It is now a few days later and we are readjusting. Shaggy and Amber have graciously taken us back to Portland (in a car) to spend a few days with them, eat the veggies out of their overflowing garden, and have some grand ole company. After that, we plan to ship back our bikes and gear, take a train down to northern California and see some other wonderful faces before taking a plane from San Fran back to NYC at the end of August and going into counseling with our cats.
We are sure that the benefits of this trip will show themselves in most obvious and secret ways over a periods of years, and all we can say for now is that it was fantastic.
Thank you to everyone who has helped and supported us along the way. We hope to share more stories with you when we see you all again (and not repeat too many of the same ones). We miss you and you are in our hearts. Traveling by bike is something that we hope to do again.
Love and light to you all.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Day 62, Aug. 17, Cape Disappointment S.P., WA to Seaside, OR!
We had only a short ride waiting for us on the morning of Aug. 17. Our last 35 miles or so.
The fog was still thick and chilly as we made our breakfast and we were both pretty snotty as we got back onto route 101 to finish out the day.
It was a very dense 15 miles to the Meckler? Astoria Bridge, and as we approached its massive 5 mile length, we realized we had better put on our bright rain gear, to not ruin our chances of survival for the rest of our trip.
The views were pretty dreamlike as we entered this monster bridge. The first few miles arched up and down gracefully, then the middle part (after it said "Entering Oregon" was totally flat, until it went almost straight up for about a mile at the end.
By the time we circled down the exit ramp into Astoria, OR, we both had very full bladders and were pretty chilled. Fortunately a coffee roaster was close at hand and we enjoyed their facilities and coffees served in pint beer glasses while we curled up on their big leather couch with a blanket and some newspapers. Andy found the baristas antics a little tiring and seeming to take this and the fog as the character of the west coast in general, said he felt like quite an east coaster and didn't know if he could ever live there. I was just mad because the cardamon bread I ordered for $2 was just a tiny piece of buttered toast.
After we had warmed up a bit, we straddled our bikes for the final haul to Seaside. We crossed another bridge and headed down the Oregon coast. We had been told by everyone that the wind always travels from North to South down the coast and never ever to ride from South to North along the coast. This however, was not the case on this day, and so our trip ended, probably as it should have, with us riding into the wind.
The winds, our heads, our legs, our bladders, everything contributed to drawing out the final 15. But then we were "Entering Seaside" and the sun shone like crazy, well just in our heads. We found the promenade and the beach, and after a quick debate about whether to actually roll our bikes onto the beach, decided that this was ultimately a fine and necessary finish. We got about 50 feet onto the beach, before it was just silly to push them further. High fives and kisses were had. Feet were stuck in the water. Other tourists were co-opted into taking a picture of us, parents were called, and then, it was, as a huge approaching storm cloud began to arrive over the mountains, time to go and find our wonderful cousins.
We found the house right on the promenade and Amber and Shaggy were waiting for us with big hugs. We were immediately fed some and allowed to come down a bit, before the rest of the friendly and generous hearted Fillmores arrived.
Amber's dad, Dale, was curious to know all the ins and outs of our trip, but we were told we had one last mission. Although this so called Pacific Beach is not sunny, warm, and the water flows off glaciers in Alaska, we were bound to enter its waters. I had no intention of doing so, but Andy set off bravely for the water. Shaggy told us he has only ever gone up to his waist. Andy wasted no time, followed by Amber's brother Lance, nephew Jackson, and niece Emma. A brave soul. When Andy seemed to survive the plunge (although we were already shivering there just standing in our sweatshirts and pants), I was a little more tempted to try it. Without thinking about it too much we both ran into it as fast as possible and dove in. That was about all we could handle, and we were quickly running back out of it. Suddenly the air temperature outside seemed much more bearable.
After a hot shower, dinner was put on by the amazing Fillmore women who served up some delicious paia together. Then was the beach bonfire with s'mores and battle wound scratches from finding wood.
At some point we went to bed, first on the couch while watching a movie, and then happily and most comfortably on a futon in the upstairs of the cottage.
The fog was still thick and chilly as we made our breakfast and we were both pretty snotty as we got back onto route 101 to finish out the day.
It was a very dense 15 miles to the Meckler? Astoria Bridge, and as we approached its massive 5 mile length, we realized we had better put on our bright rain gear, to not ruin our chances of survival for the rest of our trip.
The views were pretty dreamlike as we entered this monster bridge. The first few miles arched up and down gracefully, then the middle part (after it said "Entering Oregon" was totally flat, until it went almost straight up for about a mile at the end.
