Riding the Rails

“All Aboard!” Yes, they really do say it. This was the first station where we were allowed to get off the train and stretch our legs. We were surprised at how warm it was outside, despite it being early evening. Parents chased little kids around to get the wiggles out. Some used the stop for a nicotine hit. Others like us just took advantage of the chance to get some fresh air. We suspected that the conductor got a kick out of delivering his time honored sing-songy signal, but he meant business. Within minutes we were rolling again.

We were on Amtrak's Empire Builder. The final leg to complete our circle back to the car was a train ride from Seattle to Whitefish, Montana. Amtrak's bicycle-friendly luggage policy made our one-way bike tour feasible, as well as providing an enjoyable journey. It became part of the overall experience.

At only $10 apiece to check our bikes, Amtrak was a bargain. It did, however, require some preparation. Stephanie was kind enough to scour the local bike shops to secure boxes ahead of time for us. Guided by Scott's expertise, Rich disassembled and packed each bike securely for the trip. With that, it was a no-hassle check-in at Amtrak. Next year it will get even better. Amtrak has committed to providing new roll-on baggage cars for bikes on all their long-haul trains.

The east-bound trip leaves in the early afternoon, which allowed plenty of daylight to see our way through the Cascade Mountains. With bright sunshine illuminating the fall colors, it was worth watching the scenery roll by. In contrast to airlines, the seats were well spaced and included footrests, and were very comfortable for sitting. Not so much for sleeping. Still, it was a smooth ride and nice to leave the driving and navigating to someone else for the duration.

Arriving in Whitefish at 5:30am, we felt fortunate to be only an hour late. The west-bound train was already nine hours overdue. The oil boom in North Dakota has wreaked havoc with Amtrak's schedules, taking priority on the tracks.

Our bikes arrived in perfect condition and Rich made quick work of putting them back together. Already the loaded bike felt foreign under me as we set off for the nearest café. Although folks still saw us as touring cyclists, we had to admit the sad truth that we would cycle only four miles before surrendering the bikes to the car. But still it was nice to pretend. Our riding is taking a different form these days.

 

Seattle by Foot

Our bikes were safely stashed in the basement. With the tour officially completed, and the steep hills throughout Seattle, I felt justified in trading my cycling shoes for my only other pair of footwear. My Keens sandals just became walking shoes.

Our good weather fortune followed us to Seattle, gracing us with clear blue skies and days reaching the 70s. I shuddered to think that the temperatures back home were stuck in the 40s as I enjoyed two days of lovely warm sunshine.

Our cycling friends, Stephanie and Scott, took us under their wing and pampered us with good company, excellent food and welcoming surroundings. We immediately agreed to their proposal to attend the pancake breakfast at the Swedish Institute. Filling ourselves on light rolled pancakes smothered in lingonberries to the accompaniment of accordion music, we were fascinated by the stories of a young family that had just returned from a year traveling around the world. Our mere month on the road paled in comparison.

We'd been in Seattle several times before, but that still left plenty to explore. The eclectic area of Freemont was just across the bridge, and provided a fun place to walk. It was also a convenient location to meet a friend for coffee, where I marveled at the artistic prowess of the local baristas. Seattle is a coffee Mecca.

Rich was content to adhere to having a rest day, but that term is not part of my vocabulary. So I ventured out on my own walking tour. I thoroughly enjoyed the Queen Anne area where our friends live. It was alive with ethnic restaurants, boutiques, outdoor cafés and of course coffee shops which attracted all manner of customers. People watching at its best.

I made my way down to Seattle Center, which I'd actually never seen before. It was pulsing with activity, largely populated by families. The sunny day seemed to bring out the joy in everyone, particularly those who were playing tag with the ever-changing patterns of water in the huge fountain. And of course, the Space Needle presided over everything.

It was inevitable that I would make my way to Pike Place Market. A lover of farmers' markets, I can't resist the sights, sounds and smells of the vendor displays vying for attention in that vibrant space. The ethnic shops surrounding the market are also a draw, offering so many options to tempt the palate and specialty goods to meet any niche need. Pike Place has always been a favorite of mine.

While my bike rested, my feet got a workout. And I covered just a little more of Seattle's bounty of offerings. It was a good trade off.

