Days 94 - 97: Portland, The Setting for My Unimportant Problem

Here I go again, falling behind on my blogging because I am too busy enjoying myself in another one of our fine country's amazing cities. So I lump 4 days together in one post; but just take it as a testament to Portland's beauty.

Day 94: It is raining, and I am in no rush to be riding in the rain again. I wake up late, do laundry, and meet the nice lady across the street who walks the dog in the day time. She is really friendly and invites me to grab a cup of coffee with her. We end up playing card games at a nearby cafe for hours. It really is a lot of fun. Afterwards I go walking around the neighborhood in the rain. I like this city's beat. When Mike gets off work, he and Megan make dinner and we go to a nearby bar for Karaoke. All night I flirt with the idea of singing "Common People", but like most people I am much too chicken to go through with it, without first getting drunk. The regulars in this bar are pretty hysterical.

Day 95: It is beautiful outside and I go riding around the city. Up and down the waterfront. A lot of bridges, a lot of young people, a lot of trees. Such a great city. In the afternoon I ship off all of my stuff, except for what I can cram in my laptop bag. I stay in my room tonight and look for jobs on the internet. I wish I had more skills, and I wish Brooklyn wasn't so expensive.

Day 96: I wake up and ride my bike to the bike shop. Drop it off to get boxed up. I talk to Nick on the phone about an idiotic article in the New Yorker. Their music critic is a moron. It seems Nick is as frustrated with his career prospects as I am. I walk all the way into the downtown and catch the Light Rail into the suburbs where I meet my Aunt Kathy. I am struck by how much she resembles my mom. Back at her house, I hang out talking to her and Ken most of the afternoon. A bunch more family members show up; lots of children. It's fun to be in a loud and boisterous house again. Really good dinner. I've never really known Kathy and Ken all that well, but they're really great people. Ken is one of those rare LDS members who seem to actually have a compassionate political outlook. Really nice surprise. I sleep really well.

Day 97: I wake up and its another beautiful day. Breakfast and then a corn maze. A Hay ride. Hanging out with the little (2nd?) Cousins is a lot of fun. I miss Zoie and Tobin. Lunch. A game of Dominoes. Kathy drives me into Portland to help me pick up my bike and transport it to the UPS store. I say goodbye, but am planning to visit again before too long; for reasons I will touch on in a second. I check into my hostel. My bunkmate seems crazy; ranting and raving about people who have burned him in the past. He often changes pronouns and the genders of his tormentors, and i get confused. I take a bus into downtown. I love mass transit. I never quite feel a part of the city until I am on their mass transit system. I walk around the downtown and stumble across a MASSIVE Zombie parade/march. Seriously.... Thousands of zombies with GREAT costumes, all in character marching down the street shouting "Brains". The line of undead just never ends. Truly impressive. I follow it for a while to find their destination, but it just never seems to end. After 45 minutes, my curiosity wanes, and I head back to the Southeast side of town. Hang out at the hostel and work on the blog. Time to think.

OK... so I've been thinking a lot about Portland. I've really enjoyed my time here, and I can't seem to shake the idea that I could move here with much less hassle than moving back to NYC. Rents here are less than half of Brooklyn's, and for much better living conditions. Also... band practice spaces go for about $100 - $200 a month, compared to New York's $700 - $800.

So here's the thing... This trip has made me realize two things above all else... 1) I want to live life a lot more immediately, and 2) My friends are very important to me. When I finish traveling, my main goal is to start playing music immediately, and to not keep waiting until i finish a certain number of songs, or until I have the money to buy better equipment... I am sick of putting off my dreams. This is SOOOO much harder to accomplish in Brooklyn, because it does require a TON of money to get a band going. And the city is already so expensive, you can work a full time job just to barely stay afloat. The jobs pay less in Portland, but it would still be soooo much easier to get set up and get a band going. BUT... all my friends live in Brooklyn, and I'm not sure I'm willing to sacrifice their friendship for this pipe dream of playing indie rock. I tool around all day on craigslist, looking at the disparity between the housing prices of both cities. I'm just not sure what to do, so... I think I'll just ignore it for a while and see if something changes in the next 5 months. Maybe Portland will burn to the ground or something? But... I definitely want to spend some more time here. It's really nice.

I only have 2 days of traveling left, and then a prologue to write.