By the time we circled down the exit ramp into Astoria, OR, we both had very full bladders and were pretty chilled. Fortunately a coffee roaster was close at hand and we enjoyed their facilities and coffees served in pint beer glasses while we curled up on their big leather couch with a blanket and some newspapers. Andy found the baristas antics a little tiring and seeming to take this and the fog as the character of the west coast in general, said he felt like quite an east coaster and didn't know if he could ever live there. I was just mad because the cardamon bread I ordered for $2 was just a tiny piece of buttered toast.
After we had warmed up a bit, we straddled our bikes for the final haul to Seaside. We crossed another bridge and headed down the Oregon coast. We had been told by everyone that the wind always travels from North to South down the coast and never ever to ride from South to North along the coast. This however, was not the case on this day, and so our trip ended, probably as it should have, with us riding into the wind.
The winds, our heads, our legs, our bladders, everything contributed to drawing out the final 15. But then we were "Entering Seaside" and the sun shone like crazy, well just in our heads. We found the promenade and the beach, and after a quick debate about whether to actually roll our bikes onto the beach, decided that this was ultimately a fine and necessary finish. We got about 50 feet onto the beach, before it was just silly to push them further. High fives and kisses were had. Feet were stuck in the water. Other tourists were co-opted into taking a picture of us, parents were called, and then, it was, as a huge approaching storm cloud began to arrive over the mountains, time to go and find our wonderful cousins.
We found the house right on the promenade and Amber and Shaggy were waiting for us with big hugs. We were immediately fed some and allowed to come down a bit, before the rest of the friendly and generous hearted Fillmores arrived.
Amber's dad, Dale, was curious to know all the ins and outs of our trip, but we were told we had one last mission. Although this so called Pacific Beach is not sunny, warm, and the water flows off glaciers in Alaska, we were bound to enter its waters. I had no intention of doing so, but Andy set off bravely for the water. Shaggy told us he has only ever gone up to his waist. Andy wasted no time, followed by Amber's brother Lance, nephew Jackson, and niece Emma. A brave soul. When Andy seemed to survive the plunge (although we were already shivering there just standing in our sweatshirts and pants), I was a little more tempted to try it. Without thinking about it too much we both ran into it as fast as possible and dove in. That was about all we could handle, and we were quickly running back out of it. Suddenly the air temperature outside seemed much more bearable.
After a hot shower, dinner was put on by the amazing Fillmore women who served up some delicious paia together. Then was the beach bonfire with s'mores and battle wound scratches from finding wood.
At some point we went to bed, first on the couch while watching a movie, and then happily and most comfortably on a futon in the upstairs of the cottage.
Day 61, Aug. 16 Raymond to Cape Disappointment S.P., WA
This could have been our last day, but we decided to drag it out.
We woke up on this Saturday morning, ready to head down the coast of Washington to Ilwaco, where we would get our first taste of non-bay waters and see the Pacific!
We stopped at their downtown cafe where we ate breakfast among the other early risers (no one close to our age). The waitress warned us that the pancakes were large when I ordered 2, but unfortunately we chose to ignore her warnings, and even with our well developed appetites, could not finish the pancakes.
Feeling quite full, we turned onto 101 to head towards South Bend, the little port town that first says hi to the bay.
This was where the salt water really became a reality and signs for oysters and fishing nets started appearing everywhere.
Our ride down the coast (which you can't always) see was a good mixture of hilly and flat and I felt some upper muscles in my legs burn that I hadn't really heeded since the Appalachians. Even though, we were now on this leg though, our minds were still unoccupied and so we tuned in again to the Ipod, which eventually gave out on us.
At the point it did though, we were going into an area where we could see more of the tapering bay, so we started to focus more on that and the fact that this signified the end of our trip, which, although slightly desperate for, might be hard to process.
The ride went really fast, we only did about 45 miles though, and before you knew it, the temperature had dropped about 20 degrees and a great fog was moving along beside us. Then was the sign "Seaview" which we rushed for, and once we were on the beach we were engulfed in cold cold clouds that obscured almost all the view, but you could still hear the waves breaking. We took off our shoes and walked into the water, which was awfully cold, but not so cold as it seemed about 10 seconds later when the very bones in your foot suddenly started to ache with a throbbing pain.
We hopped out refreshed, only to find a family desperately trying to push their car out of the sand. After taking a picture of their embarrassing predicament, we went over and helped, then walked back to the water to wash off our feet. Not 2 seconds later another family had gotten stuck in the sand, although this one had 3 only 3 scrawny kids in it to help their father push, so we also obliged them with a push. Then as we walked back to our bikes, yelled in the window at any low cars that looked eager to try their turn on the sand.
