I’ve noticed that other than the one finger salute—a reaction to real or imagined conflict—most bicyclists do not acknowledge anyone, including fellow cyclists, when they meet on the road. Many don’t even look across the road/street at an oncoming bicyclist. Some will say “hey!” when they’re next to you waiting to blow a red light. I find that at best I acknowledge other cyclists with a head-toss, a salutation I learned from my cowboy grandfather. I studied the issue several times as I pedaled across Washington State and I came up with some possible reasons why we bicyclists aren’t a bit more friendly, show more camaraderie with fellow cyclists. After all, we seem to share the same passion.
I don’t or seldom wave because lifting one hand from the handlebars makes me feel insecure. At my age I’ve accumulated quite a bit of unmitigated insecurity and I’m not sure my therapist wants to hear it or if either of us will live long enough for me to download everything I have to tell him. So far we’re several years behind.
The number of miles I’ve ridden, how much lactic acid has built up in my quads, how bad my butt aches, or how gregarious I feel, are the factors I use to put effort into a head-toss. Am I the only cyclist that will admit to these physical and emotional limiting factors?
Cycling clothing fits a bit snug, maybe too snug, and it could be that the tightness is cutting off blood supply to the social part of our brain or causing enough discomfort that it makes us less social.
Cycling clothing is colorful but very expensive. Maybe cyclists are worried that if they wave they might tip over and ruin/rip/bloody their/our investment in overpriced togs.
Cyclists who purchase the incredibly expensive Tour d’ France riding clothing act like they’re riding in the Tour. Ask yourself the question: if you’ve just defrosted the freezer, removed the sofa cushions to remove a year’s supply of dog hair (and spare change), and are bored enough to watch the Tour, how many Tour riders do you see waving to the crowd? Even when they come in first they only wave when they’re wearing the yellow jersey. And because of the camera angle who knows who they’re really waving at?
I haven’t found a solution but I will go back and ride more and think on this some more. However, in the meantime, I would urge fellow cyclists to try to wave when a car driver gives us space on the road, lets us cut in even though we haven’t signaled, accidentally uses their signal light to inform us of their intent, isn’t weaving/texting, weaving/fighting with the kids, weaving/shaving, putting on lipstick, talking on a cell phone, or blowing a red light. Also, when cyclists blow red lights we should keep in mind that when two objects collide the one with the smaller mass absorbs quite a bit of the energy of the object with the larger mass!! Oh, and if you do wave with the one-finger salute make sure your mass can out run the larger mass, because it might just be pissed!!
If you're in Spokane and need you bicycle worked on or just want to meet some really accommodating bike shop keepers and workers, stop in at the Bicycle Butler at 6520 north Ash. www.bicyclebutler.com
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
What's Next?
Over time I have traveled through most of the states but usually, at, or exceeding the speed limit or flying in and out. Except for states I’ve lived in I’ve never spent the kind of time (pace) in a state that I’ve spent in Washington. I spent time in the coastal ecologic and social zones and have pedaled at 10 mph through the Cascades and almost succumbed to dehydration surrounded by wheat! I stopped and talked to quite a few people in the small towns scattered across Washington State. I found the people to be a bit stand-offish at first, until I made an effort to visit with them. Then they shared, in some cases, more than I wanted to hear! They were direct and straight-forward. It was refreshing.
All of them, I think, thought I was a bit crazy for doing what I’m doing. Especially when I didn’t have a ready answer to the question: “Why?”
I don’t know why. I do know I’m not seeking a revelation about my contradictions, my world view, nor am I seeking a revelation that will lead to the creation of another religion. I couldn’t take that kind of pressure. I can barely manage my thoughts about my own beliefs. I can’t imagine what it would take to manage the thoughts of followers. I think in part the trip is to see what I have left in me. I also know I want to get a feel for what other people are thinking. It was fun to listen to their stories about the land, work, politics; to try to answer questions about Utah: Did I know any polygamists? (yes, quite a few) Was I Mormon? (nope!) And there were also questions about my ethnicity. Are you: Italian, Egyptian, Spanish, . . . . .(fill in the label for any ethnic group with olive skin)?
They did ask why, at my age, I was bicycling across their state. One of my contradictions is that I’ve always seemed to do things backwards. It would have made more sense to have done this in the first half of my life instead of now. But it never occurred to me then to do something like this; when I didn’t have to main-line Ibuprofen; when I could sleep on the ground and not realize why I was so stiff in the morning. Don’t you just love contradictions especially your own? Investigating them and then either embracing change or embracing acceptance and mitigating, is a great feeling. So is saying: the hell with that one. I can live with it!
When I return to my journey, either late next week or just after Labor Day, I will tackle the Rockies. I’m not sure what route I will take. If anyone knows safer routes let me know. I’m not overly concerned about how steep a hill is. One of the advantages of doing it at this age is that my ego and I have reached detente. If it doesn’t like me bailing off and pushing the bicycle then it can . . . . . !!
All of them, I think, thought I was a bit crazy for doing what I’m doing. Especially when I didn’t have a ready answer to the question: “Why?”
I don’t know why. I do know I’m not seeking a revelation about my contradictions, my world view, nor am I seeking a revelation that will lead to the creation of another religion. I couldn’t take that kind of pressure. I can barely manage my thoughts about my own beliefs. I can’t imagine what it would take to manage the thoughts of followers. I think in part the trip is to see what I have left in me. I also know I want to get a feel for what other people are thinking. It was fun to listen to their stories about the land, work, politics; to try to answer questions about Utah: Did I know any polygamists? (yes, quite a few) Was I Mormon? (nope!) And there were also questions about my ethnicity. Are you: Italian, Egyptian, Spanish, . . . . .(fill in the label for any ethnic group with olive skin)?
They did ask why, at my age, I was bicycling across their state. One of my contradictions is that I’ve always seemed to do things backwards. It would have made more sense to have done this in the first half of my life instead of now. But it never occurred to me then to do something like this; when I didn’t have to main-line Ibuprofen; when I could sleep on the ground and not realize why I was so stiff in the morning. Don’t you just love contradictions especially your own? Investigating them and then either embracing change or embracing acceptance and mitigating, is a great feeling. So is saying: the hell with that one. I can live with it!
When I return to my journey, either late next week or just after Labor Day, I will tackle the Rockies. I’m not sure what route I will take. If anyone knows safer routes let me know. I’m not overly concerned about how steep a hill is. One of the advantages of doing it at this age is that my ego and I have reached detente. If it doesn’t like me bailing off and pushing the bicycle then it can . . . . . !!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
End of segment two
Friday was the end of segment two of Killing My Legs to give My Ass a Ride quest. I rode into Spokane about 1 p.m. and rode just over the Idaho border to Post Falls. And then I came back to the west side of Spokane close to the airport. Today I will take my bicycle (Marquis de Sade) to the Bicycle Butler in NW Spokane and when I leave for Utah tomorrow I will leave the Humpbacked Machiavellian Bastard (trailer) at the Airport Econolodge and hope for the best for both. It is great that both businesses have agreed to help.
Have I found the Grail, enlightenment, a pot of gold or even a personal rainbow in segment one or two?
No, but I think I can see a glimmer of each starting to clarify in the next segments. I have seen and observed some very interesting things about the landscape, people, and myself. I have seen and talked with people of many backgrounds: Native Americans, recently made American immigrants, farmers, retired people, bus drivers, electricians, shop owners/workers, convenience store clerks, bank clerks, cowboys, café owners, migrant workers, a skin-head, winos, and town employees, to name a few. I’ve discussed the state of our country with people who are involved in the Tea Party, Republican Party, Democratic Party, and many who would not commit to an affiliation.
They all have some things in common. Many more of them, than I would have thought, are trying to stay informed. They worry about the economy, many are very tired of war, some are worried about the atmosphere of divisiveness perpetrated by our leaders, others just want to make enough money to pay their bills and keep their house. Most are seriously influenced by the half-truths and innuendos that are the bulk of information found on talk radio, FOX and CNN, and the internet. (the guy in the room next to mine at the EconoLodge had talk radio on all night last night) Some don’t think President Obama is an American; others scoff at that idea, but most are starting to wonder if he has a vision for the country, if he has the pair he will need to guide us out of the quagmire we’re in. All most all agree that Congress: “stinks” sucks” “are a bunch of ____ing rich guys” “only care about lining their pockets” and in general should be kicked out. All are frustrated because they don’t know how to go about reforming a group of “corrupt and immoral” leaders who are in charge of reforming themselves. Most have the same feeling about state Legislatures.
I think I’m seeing a pattern. It has been hard to ask questions without inserting myself, my opinions, and my world view.
The landscape is as diverse as are the people: pristine coastline, rivers, forests, mountains, and high prairies and timber clear-cuts on private holdings and on public lands, acres of orchards with fruit of all types, grazed-out sites, and acres of wheat (more than I could imagine!), peas, hay. It is a land with a recent volcanic past. Basalt is everywhere. The landscape has been eroded by the wind, rain, ice, poor management, unplanned development, and most of all by time.
I didn’t know if I could get this segment done. I had planned a much longer time thinking I wouldn’t be home until the middle of next week. But in spite of trying to die of dehydration, developing a sore butt, etc I covered a lot of ground in a short time. Just in segment two I bicycled about 360 miles in five days and overall I think I’ve peddled close to 550 miles. I have to check my bicycle computer against Map Quest to see for sure. Especially since some of you have committed to supporting one of the charities I’m promoting by donating by the mile when I finally bail for good. Thanks to all of you who are stepping up to contribute.