Day 93: Behold Portland; $2 Pints and a Ton of Bikes.

***I am typing this entry, whilst sitting in a hostel living room next to two guys discussing film. They clearly have no idea of what they speak. Their opinions are silly and obvious. It is really distracting, and so I put on headphones, but nonetheless my concentration is affected. Oh dear… now they’re discussing The Pixies. I can’t hardly stand it! Please forgive me if there are a lot more errors than usual. My head is elsewhere. ***

I wake up and watch some TV. This might be my favorite thing in the world, the ability to wake up without any sort of time constraint, and to just lie in bed until the TV becomes less interesting than the idea of what might be outside the front door. Made breakfast in the motel room and watched the news.

Leaving Longview is a pretty terrifying way to start the day. I approach the Columbia River, which divides Oregon and Washington, and with every passing block the smell of the pulp mills becames more and more unbearable. By the time I reach The Lewis and Clarke Bridge, it is really hard to stomach. I have a childhood memory of crossing into Oregon on this bridge and wondering why anyone would ever want to live in such a foul-smelling state. The bridge is one of the scarier moments of riding these past 3 months. Logging trucks whiz by at incredibly high speeds while I slowly ride along the bridge’s narrow shoulder hundreds of feet in the air. To make matters worse, the shoulder is completely covered in a thick layer of bark from the felled trees being transported on the logging trucks. Mixed in with the bark is a ridiculous amount of glass. Like someone had smashed a few dozen tall-boys on the bridge that very morning. I get off my bike to walk it across the glass-strew surface, but this also feels very unsafe, and so I just ride across and accept the idea of getting a flat tire at some point today.

The Longview stench lingered until a little ways south of Ranier, OR… Oh yeah…. I’m in Oregon now!

The ride this morning is fantastic. This STP route really is quite nice; a perfect blend of hills, descents, frustration and fun. I stop at McDonalds for Breakfast at about the halfway point for the day. I’m starting to get nostalgic, and I do everything a bit slower and more deliberate than usual. After breakfast I have a sit and do some thinking.

Tonight I will be staying with Mike R. of Team Northern Tier 2007, and a few days back he left me a voicemail telling me to call him when I was 15 miles outside of town, so he could meet me on the road and ride with me back to his place. I remember to do this about 10 miles outside of the city, and decide to wait until the next gas station. Before I get the chance to call, my back tire goes really flat, and really fast. The hole in the tube is huge, and I can’t find any glass or sharp object imbedded in the tire. For all of those who don’t know… this can be one of the most irritating things on the planet.

You pull off the panniers, flip the bike upside down, pull of the wheel, pull the tire from the wheel, remove the tube, patch the tube, check to see what caused the puncture, remove item if one is found, Reinsert the tube, Put the tire back in place, and Reinflate. Some people are very fast at doing this; I am not. So it is really irritating to get back on the bike, only to have it go flat again within the first 2 minutes. This usually signals that the patch-job was bad, or I somehow missed the object imbedded in the tire.

LUCKILY… the patch held, and the tire did not go flat. But I did take notice of how “out of true” the wheel was. I can’t wait to fix this bike up in Los Angeles. I’m gonna take a whole weekend to work on every tiny thing. It’ll feel great.

About 5 miles outside of the city I start riding behind some young indie girl, and decide that since I don’t know where I should be going once inside the city, I will follow her and hopefully she will lead me to where the twentysomethings congregate. 30 minutes later I am in the NW section of town and I have NEVER seen so many cyclists in my entire life. It’s amazing. I stop at a coffee shop to check email, and they are playing AMNESIAC (Radiohead LP5). It really does seem like a cool town.

When Mike gets off work, I meet him a few blocks over, and we ride back to his place in SE Portland. It’s a fun ride along some nice streets, and the high concentration of cyclists continues. He lives in a really nice house on a quiet residential block, with a GIGANTIC dog. I kick myself for not taking any pictures of Mike, the house, or the dog. I drop off my things and we ride over to a friend’s house to meet Jamie (also of TNT2007). Jamie is asleep, so we just hit up a pub with $2 pints and a TON of bikes locked up out front. It’s good to share stories of the trail, and compare experiences. Also to hear first-hand accounts of stuff I had only read on his blog. Often times the reality isn’t quite what I had first imagined upon reading the text.