 

The Last Few Miles

At the Finish: 30 days, 1,408 miles

All good things must come to an end. Including our Glaciers to the Sea cycling tour. Interestingly enough, there seems to be a pattern to the final day of our long cycling trips. Last year, we completed the Grand Gaspé Tour with a 9 mile day. This year we topped that with cycling 11 miles to reach the finish line. And we added a bit of a twist to our finale.

After a hilly ride yesterday and a particularly steep incline to reach our host home, we were relieved to coast downhill a short three miles to the waterfront in Bremerton. In that distance, we passed the 1,400 mile mark for our trip! At the water's edge we took time to enjoy the Harborside Fountain Park. It is a unique tribute to the US submarine forces, with fountains that look like the fantail of a submarine. We thought they were cool enough with the water cascading down them, but soon found that they spouted out of the tops as well.

Our real purpose, however, was to take the ferry over to Seattle. Being cyclists afforded us the privilege of boarding first. We quickly headed out to the bow of the boat where we could take in the sights. The initial passageways were narrow and scenic, and it was comfortable outside watching the world slide by. Once we reached the larger bay it became windier and chillier, and we retreated behind windows where it was more comfortable.

Docking in Seattle, we were met by our friends Stephanie and Scott. They arrived on bicycle, and we cycled the final 8 miles of our trip together. It was a pleasure to have someone else to lead the way, and most of it was on bike trails. With no hills.

Arriving at their house meant the end of the trip. It should have felt like a momentous moment. But somehow it was all lost on me. I didn't feel a sense of accomplishment, relief or celebration as I dismounted my bike. It felt like any other time I got off my bike and removed my panniers for the day. We were already deep in conversation with Stephanie and Scott and eager to see their new house. After all, they had been our Warm Showers guests last summer as they cycled their way across the country. So it felt a natural and fitting finish to our ride.

We left the Glaciers a month ago, and made it to the Sea. All our miles are behind us. At least for now.

 

Circling the Sound

I'd never realized before just how extensive and meandering Puget Sound is. It's long and sinewy fingers stretch well inland, creating endless miles of coastline. We enjoyed exploring quite a few of them.

Our first introduction was in Olympia. We had the luxury of a rest day there spent with my good friend, Anne, who shared her favorite outdoor haunts with us. Blessed with sunny calm weather, we happily traded our bikes for walking and enjoying nature.

Exploring the restored delta on the boardwalk at the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge.

Lunch and a colorful eyeful at the Olympia Farmers' Market

Walking the beach at Priest Point Park

Beautiful wooded trails in Priest Point Park

We were advised that the best bicycle route into Seattle was not the direct one. It took a full day of cycling to circle around to Bremerton, on the western side of the Sound. But it was far more pleasant and less stressful then trying to navigate through a busy metropolitan area. Every time we had a scenic view of water, it turned out to be another bit of the Sound. The sight varied greatly depending on the status of the tide and the nature of the shoreline. It could never be tiresome.

Stopping for a mid-day break on the fishing pier in Allyn

Our Warm Showers hosts in Bremerton had a beautiful home with a wonderful view of Kitsap Lake. Although not part of the Sound, its waters eventually drain there. The unseasonably warm weather provided a fine opportunity to hang out on the deck to enjoy the view, including the Cascade Mountains in the distance.

Lake Kitsap and the Cascade Mountains

A beautiful sunset over the lake

Tomorrow we will complete our circuit of Puget Sound, as well as our trip. Since we didn't do a circle route this time, let's just say we are about to come full cycle.

 

Counting Down

No matter how long the trip, when we get near the end I am reluctant to let go. We have our daily cycling down to a well tuned routine, and it feels good. My body is strong and I love pressing through each day's miles. The simplicity of life on the road appeals to me. And I admit that I enjoy being able to eat the large quantities of food to takes to fuel all that cycling.

Even after coming through a full day of rain, I want to keep going. The cold, wet clammy clothes are already a distant memory, as is the damp smell as we aired out the ziplock bags holding all our belongings in the motel room.

Setting off this morning amidst the remaining puddles, the fog was just lifting and we had no idea that we'd spend the entire day under clear blue skies and sunshine. I'm going to miss those miracles of nature that mean so much in the life of a touring cyclist.