I will return to the quest probably the second week in September. In the meantime I will populate other pages with ideas, thoughts, photos, etc and try to keep the energy of this blog flowing. Thanks for following and for your great comments. I will reply if I haven’t already in the next few days.
Have I found the Grail, enlightenment, a pot of gold or even a personal rainbow in segment one or two?
No, but I think I can see a glimmer of each starting to clarify in the next segments. I have seen and observed some very interesting things about the landscape, people, and myself. I have seen and talked with people of many backgrounds: Native Americans, recently made American immigrants, farmers, retired people, bus drivers, electricians, shop owners/workers, convenience store clerks, bank clerks, cowboys, café owners, migrant workers, a skin-head, winos, and town employees, to name a few. I’ve discussed the state of our country with people who are involved in the Tea Party, Republican Party, Democratic Party, and many who would not commit to an affiliation.
They all have some things in common. Many more of them, than I would have thought, are trying to stay informed. They worry about the economy, many are very tired of war, some are worried about the atmosphere of divisiveness perpetrated by our leaders, others just want to make enough money to pay their bills and keep their house. Most are seriously influenced by the half-truths and innuendos that are the bulk of information found on talk radio, FOX and CNN, and the internet. (the guy in the room next to mine at the EconoLodge had talk radio on all night last night) Some don’t think President Obama is an American; others scoff at that idea, but most are starting to wonder if he has a vision for the country, if he has the pair he will need to guide us out of the quagmire we’re in. All most all agree that Congress: “stinks” sucks” “are a bunch of ____ing rich guys” “only care about lining their pockets” and in general should be kicked out. All are frustrated because they don’t know how to go about reforming a group of “corrupt and immoral” leaders who are in charge of reforming themselves. Most have the same feeling about state Legislatures.
I think I’m seeing a pattern. It has been hard to ask questions without inserting myself, my opinions, and my world view.
The landscape is as diverse as are the people: pristine coastline, rivers, forests, mountains, and high prairies and timber clear-cuts on private holdings and on public lands, acres of orchards with fruit of all types, grazed-out sites, and acres of wheat (more than I could imagine!), peas, hay. It is a land with a recent volcanic past. Basalt is everywhere. The landscape has been eroded by the wind, rain, ice, poor management, unplanned development, and most of all by time.
I didn’t know if I could get this segment done. I had planned a much longer time thinking I wouldn’t be home until the middle of next week. But in spite of trying to die of dehydration, developing a sore butt, etc I covered a lot of ground in a short time. Just in segment two I bicycled about 360 miles in five days and overall I think I’ve peddled close to 550 miles. I have to check my bicycle computer against Map Quest to see for sure. Especially since some of you have committed to supporting one of the charities I’m promoting by donating by the mile when I finally bail for good. Thanks to all of you who are stepping up to contribute.
I will return to the quest probably the second week in September. In the meantime I will populate other pages with ideas, thoughts, photos, etc and try to keep the energy of this blog flowing. Thanks for following and for your great comments. I will reply if I haven’t already in the next few days.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Spokane today?
Yesterday was a great day to ride. 55 deg when I left Wilber. I'd like to say that they had replaced all of that damn wheat overnight with vineyards, carnation plantations, or simply grass. But, NO. There is only wheat or bare ground all the way to the horizon. If you have gluten issues don't ride a bicycle through this part of WA. It must be like being lactose intolerant and driving through the dairy country of Wisconsin.
Several people have told me: "We out produced the Russians this year." I was born in the Cold War era that had a subset of the Space Race. But I didn't know we were in a gluten race with them. In a way they have kind of won some of the conquest ("we will not conquer you we will bury you." or something like that from Nikita Krushchev) in that we got many of our more pernicious weeds from them, ironically in wheat shipments when they were winning the gluten race during the dust bowl ere.
In Creston I stopped at Big Bobs Mercantile where I was asked if I needed any fishing supplies! There was one room full of fishing gear. I looked out the window at wheat. The only thing that broke the horizon was a grain silo where they were delivering wheat almost around the clock. Fishing? Dust trout? Wheat bass?
Just a few miles east of Creston the road finally made a large curve towards the SE where there were Ponderosa Pines, willows around small wetlands, native grasses (not wheatgrass), and a coyote pup sniffing at a road marker, maybe thinking about marking his/her territory. "Not a good idea to mark your sign on a busy road," I advised it. And a breeze with the scent of something besides wheat.
My tour is: Killing My Legs to give My Ass a Ride. My legs are tuning up quite well. My rear end is suffering. So I had a small roll of Duct tape and some foam padding for my computer and I made a seat pad.
It worked for a while but. . . . .so I stopped in Davenport so I could plan the rest of my trip. I needed a wifi spot but according to the person at the bank: "there aren't any wifi spots in town." I found the Black Bear Motel owned by Kimberly and Mark Elwood. Great people. They invited me to supper. We had a great discussion about political issues. They are very knowledgeable. Both are active citizens, something our country is painfully missing. They will ask you your political views but I think that regardless of your views they welcome you to their business. However,I can't say they will invite you to supper.
Plans: I'm riding into Spokane and as far north on Hwy 2 as I can by Saturday noon. I will be leaving my bicycle and possibly my trailer at the Bicycle Butler in Spokane. They have graciously agreed to tune up my bicycle and store my equipment. How great is this!
I'm off. More wheat today? Probably. I'm starting to seriously dislike bread or any thing derived from wheat.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Morning Tea
Every morning I have a couple of cups of tea. Nothing finer. This may seem odd given how many coffee shops and coffee companies there are in WA. I loved coffee but I gave it up for tea; usually black, with a bit of Splenda and milk. On this trip I brought two Assam teas--Black Tarajulie and Borengajuli. I found them at the Tea Grotto in SLC. When I'm camping the milk part is somewhat problemetic as I don't carry a cooler but I've learned the correct amount of powdered milk to add. It isn't as good but. . . .
I'm slightly just under 100 miles from Spokane. Given the heat and that I have been Killing my Legs to give My Ass a Ride for real I don't think I can make it all today. So I might dry-camp somewhere along the way. I will post more later when I get to a wifi hotspot.
I'm slightly just under 100 miles from Spokane. Given the heat and that I have been Killing my Legs to give My Ass a Ride for real I don't think I can make it all today. So I might dry-camp somewhere along the way. I will post more later when I get to a wifi hotspot.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
My life was saved by a gnat
Tuesday August 17: Went to a bicycle shop in Wenatchee and had to cool my heels at a coffee shop (fortunately in WA there is one on every corner. Must be an ordinance or something) next door. At 10, when the bicycle shop opened, I asked one of the guys to take a look at my bicycle as I was hearing some noise. He tinkered with it and pronounced it fixed. And off I went, very late in the morning. I got to Waterville (aptly named) and bought four liters of water knowing it would be very hot along the rest of the way. I was wrong. It wasn't hot it was @%&^#!!)(*^ hot!
It is the wheat harvest in Washington so I felt like I was back on the farm. Combines lined up like synchronized swimmers, their front reels pulling the wheat into the cutter, and their rear ends extruding chaff and straw. I thought: wouldn't it be great to cut off a couple of pounds of wheat heads, bring them home, separate the grain from the chaff, grind the wheat into the same kind of whole wheat I ate as a kid, and then on some special day, makes biscuits for my kids, just like the ones grandma used to make. How cool would that be!!
The steady climb up the Colombia river wasn't' to bad but the climb up Orando Canyon to Waterville should have made me stop and see if Greyhound traveled that route. During my speculative moments through the first wheat fields, past Waterville, there were hills, but even with the increasing heat they weren't to bad. Then I zoomed down into Moses Coolie, one of the many canyons cut by the floods from glacial ice dams breaking in western Montana. But the other side of the canyon wall was waiting. It wasn't brooding, menacing, or even acting like it cared. It just stood there its basalt walls radiating heat. The four mile downhill zoom into the canyon (called coolies here) took me no more than 15 minutes. The climb out took me two hours and I almost died of heat exhaustion. I failed to mention that after you make the climb up on the "plateau" into Waterville there are few cars and a very wide paved shoulder. How nice is that?
But I hadn't been drinking enough water touring the wheat fields, thinking about harvesting.
The east side of Moses Coolie is up hill for at least fifteen miles. You see a crest and think: "all right I'm almost to the top." Then you crest and see hiding behind it yet another slight incline and another steep hill with yet another crest. This went on for fifteen miles to the point that I was wondering if this wasn't the place that inspired the song "Stair way to Heaven." I would crest and then my raised hopes would be dashed. I thought I was having a Ground Hog Day experience.
Did I mention dehydration? Heat? The fact that I've spent way to much time in the hot places of our country and should have known better?
As it got worse I could tell I wasn't sweating. Bad sign. But I was to busy cursing WADOT. "Why do you have to build roads so damn straight? And with all of the millions of hills in WA why can't you find one to build a road down off of? Or just go around them. Build a bridge across Moses Coolie with the funds that were to be used in Alaska to build a bridge to nowhere. At least here the bridge would lead someplace. I was swearing at many things: wheat, WADOT, the sun, my shadow (why can't you pull a little bit I yelled during my increasing delusional state), and I cursed the kid that readjusted my derailleurs. As I was climbing they skipped all over. Oh and I named my bicycle The Marquis de Sade, and my bicycle trailer The Humpbacked Machiavellian Bastard! And I cursed the gnats whether evolved or created I didn't care. And I cursed the people who did care. I was going so slow the gnats had time to get into my helmet and raise generations of little gnat babies in what's left of my hair.
