Day 10 (April 29): Off day in and around Astoria, OR -- 0 miles biked

I woke up Wednesday morning excited about a full day separated from my Trek 520. Considering all the rain and dirt the bike was stained with the previous day, I think it needed the break from the road also.

Instead, Sean and Mel were kind enough to show me around the cool city of Astoria and explore other nearby places.

First we went to the Astoria Column, which is a tower on a large, seemingly never-ending, winding hill in the middle of the town of about 9,000 people. From the column, I had a great view in all directions.

To the west, I could see where the Columbia River poured out into the Pacific.

To the north, I had a great view of the approximately 4-mile bridge that leads over to Washington (someone told me that it's the second-longest bridge in the country -- behind Michigan's Mackinac, I assume). I also could see the rolling hills of southern Washington and the point known as Cape Disappointment.

To the southeast, I could see Saddle Mountain, which loomed above all its neighboring peaks and was immersed in clouds. It isn't close to being the tallest peak in the state -- that would go to the enormous Mt. Hood by Portland -- but it appeared pretty intimidating from a distance.

And due east was the Columbia, which was hosting several ships on the foggy but somewhat sunny Wednesday afternoon.

After lunch down by the water, we drove over the bridge -- which, apparently, can be biked, but I wouldn't try it; there's basically no shoulder -- and went to Cape Disappointment for some hiking. (Hey, what's a day without some real exercise?)

First, we walked an easy 0.5 miles to a deserted ocean beach. We knew that a lighthouse wasn't too far down the shore to the south, so we started walking that way.

That's when we encountered a large rock outcropping in our way. So, of course, I started climbing it. And before I could look down, I was close to 100 feet above Sean and Mel.

After a few minutes, they joined me on top of all the rocks, and we all enjoyed the amazing view in front of us. I especially liked all the different rock structures in the shallow water to our left. The waves crashing on the rocks made the scene even prettier.

We didn't have a straight shot to the still-out-of-sight lighthouse, however, so we headed back down and went to Cape Disappointment. There, we took a marked trail 1.3 miles to a lighthouse, which offered great views in just about all directions.

I had to chuckle at the trail we took, because it was marked "difficult." Actually, it was quite easy and only steep in a couple small sections. But it was neat and, besides the lack of precipitation, gave me a rainforest feel at times because of the green plants around me.

It reminded me, a bit, of some of the hiking I did in Australia.

And it made for a great time.

From there, my off day was truly lazy. It included a stop for a delicious double ice cream cone, and then a pair of stops at local breweries to cap off the night.

No biking was involved, but the day didn't lack excitement and good times.

Thanks to the tour guides for making it happen!

Day 9 (April 28): Toledo, WA (almost)-Warrenton, OR -- 93.3 miles biked

Miles biked: 93.3 (432.4 total)

Time on bike: 7 hours, 21 minutes, 10 seconds

Maximum speed: 30.5 mph

Roads taken: Jackson Highway, SR 505, Jackson Highway, Herriford Road, Mandy/Imboden Road, Barnes Drive/Old Pacific Highway, in Castle Rock: Dougherty Drive, Cowlitz Street, Front Street, A Street, 411 ... Delameter Road, Woodside Drive (huge hill), Coal Creek Road, SR 4, Main Street/SR 409, in Oregon: US 30, in Warrenton: Harbour Drive, Main Street, Second Street, Cedar Drive.

Ferry taken: From Puget Island to Westport, OR

Places stopped: Subway in Castle Rock (for a footlong chicken breast), park on Washington side of river (for a quick breather), ferry to Oregon, general store in Westport (for roast beef sandwich), gas station in Astoria (to call Sean, get needed Power Bar), Bubba's Sports Bar in Westport (to wait for call from Sean, get out of rain, eat dinner and watch Blazers game).

I woke up Tuesday morning to the sound of rain continuously falling on the hut in which I slept, and the thought of biking all the way to Oregon and the warm home of friends Sean and Mel seemed pretty unappealing -- except for the end result.

I considered not biking at all until it cleared up. I called Dad, and he said that wasn't going to happen -- at least where I was. He mentioned that if I got down toward the Columbia and began riding west, I might make it out of the rain.

That was all the motivation I needed. I got my bike ready, using waterproof covers to protect my rear panniers, tent and sleeping bag. I bagged everything within my front panniers.

Then I put on my raincoat and rode out into the mayhem.

Truthfully, it wasn't raining all that hard as I started out south toward Toledo. But it's also true, I've found, that when you're biking 15 mph, the rain feels like it's coming down harder than if you're simply standing in it or walking.

The rain continued for about the first 15 miles or so, but then the sky started to clear -- just a bit -- and all of a sudden the precipitation was gone.

I hadn't liked the fact that I didn't start my trek until 9, considering that I had 88 miles to Astoria, OR, and then probably a few more to Sean and Mel's house in Warrenton -- which is just to the northwest of Astoria.

But when I reached the river before 1, with just 20 miles left on the Washington side and 27 on the Oregon side remaining, I felt I was in good shape. I even considered, for a moment, taking off the rain gear.

Thankfully, I didn't.

The 20 miles on Route 4 along the Columbia was pretty and not too hilly. There was a lot of traffic, but pretty decent shoulders. When I reached the small town of Cathlamet, I passed over a bridge and rode about 3 miles on little Puget Island toward a ferry that would take me over a portion of the river and into Oregon.

As I coasted onto the ferry, I felt excited. I was about to reach a new state, a new adventure, the actual "West Coast." I was just as excited about reaching my destination for the night.

Then one of the ferry's operators pointed to two large, looming hills across the river and the "V" between them and mentioned that I'd be biking through that V. That wasn't something that I wanted to hear, but he then mentioned that there weren't many hills besides the big one en route to Astoria.

OK, I thought, one big climb and then I'll coast down to the Pacific. I grabbed a ravishing roast beef sandwich at the Westport general store and prepared for the final stretch.

