Greetings from Ft. Bragg, CA

We're enjoying a much-needed day off in Ft. Bragg today before three final days of riding to reach Golden Gate Park in San Francisco on Saturday. The ride has been challenging due to our long mileage days and the hilly coastal route, but we've had great luck with the weather and the scenery has been fantastic, as we've been zig-zagging from wonderful views of the Pacific coast and inland sections through farmland and dense forests, with the groves of redwoods being the highlight. Our 30-mile ride on the Avenue of the Giants in Humboldt Redwoods State Park was one of my all-time greatest experiences on a bicycle. Here's a recap of the four days:

Saturday, 9/20 (day 8) - 90 miles from Bandon to Brookings (Harris Beach State Park). This was my hardest day. I felt low on energy and lethargic throughout, worn down, I think, because of the extra effort I'd made both in Florence and Bandon to get to the town libraries and work on this blog. Blogging is better left for off-days; the daily demands of the ride are simply too great. We've been rising at daybreak - 6:30 a.m. - and have to pack up our tents, eat breakfast, prepare lunches, etc.; and when everything is put away there is then a group meeting, so we usually don't hit the road until 8:15. Riding 90 miles keeps most riders on the road until 5:00 p.m.; I've been riding hard and getting in earlier, but still, with sunset at 7:00 p.m., there's precious little time to set up camp and have dinner. Friday was also my day on cooking detail, meaning I had to help prepare and clean up after meals, thus getting up before dawn and washing dishes at dusk.

That said, it was yet another scenic day. We began with a ride along the coast within the town of Bandon. It was a foggy morning, creating gray, moody views of the sea stacks offshore. The route then moved inland through several small towns until we reached Port Orford, and then inland again around Humbug Mountain before a lovely flat stretch right along the ocean shore. At Gold Beach, Oregon, we crossed over the Rogue River. It's been a special pleasure to cross such wide rivers where they flow into the sea- the Umpqua in Reedsport yesterday, the Rogue today, and the Klamath tomorrow in Klamath, California - after having encountered them all more than a month ago in my solo journey hundreds of miles east. The day stayed cool throughout; the sky was overcast, with just peaks of blue between the clouds, and the temperature never rose above the low 60s. From Gold Beach, then, we had a very hilly final 27 miles to reach our campground near Brookings. I went to bed early, hoping to recharge.


Coast of Bandon, Oregon (morning of day 8)


The coastal fog near Port Orford, OR (day 8)


The sun setting on the coast near Brookings, OR (end of day 8)

Sunday, 9/21 (day 9) - 92 miles from Brookings to Patrick's Point State Park, near Trinidad, California. This was the first of three spectacular days. Most importantly, my energy returned and I've been feeling great physically and mentally. I began the day riding along with the fast group of riders, who regularly ride together, the first eight miles to the California state line. Then, after some picture taking, while they were lingering there, I rode on ahead, preferring to ride alone: I concentrate better on what's around me. The route took us inland through some farmland - the major crop was lillies, but there were also some cow pastures - until we reached Crescent City, where again we had some lovely views of the coast. By then the morning fog had burned off and we rode in brighht sunshine fore the rest of the day, the afternoon temperature reaching the mid-70s. After Crescent City we faced the toughest climb of the trip - 1200 feet up a steep grade - but the road itself was enjoyable, taking us through our first section of redwoods. There was another pretty redwoods section during the climb after Klamath, just past the "Trees of Mystery" tourist trap, featuring a huge talking statue of Paul Bunyan and his bull. After the redwoods we rode through a valley where a large elk herd resides, and then, as was the case the day before, the final 20 miles were very hilly, adding to the challenge. In camp I tried to make use of the sunshine by hand washing some biking clothes, but they never did dry. Then I ran off for a quick dip in the ocean before dinner and afterward caught the tail end of the sunset.


Arriving in California (day 9): nicknames, from left to right: Fist, Flask, Spoke, Bristol, Nipple, Buckets, and Post.