During my ranting one flew into my mouth. Down my throat. And then in desperation tried to swim back out causing me to gag and cough. I stopped. Damn, I'm kinda dizzy the science part of my brain said. So I started drinking water trying to flush the varmint down the hatch. It took about two liters to sink him. Within minutes I had drowned a gnat, drank enough water to at least start to break even, and I wasn't dizzy. I was still, however, cursing and adding to the list above. I did take gnats off until today (Wednesday).
On Tuesday night, having survived almost 70 miles of mostly uphill road in heat somewhere between 100 and 105 (depending on who you asked) I stayed in the only motel in Coolie City.
Today I took it easy. Everything still hurt from the near-death ride from yesterday. So I rode as far as Wilber WA and booked yet another motel room. Tomorrow I will try to do at least half of the distance to Spokane. I'm well ahead of schedule and have to think about going beyond Spokane and sticking to my original flight on Wednesday, or going back to SLC early and then coming back earlier than I expected. I'm still cursing WADOT and wheat and the names of my bicycle and trailer stand.
It is the wheat harvest in Washington so I felt like I was back on the farm. Combines lined up like synchronized swimmers, their front reels pulling the wheat into the cutter, and their rear ends extruding chaff and straw. I thought: wouldn't it be great to cut off a couple of pounds of wheat heads, bring them home, separate the grain from the chaff, grind the wheat into the same kind of whole wheat I ate as a kid, and then on some special day, makes biscuits for my kids, just like the ones grandma used to make. How cool would that be!!
The steady climb up the Colombia river wasn't' to bad but the climb up Orando Canyon to Waterville should have made me stop and see if Greyhound traveled that route. During my speculative moments through the first wheat fields, past Waterville, there were hills, but even with the increasing heat they weren't to bad. Then I zoomed down into Moses Coolie, one of the many canyons cut by the floods from glacial ice dams breaking in western Montana. But the other side of the canyon wall was waiting. It wasn't brooding, menacing, or even acting like it cared. It just stood there its basalt walls radiating heat. The four mile downhill zoom into the canyon (called coolies here) took me no more than 15 minutes. The climb out took me two hours and I almost died of heat exhaustion. I failed to mention that after you make the climb up on the "plateau" into Waterville there are few cars and a very wide paved shoulder. How nice is that?
But I hadn't been drinking enough water touring the wheat fields, thinking about harvesting.
The east side of Moses Coolie is up hill for at least fifteen miles. You see a crest and think: "all right I'm almost to the top." Then you crest and see hiding behind it yet another slight incline and another steep hill with yet another crest. This went on for fifteen miles to the point that I was wondering if this wasn't the place that inspired the song "Stair way to Heaven." I would crest and then my raised hopes would be dashed. I thought I was having a Ground Hog Day experience.
Did I mention dehydration? Heat? The fact that I've spent way to much time in the hot places of our country and should have known better?
As it got worse I could tell I wasn't sweating. Bad sign. But I was to busy cursing WADOT. "Why do you have to build roads so damn straight? And with all of the millions of hills in WA why can't you find one to build a road down off of? Or just go around them. Build a bridge across Moses Coolie with the funds that were to be used in Alaska to build a bridge to nowhere. At least here the bridge would lead someplace. I was swearing at many things: wheat, WADOT, the sun, my shadow (why can't you pull a little bit I yelled during my increasing delusional state), and I cursed the kid that readjusted my derailleurs. As I was climbing they skipped all over. Oh and I named my bicycle The Marquis de Sade, and my bicycle trailer The Humpbacked Machiavellian Bastard! And I cursed the gnats whether evolved or created I didn't care. And I cursed the people who did care. I was going so slow the gnats had time to get into my helmet and raise generations of little gnat babies in what's left of my hair.
During my ranting one flew into my mouth. Down my throat. And then in desperation tried to swim back out causing me to gag and cough. I stopped. Damn, I'm kinda dizzy the science part of my brain said. So I started drinking water trying to flush the varmint down the hatch. It took about two liters to sink him. Within minutes I had drowned a gnat, drank enough water to at least start to break even, and I wasn't dizzy. I was still, however, cursing and adding to the list above. I did take gnats off until today (Wednesday).
On Tuesday night, having survived almost 70 miles of mostly uphill road in heat somewhere between 100 and 105 (depending on who you asked) I stayed in the only motel in Coolie City.
Today I took it easy. Everything still hurt from the near-death ride from yesterday. So I rode as far as Wilber WA and booked yet another motel room. Tomorrow I will try to do at least half of the distance to Spokane. I'm well ahead of schedule and have to think about going beyond Spokane and sticking to my original flight on Wednesday, or going back to SLC early and then coming back earlier than I expected. I'm still cursing WADOT and wheat and the names of my bicycle and trailer stand.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Monroe to Wenatchee WA in one day!!!
It might be the extra oxygen at the average elevation on the west side of the Cascades, but on Monday I pedaled along, stopping for breaks, and stopped to photograph a statue of Sasquatch at a kind of shrine. It was also the place where someone filmed Harry and the Hendersons(?).
I got my second wind just east of Skykomish close to the base of the really steep part. I started up the winding climb to Stevens Pass but even with the bail-out ring on the rear cassette, I had to bail and push my bicycle up the hill. I'd like to think that if I were 30 yrs younger, if I didn't have a completely full trailer to pull, and. . .and. . .and! But I'm not and along the way from 30 yrs ago I also have come to grips with the needs of my ego so I bailed and pushed. I hadn't pushed very long before an electrician stopped and offered me a ride to the top. It didn't take me long to negotiate with my ego and pride. I unhooked my trailer and, with "Tom's" help loaded my stuff. In the 6 miles to the top I heard about Tom's two ex-wives, the poodle that he now lives with, the migrant camp that the "government" has put up for cherry-pickers close to Wenatchee, and things that he likes now which I can't print. Indeed, after mile 3 I was thinking I might ask to be dropped off and push the rest of the way up the hill. But I distracted myself and made it to the top of Stevens pass.
Should I camp or pedal off of the pass and see how far towards Wenatchee I could get. It was about 4:30. Have I mentioned that in general it is downhill all of the way from Stevens Pass to Wenatchee? So, I "let 'er rip! Every once in a while I stopped to check my brakes, watch salmon swim/jump up a fish ladder, stopped to check my brakes again, and once to make sure (as a member of the Utah Morality Posse) that a couple on a small beach had clothing on, and zoomed down the hill averaging 28 mph!! At one point I was coasting at about 35 then I remembered a semi I saw in Utah that had jack-knifed due to his speed, so I slowed down.
Tom was correct about the migrant camp. There is a small tent city set up in a county park just west of Wenatchee.
Today (Tuesday August 17) I push to the top of the dry plateau between Wenatchee and Spokane. If there is w-fi along the way I will post.
If you've donated to one or both of these non-profits, thanks.
I got my second wind just east of Skykomish close to the base of the really steep part. I started up the winding climb to Stevens Pass but even with the bail-out ring on the rear cassette, I had to bail and push my bicycle up the hill. I'd like to think that if I were 30 yrs younger, if I didn't have a completely full trailer to pull, and. . .and. . .and! But I'm not and along the way from 30 yrs ago I also have come to grips with the needs of my ego so I bailed and pushed. I hadn't pushed very long before an electrician stopped and offered me a ride to the top. It didn't take me long to negotiate with my ego and pride. I unhooked my trailer and, with "Tom's" help loaded my stuff. In the 6 miles to the top I heard about Tom's two ex-wives, the poodle that he now lives with, the migrant camp that the "government" has put up for cherry-pickers close to Wenatchee, and things that he likes now which I can't print. Indeed, after mile 3 I was thinking I might ask to be dropped off and push the rest of the way up the hill. But I distracted myself and made it to the top of Stevens pass.
Should I camp or pedal off of the pass and see how far towards Wenatchee I could get. It was about 4:30. Have I mentioned that in general it is downhill all of the way from Stevens Pass to Wenatchee? So, I "let 'er rip! Every once in a while I stopped to check my brakes, watch salmon swim/jump up a fish ladder, stopped to check my brakes again, and once to make sure (as a member of the Utah Morality Posse) that a couple on a small beach had clothing on, and zoomed down the hill averaging 28 mph!! At one point I was coasting at about 35 then I remembered a semi I saw in Utah that had jack-knifed due to his speed, so I slowed down.
Tom was correct about the migrant camp. There is a small tent city set up in a county park just west of Wenatchee.
Today (Tuesday August 17) I push to the top of the dry plateau between Wenatchee and Spokane. If there is w-fi along the way I will post.
If you've donated to one or both of these non-profits, thanks.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Seat Hogs, lost airline pilots, Fajitas and UPS
Invariably, when I fly, I sit next to either the very anxious flier (male or female), next to the seat hog, or worse, between them. In this case, I was on a regional carrier that sat people two to a side so I only had the seat hog to contend with. I got to know him quite well and not a word was spoken. Indeed, I'm not to sure what language that word would have been in. I got to know his elbow (in my ribs so I couldn't sleep), that he snorts, snores, and whimpers in his sleep, and his right leg got to know my left leg quite well. When he was awake he coughed and hacked and --- see legs above!! This guy was probably the reigning champion of seat hogs in my many years of flying.
But we flew right by Mt. Rainier: literally right by it. We were on our approach so the plane was just below the summit and it seemed like we were just a few hundred meters from the ice fields. Great view. When we landed the pilot went into one gate, then they backed us out and we went around the concourse (it's circular and each gate can be approached from both directions), parked on the tarmac for a few minutes, started to turn into a gate (which because of the circular concourse) was just three gates from the one we pulled into at first! Oops wait a minute! So we hung a u-turn and went back around the concourse to our original gate. We probably "drove" several hundred meters, to get a hundred meters between gates. Confused? If so, you might just be good pilot material and could fly a regional jet for a Delta contractor! Given the parking experience maybe we were actually closer than we were supposed to be to Mt. Rainier.