Today was a really good day; one of the best in recent memory. At first glance, Portland is really great. Riding home from the pub on quiet city streets lined with old and interesting houses. I gotta remember to thank Mike for letting me stay in his home, and for showing me around a bit. I feel very lucky to be here in Portland for this week, and at this point in my life.

Day 92: So Senseless and Stupid

I wake up late. Watch an episode of Mad About You. Is it strange that I really like that show? When I get to Los Angeles, I am going to rent the DVD sets and watch all of them; lying in bed for days on end. Actually, I will probably be kept pretty busy trying to find work and earn money, and won't have much time to waste. We'll see if it happens. This is all so I can spend April and May traveling through Europe, and still have enough left over to rent a room in Brooklyn when I get back to NYC. But I'm just going to wing it for now, and see what happens. I'm pretty confident in my ability to 'float on'.

Holy cow... I walk out the front door and the sun is shining. The sky is blue. I pack up and am out the door at 10am. I get my $10 key deposit back from the sister of the world's sternest woman, and I get going.

One more word about the motel: The room actually reminds me of a basement apartment that my buddy Greg lived in his first month in Brooklyn. Crawling with spiders; floods every time it rains. We spent an entire day painting, fumigating, caulking and patching up holes. It didn't help in the slightest and he moved out one month later. When I woke up this morning, I feel like I might have been too hard on this motel; it seems there were no insects, which was a nice surprise. Also, it had Wifi... even though the stern Asian woman swore up and down that they did not. Still confused about that.

Today was going to be a long day. I grabbed breakfast at the 7/11 and made conversation with a guy I had assumed to be homeless, until he took me to his truck to show me his bike. It was a completely dilapidated mountain bike with a bell where the water bottle cage would usually go. The riding today went really well. I stopped at the Wal-Mart in Yelm and grabbed a new set of headphones. It was the nicest Wal-Mart I have ever seen. In and out in 10 minutes. I would not have time to take any prolonged breaks today.

In Centralia at the college, they had an Iraq War Memorial on the campus; thousands of white crosses each with a dead soldier's name. Every inch of lawn on the small campus was filled with a memorial to a fallen hero. Overwhelming and sad. I found a soldier from Tampa and one from Brooklyn. Makes me want to scream; so stupid and senseless. I try to keep this blog apolitical, but in times like these staying apolitical is a ridiculously political statement. Anyone who still supports our monster President should be deeply ashamed of themselves.

The rest of the day's ride was really nice, though as I got more and more tired, the terrain got more and more challenging; beautiful rolling hills. I started to get a bit stressed around 4:30pm, as it seemed I would not make it to Longview by sundown, and there really aren't any motels anywhere along the way. I rode really hard for the rest of the day, averaging 14.59mph for the day, and a 102 mile day at that, and made it to the motel shortly after sunset. What a beautiful way to finish out the ride. Tomorrow's weather is more of the same. I know I've been harping on this for the past week or so, but I am really going to miss this lifestyle.Tonight's motel is really nice, and still pretty cheap. I can't wait to stop spending so much money, and to start eating like a human being.

Day 91: The Most Disgusting Motel I Have Ever Seen!

I didn't go to sleep until about 3am because as I was falling asleep, I suddenly remembered that I needed to buy my Greyhound ticket ASAP or I would be forced to pay almost double. So I bought a greyhound ticket to Los Angeles... So it's official... I will soon be in the least bike friendly city in North America. But before I do that... I will spend some time in possibly the most bike friendly city in the USA. Portland.

Showered. Ate Breakfast. Packed Up. Checked Out. Rode to Kinkos. Printed out a set of maps and started out on the STP (Seattle to Portland) route.

The ride was very nice, even though it was still drizzling today. Today had the highest concentration of cyclists on the road since... Ever... I probably saw over a hundred cyclists. As I passed them and they would see my 'loaded' touring bike, an envious smile would creep across their face. It made me feel good about what I was doing. It's probably not healthy to measure the worth of your endeavors by the jealous grins of onlookers... but yeah... what can I say... it made me feel good. Like external validation that I was making a great decision. Not that I need it... I'm really happy... especially today. The only downside to the crowded bike lanes, is that on two occasions I did not realize that I was being tailed by a group of cyclists. I was singing along to the VIOLENT FEMMES, and doing my best to impersonate the singers nasal, effeminate whine. Those cyclists did NOT look at me with envy. No... their expression was something more approaching disgust.