A few miles still from Ilwaco, which we had heard had some delicious seafood, Andy was stopped for his bike mechanic tools and skills by some locals having trouble with their seat angles.
Then we were in Ilwaco, where, when the fog wasn't too thick, we could see the Oregon mountains across the big mouth of the Columbia River. We strolled around their town and through their Saturday market at the port, looking at knicknacks that we had no interest in. After a bit, we decided it was time to try our seafood dinner, and so we headed to one that looked quite pleasant. After choosing our dinners, we sat for a while, and sat longer, until finally we decided that we should probably go somewhere else where someone might actually wait on us. We strolled out and down to the next restaurant, got menus, sat down, and then, as they only had fried seafood and fry baskets, opted to again go elsewhere. We walked to 3 or 4 other restaurants, all of which were either closed (it was like 3:30) and too expensive, or didn't serve seafood at all. At some point, we realized we were super hungry and split a cup of salmon chowder from a vendor just so we wouldn't bite each other's head off. I was pretty sad that we had left our first venue and Andy was being very patient with me. Still hungry, but a little less unfed, we headed back into the main part of town to see if anything there might look appealing. Our pride prevented us from going back to restaurant number 1. The place we ended up at was a strange little cafe that was tucked in the back of an antiques mall, was short staffed (on account of someone being down at the fair) and the only seafood they served was skewered shrimp and fries. Andy had a burger and I ordered the shrimp, which ended up being fried on a stick and in no way resembling a shrimp. The only good part about the meal (aside from the ice cream we ate at the end of it) was that the owner of the building was sitting near us and struck up a conversation and gave us the rundown on the rise and fall of logging, the fact that most of the seafood in the area doesn't get fished there, and the quickest way to get to Cape Disappointment State Park.
Realizing we needed to cook a real dinner when we arrived at the park, we stopped at the grocery store, where the highlight was cousin Shaggy calling to give us the low down on meeting them the following day in Seaside, OR (where they would take us in and feed us :). This lifted our spirits and we set off on our foggy, hilly, chilly ride the few miles to the cape.
The park had hiker/bicyclist camping spots and after we set up camp, we wandered down to the beach, which was oddly strewn with lots of lots of driftwood of various sizes. Much of the wood had been made into various huts and haunts, some that were pretty substantial. Although we couldn't see very far (perhaps this is the disappointing part), the site was still beautiful and we could just make out the lighthouse up on the cliff to our left.
Eventually, it became rather chilly and we decided it was time to go back to camp and build a fire. The firewood was a ripoff ($7) but it was pretty cold and damp so we ate the money and enjoyed our evening much more as a result. This dinner was much more satisfying and we toasted our last night on the trail before Andy finished his day with a freezing shower (which I, now well-informed, skipped) and we went to bed in our tent, for the last time. (for a while)
We woke up on this Saturday morning, ready to head down the coast of Washington to Ilwaco, where we would get our first taste of non-bay waters and see the Pacific!
We stopped at their downtown cafe where we ate breakfast among the other early risers (no one close to our age). The waitress warned us that the pancakes were large when I ordered 2, but unfortunately we chose to ignore her warnings, and even with our well developed appetites, could not finish the pancakes.
Feeling quite full, we turned onto 101 to head towards South Bend, the little port town that first says hi to the bay.
This was where the salt water really became a reality and signs for oysters and fishing nets started appearing everywhere.
Our ride down the coast (which you can't always) see was a good mixture of hilly and flat and I felt some upper muscles in my legs burn that I hadn't really heeded since the Appalachians. Even though, we were now on this leg though, our minds were still unoccupied and so we tuned in again to the Ipod, which eventually gave out on us.
At the point it did though, we were going into an area where we could see more of the tapering bay, so we started to focus more on that and the fact that this signified the end of our trip, which, although slightly desperate for, might be hard to process.
The ride went really fast, we only did about 45 miles though, and before you knew it, the temperature had dropped about 20 degrees and a great fog was moving along beside us. Then was the sign "Seaview" which we rushed for, and once we were on the beach we were engulfed in cold cold clouds that obscured almost all the view, but you could still hear the waves breaking. We took off our shoes and walked into the water, which was awfully cold, but not so cold as it seemed about 10 seconds later when the very bones in your foot suddenly started to ache with a throbbing pain.
We hopped out refreshed, only to find a family desperately trying to push their car out of the sand. After taking a picture of their embarrassing predicament, we went over and helped, then walked back to the water to wash off our feet. Not 2 seconds later another family had gotten stuck in the sand, although this one had 3 only 3 scrawny kids in it to help their father push, so we also obliged them with a push. Then as we walked back to our bikes, yelled in the window at any low cars that looked eager to try their turn on the sand.
