The Long Way Home, Part 1

In an effort to explore more of beautiful California, we took the long way home (well, one of them), and drove north from Monterey on 101.  This took us directly through San Francisco, where we learned that for a short time in the city 101 takes you onto the street level, and we made it through unscathed - bikes on the rack and all.

We drove across the Golden Gate bridge, stopped on the Sausalito side and parked with the other hundreds of tourists.  But we also had our bikes.  So we took them off the rack and endeavored to ride them across the bridge.

Even under normal circumstances when the bike path on one side of the bridge and the pedestrian path on the other side are both open, I understand this can be a bit of a rough ride, what with winds and wobblers on rented bikes.  But on the busy weekend day we were there, the bike path side was closed and bikes were rerouted so that we shared the pedestrian path, so we had to maneuver around oblivious tourists going both directions, as well as the bike rental wobblers (in groups and on their own).

Once we got the hang of it a bit, it was exhilarating.  I learned that I just had to be less nice - don't give people as much room as they were taking, be loud and let people know we were coming, and don't give up the right of way or I'd end up going the speed of the slowest walker.  Once I got the hang of that I was able to enjoy the gorgeous day.

After leaving the Golden Gate bridge, we headed further north on 101 through the Redwoods.  We stayed overnight in Eureka, which turned out to be a charming little former lumber port that looked a lot more like Oregon and California port towns than the fancier California ones we'd visited further south.  We ate that night at the Samoa Cookhouse, which was ah-mazing.  The food there is served like it was in the lumber days - one meal served family style on long tables to everyone who's there.  I felt like after our day on the bridge and driving through the Redwoods, we'd earned that meal.

Riding through Monterey

A couple days into our trip to Monterey, we decided to ride the bike path in Monterey and along the coast.  The Monterey Bay Coastal Bike Trail follows the coastline for almost 30 miles of the bay.  In the city, the trail is a wide paved path that cuts through town just a block and a half off of Cannery Row.  We parked south of the aquarium, then rode north through town to the working jetty, and out on the jetty to watch birds and harbor seals.

After riding to the end of the jetty, we rode back through town, but instead of following the bike path, we turned toward Cannery Row.  While it was really crowded in town that weekend, there were surprisingly few cars on the roads along Cannery Row -- maybe because there's so little parking, it's just not car friendly.  So there were a couple cars, motorcycles, lots of pedestrians and us.  It felt like we ruled the road.

On Cannery Row, we stopped to look around a bit.  We found a cinnamon roll shop, a nice pier area, and lots of fantastic people watching.  The tourists in Monterey were much more international than we're used to - we heard European and Asian languages, along with our own familiar English.

From Cannery Row, we headed south along the coast and quickly left the tourist area for a road with the ocean on the right and houses on the left.  I looked at other people's houses and decided which I'd have liked for myself, which I couldn't imagine ever wanting, and which were probably owned by lucky souls who bought them 50 years ago and hadn't done much to fix them up since then but oh how fun it would be to do that now.  Along the way, the coastline was distractingly beautiful.  I kept an eye out for otters, which we didn't see, but I did see seals relaxing on the rocks.

At this point, the bike path was on the road, which wasn't a big deal because everyone drove so slow to enjoy the coastal view.  Only the tour buses startled me as they drove by because they're so big that you can feel them blow by.  We rode all the way down to Asilomar State Park, stopping along the way to look for otters and enjoy the view.  On our way back, we were joined by some motorcycles for a while, and it felt for a second like I was keeping up.

I loved that Monterey was so bike-friendly and made the trip toting our bikes all the way down from Washington totally worth it.  It's the kind of place that's meant to be explored on bicycle -- there's so much to see that you don't want to go too fast or you'll miss it.

Back to California

I moved to California at the formative age of 10 and left when I was 15.  I don't really miss it, though -- I'm a true Washingtonian at heart.  But my mom lives there, so I fly back to visit her periodically.  This summer, my mom invited J and I to join her at a vacation house on the waterfront near Monterey.  I have fond memories of this part of the California coast from our vacations there when I was a kid, and it was an easy sell to J.  We decided early on that we'd make this our first long-distance road trip together, and when we got our bikes back in the spring, we immediately started planning to take them on this trip with us.  I'm so glad that we did.