The Hill came upon me pretty quick. And, then, it kept going and going and going. My iPod was dead at this point, so I resorted to my memory bank to pass the minutes. First, I rattled off all the NCAA basketball champions. But the road kept leading up. So I went through Final Four teams dating back to 1980.

And, finally, I was on top of what seemed a mountain. Sure enough, a sign on top labeled the point I had reached as "Clatsop Crest," which was some 6,000-plus feet above sea level.

I got off the bike, let out a whoop about surviving the 3-mile hill and took a swig of water.

Then I got back on my ride and coasted down a nice, long hill. That would be the last pleasant moment of my journey.

All of a sudden, I was getting pelted by a hard rain that showed no signs of letting up. And then, in the wink of an eye, I was climbing another big hill.

And then another. And another. All while the rain continued to pour.

With each hill, I went back to my sports statistics. The NBA champions. The NBA Finals MVPs. And, lastly, the World Series champions. Running through the lists out loud helped take my mind off how long it took to climb each hill.

And, at long last, I was in Astoria. The river was just to my right. The long, historic bridge to Washington stretched out in front of me. And I was ready to call it a day.

The only thing was, I couldn't reach Sean by phone. A little after 6, I stopped at a gas station and got directions to Warrenton. I then biked over a beautiful bridge -- no, not the one back to Washington -- to the tiny city and rode right into downtown.

By then, it was almost 7 and I hadn't heard from Sean, so I decided to get out of the rain and walked inside Bubba's Sports Bar. And that's where I was for the next two and a half hours, watching the Trail Blazers game and indulging in the pizza buffet.

By 9:30 I was pretty worried that I'd have to find an alternative place to stay the night. The bartender helped as much as she could, dialing the local hotels for me. But one was way too expensive and I didn't get an answer from the other. She said I could ride to Fort Stevens State Park, but that was a good 4 miles north.

Riding 4 miles -- or even 2 -- at 10 didn't exactly sound pleasant to my aching legs. The idea of setting up the tent while it rained was also unappealing.

So I tried Sean one more time ... and he picked up. An incredible feeling rushed through me. I became even more excited when, upon hearing that I was at Bubba's, Sean said that he was very, very close to me.

He wasn't kidding. As it turned out, I was about six blocks from the house. It took me all of 3 minutes to reach it, and finally my day on the bike was over.

I left my ride in the garage, grabbed all my belongings and told myself there'd be no biking the next day.

We needed a break from each other.

Day 8 (April 27): Shelton, WA-Toledo, WA (almost) -- 81.1 miles biked

Miles biked: 81.1 (339.1 total)

Time on bike: 6 hours, 2 minutes, 44 seconds

Maximum speed: 29.9 mph

Roads taken: In Shelton: First, University, Pioneer Way, Lake ... Cloquallam, Stamper, in Elma: Oakhurst, F, E. Young, N. 3rd/Wakefield ... South Bank, Cemetery, Elma-Gate, US 12, in Rochester: Albany ... James, Old 9 Highway, Old 99 Highway/Harrison, in Centralia: First, Washington, Cherry, Silver, Pearl, Gold ... in Chehalis: Gold, Market ... Jackson Highway.

Places stopped: Elma gas station (for muffin, pop tarts, yogurt, a lighter for my stove and a pen for my journal), Centralia library (to finally post a sport blog), Willie's Sports in Centralia (to ask about a sleeping pad and get solid directions to a place in Chehalis), Lewis and Clark State Park (sleeping spot).

For the second consecutive day, I was blessed with relatively flat roads as I zoomed through Washington. As much as I wanted to enjoy the moment, Oregon was clearly on my mind. I could smell the salt water, could envision the 101.

I had no interest, really, in what the rest of my route in Washington offered -- which, really, wasn't anything. I was in between Mount St. Helens and other peaks (to the east) and the coast (to the west).

All I could look forward to was the next little town and the chance to pick up more food for my always active appetite.

And so I zoomed on, often averaging 15 mph or more with the wind at my back and the roads flat. There wasn't much traffic, so I listed to my iPod at a low volume and sung along with the tunes when I needed to consume myself.

One thing that struck me during this trek -- and maybe I'm just inane here -- is that small towns aren't quite as barren as I've always thought. My bike map lists the population of each town I go through, so I have an idea of what I'm going to see whenever I reach a town.

So when I rode into Elma (population 3,049), I expected hardly anything. Instead, there were a good five restaurants and dozens of stores. Not bad for such a small crowd.

And when I reached Centralia (14,742), I felt like I was biking into Ann Arbor. Store after store, restaurant after restaurant and other buildings lined the main drag. And the downtown was a happening place as well, featuring a small college in addition to a decent library and plenty of other municipal buildings.

I've never been a small-town guy, but a place like Centralia showed me that while it might not be my choice of a place to live, it's not exactly dead either.

It also features people who, obviously, have that solid small-town knowledge. So when I walked into Willie's Sports shop on Main Street inquiring about a much-needed sleeping pad, while they didn't have one they pointed me in the right direction and also helped reroute me so that I'd avoid all the back-road hills my masochistic map had planned for me.

I ended up biking a few miles to Chehalis, where I found a super-cheap sleeping pad -- $10, it fits on the bike and it should be good enough for my low-maintenance needs -- and got on the relatively flat Jackson Highway heading toward my destination for the night, Lewis and Clark State Park.

That is when the infamous Northwest weather finally hit me for the first time. It wasn't for more than about 15 minutes, but a slight drizzle started and as I gazed ahead, the clouds looked nefarious. For the first time on my trip, I had an eerie feeling about the forecast.

When I arrived at the campground, after a relatively easy 81.1 miles -- my longest day to that point -- it was empty. I didn't see a person in sight. I was about to set up my tent in an empty spot near the front of the site when I noticed a large picnic area under a canopy.

The so-called "group campsite" featured several tables, a sink and even a fireplace -- all under cover.

Thinking about those gloomy clouds and also realizing how deserted the place was, I made a smart decision -- how about that? -- and moved all my stuff under the canopy. And sure enough, about 7 minutes later the rain started ... and this time didn't stop.

