Cousin Pat's Place

After two 100 mile days and a lot of dessert wind and lonely country, I have today arrived at my cousin Pat's house.

Pat isn't home just now (I arrived very early due to the bike), but his wife has been very welcoming. 

This ends the first leg of my journey.  I haven't tallied it up in full, but I estimate an even thousand miles.

Pat has scheduled off a few weeks work so that when I leave here it'll be by horseback at his side.  I am thoroughly excited. 

My early arrival has thrown things off, though, so my stay may be a week or two (or three) longer than originally planned.  I'm not sure how much longer just yet.  I'll have to talk to Pat before I know.

Furthermore, due to the extended nature of my stay, I will be temporarily suspending the rules.  It seems like I've been bending the rules left and right, but what can I say.  I am perhaps just not so hardcore as some.

The truth is that Brandi and Pat have three young children and have been kind enough to take me in.  I can be more help and less trouble on them, I think, if I put the rules on hold.  Young parents have enough on their plates without a long term houseguest who stubbornly refuses to ever get into a car. 

I will however keep to the rules today (the day of my arrival) and the last day (the day of my departure).  This feels like a good compromise and is good enough for me.  I hope it doesn't break the spirit of things for those who have so avidly followed me.

Many Miles

Boise (and the trip afterwards) has been very eventful.  I've made 193 miles in the last two days despite taking time to sight see and soak in a hot spring.  I'll be reaching my cousin's place today. 

I'll be taking a break there for a week or two as we plan our horseback trip, and I gear up for colder weather.  It'll be nice to visit his family.  I'm looking forward to the company.

Once there, I shall do a Boise to Idaho Falls recap.  I've been taking notes as I go.  For now, though, I ride.

Dessert Rain

Have much to say about the incredible hospitality encountered in Boise (so good I stayed an extra day!), but am very tired.  Will tell the tale tomorrow.

Have made some miles today but was caught by massive rain storm (It has been raining an awful lot in this dessert).  Have taken shelter in an old barn.  Very warm. Very dry.  :)  Barn does not appear to be in use.  1/2 way repaired and empty. 

Am not quite to mountain home area but rain coming in buckets.  No more traveling tonight.

Highway 55 (sept. 22nd)

(Midday)
Flat for a few miles out of New Medows, uphill for about 4.5 and then downhill all the way to McCall.  Slightly downhill to Donnelly after that, then flat open spaces and more headwind.  After 8 or 10 miles of such, have started uphill climb again. 

Not quite the downhill run to Boise I was hoping for, but easier than canyon country.  Here it's either uphill or headwind, not both.

Traffic very heavy with people leaving resort towns for Boise.

(After Dark)
After about a dozen miles of fighting the wind on the flats past Cascade, I hit a downhill canyon run following the Payate River all the way to the Town of HorseShoe Bend  (miles and miles). The wind was still against me, sometimes light and sometimes hard, but it didn't matter.  It's like having wings.  The canyons are just as Beautiful on the way down.  Good rafting country.

Just past HorseShoe Bend was another 6 mile climb and then down hill to Boise.  I've stopped shy of the city.  102 miles total today.  And goodnight.

Uphill and More Wind (21 Sept.)

Midday
Took care of the punctures in my tire this morning.  Still air was a blessing. 

Its been uphill ever since White Bird.  Not a very steep grade, but mile after mile of it with a stiff headwind left my legs a touch sore this morning.  First time this has happened.

Been crawling along up the Salmon and Little Salmon Rivers.  Made some 20 additional uphill miles this morning but now wind is picking up again.  Need a topograph. Wondering how much longer this grade can keep going.

Evening
Wind didn't get too bad.  Not like yesterday.  Estimate 53 miles uphill from White Bird to meadow valley about 11 miles shy of New Meadows (where I am now) getting progressively steeper the whole time.  The uphill plus the headwind really did me in.  It seems I am no true cyclist.  (Did a total of about 80 miles the last two days).

Rumor is  there is about 5 miles of flat followed by 5 miles of climbing followed by a downhill run all the way to Boise.  It sounds nice.

Despite the wind and the grade the land was stunning the whole way.  It started as wide, fertile canyon bottom and rose into a place of pines, stone, and small waterfalls.  When it finally leveled out, the land became high meadow and beef pasture.

Moods (Sept 20, at nightfall)

My mood each day is solid through morning, midday, and such.  I have noticed that setbacks affect me most if they happen in the evening.  Dusk gets lonely.

Often, if I haven't found a good campsite by evening time, I start to feel a twinge of sky sickness.  Its a feeling of being too exposed; too far from cover.  This abates if I find a good spot, somewhere hidden and protected from any chill breeze that might come in off of the prairie. 

Its been prairie country now for a few days.  Since I entered Idaho, nearly.  I enjoyed the sage deserts with their pine trees, but I'm happy to leave the treeless "scab lands" behind.  I didn't realize how much I missed the pines until I could smell them again near Winchester.

I found a good place tonight.  I think I'll sleep well.

Puncture Vines

Was making decent progress today (50 miles) despite the headwind.  Wind has died down now, and temperature is perfect but have hit another puncture vine.  Multiple holes in both tubes now.