Mount Shasta

Our drive south with the bikes was perilous in large part because we had our bikes, plus the required hitch and rack, on our already relatively low clearance Camry.  As a result, we dragged on the ground almost every time we left a gas station, so much that we started selecting gas stations based on which were least likely to make us cringe at the awful sound of the car dragging on concrete.  Plus, I-5 in Oregon and California is an absolute wreck.  When we weren't hitting potholes (!) in the freeway, we were slowing and swerving to avoid degraded asphalt that would rattle a luxury car, let alone our weighed down sedan.  Nevertheless, we made it to Monterey in about 15 hours with our rack and bikes in great condition (thanks to Swagman for such a kickass rack!).

We set out to go bike riding on our second full day in Monterey.  In these difficult economic times, many states (including my own) have imposed use fees in their state parks.  California is one of those states.  Fortunately, we took our bicycles with us California's Point Lobos State Park.  We parked on the far side of Highway 1, crossed the road, then rode into the park entrance about a quarter mile down the road.

We were able to access all of the viewpoints others arrived at by car, except we didn't pay the $10 entrance fee.  Even better, at the most popular viewpoint there was a bike rack near where the park docents were standing, so we felt our bikes were safe when we left them locked there (and were happy they warned us about poison oak in the bushes next to the rack).  We got off our bikes and explored the cypress tree groves overlooking the coastline, then walked out to the tip of the coastline for a view of birds and sea lions as they sunned themselves below us.

When we left Point Lobos, we had to cross Highway 1 to reach our car.  The cars, motorcycles and RVs zoomed around the bend so fast that I worried I wouldn't be able to get across fast enough on my bike.  But I had a big enough gap that I hopped on and sprinted across.  I then had to pedal just a quarter mile to get to the car, but I've never felt so vulnerable to motorists than I did then.  I had an inkling of how an insect trying to avoid being splatted on a windshield might feel.  Nevertheless, I made it to our car, and got a couple beeps from motorcyclists along the way (yay two-wheelers!).  

We finished our day out with a little more road tripping down south on Highway 1 to Big Sur, and while we didn't have time to bike around, we did see a number of intrepid cyclists tackling the hills, traffic and narrow roads.  With that said, this is one strikingly gorgeous stretch of road that I think I'll stick with driving on.

Cape Disappointment does not disappoint

During the week of July 4th, we took our bikes with us on a camping trip to Cape Disappointment State Park, which is located near Long Beach, WA.  We were camping with family friends, who were very impressed by our new bikes and had brought their own, so we all went out for a ride around the park along its long 20 mph roads through the trees and out to the the end of the road by the jetty - from which you can see one of the two lighthouses at the park.

We had noticed a paved path when we entered the campground, learned from a Ranger that it was part of the Coastal Trail, which is a six mile paved path that goes from the park through the city of Long Beach, and that most of it follows the coastline.  Skipping the super steep part that was in the park, we started where the path heads to the coast.  First went through some rock formations, then cut through the beach grass for a few miles before we reached town.

In town, we locked up all of our bikes together - a feat in itself because we had three adult bikes, a teen's bike, and a kid's bike, but only one cable lock.  With some ingenuity, we were able to accomplish the task, and the bikes looked awesome all tangled up together.

On our way back to the park, we took our time to explore a bit so we could look for a beach access road that would allow a car to drive onto the beach in the area we were riding along.  We found what we were looking for.

As we waited for our ride to pick us up with our bikes, we explored some of the other trails, which started with a pretty bridge, then quickly headed up a steep path that probably only an experienced mountain biker could get up (although I got further up it than either of the other guys who tried!).

We later returned by car to fly kites at the beach we'd found access to during our bike ride.

We may not have ridden the longest of rides while on this camping trip, but we loved the freedom that having our bikes with us afforded us.

Riding on the Yakima Greenway

Over the July 4th weekend, we drove to Yakima to visit family, and took our bikes with us.  Because it was significantly hotter in eastern Washington, we took our bikes out early in the morning (well, early for a holiday weekend, so around 9am).