With my first-ever lighter -- yes, my first in 25 years; I'm so innocent! -- I boiled some water and made some tasty ramen soup to go with a sandwich and some gorp for dessert. Then I set up my sleeping pad and sleeping bag on one of the tables and prepared to sleep AT style.

(A note for those of you unfamiliar with the AMC huts in New Hampshire's White Mountains: During the summer, when Appalachian Trail hikers are passing through, the staff members at the huts allow them to stay the night, get a couple free, hearty meals and sleep on the tables in exchange for a little work.)

Before I could go to sleep -- it was still light outside -- I came to realize what the hardest part of this trip has been so far: the nights alone. As someone very domesticated, I've come to acknowledge that spending long nights alone and somewhat in the wilderness is not easy. It's not something that comes naturally.

Wild thoughts race through the mind and falling asleep is a task in itself. And especially for me, I feel even more isolated because by 9 at night all of my friends and family -- mostly in the Midwest or on the East Coast -- are already asleep.

It's something I'm still adjusting to, but I think it'll only become easier now that I'm by the Pacific Ocean and will continue to head south to a warmer and more populated climate.

Anyway, I slept well on the table and didn't fall off. That's impressive, considering my shifting patterns while asleep.

Unfortunately, whenever I awoke I was greeted with the constant pattering of raindrops on the structure. This kept me from rising before 6 and getting on the bike as I had originally planned.

The rain was still coming down when I got up at 8...

Day 7 (April 26): Seattle, WA-Shelton, WA -- 50 miles biked

Miles biked: 50 (258 total)

Roads taken: In Seattle: Ravenna, Eastlake, Stewart, 1st, Yessler ... In Bremerton: Washington, Burwell (304), Callow, 1st (huge, steep hill), Hartford, W. Loxie Egans/W. Werner, Union ... West Belfair Valley/Old Belfair Highway, SR 3, SR 106, Trails, Mason Lake, McEwan Prairie, E. Brockdale, Northcliff, First.

Ferries taken: Seattle to Bremerton

Places stopped: Grocery store in Belfair (for bread and gummy bears), park by Mason Lake (for late lunch).

Sunday was probably the most uneventful day of my trip to that point, although my sleeping experience was far from tranquil.

I didn't wake up until 11 Sunday morning, which really wasn't too bad considering I'd been up until after 4 the previous night. Still, this left me hustling to gather all my things, pack up the bike -- this has become quite a process, which takes 10 to 15 minutes -- and speed south through Seattle to arrive in time for the 12:45 ferry back to Bremerton where I could continue my trek south.

I had to make that ferry, considering the next one wasn't until 3. After the hurried morning, I enjoyed a peaceful hour-long ferry ride, snapped a few final pictures of Seattle and prepared myself for an afternoon of riding that I wasn't exactly anticipating.

As it turned out, the riding wasn't too bad once I climbed a steeeep hill and got out of Bremerton. It was mostly flat, the weather was perfect and the going was rather easy. I stopped by Mason Lake after about 30 miles and had a relaxed lunch of PB&Js.

The unfortunate thing about the late starting time -- I didn't get off the ferry until about 2 -- was that there were no campsites I could reach for the night. Rather, I relegated myself to having to find a cheap motel.

On the one hand, I relished the idea. A hot shower, a chance to watch the NBA playoffs. But also there was the pricing. Motel people, I've found, aren't exactly sympathetic to a poor biker looking for a cheap room to stay in.

Once I rolled into my destination for the night, the small town of Shelton, I found a well-located motel on the main street and parked my bike. Despite the relatively low-key 50 miles, I had done them in a short time period and my body was stiff. I was ready for a relaxing night.

I walked inside and the sharp yapping of CNN talking heads quickly found my ears. About 2 minutes later, a heavyset man with a beard came out from behind the corner and roughly greeted me. He said I could have a room for $47.35 -- not exactly cheap, but I didn't know of any other options and it was getting late.

So I agreed, and after 10 long minutes of him filling out forms -- and saying, in response to the CNN talking heads, how what is called "torture" today is nothing -- and processing my credit card, I was finally good to go. But wait ... first he had to find me a working TV remote. That's right -- because, I surmise, he didn't trust his customers, remotes were not left in the rooms.

I could see why, after a minute, when he bitched about someone stealing a remote's batteries and replacing them with dead ones. Wow, where was I?

Anyway, as I hung out in the room watching hoops and eating some beef teriyaki from a nearby restaurant, I occasionally took a look out my window from between the shades -- and there he was, standing out by the curb smoking a pipe. His silhouette in the looming darkness almost reminded me of some kind of horror movie.

It looked as though he was eying the main drag for his next pray.

Of course, it was all silly thinking. But I guess when I'm alone and in the middle of nowhere, my mind messes with me. It also didn't help that after a quick shower, the water faucets refused to turn all the way off, leaving me to listen to an ominous dripping sound well into the night.

But I slept well, got up at 8, left the key and remote in the motel mailbox -- not exactly wanting another encounter with My Man -- and booked it out of Shelton.

No more motels for a while, I thought, as I climbed my first hill of the new day.

Day 6 (April 25): Seattle, a multicultural experience -- 22 miles biked

I biked 22 miles on Saturday, but I'm not counting them toward my trip because they didn't take me closer to my ultimate destination. Rather, they simply took me around Seattle.

And what an amazing city Seattle is.

I spent all day Saturday in the biggest city in the upper left corner of the country, and I probably could have used a few more days to explore. But that doesn't mean it wasn't a fulfilling experience.

One thing I quickly noticed about the city is how multicultural it is. Whenever I walked out the door of my friends' house just north of downtown, I'd hear several languages on the street.

The different restaurants reflected this diversity, and I got a little taste of this. On Friday night, after a long day on the bike, I was treated to the best Thai food I've ever had -- in a burrow of Seattle.

Saturday afternoon, friends Brian and Kaila took me to the International District, which includes Chinatown as well as a bunch of other countries' unofficial towns. We waited for about 45 minutes in a Chinese restaurant to hear our name called, but it was worth it when I tasted dim sum dumplings for the first time.