The riding was fantastic today. I bought some really cheap glasses/goggles(?) at a gas station. They look kind of ridiculous, but I'm OK with it... I think that since they hang around my neck... I won't lose this pair.

Running tally:

HEADPHONES 7 PAIR GLASSES 4 PAIR HATS 3 HATS GLOVES 3 PAIR

I really like this route. It's not too difficult, but not boring either. The highways occasionally got too busy for my tastes, but it was Sunday so it definitely could have been a lot worse. There's no better feeling than riding with the flow of traffic through a major city, but there's nothing worse than trying not to get run over by traffic in the prolonged stretch of exurbia that surrounds every major city.

My plan was to stop for the day in YELM, WA... as it had a lone motel I could crash at for probably very cheap. I called ahead and found out that it was booked up. How is that possible? It was a Sunday with very little importance! And if this motel is consistently booked up, then why can't the bustling metropolis of Yelm erect a 2nd motel? The nearest motel after Yelm was too far to reach today, and the nearest one on this side of Yelm was really close... which makes today much shorter than I would like. Ugh... I shipped off my camping gear yesterday, and now this is my first lodging snag of the entire trip. Murphy's Law, right?

So I stopped short in Spanaway and found the only motel in town...

THE MOST DISGUSTING MOTEL I HAVE EVER SEEN!

I've stayed in a $16 motel in Vegas with doors that would not lock, and a TV that only got porn stations. This place is worse. The Redwood Motel in Spanaway, WA is to be avoided.

Over the phone I was informed by the sternest woman in the world that the motel would NOT have Wifi. I met her in person and she is just as severe. I get to my room, and the door is wide open, there are flies buzzing about, the room consists of a mattress on the floor in the corner without any bedding. There is graffiti on the walls inside the room and the bathroom door appears to have been ripped off the hinges? I timidly approach the woman and ask her if 'I' am supposed to make the bed? She rolls her eyes and tells me that she'll take care of it, if I leave and come back in 15 minutes. I ask if I can put my bike in the room, but she won't have any part of that. She says that she doesn't want me blaming her if anything goes missing from my bags, so I CANNOT leave my bike in the room I paid for.

I go over to SUBWAY and the two girls that work there are way too young to be so flirtatious. They are really too forward... After 10 minutes of conversation, they ask if I am eating the sandwich in store, because they will sit with me while I eat it. I tell them that 'no' I am not eating this sandwich in the store.

'Then why did you set up your laptop?'...

Damn. The Brunette one is observant.

'Um... I was just letting it download emails while I had the sandwich made.' Her observational skills are no match for my cunning.

'So... you're just gonna go and eat this sandwich somewhere else? Why not eat it here?'

'Um... I need to get moving before the sun sets'...

As I pedaled back to the motel, I wondered if the brunette would realize that I was heading 'the wrong direction' from my declared route. Also, it occurs to me that if I want any soda later tonight, I would need to pass right by this same Subway and risk a second exposure to these sirens. I must wait and get soda under the cover of night.

I check the room for bugs and get a little more comfortable when I can't find any. The TV only gets the most useless channels. QVC, Spanish Channel, PBS... etc.

Ugh... today was some great riding, and I wish I had the camping gear so I could keep going. I was trying to listen to all the essential David Bowie albums by sundown. Oh well... I think the sun is supposed to come out tomorrow that'd be pretty neat it's been over a week since I've seen it. Tomorrow will be a long day to make up for such a short day today. I didn't take any pictures today... Nothing just really stood out.

PS - I know it's a Redford film, but does it seem like LION FOR LAMBS is Tom Cruise trying to endear himself to the American LEFT again after a disastrous last year? ...'YES OR NO!?!'

Days 88 - 90: With a Reserved Demeanor and a Sarcastic Quip...

I'm lumping my Three days spent in Seattle into one post, because all the days were pretty similar and all had very little to do with cycling.