Below are pics of an example of the vine along with a closeup.

Wind and Grade. (Sept. 19 and 20)

Left Sweetwater, passed through Culdasac, and climbed 15 miles of hill called Old Winchester Grade yesterday.  8 or 9 miles was particularly steep.  I'm told that the steepest part was 3 miles at a 25% grade.  The view was beyond worth it.

Camped last night at Tolo lake.  Did White Bird grade this morning.  What a ride! Yesterday felt like it was all up hill.  White Bird was 8 miles of steep downhill grade after only two or three miles climb.

Been fighting a headwind the entire length of 95.  Wind is always from the South.  Particularly strong today.

Days are hot (90 degrees), nights are cold by comparison (40 degrees).

Front tire has been soft the last two mornings.  A quick pump up and it lasts all day.  Probably a slow leak from one of the many patches.

Wind continues to get stronger.  Constantly straining against pedals, especially on the flats.  I stop often to drink but wind leaves face and mouth quickly parched. 

Canyon country is beautiful.  Salmon river picturesque.

Pedalled other direction for 50 yards to see what a tailwind feels like.  I could make 100 miles with a tailwind like that!

Oh well.  At least no more major climbs today.

Crossed time zone today.  Had really big, inexpensive burger in an empty bar in White Bird. 

Had a slice of huckleberry pie at a mom and pop roadside grocery store/produce stand near Riggins.  Not worth the money. 

If you want good pie in this area go up to the Calamity Cafe in Winchester.  Its the best you'll find this side of my mother's oven.

A Better Story (Sept. 19 mid-day)

This post has been late in coming.  I should have posted it a while back.

As I've said before, my story is not so hard as many.  I was never beaten, starved, or abused.  I never fought with addiction, or cancer, or had to flee a foreign army.  There are plenty of other stories out there, harder won and better written.

There is no villain in this story, just a misinformed young man with a decade of unfortunate coincidences.  Turns out there are tens of thousands of people like me who got the same wrong advice.

My folks are good folks.  My mother used to mix boiled potatoes into the homemade bread to make sure we were eating right as kids, and my father never missed an opportunity to tell me how proud he was.

You can count the times they let me down or led me astray, and it comes to a total of about twice between the two of them.  In both cases they've worked hard to make up for it, so I hope I've not painted them in too harsh a light before now.

Besides, in the end it's given me something I value very highly: it's made for a better story.

No one who has read all I have written has given me harsh words, yet.  No one has given the folks harsh words either.  This gives me hope that I'm telling it right.

More updates to come.

Lapwai (Sept. 18)

Did not make if far today.  Maybe 10 miles into Lewiston and another 15 or 18 through Lapwai to near small town of Sweetwater.  Total 25, 30 miles at best.

Bought extra tubes in Lewiston just in case.  Hit another puncture vine on a bike path out of Lewiston.  Punctured front tire 4 times and rear tire once.  Mostly slow leaks.

Was feeling frustrated so stopped at cafe in Lapwai on Nez Pierce reservation.  Ate giant burger and talked with locals.

Everyone exceedingly friendly. 

Felt better.  Patched tires.  Patches holding.  Still have two extra brand new tubes.

Searched for 29 inch puncture proof tubeless tires.  Shops only have 26 inch tubeless tires.  Might mail order some.  Losing too much time patching things.  Everything has stickers and thorns on it.

Learned about Chief Joseph.  Good man.  Did good things for his people.

Going to sleep now. Hoping for early start tomorrow down 95 towards Boise.  Getting colder now.  There are trees again.

Since the Falls (Sept. 16th, 17th, and 18th)

Between the falls and this morning (Sept. 18), I have left the state of Washington. I haven't made many miles each day.  I keep getting caught in the rain.  I received 5 punctures in one tire and 6 in another, all from one five foot stretch of what looked like grass and turned out to be some sort of thorny weed someone had mown off.  I was chilled to the bone by the spray, and the wind, and the wet coming off of Alpowa Summit.  This is supposed to be dry country still.  The weather is being odd.

Somewhere last night I lost my travel book and my state map.  The map I can do without, but the book is sad loss to me. 

Among other things, it held the contact info for Cassie, a fellow cross country cyclist whom I met at the falls.  She was great company for a lot of reasons, not least of which her own stories, and now all I can do is just hope she might read this and send her information to me again.

I'd try to tell some of those stories here, but I don't want to get the details wrong.

All-in-All, though, things aren't too bad. I'm in Lewiston, just over the Idaho border and am looking forward to Pat's place.  My bike is fixed, and I found a warm, dry place to sleep last night despite the rain and the lack of anything you could string a hammock from.

It occurs to me that I would be making better time if I didn't write so much, (I often spend an hour or two each day just typing on his phone) but I think in the end I will be glad to have the record.

Be well all.  More updates to come.

Where I Went Swimming (Sept. 16)

I didn't stray far from the bank.  The water was deep and the current swift.

The Path Down Into the Palouse Falls Canyon

The Palouse Falls

Where the Storm Caught Me.

This picture was taken the next day after I went back to find my helmet.  You can see my rock.  There isn't much else.