It was truly a unique experience, as waitresses walked down the aisles with different food items that you could choose to eat. Whenever we chose, say, the shrimp dumplings or sesame dessert one, she would take our slip of paper and mark it off.

Luckily, I wasn't by myself. Otherwise, I might have kept grabbing plates as the ladies cruised the aisle with the hot, steaming, delicious-smelling food -- and that would have resulted in a huge bill. But it was quite the experience nonetheless.

So was what we did next, when we visited the gigantic international food supermarket in the District. As we walked down aisle after aisle, I glanced at food items I had never seen -- or even heard of -- before. For every "Gatorade," there was a Japanese or Chinese energy drink. The same could be said of just about every food item.

In the vegetable section, I noticed eggplants the size of golf balls and sugar canes -- yes, all kind of sugar canes in the veggies section.

The great thing about the store was that it not only featured all the international-brand foods, but it also had your typical American foods. It could be a complete shopping experience, I figured. It could also result in very large bills at the checkout line, I realized.

That's the thing about big cities. I think it's harder to live thrifty in them because of everything that's around you, all the smells coming from different corners.

I experienced another aroma Saturday night when we ordered takeout from a local Indian restaurant right in Brian and Kaila's neighborhood. Again, it was the best Indian cuisine I've had, and coupled with Kaila's delicious fudge cookies -- I hope I got that right -- I felt heartily full and content.

It was time to burn some calories.

So Saturday night, Brian, a couple friends and I headed out to a nearby club named the Nectar to see a hip-hop group from Portugal named Buraka Som Sistema. With D.J. Sega -- a Philly man -- first throwing down some beats, a diverse crowd got into it and then the group came on stage and the place went nuts.

Everyone was dancing and jiving to their words (there were two main singers and then a woman who made intermittent appearances) and music -- there was also a drummer and two other sound guys -- for a good hour and a half. It was the coolest, hippest performance I've seen in quite a while.

And it didn't end there. Later that night, the group and Sega hosted an after party in the International District inside what I deduced must be a shirt-making factory. It took us a while to find the place, but finally we did and we grooved to Sega's beats for a little while longer.

It capped off a great weekend in Seattle, which also included my Saturday afternoon/evening bike ride. One thing I love about the city is how biker-friendly it is. There are bicycle lanes everywhere, and drivers are very happy to make room for bikers and show that they care about sharing the road.

This made it easy for me to ride all over the city, exploring a little bit of downtown and then heading to the northwest section over the Fremont Bridge and then all the way to Golden Gardens Park along the Sound. I chilled there for a good half hour, watching all the activity as people grilled out and just relaxed on the beach.

Then I climbed one of Seattle's many hills and made a peaceful, but long, journey on 77nth Street all the way back to my temporary residence by one of Seattle's handful of lakes, Green Lake. I was never worried about coming to an intersection I couldn't cross.

I didn't experience all of Seattle -- not even close. Heck, I didn't even get to a baseball game (the Mariners were away).

But the city I saw was all I expected, a place I could certainly see myself in -- both as a visitor or as a resident.

Day 5 (April 24): Coupeville, WA-Seattle, WA -- 69.7 miles biked

Miles biked: 69.7 (208 total)

Time on bike: 6 hours, 35 minutes, 8 seconds

Maximum speed: 29.2 mph

Roads taken (besides the ones on which I got lost): North Main, Engle, Water, Sims, SR 20, SR 19, Irondale, Flagler/Oak Bay, Paradise Bay, SR 104 (Hood Canal Bridge), SR 3, Lofall, Pioneer Way NW/Clear Creek/Kitsap Mall, several Seattle streets.

Ferries taken: Whidbey Island-Port Townsend, Bremerton-Seattle.

Places stopped: Port Haddock (for sausage breakfast sandwich), Silverdale (to eat ice cream before it melted and blog at library), park before Bremerton (to eat lunch and try to get refund from UPS for overcharging on shipping the bike; no luck).

Friday was a very active day for me on the bike. It began at 5:20 a.m., when I woke up at Janet's house and we drove back to Coupeville. This was because I had to catch the 7:15 ferry from Whidbey Island to Port Townsend, otherwise I'd have to wait until the next one at 10:15. That would make it very difficult to make it to Seattle before dusk.

Of course, I held up my reputation for cutting things close. I took too long putting all my gear on the bike once we reached Janet's Coupeville office, and after a quick bowl of oatmeal I had just 25 minutes to bike 4.3 miles to the ferry.

I don't know if I've ever pushed myself so hard on a bike for that many miles. The entire time I kept scolding myself, thinking that I'd miss the ferry and end up sitting around for 3 hours doing nothing. Thankfully, I zoomed into the ferry station with about 5 minutes to spare and was quickly on my way to Port Townsend.

It was absolutely freezing, with temperatures in the mid-30s -- not exactly ideal biking weather. But once I got off the boat, I was anxious to get my long day of riding going. I estimated that it'd take about 58.6 miles to reach the Bremerton ferry to Seattle. Then, after an hour ferry ride, I'd have about 6 more miles of riding in downtown to reach the house where I'd be staying. I wanted to get there, easily, before dark.

So I pushed and pushed, stopping only for a couple minutes in Port Haddock to grab a sausage breakfast sandwich. I absolutely cruised through 8.5 miles on Oak Bay Road and was making great time. I'd lower my hands into the drops, lean forward under any wind resistance and eye the road ahead of me. I was probably averaging 16 or 17 mph.

Then I took a left on Paradise Bay Road. Sounds innocuous enough, right? Yeah, right. For most of 6 long miles, all I did was climb huge hill after huge hill. Occasionally, I'd get a glimpse of the bay down to my left, but mostly I was busy pedaling away while in first gear, moving at about 4.8 mph. It was a bitch, no doubt, and my lower back certainly didn't appreciate it.

