The Washington Wilderness
I'll be back Washington. I'll be back.
“You can always change your plan, but only if you have one” - Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture
Aaaaaaand we’re back folks. It is good to be writing and good to be heard (I hope?) I love sending these out into the void, not sure if it’s going to bounce around like an echo or find connection to someone curled up at home in their favorite armchair, with a hot cup of something, truly cozy. If you aren’t, please do - for my cold fingers’ sake.
This crazy guy, you’re thinking. Where is he now? What mad babbling are we going to endure this time? Don’t worry! I have exciting updates for you!
Where are you? Are you okay?
I’m currently writing from Portland, Oregon! How exciting to be back, after leaving the state to head south to California in August last year.
I am indeed okay! I think I hibernated or went into a deep, comatose sleep last night.
The kind of sleep where you wake up with chapped lips, sweating a bit, not sure where you are, what year it is, or what your name is. The kind where you forget your name and all of your aches and pains have healed. The Rip Van Winkle kind of sleep. I went to bed last night, a partially beaten soul, and woke up a new person. You’ve got to try it sometime!
Woah. Portland? I thought you were going over to the desert? Also, isn’t Portland kind of far?
Nope, I had a bit of a eureka moment a few days ago when I stopped in a town in Washington called Montesano.
At 8am, while sitting on a bench in the town park, I looked at Google Maps and realized that just because the roads between Rainier and St. Helens were snowed in, didn’t mean that I had to go all the way around to the desert.
Plus, with my inclination toward sun burns, I didn’t really want to go to the East if I didn’t have to. I realized that I could bike down to Portland, and then across to Cascade Locks/Hood River, and see about joining the roads at Mt. Hood, and if for some reason they still were snowed in, it would be a shorter, more temperate route over to The Dalles to join the Oregon Outback down to Redmond, OR.
So, after deciding this was the option I liked the best, I had to get myself down to Portland. This is the story of the past few days.
Leaving Victoria
As I finished packing everything on to my bike and went to zip my keys and headphones into my top tube bag, the zipper pulled out of the track completely. Unable to fix it, I knew I was looking at a bit of a disaster. Losing this bag would be a big blow and I needed to find a replacement. However, it was 9:15am and no stores are open. I needed to be at the ferry to Port Angeles by no later than 10, conveniently the same time all the stores opened. It felt like a cruel joke, but the sun was shining and fortunately there was a bike store in Port Angeles. It can always be worse!
The ferry across was just beautiful and felt like watching a movie.
Some Things Happen For a Reason
I biked over to the bike shop to find a replacement bag. I realize that my bag breaking was the best thing that could have happened to me that day.
If I hadn’t been in the bike shop, I wouldn’t have met Shawn and Charlie. Two thru-hikers who were out for a bike packing adventure on the Olympic Adventure Trail, they stopped to pump up their tires and when they found I was heading west, they encouraged me to join them on the Olympic Adventure Trail.
The Olympic Adventure Trail is a pretty gnarly thing. I was unsure if I was up to the challenge. Single track, some demanding climbing, AND I was on a road/touring bike. However, Charlie and Shawn were both on road/touring bikes and had panniers or a similar setup. Charlie has done this many times and described it as “advanced beginner, low intermediate”.
I was infected by their enthusiasm and personalities, and the thought of crushing some dirt with them and camping out somewhere in the park was far better than riding on the road alone.
Looking back, I can’t have made a better decision. Words can’t begin to describe how much fun I had in the woods, on the trail with them, and how much fun it was. Flowy trail sections, big switchbacks, rocks and roots, waterfalls, bridges, and sweeping views galore. I was hooting and hollering the whole way and it felt like drinking straight from the firehose of adventure.
Shawn and Charlie were supposed to catch a 6pm bus back to Port Angeles and go to some hot springs, but as we slowly crawled along, they decided to finish the trail and head out in the morning. I was so happy to enjoy more trail time with such great company and wasn’t quite ready to lose them. We finished our night squeezing our tents on the beautiful Crescent Lake.
Onwards, Alone. The Road to Forks
Shawn, Charlie and I parted ways in the morning and I forged on, sad to lose the company, but better than ever for having met and spent such a unique time together.
