows of hay bales, which were being set to face an official looking stage. Others, to the back of the street, were setting up a massive buffet line under a grand white tent.

“Did you see that?! A festival!” I barely managed to shout as I whipped a u-turn (of course, in true Melissa fashion, she was oblivious to all of it.) I’ve been begging for a town festival as of late, so I was thrilled.

We walked our bikes through the buzz of activity and stopped at the back street corner, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Are you ladies here for the film festival?” a small, impeccably dressed older woman sporting a ‘Women for Obama’ button asked. Her question was followed by another person’s question (“Where are you two coming from?”), who was followed by another (“Bike tour, eh?”), who was followed by another (“All this way for the festival?”) until Melissa and I were surrounded by what seemed like 50 questioning townspeople and accompanying photographers and videographers.

For a minute, we were the main event at this festival. Questions were being asked rapid fire and we could barely answer them all, both of us holding four different conversations at once.

“Where are you staying?” no one in particular asked.

“Well you could probably stay at my dental office,” said another voice.

“Really?” I asked, racking my brain for what this man might have just said. . . . stay at my garage . . . ? extra office . . . ? guest room? I thought what he had just said started with a “D” and sounded like “dental”, but that couldn’t possibly be it. We’d never been offered a business to sleep in . . . let alone a dentist’s office. Or any place with needles and drills (or any other place the Melissa fears and avoids -- he might as well have said, “Here! Sleep in my airplane! While I fly through turbulence! And oh! My dentist is on board! Can he clean your teeth for you?!). Wait-- did he just offer us a place to stay at his dental office?!

He did! He totally did. He gave us a key and directions and sent us off. We dropped off our bikes (at the dentist’s office!) and attended the outside viewing of American Graffiti at the11th annual Port Townsend Film Festival.

Brooke

Anacortes

Months before we left for the trip, I was scouring Columbus for other people who had completed bicycle tours of their own. To put it mildly, over the rather depressing Ohio winter, deep in the planning phase of this trip, I had a few anguished moments which left me feeling like my plan was stupid, unrealistic and half baked. I was worried that I was just running from some as yet unidentified problem, or taking the easy way out. I was desperate to find someone who had done some touring of their own, so they could reassure me, so they could tell me it would be worth it. Realistically, I knew that was a tall order. Ultimately, I am the only one capable of deciding what risks are worth taking in my life. But still, I needed to hear the plus side of someone else’s pivotal decision to take off on a bike across the country.

That person was Todd Shaw. I was in court wrapping up some cases from the morning docket, when the judge who was hearing my cases for the day suggested I go talk to Magistrate Shaw about my plans to embark on the bike trip. I was sheepish, and totally overanalyzed the entire thing. I didn’t want to bother the guy, and I felt insecure about just popping down to his office to pick his brain about bike tours. And, I especially didn’t want to come off like I needed I pep talk, I wanted to seem self assured. Determined. So I put it off for a few days. But, finally I decided to go introduce myself and ask him to share some of his bicycle touring stories.

Man, his face immediately lit up while he riffled through his desk to pull out pictures from the trip he and his wife took across the country on a tandem. He traced for me on a map the route they took, and it was evident that he cherished the memories. He said it was the best time of their lives. He told me just what I wanted to hear. He told me with certainty that I’d never regret going on the tour. I left his office about an hour later with my enthusiasm and confidence was restored. As I was walking out the door, he said, “if you go through Anacortes let me know and I’ll arrange for you to stay at my home there.” At the time, I didn’t think I’d ever take him up on that offer. I thought it was probably just a polite gesture. But, now that I’m in bike touring mentality where I make it a rule to accept the kindness coming my way, I called him up and asked him if the offer to stay in Anacortes was still open. It was. It turns out that his wife Kathleen was just getting back in to town and was happy to accommodate us for the night.

When we got off the ferry in Anacortes, Kathleen was there with her bike ready to lead us to her house. We followed her to her place, and not five minutes in the door we were swapping bike tour stories. It was awesome to hear the enthusiasm in her voice about her and her husband’s bike trip, which was about ten years ago. The experience is still with her in such an apparent way, so again, talking with her I was reassured that these memories will be with me forever. This trip will shape who I am, in so many positive ways and I’m really looking forward to the day when I can give back the kindness that has been tossed my way.

Kathleen cooked us a delicious vegetarian meal and had chocolate bars and cookies for us. We did laundry, got a good night’s sleep and took off for Port Townsend the next morning.

If this bike trip has taught me anything, it is this: be willing to accept the kindness of strangers and be kind back. Take the extra step to be nice. Offer to help people when you think they need it. It is enriching for everyone involved. I know this sounds unsophisticated and obvious, but to really put it in practice is a tremendous thing. So, thanks Todd and Kathleen for the amazing night of rest in your home. We will pass the big-heartedness and generosity forward!

Melissa

Bridge coming out of Anacortes.

Orcas Island

We went to Orcas Island ready to climb Mt. Constitution. The view from Mt. Constitution, we had been told, is the eighth wonder of the world. The climb is “epic” and “brutal”, with 80 hairpin switchbacks and steep inclines. One three mile section has an average grade of 10%.