Finally, upon exiting the oh-so-voluptuous road, I had to cross the Hood Canal Bridge over the -- you guessed it -- Hood Canal. One thing I've quickly learned on this trip is that when you're on a bike, bridges seem way, way longer than when you're comfortably sitting in your typical Ford Focus.

Such was the case on the Hood Canal Bridge. It was only about a mile, but for probably a good 6 minutes I was sweating as I navigated a basically nonexistent shoulder while semi trucks zoomed by me -- without much room to spare. I couldn't afford to move right, either, because I'd hit the railing and then who knows. With my feet clamped into the pedals, it could have spelled a disaster.

Anyway, I was very relieved to finally reach the other end. Biking alongside motor vehicles on bridges -- not exactly a soothing experience.

Still, despite the Paradise Bay and bridge experiences, I was making excellent time -- I had 30 miles completed by about 11 -- and had my eyes set on catching the 3 p.m. or 4:15 ferry. That way, I figured, I could reach Seattle in the mid-afternoon, bike to the house and even watch the end of the Pistons-Cavs game if I so dreaded.

I kept that thinking all the way to Bremerton. That's when I stopped at a fishing dock-type park just minutes from the city. I finally allowed myself to scarf down two PB&Js for lunch and some gorp -- damn, I love gorp; already two bags consumed on the trip -- and then I thought, "Hey, I've got some time. Why not call UPS and try to get a refund on the extra $157.60 I was charged for shipping the bike to Canada?"

Bad idea. After two calls and about 27 minutes, I got nowhere. That money, almost certainly, is gone.

Oh, well. I got a chance to rest the legs...

But the thing is, I've noticed that my legs and knees usually feel sorest after a respite. And that's exactly how they felt as I rounded the corner after the park and saw, directly in front of me, a steep, steep hill. "Quite a hill," I exhaled to a runner who smiled as he ran down it. Lucky dude. Still, I figured that once I reached the top, I'd see the small city of Bremerton stretched out before me and a sight line to the ferry.

I couldn't have been more wrong. At the peak of the crest, I saw no sign of water of a ferry. At that point, I had about 45 minutes to make the 4:15 boat to Seattle. I figured I had about 3 miles of riding, mostly downhill.

Maybe I should have given myself an hour or more, because I quickly lost my route. Then I spent the next half hour asking about four people for directions to the ferry, biking down a hill and then back up it -- and, yep, it was huge -- and having to take a detour to finally get down to the ferry station...

Five minutes too late.

It was probably the worst 50 minutes, thus far, of the trip. I was riding mostly uphill on congested roads, not getting anywhere while constantly looking out for cars passing right by me. It definitely told me that from now on, no matter how big the city I'm going to make sure I follow the directions to a "T."

Anyway, I pulled the bike into a local watering hole and watched the second quarter of the Pistons game before heading down to catch the ferry.

And while I hadn't taken a single picture all day -- there really wasn't much to look at -- I took several during the hour ride to Seattle. There, to the south, sat beautiful and imposing Mt. Rainier, all 14,411 feet of it. The mountain looks even bigger than it is because it's not surrounded by much of anything. It completely stands out like a huge white mound.

Then we neared the city, and I snapped some more pictures of the skyline. A man pointed out to me that a medium-sized building used to be, not too long ago, the tallest structure in the city. Now there are a few taller skyscrapers, such as the tallest 76-story Columbia Tower, but the city didn't strike me as huge or intimidating.

I felt that same way once I rode off the ferry and hit the city streets to try to find the house Janet and others share. I got lost a few times, but I eventually came upon it tucked into a quiet, cozy neighborhood in the north part of the city by the University of Washington. Many of the streets I rode on were biker-friendly.

Now, today, I'll probably take a day off from the bike and explore the city, more or less, on foot. Plenty to do, plenty to see. Should be a busy Saturday.

Oh, and the Thai food here is tremendous. At least the restaurant I went to last night with friends. Best Thai I've ever had for a very reasonable price.

Until next time, peace.

Day 4 (April 23): Deception Pass, WA-Coupeville WA -- 22.5 miles biked

Miles biked: 22.5 (138.3 total)

Roads taken: SR 20, Ducken, Monkey Hill, SR 20, Ault Field, Clover Valley, Golf Course, Crosby, West Beach (huge hills to climb, not much beach), Libbey, SR 20, Madrona Way, N. Main (Coupeville).

Places stopped: Didn't really stop until Coupeville, where I got a ravishing steak gyro and potato salad for lunch.

Thursday was an easy day on the bike. I slept in and didn't get going until after 10. (I've found that it takes me about 1.5 hours to get a quick breakfast and break camp before hitting the road.)

It wasn't an easy short ride, however. Once I reached the beautiful West Beach Road, I thought I was in paradise. I stopped at the base of a nice slope, sat on a rock and ate some gorp as I gazed into the beautiful expanse of water in front of me with the sun high in the sky.

Then I got back on the bike, looked ahead, and saw the steepest, longest hill I'd encountered to that point on my journey. I huffed and puffed my way up the beast, going through a full two songs on my iPod -- about 4-minute tracks -- and staying in my lowest gear the entire way up. When I reached the top, I had to take a picture to document my climb.

However, all I could see, over a little dip, was the blue of the bay below. That, to me, spoke of how sheer the ascent had been.

That wasn't the only hill I came upon during my 7 miles on West Beach Road. It, like a lot of bayside roads -- I've figured out -- is very hilly. Of course, I get rewarded with plenty of descents.

But get this! The ascents takes a lot longer and hurt my back more than the descents. Go figure.

Anyway, I've definitely determined that with the load on my bike -- especially on the rear --my only real option when climbing hills is to get into one of my lowest gears, get down in the drops and just slowly climb. Standing up is akin to torture.

Oh, I'm also pretty sure that one thing I won't do on this trip is the Lost Coast alternate in California, which features something like 8,500 feet of climbing within 60 or 70 miles. Don't know if my back could take that.

What my back could take, however, was my relaxing Thursday afternoon. In Coupeville, I met up with my Dad's old friend, Janet, and we took the bus about 50 minutes south to the southern tip of the very vertical island. Janet and her husband have a house in an amazing location, overlooking the bay and Puget Sound and with a very clear view of the Olympic Mountains -- right out of her living room windows.