A few miles still from Ilwaco, which we had heard had some delicious seafood, Andy was stopped for his bike mechanic tools and skills by some locals having trouble with their seat angles.
Then we were in Ilwaco, where, when the fog wasn't too thick, we could see the Oregon mountains across the big mouth of the Columbia River. We strolled around their town and through their Saturday market at the port, looking at knicknacks that we had no interest in. After a bit, we decided it was time to try our seafood dinner, and so we headed to one that looked quite pleasant. After choosing our dinners, we sat for a while, and sat longer, until finally we decided that we should probably go somewhere else where someone might actually wait on us. We strolled out and down to the next restaurant, got menus, sat down, and then, as they only had fried seafood and fry baskets, opted to again go elsewhere. We walked to 3 or 4 other restaurants, all of which were either closed (it was like 3:30) and too expensive, or didn't serve seafood at all. At some point, we realized we were super hungry and split a cup of salmon chowder from a vendor just so we wouldn't bite each other's head off. I was pretty sad that we had left our first venue and Andy was being very patient with me. Still hungry, but a little less unfed, we headed back into the main part of town to see if anything there might look appealing. Our pride prevented us from going back to restaurant number 1. The place we ended up at was a strange little cafe that was tucked in the back of an antiques mall, was short staffed (on account of someone being down at the fair) and the only seafood they served was skewered shrimp and fries. Andy had a burger and I ordered the shrimp, which ended up being fried on a stick and in no way resembling a shrimp. The only good part about the meal (aside from the ice cream we ate at the end of it) was that the owner of the building was sitting near us and struck up a conversation and gave us the rundown on the rise and fall of logging, the fact that most of the seafood in the area doesn't get fished there, and the quickest way to get to Cape Disappointment State Park.
Realizing we needed to cook a real dinner when we arrived at the park, we stopped at the grocery store, where the highlight was cousin Shaggy calling to give us the low down on meeting them the following day in Seaside, OR (where they would take us in and feed us :). This lifted our spirits and we set off on our foggy, hilly, chilly ride the few miles to the cape.
The park had hiker/bicyclist camping spots and after we set up camp, we wandered down to the beach, which was oddly strewn with lots of lots of driftwood of various sizes. Much of the wood had been made into various huts and haunts, some that were pretty substantial. Although we couldn't see very far (perhaps this is the disappointing part), the site was still beautiful and we could just make out the lighthouse up on the cliff to our left.
Eventually, it became rather chilly and we decided it was time to go back to camp and build a fire. The firewood was a ripoff ($7) but it was pretty cold and damp so we ate the money and enjoyed our evening much more as a result. This dinner was much more satisfying and we toasted our last night on the trail before Andy finished his day with a freezing shower (which I, now well-informed, skipped) and we went to bed in our tent, for the last time. (for a while)
Day 60, Aug. 15, Lewis and Clark S.P. to Raymond, WA
Woke up looking up at our ladder of tree limbs, retrieved the food unharmed from the restroom, made some grub, and headed out. Decided to overpay the park since we couldn't find change for our twenty and apparently good karma is always in need of accumulation.
Headed up a little road called Jackson Ave to Chehalis, only about 12 miles, but at this point, we decided to stop and take a long rest (apparently losing momentum, but also wanting to use the computers at their much sought after library). It was only about 9:30 when we got there however, so the library was not open, so we treated ourselves (finally) to one of these little espresso huts in town. The barista was wearing high heels in her little hut and seemed to find them a little awkward for traveling the 6 sq. feet around the interior, but she was going out later and definitely needed the practice.
When we got to the library at 10:01 we had already been beaten to their two computers by two brothers who camp out at the library every day. So we chatted it up with the librarians for a good while, they told us about Abel Ostrander's grave that is in the middle of a median strip somewhere around there, but which was previously a field (M- I can give you the details later- she printed them out for me). There were also some complications with reserving the computer system so that kept us occupied for quite a while as well as the printer of receipts.
After our blogging, etc. it was time for lunch, as we made ourselves comfy at a bakery cafe on their mainstreet that was pretty delicious. They definitely knew how to bake some fluff into their quiche and spinach pies. We spotted the movie theater that was playing Dark Knight (which we so were longing to see) and briefly entertained the idea of staying there and watching it. Fortunately, our sense got the better of us, so we set off for the next 50 or so miles of our trip to Raymond.
It was a slow day. It was already 1, so that was our own fault, but we were starting to get bored, and suddenly the brilliant wide and exotic WA shoulders, dwindled as the speeding logging trucks increased and the road just got rougher and rougher. The old forests flanking the roads were beautiful, but our hands were vibrating like crazy and our brains were going 100 miles an hour, while our bikes were only going about 10, and the ratio wasn't computing well. We put on our ipod hiking device for the 4th time on our trip and tried to let the day pass. It was also very hot and humid, although not in a way that competed with VA.