It's time to start savoring the lasts. This is the last night we stay in a motel. Our last Warm Showers hosts. The last of my peanutbutter, as its tube grows thin. The last of the countryside before heading into the greater Seattle area. The last time we wash our clothes in the sink. Okay, so maybe “savor” doesn't apply to them all.

For weeks, I've marveled at all the little drive-up espresso booths we see everywhere, even in the smallest of towns. I've been itching to ride through one on my bike. With time dwindling, I took the opportunity today. “A medium skim latte, please.” An excellent morning caffeine fix.

I said goodbye to the coast today. How I've enjoyed it's views, it's waves, it's rocky coastline and beaches. I love cycling along water. It must come from growing up on Lake Superior. Turning inland was a clear sign of reaching the end.

Progress to date: 26 days, 1,293 miles

We have almost 1,300 miles behind us, and just two full days of cycling left to go. It's no coincidence that this evening's dinner conversation focused on ideas and options for our next big cycling trip. It's easier to let go knowing there are more destinations in store for us. Just barely. It's better than focusing on the countdown.

 

 

It’s all about the People

The bistro was bustling and crowded. It was peak Sunday breakfast time, and we vied for a table with the locals in Astoria after cycling our first 18 miles for the day. Glancing out the door, I noticed another cycling couple locking their bikes out front. It didn't take long before we were making introductions and comparing cycling notes. Nabbing an outdoor table that had just come free, we invited our new friends to join us. Thus started our most enjoyable meal yet.

We instantly connected with Sue and Ron, who were traveling down the West Coast. Like us, they've been on the road for about three weeks, but they have a lot farther to go than we do. Advice, ideas, recommendations and observations flew in rapid succession across the breakfast table. It was so easy to relate to their experiences, and a treat to talk to folks who knew what we were doing and “got it.” I know my French toast with boysenberries was ample and delicious, but hardly remember downing every morsel. We lingered long, enjoying the beautiful morning and especially each other's company. Parting with contact information, we left savoring our fun morning.

Mom was to be our next social encounter. The Astoria Bridge is renowned among cyclists for its height, steepness, winds, heavy traffic and lack of shoulders. While many discount it's dangers, we'd read enough warnings on Crazy Guy on a Bike to make us wary. I for one flatly refused to even consider cycling over it. That's where Mom came in. Rich had the brilliant idea of using a cab to take us over the bridge. Sure enough, Mom's Taxi Service was more than happy to ferry us and our bikes across the bridge. It was Mom herself who drove the minivan cab, and was very pleasant. She had, in fact, just bought a tandem bike to ride with her husband. Best $22 we spent on the whole trip.

Our mileage was only 37 miles for the day, allowing us to get to Cape Disappointment State Park by early afternoon. With rain predicted overnight, it didn't take much to forgo our tent for another yurt. Quickly stashing our gear, we headed right for the beach. It wasn't far from our campsite, and we were pleased to discover that it also afforded us a great view of North Head Lighthouse. That saved me a hike up to see it, and left the remainder of the afternoon free to spend on the beach, even after Rich retreated to the yurt.

It wasn't long before I removed my sandals and headed for the far end of the beach. The sand was silky smooth, and the incoming tide lapped at my feet as I walked. The wind was brisk on my face, but the sun beat down with unmistakable warmth. I couldn't help but remember another walk on the beach almost exactly a year ago. We were on our Gaspé cycling trip, and our hosts for the night took us to the ocean beach park near their home in New Brunswick, Canada. It was on the opposite coast, yet a similar delightfully warm fall day spent with new found cycling friends. Once again, it all comes back to the people.

 

 

The Epitome of Cycle Touring

I'll be honest. Not all days are great on a cycling tour. But every once on a while you get one of those days that is just perfect. This was one of them. And just what made it so? There are certain key ingredients. And we had them all.

Beautiful weather. There's no getting around it, sunny warm weather makes everything better. And it does wonders for the soul. Just soaking up those rays of sunshine makes me feel good. A clear blue sky is the perfect backdrop for any photo. And by definition, it's not raining. What more can I say?

