tragedy strikes

Well first the bad news. Since this bicycle trip first turned from an idea to a plan I have feared that something at least mildly disastrous would intercede to disrupt the months of expectation from being fully realized. Now it seems my premonition has been fulfilled in the form of a broken elbow my father received the day before he was to meet me in Seattle for our departure. A bicycle accident of course. As most of you know it is pretty serious, as most joint injuries are, but the surgeons are hopeful that they can restore full use of his right arm. I know that he was looking forward to this adventure at least as much as I was and so I will press on and attempt a more regular and detailed chronicling of my trip south for his benefit. This ones for you dad.

Putting that aside lets get on with catching up with the last week here in northwest Washington. I spent one night in the Thor Town hostel in Port Angeles. The owners lived on the property with an adorable little girl and a yard full of chickens, and shared their house with all of the wandering travellers who came through their doors. They proved invaluable in helping me formulate an itinerary for a the next few days as I had been sort of floundering in the vacuum of free will after being told what to do and where to be everyday for the past four months. Fortunately I am over that hurdle, and I am once again comfortable with the semi-directed trekking I had been doing before I boarded he Ocean Dancer.

In the end I decided I would do a little tour of Olympic National Park, and after packing up and a leisurely breakfast I made my way to Crescent Lake which is about 30 miles due west of P.A. It was suggested I stay in a closed campground to avoid the fees and I did. Besides being free I also had my choice of spots as it was deserted and so I was right on the beach. Even with about 20 stops and a two hour lunch at a roadside diner I still had hours to kill before it seemed reasonable to sleep. To fill the time I road my bike back to a nature trail to the Marymere Falls, which I had seen up the road. It was a pleasant stroll through a low-elevation forest to these falls, and the 1.5 mile round trip was about all my legs wanted to do.

maple leaves

The next day was a big one and I went a bit over 60 miles to make the Hoh Rain Forest about an hour and a half before sunset. I was then on the west side of the park and the river valleys thestretch to the pacific coast support an amazing forest environment. The Hoh was simply teeming with life-ferns, Sitka spruce, vine maple, Douglas fir, western hemlock, big leaf maple-all covered with moss. I have some photos but they don't really do it justice. I saw some elk. I made camp by the river and for lack of evening entertainment went to bed early and woke up the next morning around 4:30 and was on the road by 5:30. The sun had not yet risen and so I made my way slowly down the dark road until the dawn revealed the fog covered valley I was riding in. The mornings are the best for riding as the roads are deserted, the day is still cool, and the early light cast a sort of mystical hue to the world.

fog in a field at dawn

I made good time through the clear cut forests along the 101 and had covered the 40 plus miles to Kalaloch Beach before noon. Another incredible camping ground, this one in the coastal forest with the long sandy beach just under 50 yards from my tent. About a half mile from the camp ground is a little lodge and a small store. I had a long lunch at the lodge drinking a bottomless cup of coffee and reading Thomas Pynchon's Vineland. The setting for the novel was the the California coast from the logging and marijuana growing communities in Humboldt to the urban sprawl of L.A. It also stretched out as far as Texas and Japan. Excluding Japan, this was mostly familiar territory, and the the logging aspect seemed fitting for the country I was in. Written later in his life than the other novel's I had read this one was much more coherent and what at first would seem like digressions, which from Gravity's Rainbow I feared would be dead ends, always seemed to resolve themselves back into the overarching structure of the novel. As typical of Pynchon the prevailing mood was paranoia and conspiracy which he crafts so well, but this time he left the reader off the hook and managed to foil the conspiring forces and give the protagonists peace. Sorry if that's a spoiler.

beach and an unintentional nap on said beach due in no small part to the conveniences of the convenience store, I made what has become my signature dinner-spaghetti and tuna fish. I know it doesn't sound great but it is easy and filling. Afterwards, as I was laying in my tent working myself into a mood of self-pity listening to Elliot Smith and just beginning to fall asleep, I heard what was unmistakably one of my panniers being dragged down the little gully I was camped on top of. Scrambling out of the tent yelling and clapping I chucked some handy rocks and chunks of wood into the brush hoping whatever had made off with my bag would drop it. After a few moments all was quiet and I timidly made my way through the brush and down into the gully. Fortunately the bright reflector made the bag easy to spot with my flashlight and I managed toLittle did I know that back in the real world conspiring forces where working against me as well. After a nice long walk on the recover the bag with only a loaf of bread missing. Back up the hill I set off to find the lockers for food they usually provide for folks without cars to keep their food in. In my haste I was only wearing the short shorts I have taken to sleeping in and my sneaks. After a few cat calls from a group of older ladies getting drunk around the campfire beside their R.V., I found the lockers, but for some reason they were locked shut. As I walked back to my site I saw sort of large rodent scamper away from my tent. For lack of rope I used my bungee cord to tie my bag of food around a branch, but with the stretch factor it only hung about 2 feet off the ground. Tired and frustrated I tied a bear bell around the cord to at least provide an alarm if the ROUS made a pass at it. I went to lie back in my tent and as I flashed my light out the screen door into the brush I saw the two little slivers of eyes just waiting for me to fall asleep again. I decided to risk it and zipped the door up. I was once again drifting off to sleep listening to this animal slowly make its way through the brush when a late arrival to the campground pulled into the campsite next to me and I heard their dog jump out of the car and tear off into the brush chasing the offending creature away from me. Bag safely guarded by canine I drifted off to sleep.