We stopped about 20 miles from our destination at Lebam, one of a series of old logging towns that ran along the railroad and used to thrive until they switched everything to trucking and made the railroad into a trial with fist size gravel so its not too good for anything. Anyway, we stopped at the one business still there, run by a lady named Mickey, who had let us use her restrooms and gotten ice water before she even knew if we were buying anything. All the lights in the store were off to cut down on the heat and it was nice and cool compared to outside, so we split a tasty club sandwich and a peanut butter milkshake (which she said she had put 1/2 jar of generic peanut butter in). She split everything onto seperate serving dishes so we didn't have to fight. After a spell, she sent us down the road to the next town, Menlo, to say hi to her friend May or Kay there who ran their general store. We did say hi and drink a soda, and then pushed on the last few miles to Raymond, with Alison Krauss giving us a little push on to the end of the day, until we started smelling a bit of saltiness in the air.
Raymond didn't have much to offer, but we did stop at the grocery before heading to the RV park on the river for the night. The older woman who ran it also sold emu products, from Nativity emu eggs to oils, which we rubbed on sore knees to see if it would ease the joint pain. It did, but unfortunately by the time we remembered to buy some, she had turned in. We cooked our pasta dinner and ate our snacks, showered and turned in.
Headed up a little road called Jackson Ave to Chehalis, only about 12 miles, but at this point, we decided to stop and take a long rest (apparently losing momentum, but also wanting to use the computers at their much sought after library). It was only about 9:30 when we got there however, so the library was not open, so we treated ourselves (finally) to one of these little espresso huts in town. The barista was wearing high heels in her little hut and seemed to find them a little awkward for traveling the 6 sq. feet around the interior, but she was going out later and definitely needed the practice.
When we got to the library at 10:01 we had already been beaten to their two computers by two brothers who camp out at the library every day. So we chatted it up with the librarians for a good while, they told us about Abel Ostrander's grave that is in the middle of a median strip somewhere around there, but which was previously a field (M- I can give you the details later- she printed them out for me). There were also some complications with reserving the computer system so that kept us occupied for quite a while as well as the printer of receipts.
After our blogging, etc. it was time for lunch, as we made ourselves comfy at a bakery cafe on their mainstreet that was pretty delicious. They definitely knew how to bake some fluff into their quiche and spinach pies. We spotted the movie theater that was playing Dark Knight (which we so were longing to see) and briefly entertained the idea of staying there and watching it. Fortunately, our sense got the better of us, so we set off for the next 50 or so miles of our trip to Raymond.
It was a slow day. It was already 1, so that was our own fault, but we were starting to get bored, and suddenly the brilliant wide and exotic WA shoulders, dwindled as the speeding logging trucks increased and the road just got rougher and rougher. The old forests flanking the roads were beautiful, but our hands were vibrating like crazy and our brains were going 100 miles an hour, while our bikes were only going about 10, and the ratio wasn't computing well. We put on our ipod hiking device for the 4th time on our trip and tried to let the day pass. It was also very hot and humid, although not in a way that competed with VA.
We stopped about 20 miles from our destination at Lebam, one of a series of old logging towns that ran along the railroad and used to thrive until they switched everything to trucking and made the railroad into a trial with fist size gravel so its not too good for anything. Anyway, we stopped at the one business still there, run by a lady named Mickey, who had let us use her restrooms and gotten ice water before she even knew if we were buying anything. All the lights in the store were off to cut down on the heat and it was nice and cool compared to outside, so we split a tasty club sandwich and a peanut butter milkshake (which she said she had put 1/2 jar of generic peanut butter in). She split everything onto seperate serving dishes so we didn't have to fight. After a spell, she sent us down the road to the next town, Menlo, to say hi to her friend May or Kay there who ran their general store. We did say hi and drink a soda, and then pushed on the last few miles to Raymond, with Alison Krauss giving us a little push on to the end of the day, until we started smelling a bit of saltiness in the air.
Raymond didn't have much to offer, but we did stop at the grocery before heading to the RV park on the river for the night. The older woman who ran it also sold emu products, from Nativity emu eggs to oils, which we rubbed on sore knees to see if it would ease the joint pain. It did, but unfortunately by the time we remembered to buy some, she had turned in. We cooked our pasta dinner and ate our snacks, showered and turned in.