The Storm (Sept. 15) Part 3 (Conclusion.)

I could only see a single vehicle and a single tent in the camp (there were more, but beyond the limited visibility I had). A man stuck his head out.

"Hello, the tent" I said, "I'm in a bit of a situation.". I explained quickly what had occurred.  "Can you take me to get my gear? I can pay."

"No money," he said, "just give me a minute."  He started to converse with someone else inside the tent.

Their names were also in the book I lost, but as I recall they went by James and Erika.  James said he was an even 6 feet tall, but for the sake of this narrative we are going to portray them both as seven feet in height surrounded by a glowing aura of kindness towards strangers.

They rearranged the things in their jeep (hastily thrown in when the storm approached), drove me out, helped me find my bike, phone, and pack (bone dry somehow, and right where I left them), and even took the front wheel off the bike so it would fit in the back.

Lightning still abounded as they helped me gather up the gear, but by the time we returned to the camp, the storm had ceased.

No more rain, wind, or lightning.  It was over. 

I'm not sure if the final rule applies to the trip for the gear, but my phone was pit there and you don't leave family thinking you're in danger a minute longer than necessary.  I ran the battery dead trying to tell Pat I was okay.  No one had any service.

I finally got a text message out to Pat on the cellphone of a ranger who came to check on the grounds.  Then I made camp and went to sleep.

As a final kindness, James let me charge my phone a little bit using the car charger before he and Erika left the next morning.  This allowed me to get some pictures of the falls and surrounding area the next day. 

I gave him and Erika my contact information and told them if they were ever out east to drop in and we would invent a holiday for them.

Thus passed the storm.

The Storm (Sept. 15) Part 2.

I was surprisingly comfortable in my scant shelter despite the hurricane quality of the winds.  In truth the windspeed would barely have made a category 1 hurricane, but there had been no news or weather alert (or warning at all).  People all over had been caught unaware.

I considered going to sleep.  Only the lightning and the possibility of a tornado still troubled me.  I was too high up and too exposed still to deal with either.

Then I saw headlights moving slowly along the road.  The moment I left the shelter of my rock the wind nearly ripped the tarp from my hands.  I sped back towards the roadway.  Someone must have seen my headlamp because the headlights slowed further.

The headlights became a van and the van stopped.  My pants got caught in the barbed wire fence.  The wind died down a hair.  I struggled for a minute, and the van began to pull away.  I broke free, tore a small hole in my tarp, and ran up to the vehicle.

"Is this tornado weather?" I shouted as the passenger window rolled down.

"Yes! What?" came the reply.

"Is there shelter at the camp site?"

"Yes?". He sounded hesitant. "You staying there?"

"I'm going there.  I'm on a bike.  Is it far?"

"Not far.  You can go there."

There were three young men and a lot of fishing gear in the car.  I was having trouble hearing due to the wind and, as good as their English was, the accents made me think maybe it was their second language.

"Is there shelter there?"

"Yes, and other people that can help you.  It's right back there.  You want me to drive you?"

The lightning lit up all around us.  The land was visible for a moment, high, open, and flat.  The dust was mostly gone, but the wind picked up again. 

"Sure," I said.  Final rule invoked.  Motorized vehicles are acceptable in the case of immediate physical danger, and a high plains full of lightning is a deadly place to be.  Beyond that, "Yes!  What?" was not a reassuring answer in regards to asking if it was tornado weather.

I left my bike behind and my pack out in the darkness.  I started to go back for the pack, but the fellow driving got a confused look as if maybe I didn't want a ride after all.  I decided not to chance it, and there wasn't much in the pack that wouldn't dry.

The camp site was just over a mile away.  When they pulled into the camp I reached for my wallet.  They waved me off. "No money" they said, so I reached for my travel book and wrote down their names instead.  I have since lost that book and, sadly, their names as well.

I got out and looked around.  The van pulled off.  There was wind and rain, but also trees and windbreaks, small hills and galleys.  It wasn't so fierce here.  There also was no ranger station, pavilion, or any other "shelter" that I could see.  I reached for my phone to tell Pat I was alright.  It wasn't there. In my mad dash for the road I had left it with my pack.

So there I was, standing in the rain with no phone and no gear other than my rain poncho. 

The rain picked up again.  There were already branches strewn along the ground and more began to fall from the trees.  To be continued...

The Storm (Sept. 15) Part 1

I had biked all day, and after Kahlotus, I was making slow time uphill through a hot, still evening.   A mile or three from the park entrance that led to the falls, a woman stopped to offer me a ride.  I thought this a bit odd. In hindsight I can't help but wonder if she knew what was coming.

As I neared the park entrance, I saw lightning in the distance on my right.  There were no trees about but I considered slinging my hammock between a road sign and a fence post.

That was when I realized the monster for what it was.  Cresting the southern hills was not a storm, but a nightmare of wind, dirt, and lightning.

It filled the horizon from ground to sky and ate the last of the fading daylight as it came.

I was at the turnoff for the falls park.  2 miles, the sign said, to the campsite.  Downhill and away from the coming wall of sand.  A campsite means the hope of trees, windbreaks, and maybe even a ranger station.  I swung hard to the left and put on the speed.

