I’ve put this off long enough.  Not sure why I have been so hesitant to complete the journal.  Maybe because it marks the end of my journey and the return to real life, not that I have fully returned.  It has been nearly 3 months since coming back to Arkansas and I have dont nothing but boat work and dream of my next adventure.  

I left off at the campsite where I spent the evening talking to Lindsey.  The next morning I packed up and was out before she started to stir.  I left my travel card and a little money to help pay for the campsite.  It would be a nice, downhill ride all the way to Seattle.  

In my mind I repeated my to do list so I wouldn’t forget anything.  

1.  Get to Seattle  2. Lunch at some fancy vegan restaurant  3. Find a marina with cool boats  4. Fedex the bike  5.  Head to the airport for the night.

As I got closer and closer to Seattle I started seeing more people on the bike path.  I had never seen so many active people except during marathons.  I saw several groups of cyclists being led by people with different colored fish attached to a pole above their heads.  Seattle is serious about their group rides.  It was easy to pick out the skill level of each group based solely on their gear.  I was going about 15 mph, passing people and getting passed.  It was an easy pace and allowed me to observe everything that was going on.  

Everything changed when this girl, Bry, rides along side me and asks, “Have you been bike camping?”  I looked her over and kind of laughed and said, “You could say that.”  She was surprised at my answer to how long I had been camping and where at.  We chatted as we rode, me keeping cadence with her while trying to stay alongside and avoid the many pedestrians, cyclists, and dogs.  She eventually asked my plans and if I wanted to join her and her friends at some park.  I immediately pictured three more girls resembling her meeting us and thought it best to follow.

After riding for some time I asked her how far and when we would enter Seattle.  She told me that when the path turns to “shit” there will be a sign.  Within a few seconds the path dropped and we whizzed by a sign.  I thought she was joking!  I stopped to get my selfie and she graciously waited. 

We rode and talked and eventually she waved at a guy on a bike that joined us.  He was the first of the three girls that weren’t girls.  I hung back and let them talk until she made the introductions.  Like we always do, we checked out each others’ bikes and kept riding.  Not sure of where we were going or what was in store I kept following.  We stopped at a local brewery and got a pack of beer to take to the park.  The park was Discovery Park on the eastern bank of the Puget Sound.  I did not make it to the Pacific Ocean but this was sea water and good enough for me.  

At Discovery Park we met up with another guy and everyone started pulling food from their bags.  They had planned a picnic, a real picnic with cheese, meat, and crackers, and fruits, and vegetables and hummus and bread.  I didn’t think people still did this.  I pitched in what little I had and we sat out in the middle of a field snacking and talking.  Bry brought a slack  like that she had just bought and wanted to give it a try.  It took us a good 30 minutes to find a good spot, which happened to be next to a picnic table so of course the spread was layed out again.  By then, two more of her friends had showed up with even more food.

It was getting late in the afternoon when the group split up.  One of the guys, Ian, suggested walking down to the beach.  So, he, Bry, John?, and myself locked our bikes together and went for a hike.  We followed a sandy path that led to the side of a cliff and then down long winding stairs to the beach.  

The beach wrapped around a point where a lighthouse stood.  We walked towards it, all the while admiring the structures and carvings made with the drift wood.  At the light house we were like kids crawling on the rocks.  Me in my worn out bike shoes with plastic soles and no grip.  Oh, and I went ahead and put on my pants when we first got to the park. 

Not sure if it is animal cruelty, but the sea anemones will apply a small amount of suction to your fingure if you get too close. This entertained us for some time.  

Eventually, it was time to head back.  Fedex closed at 7 and I had about an hour to get there and get the bike packed and shipped.  First we explored the lighthouse grounds, we thought we were being sneaky by hopping the fence and then ringing the 3 feet wide bell.  We also stopped and sampled blackberries from the many bushes along the trail.  These were not as juicy as the ones coming off of the mountain, but still good.  

We four rode togther for some time until we came to our fork.  I stopped to check my map and they rode on.  Bry and I had this awkward moment where we tried to say goodbye from two blocks away, neither of us willing to ride the distance.  She probably unaware that we were even having that moment until I turned around and rode off.  We didn’t even trade information, but before the night was over we were connected on instagram.  Still unsure how she found me.

On to Fedex.  It took no time to find Fedex and to begin taking the bike apart.  Something I had not planned on is what to do with my bags or my gear.  I needed a duffle or something to put everything in.  My panniers were awkward to carry and I decided to ship them with the bike.  Next to Fedex was a CVS and there I found two large reusable shopping bags.  I continued shopping the rest of the evening for a more suitable bag, but with no luck.  All of my bike gear, shoes, stakes, and enything else I was afraid to take to the airport was put in the box.  I wouldn’t see the bike again for another two weeks.