There are several things one can do with broccoli, including:
The woman who drove the shuttle car I hired to take me from SeaTac to Monroe was from Romania. She had a interesting perspective about immigration. I asked about issues with undocumented workers in Seattle and she said, in her view, no one seems to care that much, at least in Seattle. There, in her opinion, was no movement to take over the role of the federal government by copying the Arizona law. I'm sure there are workers here from south of the border but they aren't as noticeable as they are in Salt Lake. Where thank god we have them because lawns wouldn't get mowed and our roads (where they work on road crews) would be in genuine third-world condition. I suspect that on the east side of the Cascades they will be more visible given the amount of labor needed to support the massive fruit industry. Washington State has a fairly conservative but enlightened state government. How would it be? By the way if the INS is monitoring this blog she--the driver--is now a U.S. citizen. She knows more about American history, American government, and our founding principles than the average high school graduate in Utah and all of the Tea Party together.
Ok, so I once had the reputation that I could pack 5 pounds of crap into a two pound box. I winnowed down my crap from last night (see previous posting) and flew to WA. I just finished packing my trailer and I got it all in but I would need a semi-tractor to pull it. So I unpacked it and tossed quite a bit of crap into a duffel bag that I will take to UPS in the morning before I head out. The irony is that I carefully packed it all to get here then I'm going to send it home via UPS. because I'm so cheap my skills for cramming lots of things into a small space will be tested so I can buy the smallest box and it won't cost more than the contents are worth to ship it home. Is all of this crap that valuable? What can I say? I won't know until it's time to pay.So, I will get a late start. Fortunately UPS is very close to several coffee shops.
But we flew right by Mt. Rainier: literally right by it. We were on our approach so the plane was just below the summit and it seemed like we were just a few hundred meters from the ice fields. Great view. When we landed the pilot went into one gate, then they backed us out and we went around the concourse (it's circular and each gate can be approached from both directions), parked on the tarmac for a few minutes, started to turn into a gate (which because of the circular concourse) was just three gates from the one we pulled into at first! Oops wait a minute! So we hung a u-turn and went back around the concourse to our original gate. We probably "drove" several hundred meters, to get a hundred meters between gates. Confused? If so, you might just be good pilot material and could fly a regional jet for a Delta contractor! Given the parking experience maybe we were actually closer than we were supposed to be to Mt. Rainier.
There are several things one can do with broccoli, including:
- Leave it in the field or better yet plant something edible instead like corn that can be turned into fuel (at great environmental expense) or turned into whiskey. (Then the environmental expense doesn't count)
- Feed it to someone who really likes it;
- If you have to make it for me don't boil or steam it into a green noodle cook it so its crunchy.
The woman who drove the shuttle car I hired to take me from SeaTac to Monroe was from Romania. She had a interesting perspective about immigration. I asked about issues with undocumented workers in Seattle and she said, in her view, no one seems to care that much, at least in Seattle. There, in her opinion, was no movement to take over the role of the federal government by copying the Arizona law. I'm sure there are workers here from south of the border but they aren't as noticeable as they are in Salt Lake. Where thank god we have them because lawns wouldn't get mowed and our roads (where they work on road crews) would be in genuine third-world condition. I suspect that on the east side of the Cascades they will be more visible given the amount of labor needed to support the massive fruit industry. Washington State has a fairly conservative but enlightened state government. How would it be? By the way if the INS is monitoring this blog she--the driver--is now a U.S. citizen. She knows more about American history, American government, and our founding principles than the average high school graduate in Utah and all of the Tea Party together.
Ok, so I once had the reputation that I could pack 5 pounds of crap into a two pound box. I winnowed down my crap from last night (see previous posting) and flew to WA. I just finished packing my trailer and I got it all in but I would need a semi-tractor to pull it. So I unpacked it and tossed quite a bit of crap into a duffel bag that I will take to UPS in the morning before I head out. The irony is that I carefully packed it all to get here then I'm going to send it home via UPS. because I'm so cheap my skills for cramming lots of things into a small space will be tested so I can buy the smallest box and it won't cost more than the contents are worth to ship it home. Is all of this crap that valuable? What can I say? I won't know until it's time to pay.So, I will get a late start. Fortunately UPS is very close to several coffee shops.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Segment Two starts tomorrow
I've always been pretty good with math so here is a problem: My Burley bicycle trailer will haul about 50 # comfortably. The gear bag I'm taking tomorrow on the airplane weighs about 60#. Somewhere, tomorrow, I will also have to add food! So. . . . . between now and tomorrow at 8:30 when I leave for the airport I have to shed about 20#.
When I left home (mid-teens) I had all of my clothing, all of my equestrian equipment including a Heizer saddle that was given to me by my greatgrandfather, a toothbrush, a 25/35 Winchester lever action deer rifle, several books, and my dog. All of this (except the dog) fit in the trunk of the Ford sedan I stole from my parents and I still had room for the luggage of several more people if I had taken any passengers. I had enough room to haul cargo for hire! I thought I was rich! Now my wealth is measured not stocks and bonds, gold buried in the back yard, the value of my wisdom, but rather in stuff! I could run the next space mission given the redundant stuff I have packed in my duffel. How many riding jerseys, bicycling shorts, helmets, gloves, sunglasses, etc do I really need? In thinking it through and looking at a map of Washington state it occurred to me that surely somewhere along the way I can find new stuff that I might need! I must remember the basics when I go shopping in Monroe WA: toilet paper, a tube of toothpaste because invariably Homeland Security confiscates my almost new tube of toothpaste at the airport, Cholula hot sauce, a spoon, and fuel for my stove.
I do have extra parts for the bicycle because I know that between Monroe and Wenatchee and between Wenatchee and Spokane there are probably few bicycle shops. I could buy parts for a tractor, feed for my cows, white bread and bad coffee almost anywhere along the way but bicycle parts?
I bought the bicycle I'm using (a Giant) from Contender Bicycles in SLC several weeks ago. I mentioned to Reed, the store manager, that I needed something that was light weight, could pull a cargo trailer, and didn't cost more than a new Subaru. He fixed me right up. When I went in yesterday to buy some parts he not only remembered me, my trip plans, but also remembered the modifications he made to the new bicycle for me. He and his staff are superb and they know bicycles. Go in an see them.
On Monday morning I will head east on Highway 2 over the Cascade range. As I pedal along I want to stop in each small town and visit with locals. I want to get a feel for what people in that part of the world are thinking concerning current issues.This is going to be a pulse check for me. I want to see if my worldview has been as seriously influenced by the Utah lens I look through, as I suspect it has been. I have been growing evermore concerned about the divisiveness in our country. It seems that much of our information comes from the personal opinion of pundits (both sides), the well-stocked but questionable data from the internet, and small soundbites that are almost impossible to fact check if one is so inclined. Leadership at all levels seems to be seriously dysfunctional. Even at the local level, in Holladay Utah, it is clear that the Mayor and our town board have been compromised by developers and personal interests. It seems that citizens are susceptible to radicalization because they are more concerned about keeping a job, making mortgage payments, keeping the boat they unwisely bought with a second mortgage. They don't have or don't feel they have the time to think for themselves. A patriot is not someone who follows blindly rather it is someone who questions and thinks for themselves before acting.
But does every state have Gail Ruzekas, Mike Noels, and clones of the other scoundrels that we keep in power in Utah? If so (and I think they do) are these "leaders" as morally bankrupt, ethically challenged, and myopic as ours?
I might not like what I hear but I'm going to give it a go. I need to know so I can start thinking about how I can influence change. But I'm not going to let it get to me. I still intend to look at the landscape about, gather roadside blackberries, and if I get the chance try to find the place I'm sure I saw Sasquatch a few days ago.
When I left home (mid-teens) I had all of my clothing, all of my equestrian equipment including a Heizer saddle that was given to me by my greatgrandfather, a toothbrush, a 25/35 Winchester lever action deer rifle, several books, and my dog. All of this (except the dog) fit in the trunk of the Ford sedan I stole from my parents and I still had room for the luggage of several more people if I had taken any passengers. I had enough room to haul cargo for hire! I thought I was rich! Now my wealth is measured not stocks and bonds, gold buried in the back yard, the value of my wisdom, but rather in stuff! I could run the next space mission given the redundant stuff I have packed in my duffel. How many riding jerseys, bicycling shorts, helmets, gloves, sunglasses, etc do I really need? In thinking it through and looking at a map of Washington state it occurred to me that surely somewhere along the way I can find new stuff that I might need! I must remember the basics when I go shopping in Monroe WA: toilet paper, a tube of toothpaste because invariably Homeland Security confiscates my almost new tube of toothpaste at the airport, Cholula hot sauce, a spoon, and fuel for my stove.
I do have extra parts for the bicycle because I know that between Monroe and Wenatchee and between Wenatchee and Spokane there are probably few bicycle shops. I could buy parts for a tractor, feed for my cows, white bread and bad coffee almost anywhere along the way but bicycle parts?
I bought the bicycle I'm using (a Giant) from Contender Bicycles in SLC several weeks ago. I mentioned to Reed, the store manager, that I needed something that was light weight, could pull a cargo trailer, and didn't cost more than a new Subaru. He fixed me right up. When I went in yesterday to buy some parts he not only remembered me, my trip plans, but also remembered the modifications he made to the new bicycle for me. He and his staff are superb and they know bicycles. Go in an see them.