Surprise, surprise, I really, really like Seattle. Every city I've been to has surprised me with its beauty and originality, and I think it's symptomatic of a mindset that runs rampant in NYC. Since moving to Brooklyn, I've relegated every city in North America that isn't New York to a second tier status; looked down my nose at these lesser cities as 'less than' in size, population, and coolness, rather than unique entities that have their own unique atmosphere and ambitions. There's very little I can do in NYC that I can't do in Chicago or Seattle. For the first time in years, I can see myself living in another American city outside of New York. Thank you Seattle, Minneapolis, Pittsburgh, and Chicago; thank you for relieving me of that self-centered mindset. All that being said... I really miss New York... I'm a little worried about spending two months in Los Angeles. I think I might go nuts. I'm not a huge fan of that town.

Tomorrow I will get back on the bike, bound for Portland. It's strange to think that I have only 3 days of cycling left, and only 8 days of traveling left. It's scary, but I can't yet worry about that... these past four days I have grown soft and doughy, and I will need to get my 'A Game' back before hitting the road tomorrow. It occurs to me that I never printed out the maps that Mike R. emailed me. Tomorrow could be interesting.

List of things I did/saw in Seattle:

1. Capitol Hill

2. The Bridge Troll in Fremont

3. The Lenin Statue in Fremont

4. The Space Needle

5. Volunteer Park

6. Waterfront Park

7. Pioneer Square

8. Pike Street Fish Market

9. Rode my bike all over the place, especially back alleys

10. Saw Gone Baby Gone. Had its problems, but overall very good.

11. Saw Michael Clayton... same deal.

12. Booked a Greyhound ticket from Portland to Los Angeles

13. Befriended a South Korean named Chanyong(?)

14. Caught up on my blog/correspondence

15. Got wet and stayed wet for 4 days

16. Saw a cyclist get a ticket for running a red light.

17. REI

18. Other Stuff:These 2 players are probably so excited because one of them did a very good job either catching or throwing a football.

**** Addendum!****

Later that evening, our protagonist remembers some other stuff he thought he would mention....

Tonight while I was at the movie theatre, I accidentally dropped my hostel room key card under the seat. I walked all the way back to the hostel before realizing this. Immediately I knew the odds were against me recovering this key card tonight... but I was hoping to get an early start tomorrow, so I guess I had better try, right? It was 1:30am, and the streets were mostly empty except for homeless people. I got to the mall complex and the doors were locked, I was expecting this so I flagged down a guy who was pressure washing the sidewalk and got him to let me in... I took the elevator to the 4th floor, but the doors to the theatre complex were locked. I banged on the window for 20 minutes while a night crew cleaning woman pretended not to hear me. I didn't begrudge her, she probably didn't want to get into trouble for letting in some strange kid after hours.

Eventually a short mexican night crew cleaning guy opened the door, but would not let me in. I tried explaining my case, but he did not speak a word of english and kept repeating "I don't know". I tried pantomiming my case, and to make the matter simple, I pretended that i was missing my car keys. Driving a car is much easier to pantomime than entering a hostel door. "I don't know" he continued to say. Eventually i just started walking forward through the doorway and he moved out of my way. I said "Gracias" as I headed to the escalator and didn't look back to see if he was upset with me. And indeed my key card was sitting on the ground right beneath my seat. I felt pretty triumphant; so proud of myself that i felt the need to hurry home and blog about it!

The walk home was nice. Brimming with self confidence, I would've welcomed some masked gunman to try and rob me. I probably would have given him the wallet, but with a cool, steely, reserved demeanor, and a sarcastic quip.

Another much shorter anecdote I wanted to mention was when some kid in McDonalds was convinced that I was Aesop Rock. I told him that I am not, and he didn't believe me. Apparently Aesop Rock was playing a show in the area, and this kid was confident I was him. He kept pestering me with questions while I ate. And so I ate quickly. I left McDonalds with this kid still sure I was Aesop Rock. Maybe it was the hat I was wearing. Maybe it could be a very easy Halloween Costume this year?

Day 87: "Man... That Looked Like a Bad Fall"

Wednesday, October 17th

I was prepared for the 6:30am wakeup call today. After breakfast I said goodbye to Grandpa and Mary and took to the road. Within the first 15 minutes, I managed to accidentally let my front wheel slip into the groove of a railroad crossing. Down I went. Some guy ran up and said “Man… that looked like a bad fall!” I agreed and then got moving again, but it really wasn’t that bad. Only the second major fall since I started. Not too shabby.