Farmland south of the Oregon border (day 9)


Climbing through the forest south of Crescent City (day 9)


Paul Bunyan and his Ox at the Trees of Mystery tourist trap on U.S. 101 near Klamath, CA (day 9)


A self-contained cyclist riding through the redwoods (day 9)


Elk herd near Orick, CA (day 9)

Monday, 9/22 (day 10) - 81 miles from Trinidad to Burlington Campground in Humboldt Redwoods State Park (north of Phillipsville, CA). A fantastic afternoon riding on the Avenue of the Giants through redwood forest for the final 15 miles of the day, amid bright sunhshine, the temperature in the 70s, and the cooling breezes in the deep forest canopy. Getting there required 65 miles of semi-urban and freeway riding, as we passed through bigger towns today - McKinleyville, Arcata, and Eureka - and rode in the wide, smooth shoulder of U.S. 101, a four-lane, divided highway, for 28 miles. The freeway riding was eased by a stiff tailwind that helped speed us along, and in the end getting to the redwoods was well worth the effort. Once on the Avenue of the Giants, I rode slowly through the deep shade, marvelling at the redwoods' size as well as the lovely green ferny and mossy undergrowth, and the lovely quiet created by the high canopy. I stopped often to take pictures and then made a side-trip to walk the Founders Grove Nature Trail. Our campground was in the redwoods, making the day even shorter, as night fell early and there was little moon or starlight.


Along the Avenue of the Giants (day 10)


Founders Grove trail in Humboldt Redwoods State Park (day 10)


A fallen redwood along the Founders Grove trail (day 10)

Tuesday, 9/23 (day 11) - 94 miles from the redwoods to Ft. Bragg. A hard but, for me, truly spectacular day of riding - first through more redwoods (the southernmost section of the Avenue of the Giants) and then through the mountains to return to the coast. Again there was a section of freeway - U.S. 101 - but reaching Leggett after 45 miles, we left it for good and rode on state highway 1, beginning the climb over the coastal range. The road was narrow and winding and logging trucks barreled down from the summit, but otherwise traffic was extremely light, and we climbed again through deep, shaded forest. The descent was enjoyable - not a single car came up from behind me, as I sped around the long series of tight, banked turns. There was then a second climb that delivered us to the ocean, and then a very hilly ride along the steep coastal cliffs for the final 20 miles to MacKerricher Beach campground. It was a pleasant place, but, given our upcoming off day, nearly everyone opted to spend the night in motels (I'm in the Best Western, where the majority are staying). The length and hilliness of the route made this day the most difficult for nearly everyone, many of whom didn't reach camp until 5:30 or so, but it was also the most scenic, and I relished the challenge, feeling good throughout the day end enjoying the warm weather. It was only 46 degrees when we left camp in the morning, but being inland and further south now, thanks to the sunshine, the temperature rose 35 degrees, peaking at 81 near the summit of the coastal range at 1:00 p.m.; and from there, thanks to the ocean breezes, the temperature dropped back into the low 70s - truly perfect bicycling weather.

So with three more days to go, I'm feeling decidedly mixed emotions. I'm with a great group of people, and I'm looking forward to what I hope will be some more great riding, but after being away for 62 days now, I'm also relishing the thought of getting home.


Confusion Hill - another roadside attraction along U.S. 101 north of Leggett (day 11)


State Highway 1, nearing Ft. Bragg (day 11)


Sunset at Ft. Bragg (end of day 11)

Greetings from Bandon, Oregon

The Big Ride Pacific Coast is well under way. We've just finished our seventh day - six days of riding and a well-timed day off in Lincoln City, Oregon, and are about halfway between Seattle and San Francisco. Thus far the ride has been outstanding, with fantastic scenery and very good weather overall. The days are cool, but there's been virtually no rain: four days have featured bright skies and lots of sunshine, the temperatures rising from the fifties into the high sixties or low seventies; two others were overcast, and we missed the worst weather on our day off, when there were a few sprinkles amid cold, gloomy skies and a stiff southerly wind that we would have had to fight against. Meanwhile, after 30 days of riding solo while carrying my equipment, I'm having an easy time of it; the ride is well-supported, and I'm enjoying the camaraderie as well as the scenery.

Including me there are 26 Big Riders. The majority are from Washington State and Northern California, but there are also a bunch of East Coasters (three others are from New York and two are from Massachusetts), there are two Canadians, and there are two cosmopolitan Seattlites, a woman from England and a man from Chile. Other states represented include Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Colorado, and Texas. Everyone's is getting along and riding well, and our days are full as we're averaging 80 miles a day - a tough task with the shorter days of late summer: it's not light until nearly 7:00 a.m., and most riders are still on the road until nearly 5:00 p.m. each day, leaving only a few hours of daylight to set up camp, shower, and eat dinner. We've also rotating breakfast and dinner duties - helping to prepare and clean up after meals; so on those days when it's your turn, you're especially busy. We're supported by four staff people who have all been terrific: friendly and easy-going, making the trip all the more pleasurable. I've been particularly impressed with the ride director, David VanDoorne; I know the mechanic, Alan Fitton, from the 2006 Big Ride Across America; and we have a cook along with us, Linda McKoryk, who buys local produce each day and is making very healthy dinners.