We started at the park behind the Wal-Mart (as my dad described it), and rode south.  The path went through some local parks, then abruptly ended.  The Greenway Foundations maps seem to indicate that the path continues further south, but we couldn't find anything that looked like a continued path or signs to point us in the right direction, so we turned around and headed back north.

After a short mile or so, we had retraced our ride, and were on new ground, now following along the Yakima River (although I-5 was still somewhat close to our left).  The river was very high, like many of the rivers in Washington right now, and and moving swiftly.  The path had even been partially washed out in sections.

A couple miles in, we passed a wooden play structure that I'd seen from the freeway many times and wondered how families accessed it.  Turns out, there's no road to the playground - you have to either walk or ride to it.  I loved that!  There was one family there when we passed that had taken a break from their ride to let the kids play.

It started to really heat up, so we turned around sooner than we'd intended.  We're definitely not acclimated to the heat in eastern Washington.  We probably only rode about 6 miles or so total, but it felt like much more due to the heat.

When we got home, J's front tire was flat.  He had a big thorn, which we learned was a goathead, stuck in his tire.  Goatheads are apparently very common on the Greenway and all across eastern Washington.  Since it was a Sunday the local bike shops weren't open, but Fred Meyer had lots of bike repair gear, and J fixed his first flat.  He must have done a pretty decent job because it's still holding up.

We had intended to ride more of the Greenway the next morning, but by the time we got moving, it was too hot.  We're just not prepared to ride in 90 degree weather (yet).  We're going back in late September, and we're looking into staying closer to the Greenway, so we have another chance to ride the rest of it.  With a flat repair kit in hand, for sure.

Father's Day ride

On Father's Day we went out for a ride with J's parents on the Chehalis Western trail in Lacey.

As usual, we had a great time riding with J's parents.  Their folding Dahons only have one speed, but on flat trails like this one they're able to keep up really well.  They actually did better on the short unpaved part of the trail than I did, and rode over it no problem.

The trail is really well marked, so we knew we'd ridden 6 1/2 miles when we got tired.  We stopped at a clearing where another cyclist had stopped to take in the view.  He was riding a recumbent, and told us that the last time he'd been at this same spot - admittedly a few years ago - there was an old rusting truck in the brush and a cougar on the hillside looking down at him.  We didn't see either (good thing - not sure how I'd react to a cougar), but it was really pretty.

For the last 1 1/2 miles I decided to keep a steady cadence and pedal the rest of the way back - no breaks - and I managed to do it.  Not sure I need to do that when we're out for fun, but it's a nice challenge I might try out on weekday rides.

When we got back to our cars we were definitely tired.  13 miles is a long way when you're doing it under your own power, and it was our longest ride yet.  Even though I felt it, I think we can keep this up and even go for longer rides.  I may work up to an Oregon coast ride yet.

More to learn at Cushman

A few weeks back, on a warm afternoon, we headed to Gig Harbor to ride the Cushman trail.

This trail is somewhat momentous to me because it's the first one I rode last year when I complained the entire time, and generally thought I would die.  I learned later that cycling could be much more fun on a flatter path (until I was in better shape) and on a bike and saddle that fit me.  Then this year when we test rode our first bikes, we rode on the Cushman trail, and it confirmed for me that riding was fun when done with the right equipment.

In town, the trail joins with local roads, and there's no separate bike path. I also learned that I really like riding on roads.   There's something about being on pavement that's meant for wheels.  I didn't even mind sharing the road with cars, although I generally gave them a wide berth.

I also confirmed what I'd already guessed - I suck at climbing hills.  Part of the trail is very steep (8% - which feels like a lot!) for quite a ways.  It's fun going down, but painful going back up the other side.  On each hill, I at least got into the right gear to climb (granny!), and made it about halfway up before I had to finish the climb on foot.  I didn't really mind, per se, because it didn't take long before I got back on the bike.  But still - I've got a ways to go.

Along the way, we stopped in at J's grandparents, which was a treat.  They both got on their folding bikes and rode around the parking lot at their complex with us.  We just went round and round with them, but I think we all felt like kids again.