I learned later that the campsite is closer to 2.5 miles from the turnoff.  The cloud of sand chased me for a mile and better as it obliterated the landscape behind me. Then, about halfway,  the road hung a turn to the right, and the beast took me.  A ranger told me later that the winds were clocked at over 75 miles per hour and the front was moving at 45.

In a single second, the air turned from being dead still to a swirling maelstrom of sand and grit.  Darkness fell like an avalanche.  One minute I could see for miles and the next only a matter of feet at best.

I couldn't keep the bike upright so I let the force carry me off the bike and off the road into a ditch about 6 inches deep at best.  I ducked down as best I could but the cover was next to nothing.  "Is this tornado country?" I started to wonder.  "Is this normal?  How did no one I met today mention this?"

In a brief lull, I could see the vague outlines of a stone outcrop jutting up some 10 yards away.  Hoping for a gulley, I undid my pack, left the bike and jumped the barbed wire.  My bike helmet strap got caught, and I left it behind, dancing and jumping a jig on the wire. 

The stones were just stones; a windbreak the size of a dining room chair.  I broke out my rain poncho/tarp, hunkered down, and made the best of it.  Then came the rain.

So there I was, bundled dry under my tarp with the water rolling down off of it wondering how long it would be before the sky sucked me up or the lightning found my rock. 

My phone was near dead but I fished it out and shot a message off to cousin Pat: "If this windstorm is really a tornado you tell them I love them and I died happy and free."

As last words go, maybe not the best but good enough I figured.

To be continued...

Easy Morning (Sept 16)

Only have come about 8 miles today (Sept. 16 2:00pm).  Only been biking since a little after noon.  Stopped in marina/diner on the Snake River.

Spent much of morning talking with Cassie, another coast to coast cyclist, headed west.  More about this later. Also hiked down to the river above Polouse Falls this morning and went swimming for a bit before heading out, hence the late start.

Fought a strong headwind all 8 miles today.  My pack, clothes, and chest catch the wind like a sail.  I have to pedal often and hard even on the downhill.

They say its uphill to the town of Starbuck from here, but the wind looks like it will still be against me.  Gonna be a slow mile day.

Last evening a man at the museum/bar in Kahlotus recommended I see the falls.  The falls were 52 miles or so from where I started that morning between Othello and Connell.  I figured I could make the falls by dusk and pedal on a dozen or so more miles after dark like usual.  The Storm had other Ideas.

A Different Way (Sept 13 and 14)

(Sept. 13)
So after going to inquire about a permit to take the iron horse trail towards Spokane, I learned that though the trail is well kept up to Ellensburg, as you go further east it turns into a desolate mess of broken bridges, stony slides, and jurisdictional tangles.  The bridge over the Columbia was said to be in no fit state, and no one could tell me which way the alternate routes ran or provide a decent map.  So I took to the paved routes.

I went down Kittitas road, promptly got a flat, learned my patch kit is sub-par, and eventually used one of my spare tubes.  I made it about as far east as I was that morning and then slept (surprisingly well I might add).  I had biked about 30 miles all together and made 0 forward miles.  Oh well, the night was good.

Today (Sept. 14)
I biked some 65 miles and feel great.  I hit Vantage, used the freeway to cross the Columbia (a little hair raising), went uphill to a high plateau at Royal City, went through Othello, and am now back in the sage brush about a third of the way to Connell.  It was about 95 degrees today (and the two previous days) and it didn't even phase me.  My knee is feeling better, too. 

I'm no longer making for Spokane and Missoula.  I have decided to head for Clarkston/Lewiston and hit Idaho Falls from the East instead of the North.  There are more bike shops this way, and I need a better patch kit.

Scrubland

Sleeping in the scrub.  Clear stars above.  Listening to the coyotes, crickets, and the hum of distant cars.

Coming Down the Other Side. (Sept. 11th and 12th)

More Coming Down the Other Side (Sept. 11th and 12th)

Tunnel at the Top of the Pass.

Over two miles long, unlit, with the soot of old rail engines still clinging to the walls.  The day was hot.  The tunnel breathed ice cold air.

Coming up Snoqualmie Pass (West Side, Sept. 11th)

Rainforest to Desert in a Day.

After leaving the news crew in Cle Elum yesterday (sept. 12th) I kept east for some 39 miles along the Iron Horse Trail past Ellensburg and the little town of Kittitas.  It was late but I found a place to stop for supplies en route.

Having come over the pass the day before (sept 11th), the land abruptly changed from dripping conifers surrounded by lush ferns and waterfalls to dry pines surrounded by sand, scrub brush, and carefully measured canals.

Gone are the logging trucks and the fisheries; replaced by irrigated hay fields and beef pastures, beyond which stretch the dry brown hills.

The salt tang of the ocean is far behind now.  The air now has a scent like distant cedar smoke mixed with the strong incense smell of wild sage.  I'm in another world.  I drink three times the water but don't seem to sweat.  I have to use balm to keep my lips from chapping. 