In the late afternoon, we took her kayak out in the little inlet that leads out to the bay. It was nice to get an upper-body workout after all the biking I'd done, and gazing up at the snow-capped mountains wasn't bad either.

She then treated me to a great, huge dinner -- a nice break from my back-to-back days of PB&J sandwiches -- and I got the perfect seat at the dining room table to gaze out as the sun set over the mountains. Janet said that the sight never gets old. I believe that big-time.

And in the near future, I'm definitely coming back here in July or August to hike the range when the snow is gone. It looks like there could be some great ridge-hiking opportunities there.

I capped off my night by sleeping in a bed directly adjacent to the living-room window, looking out at the hundreds of stars over the bay. Sadly, I had to wake up at5:20 to get a ride from Janet back to Coupeville so I could catch the 7:15 ferry to Port Townsend.

But there was plenty of incentive. As I write this from the Silverdale Library, I'm just about 10 miles from taking another ferry from Bremerton to Seattle and spending at least one night there in the house that Janet, her husband, daughter and others share just north of downtown.

Can't wait. More blogs and pictures later.

Until then, peace.

Pictures are up ... at least a few

I'm having picture problems, folks. That's why you don't see any yet on facebook and just my Vancouver ones on Picassa. What can I say? I'm more a bicyclist than a computer guru.

Anyway, check out a select group of Vancouver shots: http://picasaweb.google.com/jakeblloyd

Day 3 (April 22): Birch Bay, WA-Deception Pass, WA -- 65 miles biked

(Picture is at the incredible Deception Pass bridge -- keep reading to find out more).

**Note: This post is taken right from my written journal, which is much briefer than what I usually write here. But it's 10:06 p.m., and I'm looking at a 5:20 a.m. wake-up call so my dad's old friend Janet can drive me to Coupville, here on Whidbey Island, from where I'll bike 5 miles to catch the 7:15 ferry over to Port Townsend...

Anyway, yeah, big day tomorrow. I anticipate riding over 60 miles and eventually catching the Bremarton ferry over to Seattle to spend a couple nights in the city. But let's not get ahead of ourselves -- as we all know, I could get hit by a bus and die on impact (my apologies for the vague "Happy Gilmore" reference).

Day 3...

Miles biked: 65 (115.8 total)

Roads taken: Grandview, Kickerville, Rainbow, Mountain View (became Main Street in Ferndale), Barret/Pacific Highway, W. Bakerview... in Bellingham: Maplewood, Northwest/Elm/Dupont/Prospect, Chestnut... bike path (recommended by bike store employee, Colin), Chuckanut (very hilly), Bow Hill, Bay View Edison, Padilla Bay Trail, Bay View Edison, 20 SR (highway), March Point, 20 SR (tiny, scary shoulders, but passed over the beautiful Deception Pass bridge), camp...

Places stopped: Bellingham Rite Aid (to buy cheap gorp and gummy bears!); Bellingham Library (to do my blogging); Bellingham bike store (to buy good sunglasses and get directions); Farm to Market Bakery in Edison (absolutely delectable ham sandwich with the works), Deception Pass state park (for the night).

Today was quite a trek. I started out at Birch Bay, climbed several hills and now find myself at the cold Deception Pass state park campground. They really make you earn the campsite, as I had to climb my biggest hill of a hilly day just to get here. I also went down a big hill, which will kill me in the morning.

Oh, well. As I was telling myself earlier, there are always gonna be tough times on trips like these. But usually they are rewarded with amazing views. Such was the case today when I climbed several hills to reach the Pass. There I went over a bridge that was just extraordinary.

It had to be a couple hundred feet tall and both sides looked out on huge bodies of water spanning the horizon. after biking it I also walked on the sidewalk by the railing (like all the driver tourists). Quite exciting.

After that I climbed a long, long 0.4 miles (by foot) to "Goose Rock," which was a nice, little summit overlooking the bays beneath. I actually considered going back to my bike, locking it up, and lugging up my gear to camp on top of the summit. But you never know what might happen in the middle of the night at a place with that sort of name. I also harbored lingering hope that I'd find a food joint before the campground and not have to eat PB&Js for a second night in a row (of course, my optimism was quickly doused).

The one problem I continued to have today was with my peddle clips. I continually struggled to get my right shoe out of the clip when approaching intersections. But, luckily, I avoided any big falls or catastrophes -- despite the dangerous, no-shoulder approach to the Pass on SR 20 -- and concluded a fairly long day on the bike by resting peacefully on a picnic bench by the water.

I then crawled into my tent, finished this entry and I was out.

I slept well, unlike the previous night, probably because I was layered up -- biking shirt, T-shirt, long-sleeves shirt, fleece, windbreaker, raincoat and a hat and wool socks.

Anyway, Thursday night -- tonight -- I'm staying in a comfy bed here at Janet's place, and Friday and Saturday I'll be in another comfy bed or couch in Seattle (Janet shares a place with others -- mostly young folk -- there). So no more camping for a couple nights.

But plenty of biking Friday.

Just remember: If you're ever in Edison, WA, don't miss the Farm to Market Bakery. Very delectable.

Day 2 (April 21): Vancouver, B.C.-Birch Bay, WA -- 50.8 miles biked

(Picture was taken at Birch Bay State Park campground, looking out on Birch Bay).

I'm gonna make this quick, because I have to get back on the road here (it's 12:21 p.m. PST here in Bellingham, WA).

Anyway, I finally put all the anticipation aside and got on the road yesterday. After getting my bike and attaching my four saddle bags, sleeping bag and other accessories (always a fun chore), I peaced out from the Vancouver bike store around 11:15 or so.

The first 8 or 9 miles through suburban Vancouver were great. I biked mostly on side streets, which were extremely quiet and empty. I didn't feel like I was in a big city at all. Then, however, things started to get a bit crazy. First I had to cross a long bridge on the left-hand sidewalk, which brought plenty of wind in my face. Still needing to pick up some biking sunglasses, this wasn't the easiest task.