Celebration Images
contemplating the ride's end
needing a final bow
returning quickly from the plunge
with renewed energy
Monday, August 18, 2008
August 17 Day 62 Images Cape Disappointment, WA to Seaside, OR
coming upon Port Ilwaco
(through the trees)
last images of Cape Dissappointment
bridge to Oregon, Washington side
bridge from Washington, Oregon side
Becca is always pretty cool
the Oregon coast breaking through the fog
ok, not always so cool
Seaside, OR
we felt the need to push our bikes onto the beach
they made it, beyond our expectations
and so did we
thank you everybody...
August 16 Day 61 Images Raymond, WA to Cape Disappointment, WA
fog, we call it a cloud, rolling through Raymond
Willapa Bay, not quite Pacific
though close enough to smell it
and be fooled into hints of it
with the cloud now through Seaview
we have hints of the Pacific
and re-tracing our path
(with a crab claw no less)
with fairytale images in the fog (cloud)
we settle for Cape Dissappointment
and join others for a rest
August 15 Day 60 Images Lewis and Clark S.P. to Raymond, WA
trees, any excuse to stop
or a deer
or a sign that says Pacific County
(oh so close)
until we can stop for good
(or at least an evening)
August 14 Day 59 Images La Wis Wis to Lewis and Clark S.P.
the Elks visit on our way to breakfast
we really enjoy these treats
a last look at Mt. Adams from the west
we still mistake it
Mt. St. Helens, Andy had been anxious for a glimpse
with Reiffe Lake covering 2 mining towns in the fore
Birthday celebrating Becca, 25, Cowboy, 68
and the baking ladies
and we consider our own corner...
August 12 Rest/Sick Day 11 Images Yakima, WA
aww a peaceful morning with the ducks
under the watchful guise of our gaurdian fisherman?
August 13 Day 58 Images Yakima, WA to La Wis Wis Campground
Naches, the last of Yakima Valley for us
and into a canyon, again, along Route 12
the other routine, blowing the nose
Rimrock Lake, thanks Corps
and the Chiefs wives turned to stone
Pines and evergreen again on the way to White Pass, the west
water from the rocks along the way
or your more amazing traditional waterfall
fed from another falls above
finally, our last pass
enjoyed by several ridge hikers, Mexico to Canada
makes us look like pikers
Mt. Rainier is simply awe-inspiring
so we offered our own awwwww
and the Palisades are no amazing slouch
nor La Wis Wis's 300 year old trees
Friday, August 15, 2008
Day 59, Aug. 14 (Thurs) La Wis Wis Campground to Lewis and Clark S.P., WA
Got up, packed, and opted to head about 8 miles down to Packwood for breakfast. We managed to escape the campground without talking to the campground host, who was very nice, but definitely a longwinded fellow. We made our way up that steep hill, and then rolled up and down to Packwood, stopping for various fixes, like tissues (toilet paper), flying straps, and bent fenders.
As we rolled down into Packwood, we noticed about 5 statues of elk in someone's yard, like many we had seen before, only these didn't look like the paint job was chipping off. Then we realized that they were real. There were all in all about 7, pretty young, male and female elk roaming this church ground, mowing their lawn for them one bite at a time. We stared at them and they stared back. The people driving by seemed pretty unimpressed. Once we realized they weren't going anyway and it would be awkward to stand there all day, we scurried down to Peter's Inn for breakfast where we dined on a fresh cinnamon roll, omelette, and the Hungry Man Grumble (which I couldn't finish- a first!). There we met a few nice folks, 2 guys from New Paltz and Long Island who were in the process of training to hike Mt. Rainier and a nice wobbly older fellow with a great white beard who gave us very slow cooked advice and told us about Willie Keil's grave (who apparently died on the Oregon Trail, but was pickled in alcohol and carried all the way west).
After some brief digestion we set out. We both had pretty clear heads and our intention was set on getting where we needed to go. The riding was pretty pleasant, and we made it about 25 miles until we stopped for some grocery store grub at Morton and ate outside in their "garden" section, which consisted of us, a potted plant, and a very poor sculpture. Some man came by and sort of yelled at us for not being careful up the road, but we weren't really sure how we were being uncareful (the shoulders are nice and big here) and how his yelling was helping anything.
We thought we should get a few more miles out of us before we stopped into a library, so we headed up to Mossyrock, up the strangest hill we have been on. It tore us to pieces, it had an extra lane for the slow uphill traffic, and the truckers had trouble too, but when you looked at it the incline looked like nothing. Go figure.
After we had huffed and puffed our way to Mossyrock, we discovered there was no library there, so we went another 10 miles to Sulkam, getting a few glimpses of the top, or lack of top, of Mt. Saint Helens.