From there I set off walking to the downtown market where I could look for a duffle and catch a ride on the airport lite rail.  I was only a mile and a half from the nearest rail station.  It was dark by the time I reached the station and it took what felt like an hour to reach the airport.  The rail was packed with rowdy football fans coming from some game in the city.

More walking and I was at the ticket counter to check in.  I kept a few slices of bread, some peanut butter, and jelly to eat for dinner and breakfast.  Jelly, by the way, is considered a liquid and you can’t take it in.  I had to throw it out.  At security one of my bags was stopped to be inspected for a strange object.  It was one of the rocks I had collected for my grandma.  We laughed about it and he said that it was a fine rock.  Dinner turned out to be a burrito from Qdoba.  As I sat there and ate, I spread out my gear and packed everything into one bag.  My plane was set to leave early in the morning so I found my gate and set up my sleeping pad and bag for the night.  I was the only person at the gate and it was easy for me to fall asleep.  

I was awakened by a passenger on the 6 AM flight checking to make sure I wasn’t missing it.  I set my alarm for an hour before my flight to give me time to eat and get around, but I went ahead and got up and packed my bed.  I got a lot of both strange and admiring looks from the different passengers.  It had been 4 days since my last shower and I had purchased some wet wipes from Hudson News and cleaned up the best I could the night before but even that didn’t help much.  My flight was to Houston via Dallas.  At Dallas I would hop off and ride a train to Little Rock.  This was the cheapest way of getting home and ended up costing $150 and another $150 to ship the bike.

At Dallas it was a short rail ride and walk to the train station.  This was the first time that I can remember riding a train in the US and it was nice.  I had two oversized reclining chairs all to myself!  I was on the train long enough to have two meals, take a nap, and finish several chapters in my book.  Thinking about the two months it took to get out there and then the one day it took to get back brings up so many different emotions.  

At the Little Rock train station, a place I had never been or even knew existed, I spotted my parents waiting for me to step off of the train.  They both embraced me and then my dad took my one bag to put in the car.  That one bag held most of my possesions that I carried for the last two months.  I was already having separation anxiety from being away from my bike.  It was my everything for so long and now it was gone.  

My dad stayed in Little Rock for work and I rode back with my mom, her filling me in on everything I had missed.  When we got back to Russellville I picked up a vehicle and went to the boat.  It would be a couple of weeks before my first good night sleep.  I wasn’t used to having such a nice bed.  I have not done much riding since I got back, but rather spend most of my time on the boat.  Everyone I meet keep asking me what’s next.  There are so many options out there.  The top of my list are hike the Appalachian Trail or sail the Great Loop.  If I took anything away from my journey it is that I want to keep exploring.  The people I met on similar journeys, whether hikers, cyclists, van dwellers, or even rollerbladers were the happiest, most gracious, and most content people.

To all the people I met along the way and everybody that helped, I want to say thank you for being a part of my trip.  Thanks to everyone that has followed along.  I didn’t realize that there were so many people reading these until I got back and met random people that thought I was still in Washington…sorry for the delays.  Will probably not be another update until the next season of travel.      

Even after a good night sleep I was still tired and lacked all motivation to move on.  Not sure if my fatigue was due to the smoke or the thought of my trip coming to an end.  I also can’t remember my last zero.  I had been wrestling with continuing on or returning home after Seattle.  I think I had known for a while that I was going to head home after reaching Seattle, but didn’t want to admit it to myself.  Rather than spending another night with Deb I opted for a hotel room, using points to book it. 

My usual routine for off days is laundry, inventory, resupply, and bike cleaning.  In the evening I met Deb and her partner at a bar.  He had spent the weekend sailing Lake Chelan.  He was an interesting guy that dominated the conversation with his adventures.  I attempted to drink a local beer, but once again couldn’t stomach the taste.  It was almost 10 when we left.  Wenatchee has a bike trail that makes a loop around the river.  Even that late it was still busy with activity.  

I was just as tired the next day, but wanted to tackle Stevens Pass, the gateway to Seattle.  Everything up to the pass would be uphill.  I hardly remember riding from Wenatchee to Leavenworth.  Leavenworth looked like an old German village.  I didn’t stop to browse around because it looked too commercialized for my liking, but they had plenty of other people stopping to spend their money.

From there it was a steady climb.  My legs still sluggish I stopped at food truck for an overpriced veggie burger and coconut almond-milkshake.  I sat there for 2 hours looking for the energy to push on.  I also played with a couple of ground squirrels.  They weren’t shy at all about investigating my plate, my bike, or me.  One of them was bold enough to sit on my shoulder.