A crisp clear morning

Gorgeous scenery. After three days of minimal views along the Oregon coast, we were finally treated to the coastal scenery in all it's glory. What a treat to be able to see the long views, the dramatic rock formations and the deep blue waves in all their glory. And we loved every minute of it.

The harbor in Garibaldi

The Coastal Highway

Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach

Frequent small towns. Wilderness is nice, but going through small towns adds interest to a ride. In addition to the architecture, history and local flavor, they also provide much needed services. Bakeries, coffee shops, cafés, Gatorade and restrooms are just a few of the amenities that are much appreciated in a day of cycling.

Wheeler from across the bay

A scenic picnic spot. In my opinion, the outdoors is the best place to eat. Finding a nice picnic spot on a warm morning is the best. Especially when there is a coffee shop across the street that makes a good latte. Throw in a view with water and mountains, and it can't be beat.

Our morning picnic break in Wheeler

Unexpected sights. Not everything can be planned. Sometime things happen through pure luck. A steam engine just happens to be making its way through town. A Salmon Derby is going on, and the bay is filled with trolling fishing boats, dancing with each other just as the morning fog lifts.

A steam train in Garibaldi

Salmon fishing in Tillamook Bay

Lingering along the way. This is the best part of all. There's no point to all the rest without feeling like you can stop along the way to take in all in and enjoy it. This day felt like we had all the time in the world. Many were the stops at scenic waysides. Frequent were the photo opps. Often were the pauses to enjoy. Even a walk along the beach was an acceptable excuse to hang out for a while.

Arcadia Beach State Park

Quiet country lanes. Okay, so we struck out on this one. The Coastal Highway is busy, even in the off season. We had to constantly be on our guard for traffic and especially those big trucks and RVs. And we had our first experience with a tunnel. Despite being able to push a button to activate flashing signals to indicate “Bikes in Tunnel,” it was still a harrowing experience.

Rich having just escaped from the tunnel

Ice cream. No perfect day is complete without ice cream. We found a great 50s style malt shop in Seaside and enjoyed pumpkin ice cream cones. A most excellent reward.

Rich enjoying the Flashback Malt Shoppe

A starry evening. It's not often we are still out in the evening hours. But we happened to be returning from a late dinner. Walking along the Promenade, paralleling the beach with the sound of the waves, a crescent moon hanging low in the sky and stars beginning to appear. It doesn't get much better than that.

Not all cycling days are created equal. This one was cycle touring as it was meant to be.

 

You know it’s raining when…

You know it’s raining when…

  • I ditch my glasses. Better to have slightly blurry vision than try to see through speckled, foggy glasses.
  • We can hear the ocean waves. We know they are there. We just can’t see them.
  • We skip Cape Lookout.
  • I change into dry socks at our breakfast stop. Oh, does that feel good.
  • I have to peel my cycling gloves off my hands. It feels better without them.
  • Rich has a dark stripe down his back – roadspray from his back tire. I’m not sure why I don’t.
  • We don’t stop to chat with other long distance cyclists that we pass. A simple wave and a knowing look says it all.
  • We hardly take any pictures. In fact, Rich has to use fake decoys for his “bird of the day.”
  • I start taking to myself. Out loud. “Okay. Enough already. You can stop now.”
  • I agree to skip the longer scenic route without an argument. Just getting there takes priority.
  • Rich says it’s not a good day for ice cream.

You know you are lucky when…

  • Rich has a blowout, and not a drop of rain falls while he replaces the innertube and tire. In fact, he sits on dry pavement.
  • We can both grin and bear it.
  • We reach the motel and the biggest downpour of the day comes while we are settling into our warm, dry room. Good thing we didn’t do that scenic detour after all.
  • The front desk clerk is a closet gourmet, and keeps refilling a plate with homemade cookies.
  • Rich praises my ziplock bag packing system.
  • Tomorrow’s forecast looks much better.

 

 

 

 

The Rain Jacket Jig

There were patches of blue sky. And when the sun reached us next to the ocean, it lit up the rocks, glowed on the waves and warmed us with its rays. The day was full of promise.