Oregon is crazy for cycling

In early June we packed up our stuff and our bikes and headed south to the Oregon coast for a camping trip.  Along Highway 30, we saw the first of many cyclists on this trip -- among the many long-distance cyclists we saw heading east were at least five different tandem bikes.  I've never seen so many tandems in one day.

We stayed at Cape Lookout, which is basically west of Tillamook.  After settling into our cabin, we hopped on our bikes and rode on the trails to the nearby beach (although not on the beach), then we headed off to explore the campground on our bikes.  As usual, I loved peeking into everyone's living situation while riding around.  I was impressed at how many other campers also had bikes with them.

During our trip we encountered many long-distance cyclists (randonneurs?) with pannier racks stuffed full of stuff on the back and often the front wheels, too.  I was amazed at how they were able to climb the pretty steep coastal highways on their bikes.  I wanted to shout encouragement out the window, but didn't - maybe next time.  I'm nowhere near being able to ride the miles they do (yet), but I think I'm adding an Oregon coast bike trip to my bucket list.

Later during our trip, we again rode through the campground, then followed a road until it was no longer paved, and was basically a 4x4 packed path over gravel, sand, and vegetation.  I loved "off-roading" on my bike.  It felt like we were exploring an area lots of people wouldn't.  We also rode around the trails near our cabin, and basically just acted like kids.

Oregon inspired me to get into cycling even more.  It takes a different mentality to decide to explore a hilly coastline on your own power, and I suspect that the sights you see while cycling the coast are even more wondrous than what we see from our cars and short hikes.

Gearing Up

On Friday we were warned that it would be sunny for most of the day Saturday, then it would start to rain again.  So when we saw how nice it was yesterday, we headed out for another ride - this time to someplace new to us, the Soos Creek Trail in Kent.

The trail began in a wooded area with lots of small hills.  I wasn't used to using my gears as much as I needed to in order to gain speed on the downhills and immediately switch to the right lower gear to pedal uphill.  As a result, at one point, I was about halfway up a very small but steep hill on too high of a gear, couldn't pedal anymore, and had to stop and walk my bike just a few steps to the top.  An embarrassing lesson to learn - get in the right gear before the hill.

Soon the path leveled out into what looked like a valley, and we rode under large power transformers for a while.

Here, we took a break to catch our breath, drink some water, and watch people pass us.  Mostly runners and other recreational cyclists, but a couple faster cyclists rode past us in their spendex, as well.

At times, we had to cross various roads, some busier than others.  I still haven't mastered the quick start, especially when my bike is in a somewhat higher gear, and can be slow to get going.  A couple of times, drivers who I'm sure thought they were being courteous drove me nutty because they held up traffic (one even though they had the green and I had the red) waiting for me to cross.  I would have much preferred that they just went, so I could decide myself when to cross.  Instead, I struggled to get my bike going in too high of a gear with an audience of impatient car drivers watching.

After leaving the flat area, we rode through some skunk cabbage in full bloom (not pleasant), then past some horse pastures (much better).

There were even a couple bridges to ride over (which I love).

I was worried that on the way back, I'd have the same trouble with getting in the right gear for the small hills, but I switched to my lowest gear in the front when we got there, and found it much easier to get in the right gear (especially for hills), although I probably gave up some speed on the downhills.  But I made it over all the little hills with little effort, and only had to walk up the last very steep hill that J walked up, too (although I made it farther than he did :) ). 

Moms on Bikes

Today we headed to Seattle to ride on Lake Washington Blvd with J's parents.  They ride Dahon folding bikes, and had already unpacked them when we got there.

This stretch of Lake Washington Blvd was closed to cars today because it was a Bicycle Sunday, so we had the road to ourselves.  As did all the other families, moms, kids, and cyclists.  The road follows Lake Washington, and is lined with flowering trees.  It's about three miles to the Seward Park entrance.  For a while I rode with J's dad while J rode with his mom.

