Henry's notes for today:
Day 51: Epilogue.
Today was scheduled to be an easy day, a trot rather than a gallop. We still ended up riding 35 miles. It's relatively hard to reach the San Juan Islands from Spokane for biking, so we decided to take advantage of our proximity. We agreed again to not set an alarm, but all of us were awake by 6:30 am. Two deer were nibbling on the grass in our campsite, but they weren't spooked at all by me emerging from my tent. Odlin County Park is right on the water, with prime campsites. I saw hammocks and bivouacs, but those are not for me. We had hoped that our tents would dry out overnight, but they were even wetter with the morning dew. We made some instant coffee, packed up, left our bags at the campground office, and rode back to Lopez Village's Saturday farmers' market to seek out breakfast. We all descended on a local baker's sumptuous offerings, which were efficiently packed into a small vendor's booth. Afterwards, perusing the island map, we selected a course that would get us back to the village in time for lunch. The riding was leisurely along idyllic, pastoral fields. Traffic was minimal. Returning to the village, we became separated, and lunch was haphazardly cobbled together at the village grocery store. I finished my lunch and thought the plan was to meet at the local creamery for ice cream, so I went there on my own first. No one showed up, and there was no reliable cell service to communicate with the others. I realized that time was getting short to catch the 2:40 pm ferry back to Anacortes, so I sped back to retrieve my bags from the campground. The others had already collected their bags ahead of me and were on their way to the ferry. I arrived at the ferry terminal with only a few minutes to spare for boarding. The ferry ride was breathtaking, with clear blue skies at 72 degrees and a cool ocean breeze. Mt. Baker's snowy cap was glistening in the distance. As promised, Priscilla was there to reclaim us upon arrival in Anacortes. Rob disembarked from the ferry and rode on his own directly to a bike shop 4 miles away to have it packed and shipped back to Brooklyn. After we securely loaded all our bikes and gear in the Ice's van, we picked up Rob at the bar across the street from the bike shop, where he was already quaffing an amber ale, and went out for one final dinner together. Tim dropped us off to stay overnight with Priscilla's sister Jennifer Olson and her husband Dan at their home in Lake Forest Park. We said our final goodbyes to Rob, and Tim delivered him to his downtown Seattle hotel. We all marveled at Dan's immense American Flyer train collection, amassed over a lifetime - truly extraordinary.
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| Back to Anacortes |
The road will take me to Spokane tomorrow, but undoubtedly, I will still feel like I should be riding on the shoulder . . .
None of us can believe, or want this to be over. This venture became a personal challenge we all undertook, not really knowing what to expect physically, mentally, spiritually. First and foremost, we couldn't be happier that we all completed this trip safely. No one got sick, and Linda overcame her vertiginous bout with BPPV. Our troubles and glitches were relatively minor, having traveled 13,000 collective road miles between the four of us. One flat tire each. One bent rim. One wheel rim blowout. One sheared pannier bolt and one broken pannier spring.
Many facets of this trip required careful and meticulous planning, but flexibility on the road was crucial. We usually did not know for certain when or where the next meal would be, or even how far we would be riding on some days. Similarly, the decision to camp or stay in a hotel was often a last minute decision. Road conditions or the weather were not always to our liking, but we adapted.
The certainties: We each had an unforgettable crossing. We made new friends and deepened existing friendships with shared experiences. We accrued healthy doses of Americana along our many stops. The people we met along the way were universally kind, generally curious about our route, and often astonished at what we were attempting. Linda's nickname for Jeff is Mr. Congeniality, because he would effortlessly strike up a conversation with any random bystander. Truth be told, Linda and Tim were the same. At the Anacortes beach where we celebrated our wheel dip, a total stranger gave Jeff a box of 6 drumstick ice cream treats to congratulate us after a couple minutes of conversation. That's Jeff. I love Jeff because with his Long Island accent, my wife's name is transformed to Linder. As in "Hey Linder, want to share my apple fritter?" I don't know anyone who can sniff out an electrical outlet to charge his phone faster than Jeff.
The uncertainties: Will any of us ever do another bike tour like this? Perhaps. Linda is already scheming. Tim is probably secretly thinking about it, but is uneasy about admitting this to Priscilla. Jeff keeps sending us NYT articles about bike touring on different continents. He has done a bike tour of Vietnam, and the odds are better than even that he will be cycling somewhere exotic in the not too distant future. Rob is addicted, and has scheduled an extensive Chilean bike tour with a friend next January. He really, really wants to tackle a third trans-America ride. If I know Rob, he will make it happen.
So we now return to our separate lives in Spokane. Until we meet again, my friends . . .
Map of today's short ride:
https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/3865675704