On Monday morning I will head east on Highway 2 over the Cascade range. As I pedal along I want to stop in each small town and visit with locals. I want to get a feel for what people in that part of the world are thinking concerning current issues.This is going to be a pulse check for me. I want to see if my worldview has been as seriously influenced by the Utah lens I look through, as I suspect it has been. I have been growing evermore concerned about the divisiveness in our country. It seems that much of our information comes from the personal opinion of pundits (both sides), the well-stocked but questionable data from the internet, and small soundbites that are almost impossible to fact check if one is so inclined. Leadership at all levels seems to be seriously dysfunctional. Even at the local level, in Holladay Utah, it is clear that the Mayor and our town board have been compromised by developers and personal interests. It seems that citizens are susceptible to radicalization because they are more concerned about keeping a job, making mortgage payments, keeping the boat they unwisely bought with a second mortgage. They don't have or don't feel they have the time to think for themselves. A patriot is not someone who follows blindly rather it is someone who questions and thinks for themselves before acting.
But does every state have Gail Ruzekas, Mike Noels, and clones of the other scoundrels that we keep in power in Utah? If so (and I think they do) are these "leaders" as morally bankrupt, ethically challenged, and myopic as ours?
I might not like what I hear but I'm going to give it a go. I need to know so I can start thinking about how I can influence change. But I'm not going to let it get to me. I still intend to look at the landscape about, gather roadside blackberries, and if I get the chance try to find the place I'm sure I saw Sasquatch a few days ago.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Sasquatch
On Highway 2 over the Cascades I think I saw a Sasquatch sitting besides the road. I wasn't on my bicycle but rather in the car so I couldn't stop to confirm my sighting. He/she was sitting beside the road in front of a gas station in Skykomish. I tend to think that the creature was a male because he (?) didn't have a shirt on. The creature was very hairy. It had long hair with a bunch of hair tied up on top of its skull that kind of drooped over the rest of its head like a small umbrella and it had a very full beard. In the flash-glimpse I has of it I could tell that the only visible feature on its face were two very dark eyes that followed the trajectory of the car. It sat in a yoga posture, with both bare feet resting on its knees. He was wearing what looked like dirty chinos. I think it was eating a hot dog and for sure was drinking a Coke as there was a super-huge plastic Coke cup next to it.I'm also sure that it was a Sasquatch because Washington State ranks number one in sightings followed by California. I would have to question California as second as they have very liberal "medical marijuana" laws and because (or consequently) there are a lot of sick people there with prescriptions. Utah ranks quite low probably because we only have a couple of NPR stations.
I watched a TV program on History or Discovery, maybe Animal Planet, about groups that do "research" on these creatures. They call themselves "Crypto-zoologists."
From Wikipedia (Stupor-pedia?):
Cryptozoology (from Greek κρυπτός, kryptos, "hidden" + zoology; literally, "study of hidden animals") refers to the search for animals which are considered to be legendary or otherwise nonexistent by mainstream biology. This includes looking for living examples of animals which are extinct, such as dinosaurs; animals whose existence lacks physical support. . . .I interrupt to say that on the web site : http://www.bfro.net/ (Big Foot Research) there seem to be numerous sightings and other "proofs" that provide physical support for the existence of Sasquatch and of Big Foot (I think these are different species, but more on this later) at least in this Hemisphere.
Back to stupor-pedia:
According to authors Ben Roesch and John Percy Moore, "Cryptozoology ranges from pseudoscientific to useful and interesting, depending on how it is practiced." They further note that it is "not strictly a science", that "many scientists and skeptics classify cryptozoology as a pseudoscience" and that "papers on the topic are rarely published in scientific journals. . . . . no formal education on the subject is available. . . .
Photo:
So, I have decided to be the worlds first crypt-ecologist because I think science makes a serious mistake by studying specific species and their habitat and forgets to study that species interaction with other species and their habitats. I believe that Bigfoot and Sasquatch are different species but that they might have over-lapping ranges. Sasquatch photos and the creature I saw in Skykomish lead me to believe that they (Sasquatches) have significantly more hair and are lighter in color. More like Chewbaca (spelloing?) from Star Wars if you will. (By the way I might not spell check anymore because it seems that crypto-zoologists have set a trend by not spell-checking or even proof reading their papers and findings. open research link above and peer review this comment) I will also change the way I report out. For example when I reported scientific findings before I would say: "those data seem to suggest . . ." Now I'm (foloowing the lead of noted crypto-zoologists on tv) I wil say: "My research offers deffinitive proof that. . . ."
More later. I have to check my field notes and go back on the link above to peer-review other research.
In closing, however, I would add that now that I'm the worlds first crypto-ecologist I will be waiting for an interview from NPR's Science Friday or from X96 Radio From Hell's Ask a. . . .(insert profession here) feature.You have my number!
I watched a TV program on History or Discovery, maybe Animal Planet, about groups that do "research" on these creatures. They call themselves "Crypto-zoologists."
From Wikipedia (Stupor-pedia?):
Cryptozoology (from Greek κρυπτός, kryptos, "hidden" + zoology; literally, "study of hidden animals") refers to the search for animals which are considered to be legendary or otherwise nonexistent by mainstream biology. This includes looking for living examples of animals which are extinct, such as dinosaurs; animals whose existence lacks physical support. . . .I interrupt to say that on the web site : http://www.bfro.net/ (Big Foot Research) there seem to be numerous sightings and other "proofs" that provide physical support for the existence of Sasquatch and of Big Foot (I think these are different species, but more on this later) at least in this Hemisphere.
Back to stupor-pedia:
According to authors Ben Roesch and John Percy Moore, "Cryptozoology ranges from pseudoscientific to useful and interesting, depending on how it is practiced." They further note that it is "not strictly a science", that "many scientists and skeptics classify cryptozoology as a pseudoscience" and that "papers on the topic are rarely published in scientific journals. . . . . no formal education on the subject is available. . . .
Photo:
Photo and location of the photo with tanks to BFRO
________________
More later. I have to check my field notes and go back on the link above to peer-review other research.
In closing, however, I would add that now that I'm the worlds first crypto-ecologist I will be waiting for an interview from NPR's Science Friday or from X96 Radio From Hell's Ask a. . . .(insert profession here) feature.You have my number!
Monday, August 9, 2010
End of Segment One--Olympic Peninsula
Finished segment one yesterday: Discovery Bay to Port Townsend and ended up in Monroe WA on the mainland where I booked a room for last night and for next Sunday evening. The innkeeper has agreed to store my bicycle and trailer for a week. We have yet to negotiate a price!!
Yesterday morning's hike to Cape Flattery, west of Neah Bay, was the cap on a successful start for my Kill my Legs to Give my Ass a Ride bicycle tour west/east. I don't know if I've raised any money for Writers @ Work and the Reeve Foundation but I'll keep plugging them as I plug along.
I wish I was a better photographer because Cape Flattery is a landscape of overwhelming beauty and complexity. Yet there is a simplicity in the raucous call of a gull parent coming back to its nest perched on a small ledge; a flock of Oyster Catchers resting on a rock between tides; red starfish clinging to cliffs at the low water line; the patience and dignity of western red cedars, hemlock, and fir, standing for centuries with fern shoes, dressed in pale gray moss and bright yellow lichens. This mood is echoed in Neah Bay by the members of the Makah Tribe on whose home-land Cape Flattery ties the mainland to the Pacific. That they choose to share this gem with the rest of the world shows trust that we, the society that gave them relatively little except centuries of misery and prejudice, will honor them and their land as we visit.
The Olympic Peninsula is rich in plant life. I know a few of the trees but I wish Fred Winkler, my mentor for all things ecologic, could be along to identify them, speak to their habit, their niche,how they function (what part they play) in the greater ecosystem of a temperate rain forest. I found a rotting trunk on the hike of a western red cedar that was at least 8 ft. in diameter when it was alive. How knows how tall or how long it lived, what it observed in humans as generations and cultures came and went.
Ending segment one of my trip, with this hike, impressed on me that regardless of how far east I travel, I should do the rest of the ride with not only my eyes and senses on full alert but also my heart. As we go about our daily business it is easy to forget to feel. We (I) tend to operate on auto pilot doing the tasks of making a living. By and large we know how to do that quite well. We know the politics and policies of our workplace, who not to test, who we can trust, how much risk we can take. But every second we operate in these systems--I would posit that we robotize our emotions and actions--we complicate our lives to the point that we come home exhausted, unable to unwind. For me this has been one of the factors that have driven depression, anxiety, fear. I have relearned what I've been sensing as I get older: I need to operate simply, work with those things I can control, plan ahead with reasonable alternatives and expectations, and quit expecting more of myself than I am capable of doing.
On the drive back to SLC I scouted the Cascade portion of Highway 2, the start of segment two. For the better part it has fairly safe travel lanes (before I leave for this segment I will post the Pucker Factor Index spread sheet!) and lots of things to look at. It is about 50 miles from Monroe WA where I will start to the top of Stevens pass. While the road climbs it seems relatively flat until you get to the base of the pass when it climbs rather abruptly for a few miles. However, the ride on the east side will be a blast; it's all down hill to Wenatche!!
So thanks for staying with me. In the next few days I will add video to this site. If you've contributed thanks if you haven't I would encourage you to help these charities.
Yesterday morning's hike to Cape Flattery, west of Neah Bay, was the cap on a successful start for my Kill my Legs to Give my Ass a Ride bicycle tour west/east. I don't know if I've raised any money for Writers @ Work and the Reeve Foundation but I'll keep plugging them as I plug along.