When I got off the bridge, I had to do some maneuvering to get back on my route -- the maps are good, but not perfect. I then had another 6 or 7 peaceful miles before I had to cross an even bigger bridge, the Alex Frasor. Before doing this, however, I had to find the entrance to it. Luckily, I ran into a pair of very friendly middle-aged bikers, Ernie and Mariette.

They pointed me in the right direction and then headed that way themselves. I followed them and caught up to them at one point -- still before the bridge -- when I was slowly grinding my way to the stop sign. And at this point came my first embarrassing miscue. As I slowed and biked over tricky slabs of rock, I tried to remove my right shoe from the clip on my peddle, but it wouldn't budge.

And with nowhere to go forward, just like that I hit the ground -- me and then the bike on top of me. It didn't hurt one bit, but it was downright silly. Ernie helped me up, though, and then suggested a different route I could take with them that would be about the same distance and would be mostly on small bike paths. I wasn't saying no.

I biked with Ernie and Mariette for about 15 miles, mostly on paths that were more suited for mountain bikes but weren't rocky enough that I was worried about my touring 520. It was a relaxing, if not bumpy, ride that I enjoyed, especially since I had company.

They then took me out to the main road and made sure I knew where I was going before leaving to head back to their suburban Vancouver home.

From there, it was mostly a breeze to the Canada-U.S. border. I biked on main, two-lane roads, but they all had sizable shoulders. They were a little hilly, but I didn't encounter much wind resistance. Once I reached the border at Blaine, WA, I waited in line behind a car until I figured out -- because a guy pointed at me -- that I needed to go inside to clear customs. Another opportunity to show off my naivete, I thought.

The customs people inside were the nicest U.S. customs people I've ever encountered, although this might have just been because they thought I was crazy for going all the way to San Diego. Whatever the case, I was quickly on my way and back in the U.S. I know this sounds silly, but I actually felt relieved to be back in the country. It wasn't anything against Canada, but it felt like a milestone during my trip -- which, of course, is absolutely ludicrous.

Anyway, I biked about another 10 miles in the U.S. until I got to absolutely beautiful Birch Bay. The small town sits right on the bay leading out to the Strait of Georgia. I got my stuff set up at the Birch Bay State Park campground, ate a few PB&Js (I know, classy meal) and then headed down to the water for the sunset.

The water, at least by my standards, wasn't that chilly. If I was in the mood, I probably could have swam for a few minutes. I'll probably do that before I abandon all the fresh water I'll encounter here in Washington before heading west to the Oregon border and the Pacific.

Anyway, everything is good so far except for these damn shoe clips. I find it constantly difficult to remove my shoe from the clip upon having to stop. And twice, already, I've forgotten my left foot was clipped in after stopping and semi-fallen down! Oh, well. I only have a minor scrape on the left knee to show for it. I'm sure I'll learn. It's only Day 3.

OK, time to move on toward Deception Pass State Park, my destination this evening. Got another 30 to 40 miles before then.

I'm staying with a friend tomorrow night on Whidbey Island, which should give me the chance to post pictures as well as blog.

Until then, peace.

Day 1 (April 20): Raleigh, NC-Vancouver, BC -- 0 miles biked

**Picture looks out on beautiful English Bay.

(Posted Wednesday from the Bellingham, WA, library; written Monday night before the Internet died at hostel).

Well, a long first day is finally coming to an end -- and I haven't even hopped on the bike yet. That will start tomorrow morning, when I pick it up from the bike store here, load it up with all my gear, ditch the suitcase currently stuffed with all my gear and figure out where the heck I'm headed...

Anyway, let me first look back...

I flew out of Raleigh around 6:30 a.m. EST this morning -- seems like ages ago. After an uneventful flight to Newark, I had a quick enough changeover so that I didn't have to wait to hop onto the next plane to Seattle. That was a long, long fight -- over 5 hours -- but it was split up by a half-decent breakfast, and once we got within 30 minutes or so of the airport, I opened up my window (not literally) and...

What a picturesque landscape. There were snow-capped mountains everywhere my eyes veered. One after another. I later deduced that we were flying over Eastern Washington, but in the moment I just enjoyed looking at scenery I had never really seen. The best part about it were the three or four peaks that loomed above the others, really giving you the sense that they were big, intimidating peaks. It was a sight to behold.

Then, once we were coming in for our landing, the beautiful, unique (and huge) Mt. Rainer stood out in front of us. For a moment I envied the pilots who get to see such sights every time they fly out west.

Anyway, I put those sights in my memory bank, knowing I'll likely have similar views when I reach Seattle within the week, and prepared for the final leg of my journey -- a short flight up to Vancouver. Of course, our plane was delayed by about an hour (when doesn't that happen for a simple, 30-minute flight?). But once we boarded, it was an entertaining half hour, made all the better by our happy, happy stewardess who made sure to tell us that she was from "beautiful Vancouver" and that we'd all love it. I believed her.

And she was right. But first, I had to meet the first character of my 1,900-mile journey.

As I was trying to figure out what bus to catch to get downtown where I could find a hostel at which to bunk up for the night, a middle-aged man came up and volunteered his services. And he was a true case of "don't let looks deceive."

The guy had one tooth -- one -- and it was closer to yellow than white. Not only that, but as we were waiting for the bus he pulled out a pint of Bacardi rum and asked the gentlemen around him if they had anything to mix it with. And this was at 3 in the afternoon. Not only that, but he took a swig or two of the rum once we got on the bus.

But he was extremely nice, helpful and informative. He told me he'd lived in the city for 55 years, and he knew everything about it. On the 30-minute bus ride, he told me all about his family and threw in an entertaining story to pass the time. Then we got off after crossing the Granville Street bridge, and he led me three blocks in the direction of the Samesun Hostel. We then parted ways, and I thanked him. Good man, good man. Just really bad teeth (or lack thereof).

