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!

Oregon

Some pics of Oregon!

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

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.

The first morning, leaving Vancouver