Where before there were toads, huge slugs, eagles, and otters along my paths, now there are wild turkey, rabbit, and deer which move differently than the ones back home (they tend to bounce a lot here).  I surprised two skunks last night (without getting sprayed) and an owl whom I only know was an owl by the silence of its flight.

What a place this is, to be so different so suddenly.

I had to backtrack 12 miles to Ellensburg today due to a closed bridge and a trail permit you can only acquire here.  No worries though, as this allowed me to take my bike in for a tune-up (currently in progress).  There aren't many bike shops ahead for a while.

More posts (and pictures) to come.

Future News

I've gotten a lot of positive response from the news story yesterday, and I'm told there have been some negative responses as well, though none of them have reached me here.

Can't say I'm surprised.  After watching the clip, I myself couldn't quite decide whether that guy sounded like an inspiring fellow off for an adventure or just an ungrateful mooch leeching off of his folks and off for a long vacation.

No fault of the news team, mind you.  It's a long back story and they had very limited time.  (Thanks to King 5, by the way, for coming out.  I've never been on the news before.)

Anyway, I'm not sure, but I think I might avoid news coverage in the future.  Nothing against the media, I just like being able to take the time to tell the story myself.

So for everyone who found me inspiring, thank you.  Follow along or spread the word.  For those who found me less than admirable, I haven't read what you've written, but I probably wouldn't blame you.  Not all of this reflects well on me.

I feel good today.  More updates to come.

King 5 News

A local news team caught up with me in Cle Elum this morning.

They did a blurb and got it more or less right.  Obviously, they couldn't do the whole story, though I wish they might have mentioned I really do hope to pay the folks back someday.

They were a great crew and very friendly.  I've gotten a lot of good response back already.

I'm embarrassed by the amount of debt, which wasn't quite a $100,000, but it was close enough.  The added attention feels weird. 

I'm told for two degrees its not all that much, but somehow I don't feel much better about it.

Well, best not think too much about it.  I have to say, though, it wasn't so much me being fed up with my life.  It was me being fed up with myself.  There is a reason I chose to travel back towards home, instead of away from it.

Snoqualmie Pass (sept. 11)

Short post.  Battery is getting a little low.

Biked up and through Snoqualmie Pass today.  Made 45 miles total, all the way to Cle Elum.  No great feat of biking, but the first 15 miles was all uphill (although granted it was railroad grade), and I haven't really been on a bike in years.  Surprisingly no rump pain.  I was starting to feel it a bit by the end of those first 15 miles but it was gone again by the end of the day.

Mike and Fred (other bikers) when hearing what I was doing shared/gave me lunch at top of pass.  Good fellas.  Good company.

Couldn't find a campsite or hostel tonight so am sleeping under a pine tree hidden by thorn bushes.  Night is clear and mild.  I'll pack up when it gets light.  Leave no trace. :)

Right knee still occasionally twinges.  No big deal, though.  Feels better every day.

Pictures of pass and description of 2.5 mile long very dark tunnel to come later.

Be well all.  Goodnight

Snoqualmie Falls (Sept. 10th)

Me and the Bike (Sept 9th)

If a man persists in his folly. (Seattle Sept. 7th)

If a man would persist in his folly he would become wise.

Helping Heidi with the Salmon way back in Sekiu

Me and the High Tithe Crew at Sunset (Sept 6th)

Ken has more pictures of this day.  I will try to share them once I have access to a proper computer.

The High Tithe Coming out of the Fog (Sept. 6th)

Donna and Eli (Sept. 3rd)

Two Days of Biking.

I'm camped up on the Iron Horse Trail about 15 miles from the entrance to Snoqualmie tunnel tonight (sept 10).  I only made about 36 trail miles these last two days but I did a lot of backtracking, site seeing, writing, and gear wrangling.

Snoqualmie Falls was beautiful and Issaquah and Snoqualmie are nice little towns.

Other than a slight lingering twinge in my right knee, I feel really good.  The blisters have calloused over, and the bike seat hasn't rubbed me raw...yet.

I think it odd that my muscles never hurt while walking, just my joints.  Maybe I needed better boots.  Maybe I'm just getting old.

Tomorrow it's up and over the pass.

Breaking the Rules (Sept 7th, 8th, 9th, and Today)

This post is going to be a quick overview.  I want to bring everyone up to date, but I have spent way to much time today typing on this phone.

I hiked through Seattle on the 7th along sidewalks and their many bike paths.  I made the 17 miles though my right knee started to ache once more.  I made David and Gina's place about 8:36 pm and leaned heavily on their hospitality again.  The next day I rested, and I set about breaking the rules. 

I bought a bike and all the gear that goes with it.  I threw the no wheels rule right out the window and was geared up by nightfall.  My poor joints need a break, and I am afraid walking won't get me to cousin Pat's place in time for going horseback.  I've never done any long distance bike riding before, so like everything else I jumped in with both feet, ill prepared and with no prior conditioning.  Yesterday and today (the 9th and 10th) I have been biking light miles, resituating my gear, and doing way too much writing. 

I don't now what is average for bike miles per day and I have no idea where each evening will find me.  I'm headed for Snoqualmie Pass and Missoula, Montana.