I wish I was a better photographer because Cape Flattery is a landscape of overwhelming beauty and complexity. Yet there is a simplicity in the raucous call of a gull parent coming back to its nest perched on a small ledge; a flock of Oyster Catchers resting on a rock between tides; red starfish clinging to cliffs at the low water line; the patience and dignity of western red cedars, hemlock, and fir, standing for centuries with fern shoes, dressed in pale gray moss and bright yellow lichens. This mood is echoed in Neah Bay by the members of the Makah Tribe on whose home-land Cape Flattery ties the mainland to the Pacific. That they choose to share this gem with the rest of the world shows trust that we, the society that gave them relatively little except centuries of misery and prejudice, will honor them and their land as we visit.
The Olympic Peninsula is rich in plant life. I know a few of the trees but I wish Fred Winkler, my mentor for all things ecologic, could be along to identify them, speak to their habit, their niche,how they function (what part they play) in the greater ecosystem of a temperate rain forest. I found a rotting trunk on the hike of a western red cedar that was at least 8 ft. in diameter when it was alive. How knows how tall or how long it lived, what it observed in humans as generations and cultures came and went.
Ending segment one of my trip, with this hike, impressed on me that regardless of how far east I travel, I should do the rest of the ride with not only my eyes and senses on full alert but also my heart. As we go about our daily business it is easy to forget to feel. We (I) tend to operate on auto pilot doing the tasks of making a living. By and large we know how to do that quite well. We know the politics and policies of our workplace, who not to test, who we can trust, how much risk we can take. But every second we operate in these systems--I would posit that we robotize our emotions and actions--we complicate our lives to the point that we come home exhausted, unable to unwind. For me this has been one of the factors that have driven depression, anxiety, fear. I have relearned what I've been sensing as I get older: I need to operate simply, work with those things I can control, plan ahead with reasonable alternatives and expectations, and quit expecting more of myself than I am capable of doing.
On the drive back to SLC I scouted the Cascade portion of Highway 2, the start of segment two. For the better part it has fairly safe travel lanes (before I leave for this segment I will post the Pucker Factor Index spread sheet!) and lots of things to look at. It is about 50 miles from Monroe WA where I will start to the top of Stevens pass. While the road climbs it seems relatively flat until you get to the base of the pass when it climbs rather abruptly for a few miles. However, the ride on the east side will be a blast; it's all down hill to Wenatche!!
So thanks for staying with me. In the next few days I will add video to this site. If you've contributed thanks if you haven't I would encourage you to help these charities.
Cape Flattery
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Day seven
Today I finish the Peninsula portion: Discovery Bay- Port Townsend and then the Whidby Island part. I will post about that this evening.
Then I will leave my bicycle and trailer at,hopefully, a safe place, maybe the next sleazy motel, and drive back to SLC. I couldn't have done this without the support of my SAG wagon driver (Queeny) who left the dog and children (albeit adult) to look after each other, put up with aforementioned sleazy motels, over 1600 miles of my political and world-view ranting, laughed at my stupid jokes, worried about me riding on the high Pucker Factor Index roads, picked raspberries with me, and withstood fog and cold winds to see the things I love the most: the outdoors, and best of all didn't gripe, whine, or complain about any of this. I can never repay her except to say that we shared a very special place, made special memories, and given my poor coordinates for being picked up, she didn't run over me standing in a blackberry thicket next to a road.
I will be in SLC for a few days and will fly back a week from today to Seattle to do the Cascades and possibly eastern Washington. During the week I will post more photos and a ride schedule.
Then I will leave my bicycle and trailer at,hopefully, a safe place, maybe the next sleazy motel, and drive back to SLC. I couldn't have done this without the support of my SAG wagon driver (Queeny) who left the dog and children (albeit adult) to look after each other, put up with aforementioned sleazy motels, over 1600 miles of my political and world-view ranting, laughed at my stupid jokes, worried about me riding on the high Pucker Factor Index roads, picked raspberries with me, and withstood fog and cold winds to see the things I love the most: the outdoors, and best of all didn't gripe, whine, or complain about any of this. I can never repay her except to say that we shared a very special place, made special memories, and given my poor coordinates for being picked up, she didn't run over me standing in a blackberry thicket next to a road.
I will be in SLC for a few days and will fly back a week from today to Seattle to do the Cascades and possibly eastern Washington. During the week I will post more photos and a ride schedule.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
More random photos and rainy-day thoughts
"First: in today's news--rain fell on the Peninsula. Then it rained a bit more which was followed up by a heavy mist that kinda felt like rain. Now back to our reporter on the street. A.J. Are you there?"
"Yes I am. I just talked to the man who said he owned the building where Linda's Wood-Fired Kitchen is located, in Neah Bay, who said: "This isn't rain it's just a heavy mist. You should be here when it rains!" He must have known what he was talking about as he kept a pipe fully fired up--in the heavy mist which to me was a light but persistent rain--all the time he was talking."
Bottom line: didn't get to hike as planned.
So more random photos
"Yes I am. I just talked to the man who said he owned the building where Linda's Wood-Fired Kitchen is located, in Neah Bay, who said: "This isn't rain it's just a heavy mist. You should be here when it rains!" He must have known what he was talking about as he kept a pipe fully fired up--in the heavy mist which to me was a light but persistent rain--all the time he was talking."
Bottom line: didn't get to hike as planned.
So more random photos
This is a photo shot from the yard of the Bullman Beach Inn.
I think it is Neah Bay from the east side.
Last evening I saw two mature Bald Eagles fishing in the surf between the Inn and that rock. It was incredible especially to see one catch a fairly large fish (made me jealous)and then retreat to a tree a hundred meters or so from the Inn to eat its catch!! I think I managed to catch this on video and when I figure out how to put it on the blog I will do so. At the Makah Cultural and Research Center, today, I saw a couple of books on Sasquatch. One was written by a researcher from British Colombia and the other by a renown author who knows of secret UFO landings that she asserts the government has been covering up. Had either book cost less than $10 I might have bought one or both but one was at least $20 and the other almost $40!!! I might go on line and see if either book is offered at a reduced rate.
If I had known you could adopt mice out I wouldn't have. . . .
Well, let's just say I would have treated them nicer!
Friday, August 6, 2010
Pucker Factor
This is not a science-based observation; it is fear based reality. The scenery on the Olympic Peninsula is without a doubt some of the best I've ever seen. The roads are, on the other hand, a challenge. It isn't the up and down, curving, shaded, foggy, or even busy factors, although these factors figure into the equation. It is the paved shoulder of the roads! Starting from Neah Bay and heading east they start at 0-2ft from the white stripe to a rough landing in the blackberry tangles or worse into the side of a huge fir or red cedar. At Joyce the "Bike lane" is from 0-3 ft, leaning more towards: between a white strip and cast off truck/auto parts, tree bark, some really pretty flowers, and a huge log that I would have liked to have seen jumping from the truck, albeit, from several hundred meters behind. At Port Angeles the bike lane is from 2-6 ft, averaging about 3. Then they narrow as you get close to Port Townsend.
So, I've devised a non-scientific rating of bike lanes on the north side of the peninsula: the Pucker Factor. The PF tries to account for the width of bicycle lane, width of the vehicle travel surface between the white strip (bicycle lane) and the SOLID yellow one, the amount of sight distance (which given the fact that trees and blackberries grow to the edge of the road and that the roads hardly have a straight section on them means that drivers can't see squat for more than a really panicked "half-of-a-breaking distance ahead". . .before mass and velocity can be measured on the unit with the smaller mass. . . . kinda like the jackrabbit blotch in the middle of the road!), the amount of traffic in terms of the ratio of cars, pickups, logging trucks, dump trucks, and Winnibeggers, and how much over the posted speed limit these vehicles are traveling.
The highway between Neah Bay and Joyce hardly has a stretch where the speed limit is over 45 so it has a lower score for "speed of vehicles." But the ratio of huge vehicles to small ones (log trucks:cars) is very high and they get paid by the mile so they are in a hurry to haul as many loads as they can per day. And the width of the bike lane is almost zero. So the PF is (on a scale of 1-10, one being no problem and a ten being a good case of an aggravated bowel syndrome) is an 8 or 9. From Port Angeles east, even though traffic is faster and heavier, the PF is about a 6 or 7.
I will develop a table with better criteria later in the trip. Let's just say my rear end has learned how to grip my saddle very well.
So, I've devised a non-scientific rating of bike lanes on the north side of the peninsula: the Pucker Factor. The PF tries to account for the width of bicycle lane, width of the vehicle travel surface between the white strip (bicycle lane) and the SOLID yellow one, the amount of sight distance (which given the fact that trees and blackberries grow to the edge of the road and that the roads hardly have a straight section on them means that drivers can't see squat for more than a really panicked "half-of-a-breaking distance ahead". . .before mass and velocity can be measured on the unit with the smaller mass. . . . kinda like the jackrabbit blotch in the middle of the road!), the amount of traffic in terms of the ratio of cars, pickups, logging trucks, dump trucks, and Winnibeggers, and how much over the posted speed limit these vehicles are traveling.
The highway between Neah Bay and Joyce hardly has a stretch where the speed limit is over 45 so it has a lower score for "speed of vehicles." But the ratio of huge vehicles to small ones (log trucks:cars) is very high and they get paid by the mile so they are in a hurry to haul as many loads as they can per day. And the width of the bike lane is almost zero. So the PF is (on a scale of 1-10, one being no problem and a ten being a good case of an aggravated bowel syndrome) is an 8 or 9. From Port Angeles east, even though traffic is faster and heavier, the PF is about a 6 or 7.
