The trip gets underway

Saturday morning, the day I have looked forward to for so long, finally rolled around.  The only problem is that I wasn't looking forward to it in quite the way that I had when it was still a fantasy.   Where are the blue skies and abundant sunshine, for example?

It was with a mixture of excitement and fear that I started my trek.  There was just a glimmer of occasional sunshine, so I knew the weather was about to clear any minute.  It didn't.

Leaving Anacortes was the hilliest part of the first three days.  It took me an hour to circumnavigate the island before I cleared city limits.  After that first hour, I rode right past the motel that the three of us had stayed in.   I could have left from there, I suppose, but then there wouldn't have been the all-important wheel dipping ceremony.

At about mile twenty, the bicycle handling got weird.  Oh great, a mechanical problem.  I stopped to check things out.  Good news: there was nothing wrong with the bicycle.  Bad news: I had a rear wheel flat.  With 65 pounds of gear on the bike, I couldn't even lift the damn thing to get to the wheel.  I walked to the nearest flat, grassy area I could find, and began unloading the just back of the bike.  Lesson one learned: unload the whole damn bike next time.

I fixed the flat.  Twice.  Something was wrong either with my technique or my patch kit.  Forget the patch kit.  I put in a brand new tube.  It was looking more and more like rain, so I put the rain covers over the panniers and donned my rain jacket.  Just in case.  In no more than an hour, I was back on the road.

Luckily, I had decided at the pre-departure dinner that I am definitely no Lance Armstrong wannabe.  There is nothing wrong with taking my first scheduled ride day, waving my magic wand, and declaring it the first two scheduled riding days.  In retrospect, that was the smartest thing I could have done.  Cycling with 65 pounds (29.5 kg) is not the same as cycling in the Bay Area on my 20 lb LiteSpeed.  This would give me time to get ready for the mountains.

My first two days were bucolic rides with only intermittent sunshine but no rain.  The terrain is mostly gently rolling hills bordering the Skagit River.  There are no cities worth talking about, although my second night was in a place called Concrete, which is aptly named.

 

 

 

The big test

My biggest planning nightmare of the was how to get through the North Cascades National Park with no services for one leg of the trip.  I would have to spend a night in a campground in the middle of noplace.  No restaurants, no motels, no stores, no nothing.

I fretted over what I would eat for two days and one night.  Man cannot survive on Cliff bars alone.  Although I've had my share of days where lunch consisted of a Cliff bar, I haven't tried to live for two days on them.  At least 8 lbs (3.6 kg) of my gear weight (stove, fuel, pans, food) was dedicated to this little problem. 

My biggest fears never came to pass.  I did not have to set up camp in the rain and mud.  The weather was very gray, but dry, up until the moment I turned in for the night --- and not a moment longer.  I noshed on bridge mix beforehand and dined on Beef Stroganoff for the entree.  Dessert was a chocolate bar.  A fine merlot was served with the meal.

The real experts at camping and backpacking are my cousins, Bev & Bill.  They alerted me to the fact that you can "shower" using a product that's a lot like "HandiWipes".    This was terrific news, because I have this incredible aversion to getting into my sleeping bag all grungy, especially after cycling all day.  Lo and behold, they sell these things at REI Coop.  I cleaned up with cold water as much as I could stand (including a shampoo), and used towelettes for the rest.  Problem solved.

If you'd like to see more pictures of the first three days, follow this link to the photo gallery.