Getting into Seattle today was difficult. I rode the Centennial Trail, and then cut over to the Interurban Trail via Hwy 2. Part of this “cutting over” involved riding against traffic on the shoulder of a freeway off ramp. Really, really scary to someone who has never ridden the route. I kept wondering if maybe I was misreading the signs, and was destined to be a cautionary example to future cyclists in Snohomish County. It rained heavily all morning, and I stopped in Everett to warm up at a Mexican food joint.

The rain eventually stopped, and I follow the Interurban Trail with only minor difficulty; a few wrong turns but nothing major. As the day progressed, the trail got more and more convoluted and poorly marked. By the time I got to the Kings County Line the trail was ALL OVER THE PLACE, making strange nonsensical turns, so I just decided to pick a road that seemed to be major, and follow it as far as it would go. It was a great move and I followed “Meridian Rd” all the way into residential Seattle. It took a little bit of trickery and navigating, but I snaked my way through the streets and towards the downtown where my hostel for the evening was. The rain kicked in shortly before I reached Fremont, and it was intense. I was riding down a really large, steep hill by the Aurora Bridge, and it was raining harder than anything I had experienced since Ft Wayne, IN.

Other cyclists were out and about in their rain gear; commuting with ease. Every city I get to, I am impressed with the adaptability of the cyclists. I guess maybe Seattleite cyclists might be impressed with a New Yorker’s ability to weave through gridlocked traffic without stopping or slowing down. The cyclists here are not even the slightest bit concerned about riding down wet hills.

I get to the hostel and get situated. I had arranged to leave my bike with a guy from warmshowers, but instead I was able to convince the management at the hostel to let me keep the bike in the living room. Everything was working out pretty well. I went for a walk and grabbed some dinner. Seattle is exciting; lots of homeless people in the few blocks immediately surrounding where I am staying. They are very forward too; interrupting phone calls and scowling when you don’t give them money. Not nearly as laid-back as the NYC homeless. I am glad to be here, although a bit disoriented. I don’t have any idea of the layout of this city. But I guess that’s why I am staying here for the remainder of the week… to explore… and also to wait out the tropical storm that will be landing tomorrow.

Day 86: Come rain, sleet, snow, or hail or whatever...

I do not wake up as early as my grandpa does, so when I was awoken for breakfast this morning at 6:30am, it took a little while to process exactly what was going on. I didn’t see it coming. “Steven…. BREAKFAST” is called down the basement stairs. I fumble out of sleep, confused, irritable. Is this actually happening? Who could possibly have the ability to wake up early enough to cook a full breakfast by 6:30am?

My plan is to let the morning rain pass, and then ride into Seattle this afternoon after it dies down a little. Grandpa takes me up to this property he’s been developing for a few years now. It’s a really impressive compound owned by this wealthy construction mogul. I wish I had the foresight to bring my camera, but alas, I did not; lots of winding roads, man-made ponds, and shooting ranges. We do some fly-fishing, and I come very close to catching something, but it gets off the hook at the last second. It’s a really neat place that makes me wish I had a job outdoors.

Afterwards we hit up a buffet and then I take a nap back at the house. I wake up at 5pm... OK…. So I guess I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I hit up the Wifi at the library and plan out the final details for going into Seattle. I think I’ll be in Seattle from Wednesday – Sunday

Later that evening my Uncle Dennis and Aunt Dawn stop by the house. It’s good to see everyone. Apparently Dennis is the #1 Steelhead Fisherman in the world? I had no idea. Also… I’m not sure what a Steelhead is… besides the obvious assumption that it’s a type of fish. Is it a special fish? Is it rare? Does it taste really good? Is it one of those fish that can walk on land?

Tonight Floyd Mayweather got kicked off of Dancing with The Stars. He didn’t deserve to go, but it serves him right for being such a jerk to De La Hoya. Is it strange that the only 2 black celebrities on the show got the least votes, despite delivering solid performances? It’s probably nothing, but to a viewer without any context, it would appear suspicious. I don’t much care for this show, but it’s good to finally witness the spectacle firsthand.

OK… So tomorrow I ride down to Seattle. Come rain, sleet, snow, or hail or whatever…

Day 85: Hills Like "Radiator Coolant Green" Elephants.

Today is the first of 8 solid days of rain, so I wake up at 8am with the intention of getting on the road at 9am and beating the rain before it starts at noon. The day ends at my Grandpa’s place in Arlington about 33 miles south of here, so it really shouldn’t be that difficult.