After checking into the Samesun (which is where I'm typing this), I decided to take advantage of the remainder of the afternoon by walking down toward Stanley Park on the West side of the city. I'm not known for making good decisions, but this one held up. I knew this as soon as I descended the stairs to English Bay.

There, in front of me, was a large body of water that looked like it led out to the Pacific ocean. In reality, I was just looking at the Burrard Inlet and the Straight of Georgia. No difference. I peered out over some huge water vessels and a sun high in the sky that just didn't seem to belong in, well, the Northwest. I'm not a big sun guy, but I accepted it on this unusually warm April day (I just wore my polo shirt and jeans).

And I took in an amazing atmosphere. There were numerous paths along the bay that led toward Stanly Park at the north tip of the West End. And people made sure to occupy. People of all kinds. Runners, bikers, rollerbladers, dog walkers, walkers with their dogs (off the leash)... They all made sure to frequent the path.

But the coolest thing I noticed right away was the beach setup. It wasn't exactly a swimming beach to my left, but it was a nice place to chill. And in another example of Canadians being ahead of the times, there were huge logs laying all over the beach that made perfect benches to sit on or lean up against (I guess the huge trees up here help, as well). This was evidenced by the fact that there were hundreds of people who did just this. I can't believe I've never seen such a setup before.

So I walked a few good miles north until I got to Stanley Park, which is huge. If I had my bike, I might have been able to see the entire park. Instead, I simply took a trail through the Lost Lagoon, which was a pretty cool nature walk that featured plenty of wildlife. I saw plenty of swans, ducks and on two logs in the lagoon, there were groups of turtles just hanging out. Don't see that in North Carolina. I also saw a raccoon on the opposite bank.

What stood out to me was how well nature is integrated into the city of Vancouver. One minute, you're walking among large buildings. The next you're walking next to a peaceful lagoon.

Another cool aspect of the beach atmosphere: People played all kinds of sports, including soccer on the beach, hacky sack, roller hockey in a little cordoned off area -- there was even a kid and his dad throwing a softball. Oh, and there were about 16 public tennis courts open to anyone. I could see myself living around there.

On my way back to the hostel, starving and about to get sushi from one of the 27 sushi joints I saw -- sushi is super cheap and good here -- I ran into the second interesting character of the day. After a minute of chatting, it was pretty clear from his voice that he was gay. Vancouver has a very thriving gay population and is an open-minded community as a whole, another positive about the city.

The man was extremely friendly and gave me some advice on the city after jokingly calling me crazy for doing the bike trip. We then parted ways, and I headed for my sushi.

A funny thing for me -- when I got back to the hostel, it was only 8:30 p.m., but I noticed that almost all the sports games for the night were over. That's gonna be a huge adjustment for me -- but a good thing. Sports will be over out here, almost always, by 10 at night. That should lend itself to an early schedule. It's also a huge adjustment just knowing that games on the East coast come on at 4 here. Crazy.

And once I reach the U.S. tomorrow, they'll start (I think) showing hoops instead of hockey -- which is certainly the case up here.

Anyway, Internet's about to run out on me.

Until next time, peace...

Pictures to come.

Welcome to the West Coast bike trip blog

Hey everybody,
So the last couple weeks have seemed like six years — or something like that — but finally I am just hours away from hopping on three planes (that's right: first to Newark, then Seattle and finally Vancouver) and starting off my West Coast bike trip.

I will arrive in the beautiful Canadian outpost of Vancouver Monday afternoon around 2 PST, giving me an afternoon to hopefully pick up my bike from the store I shipped it to and do some exploring in the city. It's possible, however, that my ride will not be put together by the time I touch down. It's looking like it'll get to the store tomorrow, and I don't know how long it'll take the friendly staff there to put it back together (and, c'mon, I might be a biker, but I have no idea how to correctly assemble one).

So we'll see. Either way, I plan on staying in the city tomorrow night. I haven't made any concrete plans, but I think at this point I'll just find a cheap hostel and shack up there. I had considered using the Web site http://www.couchsurfing.com/ — a sweet site, which Mom pointed out to me — to find someone to stay with, but at this point it's probably too late. No worries. I'll be sure to utilize the site in other cities, such as Seattle.

As far as the grand plan is concerned, I am flying back from San Diego on the night of June 15, so that gives me nearly two months to bike the approximately 1,900 miles. Of course, I want to get to SD prior to that, giving myself a few days to hang out in the city — where I have a place to stay also.

So I'm banking on arriving there around June 10. Also, in mid-May Dad is coming out to Arcata in Northern California for three days of hiking. And, I'm sure, I'll spend some other days hanging out in different locations — for instance, I have a friend in the San Francisco area.

So I'm figuring on about 42 days of riding. Doing the math, side trips aside, that means averaging 45 miles a day. That shouldn't be a problem. There are some days, I'm sure, when I'll ride close to 100 miles in easy conditions. And, of course, there will be some days, especially in Northern Cali, when pumping out 30 miles over hundreds of hills will be quite the task. Everything will average out.

But overall, I like the timetable I'm giving myself. I think it'll be just right, not rushing me at all and at the same time not making me think that I'm going too fast — not that spending two weeks in SD would be a bad thing.

Anyway, that's about it. I've got to make a few final preparations here today, completely empty my room in the apartment, drop my bike and this laptop over at my aunt and uncle's house, and then I'll crash and prepare for the bevy of flights tomorrow.

If anyone is going to be out on the West Coast or wants to meet up during the trip, here are approximate dates:

April 25-26: Seattle
May 1: Astoria, OR
May 14: Crescent City, CA
May 16-20: Arcata, CA area (with Dad)
May 27-28: San Francisco
June 3: Santa Barbara
June 5-7: Los Angeles area
June 10-15: San Diego area

One final note: I'll post all my pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/jakeblloyd. As far as this blog, I won't have computer access every night — I'll do my share of camping — but I'd say that I'll probably post on this at least a couple times a week. So keep coming back

Peace,
Jake
PS — Besides commenting on this blog, you can reach me intermittently by e-mail at jakeblloyd@gmail.com