CROSSING THE LINE

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Day 1 – Birch Bay – 74km

It was sunny and warm as we left Vancouver. Couldn’t have been better. Crossing the border at Peace Arch was interesting. Hardened borders mean long waits. We were in the line for pedestrians (who walks to the US?). With one couple ahead of us we still waited 30 minutes to get cleared. Not for lack of staff – there were burly border guards everywhere, impassively walking around behind the counter, which was lined with at least 25 work stations. But nobody was interested in dealing with people in line. Maybe we arrived during a shift change. When we finally did get someone’s attention it took all of 2 minutes for him to determine we weren’t a threat to national security.

LAND OF THE FREE

 

Day image2 – Larrabee State Park – 7okm

I’ve given up trying to use maps – too fussy, and Google Maps provides such detailed instruction (continue for 100 metres, go left for 2o metres…) that I’ve taken to navigating by the sun. We’re heading south, so any promising road in that direction should do… as long as we’re prepared for some confusion and extra mileage along the way. Extra mileage was required for getting to Larrabee. But I still like this strategy of celestial navigation – aided by the local knowledge of roadside bystanders.

Lunch in Bellingham. There seem be a lot of young, unemployed people in B’ham. Actually, lots of unemployed people of all ages. And lots of strong characters. This is America, after all. Land of the free. One 40-ish guy, certainly unemployed and, judging from how brown and gnarly he looked, maybe living rough, was covered in tattoos. On his forehead extending back over his balding skull he had a large tattoo of the Dallas Cowboys logo. Like tribal identity markers in Borneo. Or football as religion, giving meaning to life. I am a fan, therefore I am.

ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING

imageDay 3 – Deception Pass State Park
60 km

Woke up to a drizzling rain that became pounding before I could light the stove for breakfast. Sophie still in her tent. When she poked her head out she was beaming. Everything sodden and the prospect of a long ride in the rain, and she was unfazed. I love this girl!

After fuelling up on oatmeal we packed – everything wet – and set off. The ride down Chuckanut Drive was beautiful – even in the rain. Eventually we emerged from the forest onto a looooong, inexorably straight country road, with a stiff headwind and pelting rain. It took 90 minutes before we came to a place where we could have coffee – Sisters Drive Through, with outdoor seating for non-driving customers. At least by now the rain had stopped. Brooke (the sister on duty) served us Americanos and hot dogs, Many of her other customers, most dressed in camo gear and gumboots, had come from salmon fishing on the Samish River. There was talk of guns ‘n stuff. This is Trump territory. Trump signs outnumber Hillary’s at least two to one.

imageWe crossed the spectacular Deception Pass Bridge and rode into the park at mid-afternoon. The wind off the water creates a constant roar as it blows through the treetops. Similar, in fact, to the roar of the military jets that seem to constantly be taking off and landing from the nearby Whidbey Island Air Force Base.

HOME OF THE BRAVE

imageDay 4. – Port Townsend
50 km

A very nice ride down Whidbey Island to the Port Townsend ferry. Crossing Hood Canal we saw sea lions, jelly fish and even a salmon. Port Townsend has preserved its Victoiran past – virtually all of the buildings in the main part of town date from the late 19th century. Obviously a tourist town, but also apparently a capital of counter culture. Walking the main street felt like being on a movie set, with “characters” everywhere. A youngish woman dressed in baggy clothes played a monotonous new-agey tune on a home-made wooden recorder. Four young guys sitting next to the sidewalk were “jamming” with a couple of guitars they barely knew well enough to strum.

imageFrom our campsite we can see a US Navy installation of some kind across Hood Canal. And we can still hear the occasional muscle-flexing rumble of fighter jets from the Whidbey Isl air base. For that matter, we’re camped at Fort Townsend, an old military fort from the 1850s, of which nothing now remains but weathered signage marking locations for the officer’s quarters, etc. From this spot It’s hard not to notice how large a role the military plays in America.

REST DAY 1

Day 5 – Port Townsend

The outlook was for rain today, so we decided to hole up here in PT. Our campground is 4 miles from town and as we biked in it started to pour. We’re sitting in a cafe drying out. Ironically, it’s now become sunny outside. Further irony – I expect WiFi at my cafes, but this one doesn’t have it – the owner seemed proud of that. Probably explains its clientele – all the other customers look like aged hippies.

Spent the day poking through the local museum and hanging around. PT is a cool place – it’s got historic charm, great scenery and an artsy/folksy vibe – but to be here for no purpose leaves me feeling like there’s too many hours in the day. I want to move on.