The folding bikes are single gear bicycles, so I found that if I stayed in my middle gear we traveled at the same speed.  I enjoyed not having to have to worry about getting out of the way of people because we had the whole road to ourselves.  Car-free days are genius, and I wish there were more of them in more places.  The freedom of being able to ride on the road was fantastic, especially for someone like me who's still not comfortable sharing the road with cars (not that they share much).

Soon we arrived at the Seward Park entrance.  I didn't realize it, but there's a bike path that follows the waterfront of the park, which is a peninsula that juts out into the lake.  We found great places to stop along the way with docks and views of the city in the distance.

Here, since we were riding on a smaller bike path and more moms were at the park riding with their families, I got to use my new bell more often.  Rather than yelling "On your left!", it's much more cheerful to let people know you're coming up on their left to ring a bell.

I loved watching J's parents ride their folding bikes.  The proportions of their bikes are different from ours with our big wheels and frames - their wheels are smaller, their seat posts and handle bar tubes much taller.  I love that there are so many different types of bikes out there for different people.

On our trip back to Mt. Baker Park, we was saw more and more cyclists on the road, including a large group of road cyclists all wearing the same jerseys who hogged the middle of the road.  I guess even on car-free days there's still someone who thinks they own the road.

The later it got in the morning, the more families joined us on the road.  I saw a dad who looked like he was accustomed to riding very fast riding very very slowly behind his son on a very small bicycle, who was pedalling as hard as he could.

We made it back to the car after riding over 11 miles (again!), then took off for lunch.  I look forward to spending more days riding with moms on bikes.

Bridge Number Four

Today was a gift – a blue sky, sunny gift of a day.  After a couple weeks without cycling, we ventured out to explore another part of the trail we rode on our first day with our bicycles – the Foothills Trail.  Last time we rode over one bridge on our ride; this time J wanted to ride over three.

With Mt. Rainier huge and white in the distance, we started in Orting, heading out of town and along the Carbon River.  Another couple, older and fully geared out with jerseys, bike shorts, and clip-on pedals left just ahead of us.  They looked much more experienced than me in my workout pants and tennis shoes.

There were people on the trail of all ages, experience levels, shapes, and sizes.  Little kids on their miniature bikes, parents towing toddlers in trailers, people on recumbent bikes and trikes, and us.  We maneuvered through them all – the kids wobbling all over the trail, and the speeding road cyclists coming at us at what seemed like 40 mph.

We rode past the cows, along the river, across the first bridge, then into the trees and past the emu – quickly getting to new ground.  The purple wildflowers were in bloom, and we could smell skunk cabbage. 

We rode along a creek, and passed over a second bridge.  This one looked like it used to be a railroad bridge, trestle and all.  I still don’t know what the best way to maneuver these is when I’m behind  slow/stopping pedestrians, and other cyclists are speeding toward me.  I just slow waaay down, and wait until it’s completely clear to pass.

Soon we saw a turnoff with a barbecue next to a picnic table, and pulled off at the stop created by REI at the halfway point of the trail. I walked out to the end of the paved walkway, and the creek spread out to my left and right.  A lone duck paddled toward me (the sign said it was a wood duck).  It let me take its picture, then flew off down the creek.

We continued along the path, which followed the creek.  We saw the geared up couple heading back already.  I saw the woman get on her bike and she wobbled and didn't look confident getting started - much like me a few weeks ago.  You just can't tell by looking at people whether they're truly experienced or not.  I find that reassuring.

The path met up with the river again for a while, and we rode over a third bridge, then bridge number four.  We rode a little longer, but soon turned around, not wanting to leave too little in the tank for the return trip.

Turns out we didn’t need to be worried about being too tired to get back because it’s mostly a very slight decline going that direction – we sped back, I finally got to use my higher gears, and I loved the feel of speeding along on my own power.  On the straightaways I swerved back and forth and felt like a kid.

We maneuvered our way through the families, kids, pedestrians and dogs on leashes when we got closer to town, then reached the truck.  Not sure how far we rode, but we made it over four bridges this time – three more than last time.

On our way out of town we stopped for a dipped cone (the ultimate reward).  FYI - in Orting, they're almost twice as expensive as normal.  Still worth it!