The only problem with getting on the road so early is that it is impossible to find a cup of coffee until after 7:30. Combine that with the sparse population on this stretch of the 101, I typically don't get my dose until putting at least 20 miles behind me. In this case I didn't fill up until I had done the 40 miles to Quinault Lake, but really it wasn't so bad. I have found when I take my mind of the odometer and let it wander the miles really fly by. I have considered removing the device. Another great campsite on the south shore of the lake and just about deserted. I picked a spot on a little bluff above the lake and situated my tent to capture the rays of the setting sun over the lake. I took a little walk around the water and sat and read in the sun on the rocky beach. I have taken to regular stretching before going to sleep and after a routine that takes about 20 minutes I am usually in such a state that I have been able to sleep on the hard ground better than I did all summer.

Another early morning and another forty miles got me to Aberdeen. A boom town from the logging industry that has seen better days. Kurt Cobain was raised there, and the scene was about as uplifting as the music of Nirvana. From here I caught a series of buses-Aberdeen to Olympia to Tacoma to Seattle-with my poor bicycle bouncing down the highway strapped to the rack on the front of the bus. By the time I got to downtown Seattle the bike was so seriously out of tune that I had to stop and set the derailleurs right and play with the fenders just to make it semi-ridable to Fremont. That done I rode to Andrew and Claire's place where I have spent the last couple of days staying with them and their new dachshund puppy Nevada, cute little dog. Once again they have shown me incredible hospitality and we cooked some good meals. It is sad to leave the company of my friends again, but it is time to move on. I am just finishing up my laundry and I will be off this afternoon, although I am not sure what route. My Dad had made plans and reservations to do the San Juans, but I have already missed the first connection and I don't have the will to go that far out of my way without a companion. It looks as though I will shoot straight down to the coast back through Aberdeen, and resume where I left off a few days ago. I am abandoning the laptop so posting won't be so easy anymore but I will do what I can.

maybe my best photo

i never ever saw the northern lights

Just a small note to say that I am back in the lower 48. I got into Port Angeles yesterday after a long day of travel from Sitka. It has been a long time since I have been able to completely relax so I will spend at least a couple days here. After gaining at least eight pounds in upper body muscle (thanks to handling about 4500 fish this summer) and fat (thanks to the cookie habit Ron pushed on me) plus a 5 pound laptop, the bike is a hell of a lot heavier than I remember. Not to mention the fact I have scarcely ridden since the beginning of June. I did ten miles this morning and on the short list of complaints: sore ass, back, thighs, and, forearms.

I meet my Dad in Seattle on the 1st to begin the trip south. That gives me a few days to get back in shape. The old man was worried about keeping up with me, but me thinks he might have the upper hand after all my time out of the saddle. No real definite plans until then besides calling again on Andrew and Clare for a couple days.

What can I say of the last few months aboard the Ocean Dancer? It was in my eyes a trial, a test of character and will power. A few superlative statements come to mind. I have never worked that hard, felt so isolated, been so tired, felt more sick, or been as terrified as I had been for moments or days since I boarded that boat in June. On the flip side , though, I have never seen so many glorious sunrises and sunsets or the moon so strikingly reflected off of massive glaciers sliding into the sea, never felt the excitement of an approaching storm visible miles away on the horizon, or had as much fun as landing big king salmon, never met such an odd an interesting lot as the alaskan fishing community, or spent so much time lost in quiet contemplation and introspection. A summer to remember and perhaps to repeat some day.

My dad has a pretty detailed itenerary to reach Coos Bay in Southern Oregon by the tenth of October where he is scheduled to fly out of. Left to my own devices I estimate another ten to twenty days to get back to the Bay area for an arrival in late October.


Just a single picture today. This is Ron's fishing buddy's boat the Ocean Home all lit up at dusk as we anchored in Whale Bay.