Our conversations, laughs, stories, and good humor powered me through my day, knowing that if they could make it through their adventures, I could make it through mine.
The Discovery Trail took me through the beautiful forest of the Olympics to the 101, heading south to Forks, WA. It felt strange to be back on the 101, headed south ever since getting on it in Florence, OR, last year. This trip is proving to be a unique experience of deja vu and feelings of nostalgia for places I’ve been and places I know I’ll be again.
I had the most EXCELLENT diner brunch while I let my toes warm up, enjoyed a few cups of coffee, and charged some devices. Not being a coffee drinker, having a midday cup feels illegal. I left feeling unstoppable.
Leaving Forks, I took a turn into the Olympic/Hoh National Forest. Serene and peaceful, I saw a few cars of which most were vans from the Olympic Correction Center. Eerie. Deep in the woods, no signs of life, and then this huge facility with massive fences, guard towers, and a BUNCH of signs that all say “NO STOPPING NO TRESPASSING NO PICKING UP HITCHHIKERS”. I can’t say that made me feel good.
I stopped a bit early and tried to make a fire, which went miserably. I even whittled wood shavings, found dry tinder, used some paper, and did my best, but no luck. Nothing sadder than being cold and looking forward to a fire and then not being able to start a fire.
The Kindness of Strangers Changes Lives
I left the next morning, headed towards Lake Quinalt, the next place with services. Same as Forks, by the time I got there I hadn’t been able to feel my toes for three hours. There was a cute little diner and Internet cafe overlooking the lake and mountains, where I had another all-time lunch and coffee break. The floor was carpeted and no lie, I laid right down and stretched out and rolled around. When other tourists stopped in, they definitely thought I was crazy.
I powered on south, towards the country roads that would take me to Montesano, the next town with services. No where to camp and far too many “NO TRESPASSING” signs to feel comfortable wild camping. The ones that really freak me out are the “Due to the price increase in ammo, don’t expect a warning shot!”. Yeesh.
Losing steam, I thought back to my experience in Missouri. When you present strangers with vulnerability and the opportunity to make a significant change in your life, and they possess the capacity, I find most people take the chance and do what they can. I waved at a young man sitting in his driveway, and pulled in. I explained my situation and open with the “This may sound crazy, but what are the chances I could pitch my tent in your yard tonight?”
Aaron was an absolute gem, and welcomed me with open arms.
On the Road to Portland
The roads turned to country and rolling hills, passing through small farming communities. It looked a lot like home in Upstate New York and the sun was starting to come out. I enjoyed the excellent riding conditions and lack of traffic as I headed south. Google Maps told me that Lewis and Clark state park wasn’t too far ahead and I decided to head there for the evening.
In Rochester, WA, I caught my first glimpse of the volcanoes. Wow. Just wow. Words also can’t describe the vastness and huge looming peaks. Dramatic, terrifying, and looming over everything in the land, I was able to see Mt. Rainier and Mt. St. Helens. I gawked on the side of the ride, and could barely keep a straight line as I didn’t want to stop looking at them.
Lewis & Clark State Park - A Weird Place for Paths to Cross
I found another biker setting up camp adjacent to me. He was pulling a trailer and had a dog, which I’m usually skeptical about. As I looked closer, I could see he was on a Trek Checkpoint (gravel bike) with a full, lightweight and minimal, bike packing set up. Even more intriguing.
I went over to say hi and introduce myself to Richard and Woody. Richard is biking from Olympia to San Diego on the Pacific Coast Route, bringing Woody along as an emotional support dog, and riding to bring awareness to the Wounded Warriors Project and mental health problem among veterans.
We talked about how we both recently got into bike touring and loved it, and both realized we biked across the US last summer. On the topic of beautiful places, we both hit on the Tetons and Jenny Lake campground. Richard said the hardest hill he’s ever climbed was the Teton Pass and the only time he’s pushed his bike up a road.
That jogged my memory, as I was in Jenny Lake campground one morning when a cyclist, now vaguely remembering with the same bike and similar setup to Richard, left to go to Teton Pass. I remember saying the he was a mad lad and through sheer will and determination could he do it. We introduced ourselves before he left, and all of a sudden I realized- THAT WAS RICHARD! We looked at our photos and sure enough, crossed paths that day.