I will develop a table with better criteria later in the trip. Let's just say my rear end has learned how to grip my saddle very well.
Catching up on photos
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Fat Smittys in Discovery Bay that this photo in some way captures it. I saw this as I was at about twenty miles into the day's ride. You know how you can see something and its real (often simple) meaning is high-jacked by a paradigm or irrational thought? My brain said: yet one more fast-food joint; my emotional self said: Perhaps a cleverly disguised deportation center? If this is offensive let me know.  And fog!!  Neah Bay WA from the east  |
Twilight-The Series; The Obsession; The connection to the Peninsula
I tried to read the first Twilight book, I really did, if nothing more than for its second degree Utah connection. I attempted the Harry Potter books for a slightly different second degree connection. I discovered that the Twilight series was heavily marketed by the author in Utah because of her affiliation. A very astute and intelligent marketing move. I only wish I could market my own writing with such effectiveness. But I live in Utah and I have a direct connection to one of the best pedigrees (Mormon royalty) in the state and haven't yet published a book.
I tried Harry, both the first book and the first movie for two reasons: one, my god-daughter Wilhelmina loves both the books and movies; two, because of her love of all things Harry I was asked to be the cranky, prone to obfuscation, "leave me the hell alone and I won't bite" one-eyed character called Mad-eye Moody(?) at a masquerade Christmas party held, with Wilhelmina as the host, at our house.
What did these books have in common besides the slightly different Utah connections? What do they have in common with the Olympic Peninsula? For both books: fog. Early morning, lunch, and evening fog that springs up at a whim. Fog has always been a spooky thing for me growing up in Colorado where I can count all of the foggy days I can remember on a span of two hands. It wasn't the fog we have in Utah that stings the eyes because of the industrial and exhaust particulates. Yet, in "real fog" I'm attracted to the thrill of not really being able to see. Things fade in and out like dreams. But riding a bike in the fog is not only cold but scary. What if the car coming up behind me in the fog can't see my small flashers blinking in panic from my day pack? What if I can't see a downhill curve soon enough to keep from sailing off of a ledge into the Strait of Juan De Fuca? What if I stop to take a picture of rocks sticking out of the fog along the sea and a were-wolf or vampire sneaks up on me from behind? The Olympic Peninsula is, after all, the place that the Twilight series characters call home.
There is a store in Port Angeles that sells only Twilight Series stuff including post cards of the west coast of the peninsula where the Twilight vamps live. The movies were filmed elsewhere. The author lives in Arizona and her marketing target was Utah. Yet to my knowledge there isn't a Twilight-centric store in Utah.
I can see why vamps would like this place to live. It's green, it has ocean, it has mountains, and it has lots and lots of fog. Oh, and it also has lots and lots of traffic: small cars, electric cars, hybrid cars, cars that have hoods large enough to land small planes on, and trucks: logging trucks full and empty, dump trucks likewise loaded, semi-trucks with double trailers, and flat-beds with wide-loads that stick out into the meager bike lane. It can get really spooky at times! I hear a heavy truck coming and I start to pucker up, then whoosh, it speeds by me trying to suck me into its vortex.
But between trucks and cars there is silence broken only by the occasional vocalization of a coast crow. The landscape is all shades of green sprinkled with a wide variety of wild flowers. This color palate is in open fields, barrow pits along the roads, and on logged-off sites. Yesterday I stopped to put my windbreaker back on because of the fog and found a very large patch of wild raspberries. I foraged like a bear, a true primordial hunter/gatherer in biking shorts and a chartreuse windbreaker. But, then. . . .what's that noise in the bushes? Or did it come from the wisp of fog that suddenly rolled over me shutting off the wider world, forcing me to look at the much fore-shortened world immediately around me. Vampire? Sasquatch?
I tried Harry, both the first book and the first movie for two reasons: one, my god-daughter Wilhelmina loves both the books and movies; two, because of her love of all things Harry I was asked to be the cranky, prone to obfuscation, "leave me the hell alone and I won't bite" one-eyed character called Mad-eye Moody(?) at a masquerade Christmas party held, with Wilhelmina as the host, at our house.
What did these books have in common besides the slightly different Utah connections? What do they have in common with the Olympic Peninsula? For both books: fog. Early morning, lunch, and evening fog that springs up at a whim. Fog has always been a spooky thing for me growing up in Colorado where I can count all of the foggy days I can remember on a span of two hands. It wasn't the fog we have in Utah that stings the eyes because of the industrial and exhaust particulates. Yet, in "real fog" I'm attracted to the thrill of not really being able to see. Things fade in and out like dreams. But riding a bike in the fog is not only cold but scary. What if the car coming up behind me in the fog can't see my small flashers blinking in panic from my day pack? What if I can't see a downhill curve soon enough to keep from sailing off of a ledge into the Strait of Juan De Fuca? What if I stop to take a picture of rocks sticking out of the fog along the sea and a were-wolf or vampire sneaks up on me from behind? The Olympic Peninsula is, after all, the place that the Twilight series characters call home.
There is a store in Port Angeles that sells only Twilight Series stuff including post cards of the west coast of the peninsula where the Twilight vamps live. The movies were filmed elsewhere. The author lives in Arizona and her marketing target was Utah. Yet to my knowledge there isn't a Twilight-centric store in Utah.
I can see why vamps would like this place to live. It's green, it has ocean, it has mountains, and it has lots and lots of fog. Oh, and it also has lots and lots of traffic: small cars, electric cars, hybrid cars, cars that have hoods large enough to land small planes on, and trucks: logging trucks full and empty, dump trucks likewise loaded, semi-trucks with double trailers, and flat-beds with wide-loads that stick out into the meager bike lane. It can get really spooky at times! I hear a heavy truck coming and I start to pucker up, then whoosh, it speeds by me trying to suck me into its vortex.
But between trucks and cars there is silence broken only by the occasional vocalization of a coast crow. The landscape is all shades of green sprinkled with a wide variety of wild flowers. This color palate is in open fields, barrow pits along the roads, and on logged-off sites. Yesterday I stopped to put my windbreaker back on because of the fog and found a very large patch of wild raspberries. I foraged like a bear, a true primordial hunter/gatherer in biking shorts and a chartreuse windbreaker. But, then. . . .what's that noise in the bushes? Or did it come from the wisp of fog that suddenly rolled over me shutting off the wider world, forcing me to look at the much fore-shortened world immediately around me. Vampire? Sasquatch?
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Finally on the Bicycle
Remaining true to my incomprehensible propensity to do things either against the grain or backwards I started my "give my ass a ride" by riding east from Port Angeles, instead of going all the way to Neah Bay and then riding east. This was partially because I waited way to long to find places to stay during the pre-planning stage of this adventure. The facilities in Neah Bay are limited and I could only get a reservation for two days towards the end of this week. So, tomorrow I will ride from Port Angeles west towards Neah Bay, come back to Port Angeles tomorrow evening, and ride the rest of the way towards Neah Bay on Friday. Two days in Neah Bay will allow me to ride out on the coast access roads all the way to the coast which is just a few miles from this village.
Highway 101 is a scary ride! It has wide shoulders but the traffic is wall-to-wall and doing at least the speed limit of 60mph. In my infinite wisdom I thought I would leave early in the morning so I could beat the "rush hour" which my uniformed naivety suggested that rush hour, in such a rural place, couldn't start before eight a.m. I managed to find a couple of great gentlemen (Bob Forcier and Scott Clausen) who worked in a visitor center in Sequim (pronounced skwim) WA.
"Where's everyone going in such a hurry so early?" I asked.
"Well, work of course." one of them said. He frowned at me. I quickly told them I still worked for a living so they wouldn't think I was some kind of elitist who pod casts NPR as I pedal my bike. I asked where everyone went to work. Some, they told me have to drive (roads and ferry) back and forth to Seattle which has to be at least a two hour one way commute. Others build houses on the peninsula and on Whidbey and the San Juan Islands for other NPR pod-casting liberals. Some log, some work as stevedores and yet another group work as maids, house-keepers, bar tenders, waiters, etc who pander to the needs of NPR pod casting, trust funded, elitist liberal tourists and newcomers. I hurriedly told them that other than Fox news at the gym I workout at in Holladay (Holladay Health and Fitness) my only source of news, sports, and political commentary is X-96 Radio from Hell KXRK Provo, Ogden, Salt Lake City. But after a few doubtful glances at each other they gave me maps, showed me alternative routes--that still met my objectives but avoided the heavy traffic--and suggested I stop at Fat Smittys hamburger joint in Discover Bay, and told me about their various knee and hip operations. Great guys!!
Fat Smittys: is an ex-marine (so don't talk politics with him Bob and Scott warned me) who has made burgers for a couple of decades. His specialty is a double decker: 2 half pound hamburger patties, a chunk of "American" cheese (on each level) along with what sounds like at least a half pound of bacon, (on each level) topped with dill pickles and home-grown in the U.S. of A. tomatoes hand-picked by Americans, etc, etc. Tables are plastic American flags, Fox News in on the tube, and there are hundreds if not thousands of one-dollar American bills taped, stapled, or pinned to every wall. Every sq inch of the ceiling, including bathrooms is also decorated likewise.
"I'm a vegetarian," I told Bob and Scott after they told me about Fat Smittys. "Not a card carrying vegan or anything, but I don't eat meat." They looked at each other. "Hope you brought your own lunch or you're planning to start eat meat again, but don't tell Fat Smitty you're a vegetarian."
Tomorrow I will down load photos of today's ride.