I may have already failed.  I've broken the rules I started with.  No wings, wheels, or motors has become just no motors.  I feel strangely okay with this. 
For one thing, this means I can pass along all donations.  I will still use them short term to buy gear and food.  You will still be helping me along day to day.  But when this is done, I will add up all the coins and dollars people have sent me, and I will donate this amount to the best ecological non-profits I can find (American Chestnuts included).  This makes me happy.  I didn't want this trip to be about me making money.  It feels better this way.

I hope, whomever you are reading this, that I haven't let you down.

Sailing the Puget Sound (Friday Sept. 6)

I walked three miles in the rain the next morning and had Breakfast at the Bella Luna, right by the dock.

The rain turned into fog and, like a silent spectre, Jim's vessel, the High Tithe, slipped out of the late morning gloom to make Suquamish Dock.

I had never met Jim before, only made contact with him through the Puget Sound Sailing Group.  He was intrigued by my attempt to do a no-motor crossing of the United States and refused any payment for my passage.  Club policy, he said. 

He was there with three other members of the group: I.T. guy Ken the diver, who took some great photos that day; Ken's wife "G.G." formerly of Belgium and Canada, who is prone to motion sickness but took some Dramamine and braved the sound to meet me anyway; and Dave the provender provider who not only bought and brought a lot  of the food stuffs we ate, but also is involved in low carbon transport sailing to help bring local produce to farmer's markets near the Puget.

They had motored over from the Seattle side of the sound and cut the engines and waited for wind as I came aboard.  We waited for hours talking, getting to know each other, and dining on salad and grilled salmon they had just caught on the way over (the salmon that is, not the salad).

But still no wind.  The sky was clear and we sat becalmed at Suquamish.  Finally Ken offered to row me out to where the wind was.  They had a small dingy with them, and with eyes more accustomed to the water could see the wind making the water move differently out 3/4 of a mile or so.

I didn't even know this was a option.  "I can row." I said.  I'd never been in a dingy before (or sailing), but I had done kayaking and a little canoeing before and I had been white water rafting once years back.  I figured they could pick me up when they had wind or if I got in trouble.  So I borrowed a life vest, they gave me some pointers, and off I went.

As I was rowing, a seal surprised me by popping his head up about ten feet behind me.  He looked at me for a second and then disappeared.  It gave me a weird feeling, wondering what was below me in the murky waters.

They say I made about half a mile in short order when the wind picked up.  They let out the sails, turned off the motors, and brought me aboard.

What followed was uplifting.  We veered, and tacked, and tilted to zigzag into the wind.  The day was clear and the Puget was calm.  I could smell the salt, and my aching joints became a distant memory.  I think Jim sad the wind was over 15 knots but I can't exactly recall.  Everything was wind, and water, and sunlight.

We veered around big cruise ships and smaller fishing boats.  They even let me steer at one point, though I only worked the wheel, not the sails. 

A few hours later, they cast me off in the dingy again so that they could motor into the marina (its against he rules to have a sail up in a marina).  I waited a bit and then rowed the short distance to shore.  They took pictures of me coming in.

They fed me again and Jim offered to let me sleep on the boat that night since it was getting dark.  I wanted to, but I had 21 miles to make through Seattle before I made it back to David and Gina's place.  I wanted to make it there the next day but didn't want to do all 21 miles in one go.  I knew I could, but if I started limping again I figured it would be way after dark before I got there.  I didn't want to come knocking at David and Gina's at one in the morning, so I opted to make a few more miles that evening after sailing.  I marched through Seattle and settled into a hostel about four or five miles later.  It was a good day.

Olympic Peninsula Recap 3 (Old Eaglemount Road to Suquamish Dock)

I woke at dawn on Thursday the 5th of September and made it back down to the highway plus a few more miles before a heavy rain rolled in.  I pitched my hammock, being sore in the joints and tired still from the two prior days, and slept for a while until the rain passed.  My legs feeling better(ish) after this, I moved on the last 8 miles or so to Hood Canal Bridge.

Just prior to crossing, I stopped at a little coffee kiosk called Olympic Gateway Espresso.  It was being run by a fellow named Steve and his friend whom he was training, a young woman named Sam.  They served me up a pretty solid breakfast burrito full of eggs, cheese, and sausage, and a really, really tasty cup of fresh ground local coffee.  Steve told me about his husband Chris, who is in the military, and how they got married in that big Seattle ceremony the day gay marriage was finally legalized in Washington State.  Said they were among the first twenty couples.  They charged me a small $6.00 for the food and drink and then threw in a really big, and completely free, fruit smoothie for dessert. 

I was limping and sore again, but I made it across Hood Canal Bridge, which is over a mile long and made of floating concrete.  Then I went about another mile and a half to Port Gamble.  I was feeling pretty beat by then, and now my left hip, in addition to my knees was giving off a dull ache.

I was already feeling hungry again, so I stopped at a place called Mike's BBQ.  Mike was in, so I said to him and the young lady working there: "Hello, I just walked here from the coast, and I've developed a slight limp and a powerful hunger." I said it mostly by way of explanation, being embarrassed a bit that I couldn't walk quite right. The result was the statement started off a great conversation.