First Decade

Today we rode 11 miles, and it felt fantastic.  We also used our bike rack for the first time, even on the freeway, and the bikes and rack didn’t fall off onto the road and get smashed by a big rig.  Success!

We decided to ride the very flat (my favorite!) Chehalis Western Trail. We saw that it was grey out, but not raining, so we  ventured out, in hopes we wouldn’t end up getting soaked.  We got the bikes loaded on our brand new rack, and were nervous on the freeway, and over bumps, but everything stayed where it was supposed to.

We parked at a trailhead in Lacey, and unloaded the bikes.  Another cyclist walked by, smiled, and said, “Nice bikes!”  I was really proud because I happen to love them.

We took off near the 7 mile marker on the trail, heading east.  Again for the first maybe half mile I kept thinking that this was harder than I remember, but quickly I forgot about the effort, and instead focused on the scenery.  At first, it felt like we were riding through people’s backyards.  Homes backed right up to the path, and I got to see in all their backyards.  You know, most people are not neat freaks.  Their yards weren’t super messy, but they weren’t immaculate either.  It was reassuring.

We crossed a few roads, and each time I approached one, I was a little apprehensive.  I’m still worried that a car isn’t going to see me and I’ll get creamed.  But each time, I crossed with no problem, and no falls.

Soon our path was no longer paved, and became muddy and rocky.  I was certain I would slip in the mud and fall.  I tried to stay to the edge of the puddles, but couldn’t avoid them all.  At one point, an oncoming cyclist and I were separated by a huge puddle.  There was a little space on my side to ride around the puddle, and I wasn’t sure whether I or the oncoming cyclist had the right of way.  I apologized for making him stop and rode past.  (J told me later that since the way around the puddle was on my side, I had the right of way.  Who knew?)

The muddy path took us to a busy road, where the trail joins the road for 600 hundred feet.  We rode under a train trestle and with the traffic, then followed the trail when it separated from the road and headed up a short steep hill.  At the top, we had to stop for a second to catch our breath.  We rode a couple more miles on the trail, then started to tire out, so we turned around at the 12.5 mile marker.

On the way back, I was worried about crossing the busy road where the trail follows the road.  But when I got to the bottom of the hill, I made it across easy, rode under the trestle and through a huge puddle no problem, then back across the road and over the muddy, rocky part of the trail.  The adrenaline rush of riding over an uneven path and making it through is pretty fantastic.

About half the way back, we got rained on.  Just a light shower, and we were able to pull over into a covered rest area.  Not bad for the Pacific Northwest.

As we arrived back at our truck, the sun came out, and we ate our lunch in the sunshine.

Rest Day

The day after I got my first bike and went for my first ride, my hubs wanted to go for another ride – this time the Five Mile loop at Point Defiance.  It’s closed for motorized vehicles on weekend mornings, and J was really excited to finally be able to ride it on a bike (we’ve walked around the park many times, watching as cyclists zoomed past us).

We got to the park at around 11am, and set off.  My butt immediately reminded me that I wasn’t accustomed to riding a bike for as long as we had the day before.  It hurt.  A lot.

It was colder than it had been the day before, but I figured we’d be working harder on the hillier ride, so that would probably keep me warm, and as a result I just wore a hoodie, no coat or gloves (mistake).  Unfortunately for me, the ride starts with a flat, then a big slow downhill where you just keep picking up speed.  Fun on a sunny day, but yesterday I froze my tail off (and ears, and fingers).

The downhill was followed by a pretty easy climb.  At least, on a normal day it'll be easy.  Yesterday day it was anything but.  My quads screamed at me, and I was quickly running out of what little energy I had when the day started.  I shifted down to a lower gear and barely made it to the top (learning along the way that shifting the front chain ring isn't easy, especially when you're going uphill - which seems to defeat its purpose).

We pulled over at a viewpoint, and I couldn’t enjoy it, I was panting so hard.

On the next climb, a midsize one, I ran out of juice.  I barely passed a couple slowly walking their dog, and another cyclist sped past me on the left.  I was in granny gear (which is what I've learned the lowest gear is called), breathing hard, and couldn’t muster the energy to keep pedalling.