Chills. True chills. What are the odds, in the middle of nowhere in Washington, to meet someone I barely recognized from a year ago, doing much a similar thing, in a similar place. Deja vu. We both kind of froze for a second. I looked over my shoulder and whispered, “Did the government send you?”. We both laughed and thought our luck was wild.
The Ride to Portland on the “Dirty 30”
Richard and I spent the morning riding out together. That man is absolutely DIESEL. He had about 25-30 lbs on his bike (that’s not a lot, for reference) but the trailer with Woody and groceries was easily another 60 lbs that he was towing. The man held a bloody fast pace and we did about 12-13mph average. We crushed almost 40 miles in less than four hours and made it to Longview, WA by 11am.
We enjoyed some lunch in the park as the sun came out, and I, yet again, had to lose a friend as I continued south and Richard headed west to the coast.
The morning was the best part of the day as I put headphones in, turned up the Chili Peppers, and prepared to log 52 miles on Rt. 30, what Drew, my Warmshowers host I was heading to stay with in Portland, called “The Dirty 30” for it’s large, but messy shoulder.
The ride up to Drew and Cindy’s house was a steep hill. He did warn me, but I didn’t look specifically. How steep could it be? I asked myself.
The answer? Very steep, but there are mountains and roads that have met Ben Stevens and haven’t lived to tell the tale! Plus, if I was going to head into the Cascades, I needed all the training I could get.
The Best Evening a Guy Could Ask For
I was greeted at the road by Drew and Cindy. Both were not afraid of my road smell and sweaty hands and ushered me in and welcomed me to enjoy their home as my own. As a tired and sweaty guy in a a strange city, I could just about melt and tear up with gratitude. They let me hop in the shower right away and Drew, with the million-dollar question, “A cold beer before, during, or after the shower?” I elected for after and already had so much to look forward to.
Drew, a retired lawyer, and Cindy, a retired doctor, and I (a not-retired, not-much) spent the evening talking about travel, family, work, future plans, current events, and I learned lots about the history of Portland and the west coast. After pizza, shrimp Santorini, and salad, Drew took me for a lovely scenic tour of Portland. We stopped for ice cream (mm. My favorite two words, in a fresh waffle cone, on a cool summer evening) and then drove around the city. Quite lovely and very accessible, the neighborhoods were vibrant and you could see how unique the culture was.
We got home and I stumbled downstairs, all of a sudden so sore and achy, feeling hurt everywhere, and crashed into bed, proceeded to bury myself under the covers and fell asleep before you could —
What’s Next?
Well, I’m headed for the mountains and then down to Sisters and Bend. I think I’m going to try and detour to Smith Rocks State Park, as a now-avid rock climber, I think it would be a beautiful day and evening spent looking at the rocks. I love rocks, all shapes and sizes, but the big ones? The ones that tower over everything else? Those rocks are a different level.
Thank you for following along! It’s time to venture back out into the city of Portland for a rest day and some exploring of outdoor/gear stores and seeing some great sights. Nice to have a rest day in such a cool place!
I’ve been re-reading the Last Lecture, by Randy Pausch in my evenings in my tent and can’t recommend it enough. True wisdom is hard to come by and the sad undertones of the book are made all the more important by the excellent writing and personality of Randy.
Well, back to your day, wherever you may be. I wish you all the best and a tailwind at your back. I’ll be seeing you next time, further up the road, and of course, will save you a seat at the table.
Au revoir,
Ben
I spend a lot of time thinking on the bike and something I’ve thought about a lot is that you have to dare to dream. I wouldn’t be out here, experiencing all of this, without being so far out of my comfort zone. What would your life look like, if you could realize that dream? What would you have to do to get there? It won’t be a walk in the park, and no lie, the past five days were tough. However, I would miss the joy of all of the little things like the sun coming out after rainy, cold morning, or taking my socks off and sitting in the shade next to a gas station if I didn’t dare to believe this was possible. Keep learning. Keep planning. Keep changing your plan. But keep dreaming. Always, keep dreaming.
You are a great writer my friend!
Loving you and sending hugs too!