Highway 101 is a scary ride! It has wide shoulders but the traffic is wall-to-wall and doing at least the speed limit of 60mph. In my infinite wisdom I thought I would leave early in the morning so I could beat the "rush hour" which my uniformed naivety suggested that rush hour, in such a rural place, couldn't start before eight a.m. I managed to find a couple of great gentlemen (Bob Forcier and Scott Clausen) who worked in a visitor center in Sequim (pronounced skwim) WA.
"Where's everyone going in such a hurry so early?" I asked.
"Well, work of course." one of them said. He frowned at me. I quickly told them I still worked for a living so they wouldn't think I was some kind of elitist who pod casts NPR as I pedal my bike. I asked where everyone went to work. Some, they told me have to drive (roads and ferry) back and forth to Seattle which has to be at least a two hour one way commute. Others build houses on the peninsula and on Whidbey and the San Juan Islands for other NPR pod-casting liberals. Some log, some work as stevedores and yet another group work as maids, house-keepers, bar tenders, waiters, etc who pander to the needs of NPR pod casting, trust funded, elitist liberal tourists and newcomers. I hurriedly told them that other than Fox news at the gym I workout at in Holladay (Holladay Health and Fitness) my only source of news, sports, and political commentary is X-96 Radio from Hell KXRK Provo, Ogden, Salt Lake City. But after a few doubtful glances at each other they gave me maps, showed me alternative routes--that still met my objectives but avoided the heavy traffic--and suggested I stop at Fat Smittys hamburger joint in Discover Bay, and told me about their various knee and hip operations. Great guys!!
Fat Smittys: is an ex-marine (so don't talk politics with him Bob and Scott warned me) who has made burgers for a couple of decades. His specialty is a double decker: 2 half pound hamburger patties, a chunk of "American" cheese (on each level) along with what sounds like at least a half pound of bacon, (on each level) topped with dill pickles and home-grown in the U.S. of A. tomatoes hand-picked by Americans, etc, etc. Tables are plastic American flags, Fox News in on the tube, and there are hundreds if not thousands of one-dollar American bills taped, stapled, or pinned to every wall. Every sq inch of the ceiling, including bathrooms is also decorated likewise.
"I'm a vegetarian," I told Bob and Scott after they told me about Fat Smittys. "Not a card carrying vegan or anything, but I don't eat meat." They looked at each other. "Hope you brought your own lunch or you're planning to start eat meat again, but don't tell Fat Smitty you're a vegetarian."
Tomorrow I will down load photos of today's ride.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Monday, August 2, two days before I launch segment one
The drive to the peninsula takes a while, so we stopped in Pendleton Oregon for the evening.
When I was planning this trip I looked into shipping my bicycle to Seattle and taking a shuttle to Neah Bay. I found I could fly a typical Utah polygamist family to Seattle for the cost of flying my equipment on any airline! Over-sized baggage!
So I decided to transport by car, ride segment one--Olympic peninsula and Whidbey Island--then store the bike at a bike shop and drive back to Utah. Segment 2, I will fly to Seattle and take a shuttle to the town where I've left my equipment. Even though I get profiled with some frequency, at airports, it will be cheaper and easier to fly back and forth to SLC between segments. Maybe I can wear biking shorts and a helmet through security. Wonder what would happen then? Kind of a scary thought both for them and for me.
I'm very anxious to get to Neah Bay so I can get on the road. Of course it isn't without some uncertainty. How far will I get? Weather? Traffic? Ambushed by Sasquatch in the Cascades?
On the road today I was thinking about how I do things. In reflection (from the perspective of hind-sight driven wisdom) it occurred to me that I've done things backwards most of my life, maybe made them harder than they had to be. For example I'm more fit now than I probably ever have been. Had I stayed fit throughout my life staying fit now would have been much easier. And in a sane world I would have attempted this bicycle trip when I was twenty not now when I'm four decades older. The difference is that this time I've thought it through. When I was twenty I would have probably stolen a bicycle and ridden away from the scene instead of planning a direction and ended up in the closest hoosegow. There is precedence for this.
When I was a kid, growing up in Colorado (I will attach the entire story to another page of this blog later) I always dreamed of seeing the ocean. My agüelo (grandfather in the Judea/Spanish we spoke in my home) told me stories about crossing the Atlantic to get to the killing fields of Belgium, during WWI. I could imagine the smell of sea air, the wind, the call of sea birds. Of course I ignored his story that almost everyone, including the sailors on his transport ship, spent hours leaning over the railing,--sea-sick--wishing that either the seas would calm or they would die.
So, I ran off from home when I was sixteen, stole my parents 1959 Ford sedan, loaded it with the few books (probably also stolen) and the other pair of jeans I owned, my dog, and I headed for the ocean. I had visions of working on a junk steamer; my dog and I having many adventures, meeting the salty characters from Steinbeck, Hemingway, maybe even left over seafarers from the Iliad.
SW Colorado is significantly closer to the Pacific than the Atlantic nes't pas? So, I jumped in the purloined Ford, pumped it twice, fired that 352 cu in V-8 up and headed as straight as I could to the east. Somewhere just shy of the Atlantic, on the banks of the Savanna river just outside of Augusta Georgia, my dog and I were arrested for vagrancy. We were sentenced to a month in a labor camp but a local dairy farmer bought out my sentence and I worked on his dairy for a month.
So, having started off my life kinda backwards and done many things in reverse, now, even though it wouldn't hurt if I were a few decades younger, I'm going to start on the Pacific coast and ride east.
Tomorrow: Neah Bay! According to the atlas I bought (I quit stealing when I got back to Colorado from Georgia) this little village is on the Pacific.
When I was planning this trip I looked into shipping my bicycle to Seattle and taking a shuttle to Neah Bay. I found I could fly a typical Utah polygamist family to Seattle for the cost of flying my equipment on any airline! Over-sized baggage!
So I decided to transport by car, ride segment one--Olympic peninsula and Whidbey Island--then store the bike at a bike shop and drive back to Utah. Segment 2, I will fly to Seattle and take a shuttle to the town where I've left my equipment. Even though I get profiled with some frequency, at airports, it will be cheaper and easier to fly back and forth to SLC between segments. Maybe I can wear biking shorts and a helmet through security. Wonder what would happen then? Kind of a scary thought both for them and for me.
I'm very anxious to get to Neah Bay so I can get on the road. Of course it isn't without some uncertainty. How far will I get? Weather? Traffic? Ambushed by Sasquatch in the Cascades?
On the road today I was thinking about how I do things. In reflection (from the perspective of hind-sight driven wisdom) it occurred to me that I've done things backwards most of my life, maybe made them harder than they had to be. For example I'm more fit now than I probably ever have been. Had I stayed fit throughout my life staying fit now would have been much easier. And in a sane world I would have attempted this bicycle trip when I was twenty not now when I'm four decades older. The difference is that this time I've thought it through. When I was twenty I would have probably stolen a bicycle and ridden away from the scene instead of planning a direction and ended up in the closest hoosegow. There is precedence for this.
When I was a kid, growing up in Colorado (I will attach the entire story to another page of this blog later) I always dreamed of seeing the ocean. My agüelo (grandfather in the Judea/Spanish we spoke in my home) told me stories about crossing the Atlantic to get to the killing fields of Belgium, during WWI. I could imagine the smell of sea air, the wind, the call of sea birds. Of course I ignored his story that almost everyone, including the sailors on his transport ship, spent hours leaning over the railing,--sea-sick--wishing that either the seas would calm or they would die.
So, I ran off from home when I was sixteen, stole my parents 1959 Ford sedan, loaded it with the few books (probably also stolen) and the other pair of jeans I owned, my dog, and I headed for the ocean. I had visions of working on a junk steamer; my dog and I having many adventures, meeting the salty characters from Steinbeck, Hemingway, maybe even left over seafarers from the Iliad.
SW Colorado is significantly closer to the Pacific than the Atlantic nes't pas? So, I jumped in the purloined Ford, pumped it twice, fired that 352 cu in V-8 up and headed as straight as I could to the east. Somewhere just shy of the Atlantic, on the banks of the Savanna river just outside of Augusta Georgia, my dog and I were arrested for vagrancy. We were sentenced to a month in a labor camp but a local dairy farmer bought out my sentence and I worked on his dairy for a month.
So, having started off my life kinda backwards and done many things in reverse, now, even though it wouldn't hurt if I were a few decades younger, I'm going to start on the Pacific coast and ride east.
Tomorrow: Neah Bay! According to the atlas I bought (I quit stealing when I got back to Colorado from Georgia) this little village is on the Pacific.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
The day before leaving
I rode my bicycle if for no other reason than I was getting stressed about what to bring. Also, I'm still undecided about a route over the Cascade Range which will determine where I will be leaving my bike and trailer.
The trailer will be empty except for a few items that if they survive storage for a few days I won't have to haul up on the airplane.
I've been looking on bus web sites to find maps and schedules so I can plan where my segment stops will be, where I can find someone to store my equipment. I'll find the airport closest to the end of a segment so I can bus there to fly back to SLC. Bus company web sites suck!! Their idea of a map looks like something I would do with a really large scaled map and a huge crayon.
So, the bike ride helped today. I'm back at it: packing, deciding what I need to have and what I want to have.
The trailer will be empty except for a few items that if they survive storage for a few days I won't have to haul up on the airplane.
I've been looking on bus web sites to find maps and schedules so I can plan where my segment stops will be, where I can find someone to store my equipment. I'll find the airport closest to the end of a segment so I can bus there to fly back to SLC. Bus company web sites suck!! Their idea of a map looks like something I would do with a really large scaled map and a huge crayon.
So, the bike ride helped today. I'm back at it: packing, deciding what I need to have and what I want to have.
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