The library there was swell. We took caught up a bit on the internet, bought 2 books for 10 cents a piece, and talked to Sherri the librarian who used to be a body builder. To look at her, you would never had expected that in a previous life, she was a body builder. She was the most petite, quintessential librarian you have ever met, and her voice never raised above that 6 in voice.
After we'd been there a good 2.5 hrs, we set off for the last 10 miles or so, in search of a little grocery to supply us with some eats for dinner.
Of course next to Ethel's market, a few miles up the road, was this tiny trailer restaurant called Kelley's Kountry Kafe, which after perusing the grocery store, appealed to us no end. Entering, the full house of 20 or so people turned to look at us, and we found the one empty table back in the corner. The center table of 8 people was celebrating one of the fellow's birthday and they kindly offered us some of their delicious homemade cake, wild blackberry cobbler, and ice cream. We gladly accepted this desert first idea. It was the kind of place where everyone talks at each other across the restaurant, and we had a mighty fine time chatting with everyone. We even discovered that the man's bday was actually the same as mine, which was cute or something.
After we overstayed there and the party broke up, we headed up our last big hill and down to Lewis and Clark S.P. (they really like these guys here). We set up camp among this very old growth forest, delved into our books, and took hot showers. Unfortunately when we were trying to hang our food from a tree, we ended up break 2 dead branches and 1 very much alive branch and we felt quite sad in our hearts. Instead we ended up hanging it in the "out of order" stall in the bathroom. We settled into our tent after catching a glimpse of the almost full moon and went to bed under our more than amazing tree canopy.
As we rolled down into Packwood, we noticed about 5 statues of elk in someone's yard, like many we had seen before, only these didn't look like the paint job was chipping off. Then we realized that they were real. There were all in all about 7, pretty young, male and female elk roaming this church ground, mowing their lawn for them one bite at a time. We stared at them and they stared back. The people driving by seemed pretty unimpressed. Once we realized they weren't going anyway and it would be awkward to stand there all day, we scurried down to Peter's Inn for breakfast where we dined on a fresh cinnamon roll, omelette, and the Hungry Man Grumble (which I couldn't finish- a first!). There we met a few nice folks, 2 guys from New Paltz and Long Island who were in the process of training to hike Mt. Rainier and a nice wobbly older fellow with a great white beard who gave us very slow cooked advice and told us about Willie Keil's grave (who apparently died on the Oregon Trail, but was pickled in alcohol and carried all the way west).
After some brief digestion we set out. We both had pretty clear heads and our intention was set on getting where we needed to go. The riding was pretty pleasant, and we made it about 25 miles until we stopped for some grocery store grub at Morton and ate outside in their "garden" section, which consisted of us, a potted plant, and a very poor sculpture. Some man came by and sort of yelled at us for not being careful up the road, but we weren't really sure how we were being uncareful (the shoulders are nice and big here) and how his yelling was helping anything.
We thought we should get a few more miles out of us before we stopped into a library, so we headed up to Mossyrock, up the strangest hill we have been on. It tore us to pieces, it had an extra lane for the slow uphill traffic, and the truckers had trouble too, but when you looked at it the incline looked like nothing. Go figure.
After we had huffed and puffed our way to Mossyrock, we discovered there was no library there, so we went another 10 miles to Sulkam, getting a few glimpses of the top, or lack of top, of Mt. Saint Helens.
The library there was swell. We took caught up a bit on the internet, bought 2 books for 10 cents a piece, and talked to Sherri the librarian who used to be a body builder. To look at her, you would never had expected that in a previous life, she was a body builder. She was the most petite, quintessential librarian you have ever met, and her voice never raised above that 6 in voice.
After we'd been there a good 2.5 hrs, we set off for the last 10 miles or so, in search of a little grocery to supply us with some eats for dinner.
Of course next to Ethel's market, a few miles up the road, was this tiny trailer restaurant called Kelley's Kountry Kafe, which after perusing the grocery store, appealed to us no end. Entering, the full house of 20 or so people turned to look at us, and we found the one empty table back in the corner. The center table of 8 people was celebrating one of the fellow's birthday and they kindly offered us some of their delicious homemade cake, wild blackberry cobbler, and ice cream. We gladly accepted this desert first idea. It was the kind of place where everyone talks at each other across the restaurant, and we had a mighty fine time chatting with everyone. We even discovered that the man's bday was actually the same as mine, which was cute or something.