I eat breakfast with Stephanie and say goodbye. I’m definitely planning to keep in touch with her. It always makes me sad when I walk away from someone fully knowing that time will make a slow casualty of our friendship. Maybe the trip has made me less cynical, but I’m fairly optimistic about keeping in touch with her.

I start out heading south and it’s a beautiful morning with wide shoulders and cool Pacific air, though it feels strange to be heading in a completely new direction; daunting. The towns turn to farmlands, and the shoulders turn to nothing. The landscape along HWY 9 is rolling hills and thick rain forest; there’s nothing quite like it anywhere else in the US. I really like it over here. Everything West of Omak has been pretty special.

The rain begins about half way to Arlington and I stop at a really friendly gas station on a large roundabout that sits in the shade of a HUGE green jagged rock, that I would later find out is called “BIG ROCK”. Everything around here is covered under eight layers of moss colored “radiator coolant green”. I sit on a padded chair on the porch of the gas station and warm up with a cup of tea until the rain stops. Already, I am noticing a huge difference since having completed the Northern Tier. I feel relaxed. No longer is there a thin line of fishing wire that is always kept taught and pulling me westward. No stress, until I think about my poor dwindling bank account. The rain stops and I head back out.

The rest of the day along HWY 9 is all blind curves and wet beautiful forest; a great day of riding. I get into Arlington, grab some Mexican food, hit up the library and head over to see Grandpa and Mary. The town has gotten so much larger since last I’ve been here. I tried to find the bicycle shop that Google maps assured me was in town, but it turns out that it’s a motorcycle shop.

When I arrive, Grandpa and Mary are getting ready to meet some friends for dinner. I am alone for an hour or two, but it’s actually a good thing because I need time to plan tomorrow’s route into Seattle. Mike R. of TNT2007 offered to send a set of maps to get me into Seattle, and I foolishly turned it down. The best route I could find looks kind of complicated. To make matters worse, it is supposed to rain pretty hard tomorrow; lots of headwinds too.

When Grandpa and Mary get back, we hang out for a while and watch Dancing with the Stars. They do not care for much of the fast dances, or skimpy outfits. Grandpa mentions doing some fishing tomorrow, and maybe taking me up to the property where he has been doing most of his road-building and construction. It’d be fun, but I’m still planning on leaving in the morning… though Mary is pretty insistent that I stay. We’ll see what it looks like in the morning.

I go to sleep on a pull out in the basement in front of the TV. It’s a good night’s sleep. Maybe I should stay another day? There’ll be less rain and wind on Wednesday, but I’m still pretty sure I want to go. The Emerald City beckons.

Day 84: Ease Your Feet Into The Sea

Sunday, October 14th, 2007

The plan is to ride 30 miles to Anacortes, and do the ceremonial bike in the ocean thing, and then ride 30 miles back to Stephanie’s place in Sedro-Wooley. I set off around 10am and follow some real nice back roads to Anacortes. It’s a sunny day, so I don’t need to wear all the usual layers; the coast has really nice, warm, wet air. About half way to Anacortes, I hit the coast. I briefly think about bucking tradition and just dipping my wheels in this stretch of the Pacific, and then riding back real quick so I can pick up some Taco Bell and catch the “Law and Order SVU” marathon. Water is Water, right? BUT… I came all this way; I might as well follow the mapped route to its end.

I cross over a large bridge, and then make a wrong turn, which I correct by taking some other back road that goes through a large oil refinery. It’s cool scenery. I love industrial landscapes. I join up with the “Tommy Thompson Trail” (wtf? …If I ride this trail, is it going to mismanage my budget, then blame poor people, and then stereotype jews?.... ZING!) The trail is really neat, but I’m pulsing with anticipation. Every mile is an eternity. When I get into downtown Anacortes, there is a small anti-war protest at a major intersection. Mostly elderly people and a few college kids are poised on 3 of the 4 corners of the intersection, waving peace flags to passing cars. The 4^th corner had been annexed by a pro-war demonstration. About 10 old people blasting Pro-War Country Music, and holding up large signs of the Twin Towers on fire. One old man had a microphone and would yell angry things over a loud speaker. I took a picture of him while I waited for the light to turn green, and he told me over his loudspeaker that I had a nice camera. As I rode by I gave them the peace sign, which I was pretty sure had been made innocuous because of its usage in pop culture for the past 40 years. Wasn’t it one of Milli-Vanilli’s signature gimmicks? Well… Apparently these people HATE PEACE. One of the old guys flipped me off and they yelled at me as I rode by. Who would have thought that the two-fingered peace sign would ever become such a charged symbol again? What a bizarre world we live in right now. But two blocks away the world was much less angry and a much happier place. I rode a few miles until I could see the Ferry Terminal!