I wish that I could tell you about that climb. I wish I could tell you how we soldiered up that mountain and took in the 360 degree views of Vancouver, the Cascade Range, the rest of the San Juan Islands and the Olympic Range. But . . . we didn’t see much beyond the fog and rain from inside our tent at the base of the climb.

On a clear day, you can climb up Mt. Constitution and see forever. On a foggy, rainy, windy day, you can barely see one foot in front of your face. We went to the island with the main purpose of getting to the top, but left the island without even attempting to make the trek.

Brooke

San Juan Island

By the time we got off the ferry and through U.S. customs on San Juan Island, it was 7:40 p.m. and getting dark fast. Looking lost, as we so often do when staring at the map, a man, speech slurred and stance slightly wavering in the breeze, offered to help us find a campground. Melissa and I weren’t, but probably should have been, taking into account that we were standing outside a bar.

“Go this way,” the man said, pointing at an island on the map that was not the one we were currently standing on.

“Here,” he said firmly, then pointed in a huge gesture down the road. “Just follow this road, towards that big cloud.”

And the crazy part is, we did. We followed his directions. Until . . . we ran into a dead end not but two blocks away from the bar. But we thought, hey this is an island! we can’t get too lost! So we continued out of town on a nearby road (towards the cloud), which went smoothly until it got way too dark way too soon.

We stopped at a house, hoping to get some more directions, but it proved useless. And then, like angels sent from above, Katie and Kyle rolled up on their bikes. “You guys okay?” they asked. And just like that, they offered to let us sleep on their property.

We followed them, and their headlights, six miles inland, up a huge hill and down a steep gravel road, in the pitch dark. We arrived on their property, which they share with Katie’s parents, and were immediately invited in for a late supper, which turned into an invitation to sleep in their guest room.

The dad, Dennis, is a retired Lutheran minister and the next morning he cooked us a great breakfast and packed us a sack lunch, complete with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (cut in half, of course) and freshly baked zucchini bread. After hugs and pictures, Melissa and I headed off to the San Juan County Park on the other side of the island.

The San Juan County Park, without a doubt, is the most beautiful place we have ever camped. The park sits on a bluff, overlooking Puget Sound, with views of the Olympic Mountains, Canada and the many, many orca whales who migrate in the waters below. It was so amazingly calming there and we sat on the bluff and stared at the water, orca whales and passing boats until the sun went down.

Brooke

Before we could find a map, Kyle drew us an almost perfect rendering of the island (to which Katie exclaimed, "It's a kidney!").

Victoria, B.C.

After a two hour ferry ride we arrived in Victoria, British Columbia. Mike and Jenna had set us up with a place to stay, Jenna’s sister’s place on the island -- a cute, quite farmhouse on the southern half of the island. The directions getting there (on paper) had been simple: get on the Galloping Goose bike trail and head south. For the life of us, we couldn’t find the trail, and ended up riding the non-scenic highway to our destination.

The next morning we work up early so that we could see some sights in Victoria before boarding the 10:30 a.m. ferry to Port Angeles. Three measly miles before the ferry, I felt that awful foreshadowing mushy feeling of a flat tire. Turns out I not only had a flat, but I had a big gaping, not-so-friendly looking hole in my back tire. After a not so quick detour to a bike shop, and an $84 tire, we had missed the ferry.

So on to Plan B: taking a later ferry to the San Juan Islands in Washington state (which quickly became Plan B when the employees at the bike shop told us about the amazing bike riding the islands offered. Previous to Plan B, we were on the Be-Pissed-Off-And-Cry-Because-You-Missed-Your-Ferry-And-Have-No-Idea-Where-You-Are-Going-Or-What-You-Are-Going-To-Do-Next Plan). Plan B seemed like a nicer option. Plan B also gave us time to explore Victoria.

When it was time to head to the ferry, Melissa and I looked (again) for the Galloping Goose bike trail. (Again) we could not find it. Apparently, the elusive Galloping Goose is rarely seen, except by those native to the area (hence, when we would ask a local for directions, they would point in the distance and say, “right there. You can’t miss it.” And then we would miss it.).
We would catch glimpses of it, be on it for a second, round a corner, and then be off of it, in the middle of a housing development, completely lost. But magically, like an angel from heaven, a cyclist on a carbon Trek Madone came to our rescue. “I’ll take you there,” he said, “As long as you can keep up!”

So, lungs bursting, legs pumping, we followed him a couple of miles (in the opposite direction of the one in which we were originally heading) to the Galloping Goose -- a beautiful rails-to-trails bike path that is so heavily signed and well kept, I’m not sure how anyone, including us, would ever miss it.

So Plan B: Island hopping!

Brooke

Lining up for our first ferry ride of the tour!

The Parliament building in Victoria.

The mythical Galloping Goose.

On the ferry to the San Juan Islands.

Vancouver, B.C.

After eight fuzzy and dazed, but restful days in Eugene we took a Amtrak train to Vancouver. It was so awesome to be with our pals in Eugene, but we have to keep moving down the road. FYI-Amtrak is a pretty good deal if you are traveling with a bike. It was $5 per bike, which is pretty unbelievable considering how pricey it is to box up a bike and stick it on a plane.