Here's a quick summary of our route and each day's highlights:

Day 1 - Saturday, 9/13 - 81 miles from Seattle to Montesano, WA. After a ferry across the Puget Cound amid thick morning fog and some very steep roads grades for the first four miles, escaping Bremerton, the day improved significantly, becoming sunny and warm. I struggled with dehydration due to the layoff in Seattle (drinking too much caffeine and not enough water), but by the end of the day I felt like myself again. The route took us south over rolling terrain along the eastern edge of the Olympic Peninsula; we passed through the town of Shelton and then angled west to Montesano, staying in Lake Sylvia State Park. The park was the day's highlight. I took a swim, and the lake was scenic, surrounded by thick forest that reflected off the still water, creating a lovely, tranquil atmosphere.


Lake Sylvia, where we camped and I swam, at the end of day 1


Tent city in Lake Sylvia State Park

Day 2 - Sunday, 9/14 - 80 miles to Cape Disappointment State Park, near Ilwaco, WA. A similar day - morning fog quickly burning off, then sunny and warm; rolling terrain riding south to Raymond, WA, where we crossed the Willapa River and then cut west to the coast, riding along Willapa Bay to Ilwaco. The temperature was at least 10 degrees colder at the campground, but once again the day's end was the highlight, as the campground was located right on the ocean. A fierce northerly wind was blowing, but I managed to get in a 35-minute run on the beach and then wade into the water for a quick plunge, body surfing one wave before scampering out. Later that evening, the sunset was one of the most dramatic I've ever seen, followed shortly thereafter by the full moonrise.


Riding in the morning mist early on day 2


The northerly wind blowing the sand down the beach at Cape Disappointment (day 2)


The ocean at Cape Disappointment


The lighthouse at Cape Disappointment.


Sunset at Cape Disappointment.

Day 3 - Monday, 9/15 - A shorter day: 64 miles to Manzanita, Oregon, where we stayed in Nehalem State Park. The biggest challenge was crossing the four-mile-long bridge across the Columbia River to Astoria. Later there were some tough climbs along the coast, but the scenery was fantastic, beginning with Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach, and then continuing down the coast to Manzanita. We stayed at Nehalem State Park, another campground right on the beach. Again I managed a 35-minute run and a dip in the ocean: the wind was much lighter and the water slightly warmer. And again there was a lovely sunset, although I only arrived back at the beach just as the sun was disappearing.


Mouth of the Columbia River, Ilwaco, WA, morning of day 3


Riding over the Astoria Bridge, across the Columbia River into Oregon (day 3)


Still riding over the Astoria Bridge ... (day 3)


Haystack Rock, Cannon Beach, Oregon (day 3)


View of Nehalem Bay beach, our destination at the end of day 3


The ocean at Nehalem Bay


Sunset at Nehalem Bay (day 3)

Day 4 - Tuesday, 9/16 - 81 miles from Manzanita to Lincoln City. The day began with thick coastal fog which lightened twice during the day: after we crossed the Nehalem River, the sun came out briefly between Mohler and Tillamook and again while I was climbing over Cape Lookout, but otherwise it was a gray day, the temperature stuck in the fifties. At Tillamook we stopped in on the Tillamook Creamery, where I took the self-guided tour and sampled the cheese: three kinds of cheddar and pepper jack (my favorite). To me the Cape Lookout climb was the highlight of the day, as I rode through the dense, ferny, old-growth forest, streaks of yellow sunlight streaming through the trees. Then after I crossed the summit and the fog reappeared, I rode past the dunes at Sandlake, eerily shrouded in mist, the sand having been blown up onto the cape over eons by the strong coastal winds. In Pacific City I rendezvoused with my friend Carrie Stilwell, who, lured by the great coastal weather, took the bus down from Portland, and we rode together for the final 25 miles to Lincoln City. She planned to ride with me for a couple of days, but since the weather turned, plans subsequently changed. The campground in Lincoln City was conveniently located - walking distance from the downtown area, with lots of shops and restaurants. But given the bad weather and the fact that, due to a plumbing problem, the campground had no running water, most Big Riders opted to stay in motels.