I unloaded the 2 bags I was carrying, and maneuvered my way down the rocks, onto the sand, and threw the damned bicycle into the water. I sat down in the sand for a few minutes, then got up and recreated the whole thing for the camera, but with a little more pomp and circumstance. It’s strange how I don’t really feel like I have finished. I have 30 more miles to ride this afternoon, and will be riding many more miles south, but I expected a little more catharsis. Hmm… I think because for the past week I have been losing velocity and consistently slowing my pace, that instead of charging across the Finish Line in a grand and glorious burst of strength, it feels more like easing your feet into the sea; a subtle transition like the change of seasons. If I had the chance to do this past week over again, I might purposefully set up a scenario to make this afternoon a little more climactic: No breaks beforehand, a hotel in Anacortes, take a few days off afterwards. Today felt like just another day. I have no regrets though; I still feel like a champ, but just not like a shriveled and dehydrated champion marathon runner.

I rode around Anacortes a while and tried to force myself into a post-Northern Tier mindset, and then eventually started back to Sedro-Wooley. I must admit that it felt strange to be reading the map from the other direction for the first time. As I pulled away from the water, I imagined myself starting a long journey from West to East, and it felt really fucking scary. It’s such a daunting feeling. The only reason I got beyond the first day of this ride, is because I didn’t allow myself to think about the totality of the trip. I was only focused on getting to Princeton, NJ. Knowing what I know now, I’m not sure what I would be feeling on that first day. Would I quit right then and there? Would I be less scared than I was?

I’ve had a few friends and family ask me if I’ve learned anything about myself on this trip. And of course, there are a thousand little self-realizations I’ve made (example: I hate Ethiopian Food) but to be honest, there isn’t enough energy at the end of the day to sit under the stars and be introspective. I was too focused on subsistence to think about anything deep or meaningful. Every day was a new obstacle/tragedy/malfunction/ and always just barely also a new triumph/success. It was subtle, but the daily routine of dealing with the challenges of touring, gave me a newfound confidence that the inevitable obstacles were actually pretty minute, and not worth worrying over. An increased sense of self-actualization, that I am much more in control of my own fate than I had ever thought possible. That’s really the main “realization” of this trip. Seems a bit simplistic, but to me it feels profound as hell. Invaluable.

The ride back is gorgeous and timed perfectly to coordinate with the setting sun. I turned off the Ipod, listened to the silent back roads, breathed the wet air, and enjoyed this unique and amazing moment. I sound like a pansy when I type sentences like that, but whatever…. In an hour I would be finishing off a tall Diet Coke and watching an episode of Law and Order, and tomorrow I would be heading south with a completely new destination. In 6 months I will be in Prague, and in a year I will be in Brooklyn. So I need to mythologize this moment with flowery prose; I am mourning its inevitable demise at the same time I celebrate its brief existence. I don’t experience too many things as fully as I am experiencing this.

I want my life to be full of moments like these, with awe and wonder. I know the real world is waiting for me at the bottom of my bank account, but maybe I can take these things I’ve felt these past 3 months and keep them with me as I re-enter society, and maybe remember to live a more immediate life as a result; unflinching and eager. Maybe I’ve created a new paradigm with which to view the world at large? A new exciting paradigm where possibility is so much more possible, and regret slowly fades from my memory and ultimately exists only as an abstract concept …Isn’t it pretty to think so?

But I continued to ride silently, slowly, back to the house. This moment feels like the end of the trip I had been anticipating in Anacortes; I don’t want the day to end. Why did I view so many of the more difficult moments of this trip in terms of battle or conflict? I “beat” Loup Loup, or I “conquered” Sherman. They’re only words, but looking at the massive formations now, I feel a certain reverence for them that such terminology undermines. Why feel the need to frame such challenges in confrontational language? I’m pretty far up my own ass right now, huh?

I’m OK, You’re OK… now let’s go climb some mountains.