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.
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