My next stop was the Nason Creek Rest Area.  It wasn’t five miles down the road.  I had gone 40 miles and was wore out.  At the beginning of my trip I would have considered that a good day.  Now, 40 miles is just a morning ride.  It’s amazing how perception can change.  Regardless, I was done for the day.  Like rest areas before, this one had volunteers working the concession.  And one of them had a razorback shirt on!  She was a transplant from Brinkley, AR.  We talked a little as I played with her dog, but I was tired and needed a rest.  

I scouted around looking for a place to camp.  I avoided being anywhere near the signs that said no overnight camping.  Not sure why those signs are even there or who enforces it.  Around 8 PM motorists start rolling in and they don’t leave until 8 AM.  I found a grove of pine trees out of the way and pitched the tent deep enough that it couldn’t be seen from the road.  One of the CDT hikers told me to look for pine needle beds to camp on.  He said they were warm and would add a layer of comfort, and he was right.  

Quinton found a hiker hostel for PCT hikers and bunked there.  He was 42 miles ahead of me.  My goal was to meet him there that night, but that didn’t happen.

No problem sleeping that night.  Not so sure about Quinton.  It was warm during the days now and I wanted to get an early start.  I got up, ate breakfast, packed up, and still no movement out of Quinton.  I decided that meant he wanted the morning off.  So, I left.  

We had talked the day before about the route to take to Wenatchee and decided to get off of Highway 2 and go through the Coulee River Valley.  Google Maps on Samsung devices has an option to select bike routes.  In that option you can look at the elevation change of the selected route.  This is how I plot my route for the day/week.  The route would take us through a desolate stretch for nearly 40 miles.  What the map does not show us is the road type.

I zigzagged my way down to the river valley.  It took me through farmland and then some strange trailer park.  I later found out that they sale lots to people in Seattle that want an escape.  The landscape was spotted with these small buildings the size of storage buildings.  Most looked like they were abandomed and would make a great place to camp for the night.  

It’s never a good sign when Google leads me down a road with a sign that says “Pavement Ends”.  Google is really bad about that.  Nothing to do but follow it.  The next sign was a steep decline sign.  The road dropped to the bottom of the old river bed.  To either side were walls of rock that stretched up 100 feet.  I was back in the desert, which is odd because I was also in a river valley.  The scenary, if I could have scene it for the smoke, would have been spectacular.  I was a bit nervous moving forward but Google said the road went through.  This is also where I ran out of water, or started to worry about running out of water.  I had just enough to wash down my mid-morning PB&J.

I was flying over the gravel and pumping through the mogels.  I focused all of my attention on conquering the road and none on what I would do if I didn’t find water.  Two more times I went down a steep grade only to be deeper in the canyon.  The grade was so steep and the road so rough that I had a grip on the brake levers going down.  The third drop was the steepest and most nerve racking, but when the road made a turn and the canyon opened up it was to a farm.Two guys were standing in the courtyard and they looked as surprised to see me as I did them.  I rode over and asked if they had a water spicket I could use and the younger man  pointed to this.

After drenching myself and quenching my thirst the man came over and got a drink himself.  I thanked him and he asked what I was doing so far away from everything.  I told him my story and when I told him I was from Arkansas he said his dad had moved there from Arkansas.  When I took my focus off of the water I noticed I was standing in the middle of a corn field.  They had cultivated all  of the land in the canyon.  He said that there would be corn and apples until I hit the next highway, and there were.  

There were orchards after orchards tempting me to stop and steal apples, pears, and the occasional plum.  I was hungry again but wanted to wait for real food.  I felt like splurging at restaurant, mostly to be able to sit and drink something cold.  Rock Island was only 15 miles away and I could wait until then.  When I got there I was starving and wore out.  I ordered two bowls of veggie soup, spaghetti, and handcut fries.  I may have over did it, but I didn’t care.  Oh, and they had sweet tea.  I stayed there for a good two hours trying to figure out where to stay the night.  

Again, Quinton and I contacted every person on Warm Showers with no luck.  Yes, we contacted them the day before and not an hour before arriving.  I got ahold of Quinton and he was about 20 miles North of Wenatchee and me 10 miles South.  He avoided the dirt road and stayed on Highway 2.  I took a chance and called the Parks and Recreation Office of Wenatchee.  I did my spill and the woman forwarded me to the Housing and Community Planner, Brooklyn.