The Oregon coast is littered with parks. Looking at the map, it is one long string of tree symbols designating continuous parks. When we reached one with an easily accessible beach, Rich declared it was time to dip our bicycle tires in the ocean. Making our way across the sand, we encountered a man with his energetic black lab, who became our spontaneous photographer. He snapped away as we danced with the waves, not realizing how quickly the tide was coming in and drenching not just our tires but our feet!

Our long string of dry weather didn't last much longer, however. I was sure we were out-cycling the rain clouds, but Rich knew better and gave orders to don the rain jackets. Just in time for a good solid rainfall. About 10 miles worth. And then it stopped. From then on we did a dance with the rain, putting on our jackets and taking them off again. Just when we thought we were clear of the rain, it began to fall again. But luck was still with us. Despite the fact that the prevailing winds are out of the Northwest, we had a marvelous South wind that pushed us all day long, and increased to quite a gale by mid-afternoon. Judging by the cyclists we saw going the other way, we had the much better deal.

We quite enjoyed the busy harbor town of Newport. It was clearly a working port, with fishing boats coming and going, and the smell of their fresh catch lingering in the air. The sea lions were noisily barking in the harbor, as they congregated near the docks. We found a wonderful breakfast place with a view of the harbor where we enjoyed a huge meal with the freshest ingredients while drying out and watching the harbor activity.

We were fortunate that with the constantly wet pavement, we had much wider shoulders and flatter terrain than yesterday. Still, whenever presented with an opportunity, we detoured onto local roads to escape the busy coastal highway. One such road took us to Cape Foulweather. Having just ridden out from under yet another spell of rain, we felt it was a most appropriate sight for the day! The views would have been spectacular in better weather, but I photographed them just the same.

Our plan for the night was to stay in Devil's Lake State Park Campground, in a yurt. With the soggy weather, we weren't too sure it was still a good idea, but decided to check them out anyway. To our surprise, they were not only spacious, furnished and well protected from the elements, but included electricity and heat! Sold, one yurt to the cycling Hoeg's. We far preferred the pretty, quiet environs of the campground to any motel room.

The rain was quite a dance partner for the day. But we'd rather do the jig than slog through an all-day rain. So we figure we're still ahead of the game.

 

Back in the Saddle

Progress to date: 20 days, 1002 miles

Everything feels different. For two days our bikes rested in a garage while we rejuvenated ourselves and visited relatives. By the end of that time we were itching to get back in the saddle. A good sign. But in that short span of time, so much has changed. We are calling this Part 2 of our trip, as it bears little resemblance to the first 960 miles we cycled.

This morning's weather forecast

The most glaring change is the weather. The days of endless sunshine and 90 degree heat are long behind us. The clouds have moved in and the first major rainfall in months soaked the area overnight. More showers are predicted. Add to that moving over to the coast with its own weather patterns, and cooler wetter weather is inevitable. Our mantra on leaving this morning was, “We know we're going to get wet.” And yet, we didn't! For today, anyway, our amazing luck held and we felt no more than a few drops now and then. We called that a day without rain.

The scenery is entirely new on this stretch. At 11:40 this morning, 983 miles after leaving the Glaciers, we made it To the Sea! Cycling the coastal highway, the wind and the waves are now our constant companions. Last night the stormy weather really churned up the sea, and all day long huge waves pounded the shore.

Fog joined with the gray skies to tone down the views. And the crashing waves produced thick root beer foam which rolled over the rocks. Despite the monochromatic hues, the ocean was impressive and a commanding presence.

Our first view of the sea, just north of Florence

Heceta Head Lighthouse barely visible from the viewpoint

Our picnic spot

Even our menu choices have been transformed. A few days ago, zapped by the heat, we sought out tall glasses of cider and a cool meal. Tonight, steaming hearty bowls of Slumgullion really hit the spot. This cheesy clam chowder is a specialty of the Luna Sea Fish House, a small local eatery where all the seafood is hook and line caught by their own boat. Just the type of home town place we love to find.

The desert and rivers provided beauty, but the sea is built-in entertainment. We were barely settled into our motel when we ventured back to the water. I never tire of walking the beach, watching the waves and feeling the wind on my face. The only thing left to make it perfect would be a colorful sunset. And we had that too. There is a lot to like about being back in the saddle.