The bridge over the Nehalem River (morning of day 4)


The Nehalem River


Climbing through the temperate rainforest at Cape Lookout (day 4)


The dunes at Sandlake, OR (day 4)

Day 5 - Wednesday, 9/17 - Off-day in Lincoln City, resting up and hiding from the cold. Carrie and I had planned to do a loop ride, but settled for exploring the town, and walking on the beach, and dinner at an excellent Thai restaurant. She headed back to Portland the next morning.

Day 6 - Thursday, 9/18 - 83 miles from Lincoln City to Honeyman State Park, a few miles beyond Florence, Oregon. The sky was gray most of the day, with a few peeks of sun, but the wind was light, the temperature moderate, and the day was the most scenic thus far. Much of our ride through Oregon has been on U.S. 101, where there's a fair amount of traffic, although significantly lighter than when I biked this section in August of 2004. But the route also takes us on some quiet side roads, and getting away from the cars and RVs adds to the scenery. Highlights for me were Seal Rock, with its long line of sea stacks and the chasms south of Yachats, including Devil's Churn, where the ocean waves crash through the rocks, creating at times a thunderous roar. Near Heceta Head we saw and heard dozens of sea lions barking at each other while basking on the rocks below us. And there were some challenging climbs, especially up Cape Perpetua, which then offered lovely views of the miles of jagged coastline.


The beach at Newport, OR (early day 6)


South of Newport (day 6)


Seal Rock, south of Newport, OR (day 6)


Riding on a quiet side road south of Newport (day 6)


The rugged coast just south of Yachats, OR (day 6)


Sea lions on the rocks near Heceta Head (day 6)

Day 7 - Friday, 9/19 - 80 miles from Honeyman State Park to Bandon, Oregon. The weather again turned favorable and we enjoyed a nice, sunny day. The most scenic section was the latter part of the day. In Charleston I watched seals patroling the harbor for fish in the south end of Coos Bay (hte bridge over South Slough), and then there was a challengingly hilly inland stretch on Seven Devils Road leading to Bandon. Most disappointing was the amount of clear-cut forest we saw - the most since Washington - especially between Florence and Gardiner. A facade of trees lined the road - U.S. 101, but through the veil you could see vast, empty patches.


Clear-cut forest along U.S. 101, south of Florence, OR (day 7)


South Slough, near Coos Bay - Charleston, OR (day 7)

So that's it for now. We have four more days of riding until our next off day in Ft. Bragg, California, on September 24th.

Greetings from Seattle, WA

Part Two of this nine-week Western journey is complete. I've arrived in Seattle, finishing a 30-day solo ride from San Francisco that covered 2240 miles, averaging 80 miles a day for the 28 days I rode. And I ended it with a flourish: after taking a ferry into downtown Seattle from Bainbridge Island, I rode straight to Safeco Field, home of the Seattle Mariners, and saw the Mariners play my beloved New York Yankees from a seat right behind home plate!


A lovely afternoon at Safeco Field


View from the good seats, Mike Mussina on the mound.

More on that story later. Meanwhile I now have five days to rest up before the final leg (part 3): the American Lung Association's Big Ride Pacific Coast, which will leave from Seattle this Saturday, September 13th and deliver me back in San Francisco on the 27th. The good news is that it's a supported ride, so I can take the packs off my bicycle and ride a little easier. And certainly I'm in shape for the ride, after my six-week, 2800-mile warmup. But still it won't be easy: the 80-mile-a-day pace is brisk, the coastal route is extremely hilly, and the shorter days will put pressure on riders to get moving despite the chilly mornings and potentially chilly days. As a teacher, most of my biking over the years has been limited to summers - i.e., hot-weather riding - so these early-autumn temperatures are a relatively new experience. When the sun is shining, the cooler days can be glorious, but amid clouds and rain, the cold can seep into your bones, as I discovered this week when riding over the northern Cascades, descending from 5,000 feet in a light drizzle, the temperature 50 degrees and the headwinds creating a fierce wind chill.

