It's been three days since we completed our ride.
The tan lines and the bruises are already fading. I'm hoping the muscle tissue will not, but I know that is inevitable as life returns to 'normal'.
The children were sent off to their summer school programs this morning, and Mike and I went for another ride- a day ride, around town, just to see how it felt. We both struggled in the beginning of this ride to get into shape- training was nowhere near to what we hoped it would be- and now that we've ridden for 27 days, we're not quite ready to stop. This topic comes up quite a bit in our conversations recently- how do you continue the momentum, when so many stop lights and the traffic impedes the way?
We rode off on empty bikes with no real destination in mind, except knowing would be a loop, ending where we started, which was so different than how we have been riding together for the past 5,000+ miles. The bikes handle differently without the weight of the bags- it's harder to keep a line, the back tire wants to drift. I was concerned my shifter wasn't working properly, and then I realized I was in the highest gear- missing the weighted feeling pushing down on the pedals. I don't ride horses, but I imagine it would be how a pack horse would run when it wasn't carrying a load.
Riding in my backyard, the landscape seems so plain now- the hills I remember are flatter. The inclines are non-existent. Mike reminded me that we were going uphill oh-so-gradually, and I glance down at my speedometer reading 17mph, effortlessly going along. The downhills were fast, but not exhilarating like they were before, and certainly nothing like The Ride. On the trip, I could sense my speed within 2 miles per hour of a comfort zone- I didn't like to get too much above 30mph, but today that intuition was off, and I was still pedalling at 35mph, not grabbing my brakes. The challenge wasn't there today.
On this ride, there were no easy days, physically. Every day brought some sort of tough spot to push through. And that's pretty amazing to do that, every single day. I won't write about all of them, but I'll attempt to convey some of that in words another time.
Monday, July 6, 2015
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Days in Oregon
Our days in Oregon blended together more so than Washington. By day 5 of riding, most of the kinks were worked out- chain tension, seat post height, getting our panniers balanced. Less body kinks- stiffness in the back was gone, as Greg put it, his seat and rear "weren't quite friends yet, but had reached a mutual understanding of a very tenative peace agreement."
Oregon's road signs are much better than Washington- the signed Oregon Coast bike path is really well marked. Washington street signs look like they've been spun around in Wonderland, never pointing at the right road.
It's breakfast time, more writing will have to wait!
Monday, June 15, 2015
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Fourth day
"It's f*ING 6:45 in the morning and you're gabbing in front of my room!" This was our first interaction of the morning, while inflating tires at the hotel in Belfair. Belfair is in one of the Washington State counties that advertises their embracement of recreational marijuana, as noted by their roadside stands. We moved our bike tuning operations down to the cafe down the 3 while we waited for them to open at 7am. Once our bikes were set for the day, we sat down, greeted by the mother of the waitress we had for dinner the night prior. In the booth next to us, tow truck drivers were swapping gruesome stories, turned to us and said, "enjoy your breakfast!" And then the one guy in his florescent vest blushed a little when he apologized for swearing in front of me.
Our journey today at was long, 93 miles/150k for 8 hours actual moving time on the bikes. 11.6mph ave. But, compared to yesterday, the terrain was mild. We were suffering yesterday. No walking today. Walking the bike up the hill is much harder than actually riding. Most of this was due to missing a turn, so we continued on the highway 106 along the Hood Canal and then transitioned to the 101 to get to Elma.
We had an enjoyable stop at one of the many, many roadside espresso stands- a dirty Chai for me (but this had indoor seating!), a great sandwich for a late lunch, and wine, chips and guacamole for dinner. Constant snacking on high calorie foods have been the best way to fuel- we've found peanut m&ms and gas station pastries have been delicious.
Our motel has a full breakfast buffet for us to scour in the morning, and tomorrow... we still don't know where tomorrow's night will be, closer to lunch we'll view and assess the conditions.
By the numbers:
Fatalities: 0
Roadkill count: possum, cayote, lots of birds, flat snakes, squirrel, bunny, and several past unidentifiable
Roadside $: 0.12, including a 1892 Indian-head penny
Bottles of wine: 2
Christmas tree farms: lost count
Monday, June 8, 2015
Second day
Highlight of today:
The food is getting better as we continue south.
Spotted a bald eagle in a tree over the Deception Pass.
Downhill.
A warm cozy bed and hot shower.
Dissapointments:
When the next hill is just a little too far away that you lose all rolling momentum.
Uncomfortably full after lunch, and then seeing the ice cream shop.
Cycling is such a norm here people don't wave at you.
Karma points:
Mike gave a guy his spare folding tire; his was thrashed.
Helped another cyclist find a hiker- biker campsite with our map.
Point to ponder: why are motorcyclists referred to as bikers while bicyclists are cyclists? The "bi" prefix is only in the latter.
The first day, arriving in Bellingham
Composing this post last night, selecting the photo of us leaving, that moment felt like it was days before, not merely hours. It's an understatement to say it was a long day for all of us.
Riding through major cities are always tough- the start and stop at traffic lights and making sure you didn't miss a turn add time. Our actual time moving was just over 7 hours, but it was 12 hours from there to here. Part of that was coffee, the border crossing, lunch, and an iced drink top off, but long.
Observations:
The Knight st bridge smells like sawdust. Fresh, pulpy almost. Actually, most of Vancouver smelled of sawdust, but in a way that you'd turn a corner and catch a whiff, not unlike a jasmine bush in somebody's front yard.
The next bridge had a sweet manure scent, the kind you'd associate with organic gardening and tasty things to eat, not an offensive smell.
The Frasier bridge stunk of poop and sulfur. At least that massive suspension bridge required a bit more concentration, so the odor was less noticeable as I climbed to the top.
Surry was full of curry and spices in the air, then crossed some farmlands growing cilantro.
After we crossed into the United States, I was struck by a familiar smell of home. It was the salt marsh, not unlike my own coastal nature center and the marina. I was only in Canada for less than 24 hours, but the smell of the salt air and the I-5 freeway sign were reminders I'm going home. I've just started, but I'm going home.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
One year later
May 6, 2014, Mike and I were leaving Sanderson, west Texas on a meager Indian breakfast, passing through desolate lands of entire towns for sale.
June 6, 2014, I was flying home, greeted by my 3 year old daughter's shouts of " mommy!" in the airport, wildly waving the sunflowers she brought me.
May 6, 2015: I'm writing this blog entry for the second time after my daughter inadvertently deleted the first draft, warmed up leftovers for dinner, chose wine over yoga, and still have to leave lesson plans for my classes tomorrow.
June 6, 2015: I will be on a plane to Vancouver, British Colombia with Mike, my bike Alma, and a set of maps directing us south towards home, taking us along the Pacific coast.
There's so much to be done in the next month. But it's still not about the bike ride- the deadlines and stress will come anyway. Grades will have to be turned in the same day regardless. The childrens' demands are going to be the same anyway. You're never truly ready for something you have no idea of what to expect, so why expect anything?
Alma has been out a few times on the road, but not nearly as much as I thought she'd be by this point. The days are long but the years are short with babes. I anticipate it may be more difficult for the family this time around. There's a balancing act of staying in the present moment with them, considering the upcoming task of what's going on in my work day (or, more realistically, what I've fallen behind with), and fantasizing about quiet mornings, eating without a child on my lap, the hum of the tires on asphalt and my thoughts in my head... ideally, transferring to this electronic medium for the reader's enjoyment.
Welcome back, Alma.
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