The journey down The United States Highway 101 has been far from kind to me. I've spent 99% of my days in full rain gear with the wettest clothes and feet imaginable. Most of my days are spent in the saddle and my body and mind are feeling it. I no longer stop to smell the roses or take the scenic route. My mind is focused on one thing, riding south to the warmer, dryer weather.
The battles I face each day have me feeling as if I were stuck in a vicious cycle. Wake up to all my gear being soaking wet, take warm/dry clothes off, put wet clothes on in the freezing cold, ride alongside an endless sea of pine plantations on either side of me, pass through occasional shithole logging town, find dry/flat spot to set wet tent and sleeping gear up, try to sleep in below freezing conditions, repeat.
Have I underestimated winter in North America? Is there any relief in the weather soon? How much longer can I handle this? As always, I throw myself in the deep end and hope I can swim. For I know that once I come out the other side, I will be so much stronger. The sun will shine on me again, I just have to keep pedalling!
As I ride along the coast, I began to understand the American way more and more. Honestly, it makes me miss the Canadian people. The smiles and hugs I once knew, now seem to be a thing of the past. Everyone has their guard up here, as if they must protect what is theirs. I do my best to not form an opinion of a whole country from a few bad experiences. Maybe it's just a Washington thing.
It took a couple weeks but I finally met another cycle tourist. A retired man named Walter. He had been on the bike for over two years as a part of his retirement plan. Riding south along the 101 we cross paths late in the day. As we get closer to one another, I can’t help but notice/make judgment of Walter’s bike setup. It’s.. old school, simple and well.. no one is going to be stealing it anytime soon. In Walter’s own words, the bike makes him look like a “bum”. However, the man in the saddle instantly has me captivated. Walter’s energy and mindset towards life is something I needed, I’m instantly feeding off his energy as I struggle to find peace in the wet and cold conditions. His moto, like mine, is that we’re not racing anyone. Something I seem to have forgotten over the past week as I spend all day on the saddle racing southward. With the day drawing to a close, I’m left with no choice but to continue to camp and say my goodbyes to Walter. I’m truly grateful for my run in with this man and found myself continually drawing on his words, a reminder to take it slow, or you’ll miss it.
Without question, the worst part of the trip so far. Astoria bridge! A six kilometre stretch of exposed, narrow road, with no bike lane and no pedestrian walkway. My last challenge before leaving Washington State. I’m already exhausted after a week of endless rain and no days off. I can already picture the warm bed and shower that awaits me on the other side. I just need to cross this bridge. Simple right? No sir! With the winds raging from the pacific, it has been a struggle to keep my bike straight all day and I’m left with little to no energy in my grip strength and arms. I stare out towards the bridge, watching the white caps form along the water and listen to the wind. I’m genuinely nervous to make the crossing, but the alternative adds another day to the trip. I take a deep breath, put my headphones in and focus. I can do this, “all I need to do is keep the bike straight”, I tell myself. The strong winds have me in my bottom gear and still pedalling hard. “Just keep it straight Sam”, as car’s race alongside me, as I weren’t there. At the end of the bridge, you’re met with a climb. How is it that the warm shower always requires one last climb. The headwinds ramp up drastically and I’m forced to push, now double the width and moving slow, I dig deep within myself to complete the climb. Dark clouds surround Astoria and bring with them intense winds and hail. Completely sideways, I duck my head, but there’s no avoiding it. It slams into my face with speed and power. I concede, laying myself and my bike against the side of the bridge. “Get up Sam!” “GET UP!” “You can’t lay here forever”. And so I do, finally making across to Oregon and spending my first night in a paid room.
I can’t lie, my time in Washington State didn’t go the way one would ever hope. It has been an uphill battle right from the moment I stepped off the ferry. The people have been unkind, Mother Nature unforgiving and the scenery dull, as I ride through an endless pine plantation. But, somehow I wouldn’t change a thing. One of the driving forces of this trip for me has and always will be, putting myself in challenging and uncomfortable situations in which I can grow from. Something that seems so far out of reach, that it’s almost laughable. But, after learning to embrace the struggle and welcoming the challenge, slowly chip away at this goal, inching closer and closer until it’s a dream no more. You’re living it.