Here's a summary of the ride since my last post, as I rode on Route 20 east to west across Washington and then south on a coastal route to reach Bainbridge Island:

Wednesday, 9/3 (day 26, after and off-day in Colville): 86 miles toward Tonasket, WA. After the day off, I felt raring to go, ready for a hard day of climbing: a 4500-foot ascent to the top of Sherman Pass, elevation 5575 ft., and then after decending to the town of Republic, another ascent of 2000 feet over Wauconda Pass. Unfortunately as I set off I could tell I was dehydrated, having drunk too much coffee and soda and not enough water while blogging the day before. I took it easy, thus, and drank a lot as I rode through Kettle Falls and descended to the Columbia River (Lake Roosevelt), having last been beside it nine days before, in The Dalles, and then began the long, 25-mile climb. The morning was cool but sunny, and the slow ascent was enjoyable. I saw a pileated woodpecker with its bright red head, and an hour later a coyote and I shared a moment: I heard it moving from the road's edge, but then it stopped, turned around, and we stared at each other. I also enjoyed stopping at a heritage site: an old CCC camp nicknamed "Little America" that highlighted all the good work the CCC did during the Depression,as well as what the program did for the young men who participated. The roadside exhibit included a copy of a letter home from one of the participants who raved about the the three square meals a day and "all the pie you can eat."

In all the ascent of Sherman Pass took me about four hours. The descent was cold, I wore my jacket, and then after regrouping in Republic, I set off around 2:00 p.m., climbing again. Wauconda Pass was considerably easier. I made it to the top by around 4:00 p.m. and had only to ride to Tonasket, nearly all downhill, to complete a really challenging 100-mile day. That's when I had a breakdown, the story of which I tell in detail below (see kindess story #6). But in the end it merely shortened by day to a more reasonable 86 miles, and all's well that ends well: I spent a comfortable evening in a Tonasket motel.

Thursday, 9/4 (day 27) - 87 miles from Tonasket to Mazama. My toughest day mentally ofthe whole trip. The day started well as I rode south on Route 20/U.S. 97, a flat stretch in the Okanonda River valley, helped by a big tailwind, for 28 miles. But then the route turned west again, creating a crosswind, and I started a 3000-foot climb to Loup Loup Pass. The grade was significantly steeper than the climb up Sherman Pass had been; and maybe I was worn out from the day before, but this one really hurt, and I found myself unnerved by a lot of small annoyances: the road was narrow and winding, so cars were buzzing by too closely and the roars of motorcycles were especially grating; clouds kept blocking the sun, making me alternately cold and hot, and the afternoon too dark for sunglasses and then too bright to be without them. Etc. And then after the steep descent, I spent the rest of the afternoon fighting a really fierce headwind all the way to Mazama.


Descending Loup Loup Pass, with the Northern Cascades in the background

By the end I felt worn out, but I recuperated that evening over an upscale dinner with my biking pal Big Eric (see kindness story #7 below).

Friday, 9/5 (day 28) - 95 miles from Mazama to Concrete. Feeling revitalized, I had a big day climbing over the North Cascades to the Skagit River Valley. The headwinds were still there but they bothered me less, and they let up as I drew closer to Washington Pass. The climb was another really long one - 18 miles - and the coldest: for the descent I put on nearly all the clothes I had.


Climbing toward Washington Pass


View from near the top of Washington Pass

After a short, steep descent, there was one more climb to Rainy Pass - my fifth summit in three days, and then lots and lots of downhill, as I was descending from 5477 feet toward sea level.


Rainy Pass - the final summit

The headwinds remained tough - gusty and frigid - until Newhalem but then relented late into the afternoon. I wanted to ride as far as I could and kept at it until nearly 6:00 p.m., reaching the town of Concrete, where I camped alongside the Skagit River and ate a good dinner. The highlight was right outside the town of Marblemount, where I came upon a black bear cub that was right beside the road and was ten yards from it as it dashed into a thicket. It was the closest I've ever been to a bear, and I was struck by its shiny black coat and handsome pale brown muzzle.

Saturday, 9/6 (day 29) - 86 miles from Concrete to Port Townsend. Another long day as I rushed toward Seattle, and a less scenic day, amid a lot of heavy traffic. The volume picked up as I neared Sedro-Wooley and then from I-5 to Fidalgo Island, nearing Anacortes. From there I turned south and benefited from the strong northerly wind as I crossed onto Whidbey Island and then along a pretty stretch on the coast, with views of the San Juan Islands. By 3:30 p.m. I'd ridden nearly 80 miles to reach the Keystone-Port Townsend ferry, a 30-minute ride onto the Olympic Peninsula. It was the weekend of Port Townsend's Wooden Boats celebration, so I was lucky to secure a campsite at Fort Worden State Park: the park was full, but I was granted their one "emergency" hiker-biker walk-in site, nestled in deep woods, and then rode back to town for dinner.

