They stirred eventually and were soon congregated around the picnic table. This machine works efficiently now, without orders. We decided that the guys would stick around and ride with me for one more day, and make it all the way to the ocean, and then split as to avoid the ferries and let me pull my own weight on the way back home.
The road out of camp was long and gently sloped down. (A nice reward after yesterday's climb). Beautiful dense trees on either side with the morning sun just barely poking through. At the bottom we crossed over highway 20 to get onto a side road that wound along the Skagit once more, where large grey sandbars appeared, isolated between ice-blue waters. The farms were small, muddy, and ramshackle. Western Washington has this dark green sheen- a slimy growth that covers every nook and cranny, every car hood and roadsign, that dries out to a crusty powder in August. Never realized how much I could miss a thing like that.
Had intended on stopping in Hamilton, but the "downtown" evaded us, so we just rode on to Lyman, another five miles on. However, we did pass the archaic facade of the Hamilton Gymnasium; an art-deco relic far too grand for its present surroundings.
Our road turned to gravel where a chip sealing operation was underway, so we had to hop onto 20 for a little ways. A rest found us on the lawn of town hall, another grand looking affair.
Gotten pretty good at balancing four bikes around one tree.
Ian has been chasing us around, trying to follow our vague directions (not to mention learning how too drive on the opposite side of the road...) but he somehow always manages to find us.
Next we headed for Sedro-Wooley. The road once again turned to chip-seal, though it was more worn and solid, so we thought we might ride it out, but a construction worker redirected us to a road he thought would be better. When he spoke to us I was surprised at how normal he sounded. Perhaps the first local I've heard talk whose speech sounded like mine. Getting ever closer to home.
Road lead us right into Sedro where we rolled through downtown, took a look at an impressive mural, and then hit the road once more for Burlington.
We ride as a tight pack.
Plopped down in a small park in Burlington across the street from several taquerias and a bar, advertising this game of pull tabs phonetically.
This mural was less grand but no less charming.
Grabbed some Granola at a store before hitting 20 again towards Anacortes. Saw my first sign with Seattle written on it. That was pretty exciting.
The ride was pleasant. Many winding sideroads through blueberry fields, and rows of Himalayan blackberries loaded with ripe berries along the road. A hobo's heyday. Here we could finally smell that salty ocean air. It feels thicker, heavier, laden with moisture.
After the side roads ran out we were back onto 20 again which wasn't great, but up on top of a bridge, we had our first sighting of the ocean.
Many a hoot and a hollar going over that bridge.
On the other side traffic got bad for a moment as 20 split into two, one going to Anacortes and the other going south. We took the latter. It went up a drastic hill, and I took us off of it to get another side road which went through Dewey, and then back onto it again to cross over Deception pass; an awesomely commanding set of bridges straddling an island between Whidbey and Fidalgo Islands. Just around the bend we entered the State Park where I had reserved a site. Glad I had. The place was gorgeous, (and campground full). Found the site, dumped out stuff and went to the beach to perform the ritual that seemed necessary upon reaching the ocean. We cracked a few cold ones, took a photo, and then jumped in the water. Success.
Man, that was a great read, Finley. From mountains to sea: It doesn't get much better than that. I can only imagine your exhilaration over what you've accomplished. And how great to have Liam and friends there with you to be a part of it. Congratulations.
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