The BBQ sauce is great there and so is the slaw and beans.  The smoked sausage I ordered was a little dry for my tastes but seasoned well.  The giant rib Mike threw in for free, though, may be the best BBQ rib I have ever had.  I've certainly never had better.  The sweet tea flowed like a river.

Mike runs a clean joint (often giving a sanitary elbow bump in leu of shaking hands while he is working) and he told me about the town's history. 

He told me about how it was a company town built for logging.  He told me about the mills and the shipping and showed me an historic picture or two hanging on his walls.  He told me a bit about the ecological cleanup of the area and how they had to do a "spill" cleanup in the basement of the old mortuary because of all the embalming fluid from the many deaths brought about in the old and dangerous mill workings.

I also bumped into Leonard again, the fellow who made me chowder the day before.  He was there for a Birthday Party.

By the time I left it was getting close to sundown, but I had attained a full stomach and a good rest there, and the next 7 miles seemed to fly by.

All-in-all I made about 25 miles that day, due in no small part to Steve of Olympic Gateway Espresso and especially Mike of Mike's BBQ.  You guys really helped keep me going.

I was about 3 miles from Suquamish Dock and looking forward to a day of sailing.  I was on time and had made 70 miles in three days.  Maybe not a speed record compared to many, but a fair piece when your joints are already sore to begin with.

Olympic Peninsula Recap 2 (Port Angeles to Old Eaglemount Road)

In Port Angeles on the fifth day walking (Sept 2nd), I quit early and checked into the Toad Lily House Hostel.  I needed a shower and a (half) day off for my poor feet. (I met a lot of good folks there, give a shout if you are reading this and met me at the toad lily!)

Most days up until then I had felt very good in the mornings and very tired, weak, and in pain by the evenings.  Tiredness and Pain was getting more and more common, though.

So I ditched some gear. A lot of gear.  The next day, anything that could be spared was mailed back home.  My pack got much lighter and my steps after that got quicker.  They had to, after all, I was falling behind and had an appointment to keep st the Puget sound.  Captain Jim Hall was waiting, ready to sail within a wide window of four days.  Trouble was, he had contacted me with a wind forecast saying (Friday Sept 6) might be my only day of decent wind for a while.  That gave me three days to make just over 70 miles.

So I started moving.  I moved fast the first day despite a few stops.  I stopped to talk to Donna who saves Parots, her rooster Eli who was abandoned in the woods when she started re-socializing him, and their mutual fried Nancy the Beatnik retired from Berkeley. 

I stopped and talked to some young ladies out for a stroll who told me about a good deli near Carlsburg. 

I stopped for a Reuben sandwich.

I walked on into the night and made it within a hundred yards of Sequim Bay State Park.  I had made 25 miles.  27 if you count my sandwich detour.  I found a nice hedge along the trail and I slept under it.

The next day (Wednesday sept 4rth) I decided to do it again.  I kept going along the Olympic Discovery Bike Trail which I had picked up in Port Angeles until it ran out near Blyn, then I was back to following the highways. 

I met Cheri Scalf who was counting Chum Salmon on the JimmyComeLately River with a volunteer whose name has slipped my mind.  They educated me on some of the finer points of Salmon and River restoration that has been going on in the Peninsula.  It did me good to hear some ecological success stories.  In the JimmyComeLately alone they have increased the spawning numbers from a mere 7 fish some years ago to several thousand per year now.  They also taught me that in fish hatcheries you can get a fish's ear bones to grow a natural barcode for ID purposes.  Seriously, look it up.

I kept moving.  I met Leonard at the King Ivory Crab Shack where he served me some pretty decent chowder and Introduced me to Fish Candy.

I met Rainwater Reigan whose name I have probably spelled wrong who filled my canteen from his rain cistern when I was running low near Discovery Bay.

My knees started aching, my blisters reopened, and I started popping a few Tylenol from my med kit.

Finally, East of Discovery Bay up on Old Eagle Mount road, where it turns from a paved road to a gravel road to a dirt path to an even smaller dirt path, I finally called it a day.  It was an isolated place that let me walk a few miles well away from the Highway.  It was hard to find but Google walking maps led me true.  It was peaceful.  I made camp.  I slept.  I had made another 20 miles.  Less than I had hoped for, but I was hurting pretty good, and it was such a quiet place to camp.

Olympic Peninsula Recap 1 (Ozette to Port Angeles)

So, as promised, today is going to be travel light and writing heavy.

The Recap:
After a car ride and a brief 3 mile walk out to Cape Alava (Aug 27), I began my no-motor journey. It took me 9 days (Aug 28 to Sept 5) to walk across the Olympic Peninsula to Suquamish dock.On the 10th day I crossed the Puget Sound and on the 11th day I walked through and out of Seattle.  Yesterday (Sept. 8th) I rested.

As stated earlier, I walked three miles along the coast the first day, trekked on for about another 12 miles that day feeling good and then got heavily rained on the next day.  According to Google it's about 24 miles from the Ozette trail head to Sekiu, so combined with the 6 or so miles I walked in the park itself, my estimate of 30 miles for the first two days stands. 