Sunday, 9/7 (day 30) - 55 miles from Port Townsend to Seattle. After a late start, not waking till after 7:00 a.m., I rode 50 miles by 12:30 p.m. to reach the Bainbridge Island ferry. The route had its share of scenery, particularly on Route 19 south of Irondale, where the road followed the edge of a deeply wooded ridge, offering views of the narrow green valley just to the west and the silhouettes of the jagged Olympic Range in the distance. Mostly, though, my thoughts were on the Yankeess, and the real excitement was the ferry ride with its views of downtown Seattle and then the absolute thrill of attending the game.

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That said, the real story of this past week was the extraordinary kindness and generosity I received from the people I encountered. It made me reflect on the whole trip: people have been kind everywhere; over these last days the blessings have been just more frequent and pronounced. Thinking about it all is also extremely humbling. I realize how fortunate I am to receive such treatment. This past year at the Dwight School, I had the pleasure of teaching juniors one of my favorite novels, Hermann Hesse's Narcissus and Goldmund. In it, Goldmund chooses the life of a wanderer, wanting to fully experience life, and as he sets off he is treated kindly because he is young, has cultivated manners, and his physical attractiveness makes him seem pleasant and nonthreatening. Implicitly, however, there is the caveat in the story that with over time - as he ages and the life he lives hardens him - strangers will not receive him with the same open arms. Of the fellow touring cyclists that I ran across this year, two-thirds were male, one-third were from Europe or Canada, and ages ranged from 20 to 65. But all of them were white, and I wondered especially after the night I spoke to the police in Reardon, Washington, and obtained permission to pitch my tent in the town park, would they have been as accommodating if I had been black, or Hispanic, or scragglier in appearance?

That said, here's a short recap of people's kindnesses during my solo trip - a Top Ten of sorts, in chronological order:

1. When I ran out of energy climbing out of Chico, California, in withering heat, the local fire station crew chief allowed me to stay the night. I was granted access to a shower and bathroom; the chief offered me dinner; and I left after having coffee with him in the morning.

2. While I rode in an all-day downpour from Breitenbush Hot Springs in Oregon, my biking shoes reached a new level of decrepitude. Reaching a gas station, I asked the attendant if he had duct tape. He went into the mini-mart, took a fresh roll from the shelf, tore open the cellophane wrapper, and handed it to me, telling me, "Keep it."

3. As aforementioned, in Reardon, Washington, when darkness was falling and there was no motel or camping option in town, the police allowed me to stay the night in the small town park.

4. In Colville, Washington, I went to a small coffee shop to work on my last blog entry. I ordered an espresso, sat in front of the one computer, and for several hours, engrossed in writing, I didn't move. Besides me and the young woman working there, the place was empty, and I guess she was impressed with my diligence and concentration, because at one point without a word, while I was still hard at work, she presented me with a fresh fruit smoothie, gratis.

5. In Republic, Washington, after riding up and over Sherman Pass, I was sitting outside a restaurant/convenience store eating a Powerbar. A woman entering the store asked me how I was doing, and feeling genuinely euphoric, I smiled and said, "Great." A few minutes later, as she came out, she handed me a king-sized Snickers bar, saying, "You earned it."

6. Later the same day, descending Wauconda Pass, I had a breakdown. I thought at first that I back tire had blown out, but what had actually happned is that the struts of my back rack - two thin, metal strips that attach the rack to the frame - had suddenly snapped, apparently due to wear and tear (I bought the bike in 2003), and as a result the whole rack had flipped backward and was dragging behind me - panniers and backpack still affixed. I got off my bike and was staring at it on the roadside, assessing what had happened and what I should do next. Still reaching the conclusion that there was no way to ride, I only half-heartedly waved as a red pickup drove by; the driver waved back, and then I waved after him. A minute or two later, the red pickup reappeared: deciding that I was asking for help, he'd doubled-back to assist me. The driver's name was Lee Hale. He drove me to Tonasket, 15 miles away, where he lives and which was also my destination (I'd already ridden 86 miles). There's no bike shop in Tonasket, but he came up with his own solution. Driving to his house, he went into his garage and brought out a hard rubber strap - shorter and less flexible than a bungee cord. By affixing it to the rack and hooking it around the stem of my saddle, he'd concocted a solution that has lasted to Seattle. Thus in all I was stranded for less than five minutes, and Lee repaired my bike for me, asking only in recompense that I read some Christian pamphlets. Lee is recently married - I met his lovely wife - and he credits finding Christ and being saved for his happiness.