I yelled out to J, “This isn’t fun anymore!”  I got off the bike, and walked it the rest of the way up the hill.  The couple with the dog passed me.

At the top of the hill, J could see that I was ready to be done and told me we could take a shortcut back to the car.  I couldn’t have been happier (but I was too tired to express it).

We rode back to the truck and put the bikes away.  Next time, we’ll be taking a rest day after a long ride.

Too Slow, Too Fast

On Daffodil Parade Day, I went for my first ride on the first bicycle I’ve owned as a grown-up.

When I rode my bike for the first time, I huffed and puffed my way down the flat path.  I probably didn’t exceed 15 mph (not that I know for sure because we don’t have a computer to tell us how fast we’re going yet).  I was a little embarrassed that the other bicycle riders were much more expert – riding a straight path, closely following each other to draft, wearing their spandex gear.  I, on the other had, do not ride in a straight line (J says I ride like I'm drunk), was always about 20-30 feet ahead of or behind J, and had to fold up my workout pants so they didn’t get caught in the chain.

At the beginning of the ride, I complained that we'd bitten off more than we could chew for our first outing.  The path followed the road for what seemed like forever before getting to the town (probably only 1 mile or so).  Cars zoomed past us, and oncoming cyclists seemed to go twice as fast as us.  At every stop sign and light, I slowed waaaaay down for fear of getting hit by a car turning right into me.


Finally we got to town, where we could smell people preparing for the parade with a barbecue.  We stopped to drink water at the water fountain, then we continued on where the path left the town and passed cows grazing in a pasture.  They seemed happy that it wasn’t raining.  We rode past a few homes where children played outside (also happy it wasn’t raining).  

A man running with his small dog apologized when the dog barked at me as I rode past, saying “He’s not used to wheels.”  I responded, “It’s ok, neither am I!”

We stopped when the path met up with the river.  We ate a picnic lunch of tuna sandwiches and chips that J packed that morning while I slept in and were impressed with ourselves for having ridden so far on just our first ride.  The river rushed past us, a muddy grey color – probably glacial melt.  We saw the Cascades in the distance.  People we’d passed walked past us, and said hello – again.  We took pictures of our bicycles, proud to be beginner cyclists.  Then we headed off on the path, now following the river.

The path passed over a narrow bridge, on which I was unsure who to yield to, if anyone.  A pedestrian entered the bridge ahead of me, and I could see two (expert) cyclists heading my way.  Maybe someday I’ll know the rules of these roads, but that day I didn’t.  I slowed as I approached, unsure whether to stop or speed over the bridge.  The pedestrian saw me, paused in the middle and scooted over for me, and I had passed over the bridge before the oncoming cyclists got there.  It was all very civilized.

The path left the river, and we rode through a small forest.  A couple – one on a bike timing the other who was running – headed toward us.  The runner was probablyfaster than me on my bike.

After leaving the forest, I looked up to see a large fenced-in pasture, and back from the fence a ways was a really big bird.  I laughed under my breath.  What a surprise– out in the middle of nowhere, what looked like an ostrich (but was probably an emu).  I stopped to get a better look, and as I approached the fence, the bird approached me.  He was taller than me, and his feathers looked new and fluffy – like maybe he wasn’t full-grown yet.  Before I could get our camera turned on, he bored of me and slowly walked away.

We turned around to head back, leaving more to explore next time.  The return trip seemed easier and smoother.  We even rode side by side for a bit.  When we loaded our bikes back into the truck, I saw a couple taking their bikes out of their truck.  They wore jeans and tennis shoes, and didn’t seem terribly confident on their bikes,and I waved at them as they left the parking lot.

On our drive home, we wondered if the blinking lights and stopped cars ahead of us in the oncoming lanes were because of the parade.  As we drove past, and saw the body of a young person covered with a blanket, we knew that they weren’t stopped for the parade.  A motorcyclist had hit an oncoming car at speeds estimated at 100 mph.  He died.  There’s no way to wrap that up nicely.

I was sad for the guy who'd gone too fast, and glad that we’d spent our day going our own speed.