We got into Vancouver late, around 11:50 pm. It was a 9 hour train ride, plus a three hour lay over in Portland. However, the lay over was perfectly timed right around lunch, and Brooke and I had just enough time to hop off the train and ride our bikes to the food carts for delicious vegetarian indian food! It was fun to sail through the streets of Portland, the country’s most bicyclist friendly city. Portland’s cyclist friendly vibe is heaven for me, with bikers everywhere enjoying their safe and roomy bike lanes!

We arranged to stay with a Warm Showers host to keep our costs down, and our host graciously agreed to pick us up at the train station, despite it being so late. (For those of you who don’t know about Warm Showers, it’s an organization where touring cyclists list their homes as a place for other touring cyclists to spend a night for free. It’s a great organization!) Brooke and I were dead last off the train, and on top of it customs held us up so they could personally check out our mace. While riffling through our panniers looking for our mace, Brooke and I were exchanging anxious glances fearing that Mike, our Warm Showers host, was on the verge of leaving us because we were so late. Alas, I was relieved to see him standing in the station with a smile on his face when we finally emerged off the train.

Wow! Vancouver is hands down my favorite city, and every time I go, it gets better and better. I must confess, the thought of moving to Vancouver is becoming more and more tempting. It’s rare to find a city so aesthetically pleasing, there are mountains and water everywhere you look. The city is surrounded with kick ass mountain bike and running trails. Everywhere you look, people are engaging in outdoorsy activities.

The first day we were there, Mike took us on a killer run along the water, and then up into the woods on a trail. Our pace was pretty fast as we headed off the paved path and up into the woods. We ran hard over roots and rocks, the path became hypnotizing to me as I settled into the pace. It was so awesome to fly though the woods breathing hard, it was the best run I’ve had in a long time!

Brooke and I spent the rest of the day walking around the city, we checked out the public market and bought some awesome vegetarian soup mixes that we plan to cook while camping on the San Juan Islands. That night, Mike and Jenna told us all about their 11 month tour down the Pacific coast and into South America all the way to Argentina as we drove around the city and over the Lions Gate Bridge to check out the amazing views. While we were staying with Jenna and Mike, they made sure we ate the best vegetarian food available! They were amazing hosts, and made Brooke and I eager to give back to other cyclists in the future.

The next morning, we rode off towards the ferry and headed for Victoria!

Melissa

We had a quick lunch at the Portland food carts on the way to Vancouver.

Japadog! Japanese inspired vegetarian hotdog, complete with teriyaki sauce, Japanese mayo and seaweed.

Revelations and relaxation in Eugene

Well, I might as well make it official with an announcement on my blog. Not that announcing an extremely personal life decision on one’s blog is the last step in finalizing said decision, but it’s a start, right? So, for all of you who would rather not read uber-divulge-y personal revelations on a bike touring blog, read no further!

I want a baby. Henry did me in. He proved too cute and irresistible with that little smile. He’d sneak it on me, wearing me down little-by-little and, 8 days later I’m convinced I want a baby. It wasn’t just his cute happy little smile. It was his cutesy socks, the sweet little hats he’d wear, and his adorable little t-shirts. He’s a charming little peek-a-boo player too, and he knows it. Suddenly, I have this fire under my ass to reproduce. It’s probably just some ancient chemical in my brian that kicks in right around my current age, telling me to spawn, but still, it’s there. It’s undeniably there.

So, now that the cat’s out of the bag on babies, it’s on to Eugene . . . Eugene was great. It was awesome to see one of my oldest friends doing all sorts of mom things with her first child. And, what’s cool, is that Jill is still the same old Jill, just with an adorable precious gift of a son. Eugene is such a hippy town, and Brooke and I liked it a lot. Good vegetarian food is easy to come by, and the vibe there was definitely laid back.

Other than jogging along the bike paths by the river and walking around the city, Brooke and I spent a lot of time getting caught up on True Blood. I know, such a stimulating and interesting TV program. Even though we burnt too many hours watching trashy vampire shows, we also started looking for jobs and thinking about what we want our futures to look like.

Unbelievably, I really enjoyed searching for jobs and imagining what type of work I may want to pursue when the bike tour is over. I’m definitely nervous about all of the uncertainty of the future, but on the other hand, I’m also trying to be positive and I’m attempting to enjoy the process. I usually get really worked up about stuff like this, I worry about qualifications, and whether I’ll fit in but this time I’m not going to get bogged down with that stuff. My stance on this is all way more zen than I am usually capable of pulling off, but it beats second guessing myself, and worrying myself to death. Before you know it, I may be reading Buddha books!

On a side note, this trip has made my brian mushy. I was supposed to meet up with some fellow bicycle tourists in Eugene, and I totally forgot. I don’t really know how this happened. So, my apologies to Aaron and his very generous wife who gave up her room at the Marriott so we could have a place to stay in Missoula. I’m really sorry I’ve turned into such a scatter brained dingbat. I wanted to hear about your trip down the coast!

Melissa