After we overstayed there and the party broke up, we headed up our last big hill and down to Lewis and Clark S.P. (they really like these guys here). We set up camp among this very old growth forest, delved into our books, and took hot showers. Unfortunately when we were trying to hang our food from a tree, we ended up break 2 dead branches and 1 very much alive branch and we felt quite sad in our hearts. Instead we ended up hanging it in the "out of order" stall in the bathroom. We settled into our tent after catching a glimpse of the almost full moon and went to bed under our more than amazing tree canopy.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Day 58, Aug. 13 (Wed.) Yakima to La Wis Wis F.S. Campground, WA
Woke up feeling better and pretty ready to escape from the motel. Andy had found a different breakfast haunt in our only literature (the Yakima Guide) and so we ate back at the cusp of town at the Powerhouse Grill. The food was really good actually (granola covered blintzes?) and we got our own pot of coffee (who can complain) plus the waitress was charming and knew everyone's name in the restaurant. Already a better day.
We started down Powerhouse Road (a highway predating Rt. 12 that we would eventually join) which wound its way all through the rest of the Bitteroot valley, through farms, past some encouraging and energetic biking ladies, and eventually down to Naches. In Naches we got OJ, checked out the Ranger Station, and prepared ourselves for our last (we think) big pass, White Pass.
The water in the river started to get greener as we followed it up into the mountains. The ride was pretty splendid and we both seemed very focused on our goal, and making good time. About 20 miles up, we stopped for a snack. 18 miles to summit.
At some point we came out of the passages of the Cascades and around the sides of the mountains where we saw several gorgeous lakes, bizarre volcanic rock formations, a gorgeous waterfall, and lots of little ones just springing out of the wall down onto the shoulder. We stopped quite a few times on the way up, but finally made summit, where it crossed with the Pacific Crest Trail (sort of like the Appalachian Trail of the West).
At the grocery on top, we took a restbit and talked to about 6 hikers who were hiking from Mexico to Canada. They are the truly hardcore ones. All seemed like nice people who had been alone for a very long time. Two of them were wearing long skirt things which we couldn't figure out how that would be helpful, but still seemed cool at the moment. One's name is Airic, and you can follow his progress on cactustocoast.blogspot.com.
After our bagel, avocado and coffee had been sufficiently digested, we cruised down a few miles, when behold, Mt. Rainier popped up in our vision. It was so gorgeous and unbelievable to see. We couldn't get enough. We had some fine supportive youngsters take our picture with the mountain, before finishing our cruise past the Palisades and down to La Wis Wis campground.
The road down to the campground was super steep and we were bummed that we would have to climb it in the morning. The camping was expensive and had no showers or anything, but we still made do. The trees were enormous (150 ft tall and about 30-60 inches in diameter). We sat by the river for a bit, looking at the neat rocks, then made a reluctant fire, washed my hair in the spicket, cooked dinner, and went to bed.
We started down Powerhouse Road (a highway predating Rt. 12 that we would eventually join) which wound its way all through the rest of the Bitteroot valley, through farms, past some encouraging and energetic biking ladies, and eventually down to Naches. In Naches we got OJ, checked out the Ranger Station, and prepared ourselves for our last (we think) big pass, White Pass.
The water in the river started to get greener as we followed it up into the mountains. The ride was pretty splendid and we both seemed very focused on our goal, and making good time. About 20 miles up, we stopped for a snack. 18 miles to summit.
At some point we came out of the passages of the Cascades and around the sides of the mountains where we saw several gorgeous lakes, bizarre volcanic rock formations, a gorgeous waterfall, and lots of little ones just springing out of the wall down onto the shoulder. We stopped quite a few times on the way up, but finally made summit, where it crossed with the Pacific Crest Trail (sort of like the Appalachian Trail of the West).
At the grocery on top, we took a restbit and talked to about 6 hikers who were hiking from Mexico to Canada. They are the truly hardcore ones. All seemed like nice people who had been alone for a very long time. Two of them were wearing long skirt things which we couldn't figure out how that would be helpful, but still seemed cool at the moment. One's name is Airic, and you can follow his progress on cactustocoast.blogspot.com.
After our bagel, avocado and coffee had been sufficiently digested, we cruised down a few miles, when behold, Mt. Rainier popped up in our vision. It was so gorgeous and unbelievable to see. We couldn't get enough. We had some fine supportive youngsters take our picture with the mountain, before finishing our cruise past the Palisades and down to La Wis Wis campground.
The road down to the campground was super steep and we were bummed that we would have to climb it in the morning. The camping was expensive and had no showers or anything, but we still made do. The trees were enormous (150 ft tall and about 30-60 inches in diameter). We sat by the river for a bit, looking at the neat rocks, then made a reluctant fire, washed my hair in the spicket, cooked dinner, and went to bed.
August 11 Day 57 Images Toppenish, WA to Yakima, WA
morning flats, ahhh what fun
Goat heads, the foil of our trip?
Mt. Adams, often mistaken for the famous Mt. Rainer...
by us
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