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

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!

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.

Catching up on photos

Fat Smittys in Discovery Bay

Given the current sentiment in our country it seemed
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.

One of thousands of small wooded islands along the north coast.
And fog!!

Neah Bay WA from the east

Bullman Beach Inn Neah Bay

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?

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.

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.

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.