I also saw otters.  There were otters in the river on the second day.  You can't forget about the otters.

When I reached Sekiu I was in lower spirits but I left in high moral.  According to the maps I made about 8 or 10 miles (mostly after dark) despite resting most of the day.

The next two days got kinda rough.  I made about twenty miles, give or take, each day, and the night I spent on the sands between the twin rivers was very restful.  None-the-Less, by the end of the second day I had bad blisters on both feet and a persistent pain in my left knee.  (There was about five miles right after the town of Joyce, however, where I was feeling no pain.  I don't know what they put in the coffee at the Blackberry Cafe, but it had me dancing down the road.) Anyway, I made camp in the woods near the Elwa River Road and the next day I quite literally limped the five or six miles into the heart of Port Angeles.

A Day of Rest.

I took a day of rest just outside Seattle today back at Gina and David's place.  I was supposed to spend the day writing, but instead geared up for a change in travel tactics.  I'm a half dozen days behind now on posts, but I should be catching up soon.  The next few days will be a little lighter on travel and a little heavy on Olympic Sound recaps.  For now though, sleep beckons.

Making for the Puget sound.

I made about 27 or 28 miles yesterday (if you count my two mile detour for lunch) along the Olympic Discovery bike trail.  Its a beautiful hiking, biking, riding trail if you ever want to take it from Port Angeles to Sequim.  The park east of Sequim (where I an now) doesn't allow for horses though.

I have two more days of walking time if I want to have the right winds to travel across the Puget sound on Friday.  Jim Hall, a sailboat captain on the Puget, has been watching the forecasts and figures Friday is best for a no motor crossing.  If I can make it near the Hood Canal today (about 30 miles) then tomorrow should be an easy half day walk.

Dark and Fair.

Near Carlsborg I met 2 lovely ladies, one dark and one fair.  They smiled at me and sent me to a deli. There I had a dark coffee and a Ruben that was more than fair.  Its been a fair day and it's getting dark.

I'm in a good mood. I've made 15 miles. I think I'll walk on a ways; maybe 5 miles maybe 15.

Ups and Downs (Aug 31, Sept 1st and 2nd)

The last few days have been a series of ups and downs. 

I made twenty miles twice.  I slept on the sands by the Juan De Fuca straight.  There were driftwood logs to block the wind and warm sand to pillow me under my tarp and sleep sack.

Border Patrolman Jeff stopped me as I was walking one night.  "Watch out for big cats" and "You should have a gun" he said.  "Anything I can help you with?". He was good company.

The land is steep and goes from sea to high forested hills immediately.  You can't cut cross country here.  I tried once but there are no deer paths or browse lines here.  The forests are either old growth or are an impenetrable secondary tangle.  Sometimes they are both.  I tried taking a quarter mile detour.  I had to turn back.  I couldn't get my pack through.

When my stomach is full and I have had a pinch of coffee I feel unstoppable.  When my stomach is empty and my feet sore I feel unbelievably homesick.  This was part of the point, of course, but I didn't expect it to hit so soon.  If this keeps up, I have to admit to myself, I may not make it.  I may make 100 or 500 or 1000 more miles, but I don't think I am going to make it all the way without breaking the rules. 

We'll see.

Rain and Fish and Sekiu (August 29 and 30th)

On the 29th it rained on me so hard and so long that I later heard people from Seattle say that the weather was really wet.  My shoes got soaked and that led to a nasty blister on the bottom of my left foot. Moleskin just got soaked and slipped off.  I had trouble finding a camp site but eventually set up my Hennessey in a hidden spot on the woods just off the highway about a mile or two outside the little village of Sekiu.

Just before finding a camp, I used the last of my phone battery to talk to Dad, which was nice, but, combined with the wind and the rain and the sore feet, made for a nice round of homesickness...especially when he started describing his steak dinner.

I made 15 miles despite the storm.

I kept my sleeping gear dry so it wasn't too bad a night, and I limped into Sekiu late the next morning.  I was down to my last set of dry hiking socks, but I was clean shaven and not too worse for wear.  There I was befriended by a woman named Heidi who informed me that the only two driers in the laundromat were broken. 

She gave me quarters for the washers, refusing the dollar bills I offered her in return.  She fed me homemade cookies and fresh salmon she and her husband, Conrad, had caught the day before.  She had salted and smoked it, and I have never tasted better fish.  She also arranged to have my clothes dried by one of the locals.

This took a while so I spent most of the day air drying and sorting the rest of my gear and eating some amazing tuna salad (also made by Heidi) and enjoying the company of my unexpected hosts.  I had begun to regret the large meal I had at the diner in town before meeting Heidi. 

As a further act of kindness, Heidi packed me more salmon and cookies, cheese, and banana bread to take with me.  I've been eating well since then, though it'll soon all be gone.

I left an hour before dusk and still made 8 or 10 miles under clear skies and bright stars before making camp.  My moral is high and my clothes are dry and my stomach is full, all due in no small part to Heidi and Conrad.  So thank you both.

The next day (August 31st) I made twenty miles, despite a wrong turn.

More on this later.