7. "Big" Eric Knudson of Seattle, with whom I rode on the Big Ride Across America in 2006 and, most recently, on this year's Tour de Rubenstein, met me in Mazama, Washington, and drove me to his new vacation home, putting me up for the night. Which reminds me to also mention Steve "Big Rube" Rubenstein and his wife Carolyn in San Francisco and Carrie and Cynthia Stilwell in Corbett, Oregon, for also putting me up and being so generous. They're treasured friends.

8. The next morning, as I was beginning the long climb over the northern Cascades, a couple from Vancouver driving in a camper pulled over and asked me if I wanted a lift over the mountains. I declined politely, and then asked, Did I look like I was struggling." "Oh, no," the man said. "We just thought we'd offer." "Thanks," I said. "It's very nice of you. But I'll make it, and it's what I'm here for."

9. About that Mariners-Yankees game. I rode to the ballpark, straight from the ferry dock, on my fully-loaded bicycle, and as I neared the ticket window, a scalper asked if I needed a ticket. I rode past him saying that I couldn't buy from him; I had to talk to the powers that be about securing my bicycle. At the window I was assured that there was a place to stow it. The next question was what type of ticket to buy. It was already the third inning, and I had a choice between a good seat for $68 and a seat in the rafters for $25. Before I could decide, the same scalper walked up to me and handed me a ticket. "Here," he said. "Best seat in the house." As a New Yorker, I have to admit I was skeptical, but I thanked him, gave him $15, and went inside. As it turned out, he wasn't lying, and as I sat down I thought, "Wow, I must be doing something right." The seat was in the tenth row directly behind the plate, and it was a rare treat to be so near to the action - within ten yards of Derek Jeter, etc., as the players stood on the on-deck circle. I've been away from New York for 45 days, and it felt like being with old friends again, closer to home, even if they did go nearly hitless in my presence.


Jason Giambi after grounding out.


A-Rod strikes out. Later he walked and was picked off firsat base.


10. Finally, I should mention the gift I received when arrived here in Seattle and staying with the Clifford clan - my former wife, Susan, with whom I always stay, and her family - her mother Margit, father Tim, brother Ted and Ted's partner, Cass Turner. Cass is an accomplished quilter; and several years ago over dinner I mentioned off-handedly an wonderful quilt I'd seen made of all the t-shirts that a couple I knew had accumulated from bike rides they'd participated in over the years. "Send me your shirts and I'll make you one," Cass said; and with some help also from Margit, it was recently finished. The quilt consists of all of the shirts I accumulated over a six-year period, from of my first group ride (BRAG, the Bike Ride Across Georgia) in 1997 up to Bike Florida in 2002. It's a keepsake that I'll value always, both for the memories of that era and for the labor and artistry that went into making it.


The Quilt

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All in all, my solo ride was a wonderful adventure. I'm proud of the accomplishment, grateful for all the help and encouragement I received, and particularly pleased with the feeling of joy and the composure that I maintained throughout the journey, notwithstanding the one low day to Mazama. Overall I've learned to take things as they come, accepting road and weather conditions as all part of the experience. Even while bicycling amid an all-day downpour, I had the resilence to carry on, my spirits never plummeting, causing me to curse my luck, or the elements, or the gods, or my own bull-headedness for choosing to be out there. When things got tough I simply accepted them. There was no timetable, so I plugged away and made what progress I could, riding as far as I was able and carrying on the next day, and I arrived in Seattle just when I hoped I would.



Some tallies relating to the journey thus far:

Total days away from New York: 44
Biking days/non-biking days: 37/7
Miles biked: 2768
Flats: 0
Maintenance and repairs: Nothing a rubber strap, duct tape, or chain lube couldn't fix.
Animals sighted:
Black bear (cub) - 1
Elk - a whole herd
Deer - dozens, especially near Mazama, Washington
Coyote - 1
Rattlesnake - 1
Otters - a pair
Sea otters
Elephant seals
Harbor seals
Sea lions
Pelicans
Cormorants
Bald eagles - 2
Roadrunner - 1
Hawks
Vultures
Egrets
Blue herons
Turkeys
Quail
Pileated woodpecker - 1
and domestic animals: horses, cattle, sheep, goats, chickens and llamas.