Brooklyn was amazing!  I went through my spill again and I could hear her mind working through the phone.  She first started with hotels and then campgrounds and then she started to understand.  It was when she started thinking of what places the cops don’t patrol at night that I knew I found that right person.  She eventually told me that she would call me back after reaching out to some people.  When she did she said her friend Deb volunteered to put me up.  I then received a call from Deb and we made plans for Quinton and I to stay in her spare room.  

I met Deb at her house in East Wenatchee and she was very nice.  She runs an AirBNB and was empty for the night.  I felt like she and I were kindred spirits.  We talked a little about triathlon and then a little philosophy, food, and even community outreach before she had to leave for a meeting.  I also found out from her that the Amazing Brooklyn was on the US Olympic Bobsled team. I caught a ride with Deb to the mall to look for new headphones.  Not five minutes into today’s ride did my headphones get caught on something and drop into my crankset.  With my new headphones I wandered around and eventually walked back to Deb’s.    

When I stay with people like this I usually offer to help out around the house.  This time I got to mow the lawn.  Afterwards I got cleaned up, did some typing, and then settled in for the night with a bowl of popcorn and a movie.  Quinton decided he was done for the day and would camp out where he was.  I think he was too tired to make it.  His route was much more difficult with 1000 more feet of climbing.  It sounded like he had a rough day.  We were only two days’ ride away.  We planned to meet the next day in Leavenworth before summiting the last mountain pass before reaching Seattle, but I would not see him again.  

The night before we talked with our hosts about our route and where we are going next.  We were told that it was 100 miles to Coulee City and another 80 to Wenatchee.  They said we should stock up on water and food and try to do it in four days.  Between Spokane and Wenatchee was desert with only a few small towns.  It seemed like the perfect opportunity to go for the century (100 miles).  

The husband was up when we were and he had his bike ready in the garage.  He was riding an old steel 12 speed  road bike with cruiser bars.  He was wearing loafers and a polo tucked into his khaki shorts.  He rode stiff and proud and never faultered on the hills.  They were doing construction on many of the roads and he thought it best if he showed us how to get out of the maze.  He was a great tour guide: telling us about Spokane’s history, the native tribes, the economy, and so much more.  He even pointed out edible plants.  It was an enjoyable ride.  He stayed with us all the way to Hwy 2, which seemed like an hour.  He did get lost a few times and then took us offroading once.  Perhaps he was just trying to impress us the night before with his own adventures.  We do that sometimes when we first meet people.  

We were in a hurry to get out in the morning and only got a small breakfast.  Just a few miles outside of town was a Walmart that we stopped at to resupply.  The day before I reorganized my food supply to fit in a 1 gallon Ziplock.  This helped me compress my gear even smaller in the panniers.  Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to fit the peanut butter, jelly, and loaf of bread that I got.  For breakfast I bought a dozen donuts, which lasted me the day.  I told Quinton then that I wanted to try for Coulee City.  He was onboard with it.  

We made good time and were soon ready to stop for lunch.  We stopped at a small city park.  If we weren’t just starting the day it would have been a good place to camp, having  We ate under a large pavilion and across the park were two kids playing on the swingset.  The air was so thick with smoke I’m surprised the kids were allowed to be out in it.

A strong wind came up and for the first time since turning West in Nebraska there was a tailwind!  The temperature was in the 90s and the visibility was maybe a quarter mile.  We were holding a solid 18 mph pace when I started to hear something.  I had started a new audiobook that day but could hear something like metal scraping.  Without stopping I check the rack to make sure it is still attached and then adjust the fenders, but I still hear it.  When I stopped to check if something were caught in a spoke I see a long piece of wire hanging out of the rear tire.  This was my third flat of the trip.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur.  I was absorbed in the book, Eragon.  To the South were large rock formations that reminded me of when I first entered Wyoming.  I caught up to Quinton at a rest stop where we he stopped for snack.  I had been snacking on the donuts to keep my energy up so I wasn’t too hungry then.  I zoned out again, back into the book and before long we were pulling into Coulee City.  It was close to dark when we pulled into the first gas station.  There were tables inside that we sat down at to have dinner and use the WIFI.  We had ridden 97 miles.  There were several places in town to camp at, but we decided on the one on the other side of town so that we would be sure to hit 100.  It was pitch black when we left.

We went across a long bridge across Blake Lake that must have lasted two miles.  Riding across the bridge was like riding through a cloud of insects.  I head to put on my sunglasses just be able to see.  The bugs weren’t as bad on the other side of the lake.  From there we rode another couple miles down a washboard road.  The campground was just a porta-potty and gravel lots cut into the tall grass beds.  We got our 100 miles!

Video upside down?!