Riding the White Line

Retracing Some Tire Tracks

Bill and John finish breakfast and start packing at the Dosewallips campsite.

September 20, 1985

After reminiscing at Dosewallips about the night that Susan and I spent there, I have to admit that I enjoy being with John and Billy too.

We three are still together. Billy talked to his parents and his brother, Preston, about what to do. He’s sticking with us for at least a couple of weeks to see the countryside, if nothing else.

From Dosewallips State Park, we rode down along Hood Canal until we reached Shelton. We fought wind most of the day. When we reached Shelton, we debated about where to stay. No campgrounds shown on the maps for a good 30 miles. So we found a pleasant stand of Douglas fir and pitched the tent.

Next morning we grabbed breakfast at McDonald’s and struck out for Lewis and Clark State Park. We stuck to the back roads nearly all the way. We also had a slight breeze at our backs and much clearer weather.

Out on the road, I still lag quite a bit behind John and Bill. But I’m growing accustomed to pulling the trailer now. I still have to watch curbs on corners. I’ve managed to flip the beast twice so far. I escaped the wreckage unscathed.

During the evenings, we’ve built fires a couple times. Alder wood has such a sweet, aromatic smell. No wonder the Snokomish Indians sued to smoke their salmon over that wood.

Lewis and Clark State Park was prettier than I remembered it — a little brook coursing through the last virgin stand of Douglas fir in Washington. Some of the trees are easily 200 feet tall. The night was quite cold last night, but we warmed up at the Mount St. Helens National Monument Visitor Center before we hit the road. What an awesome display of nature. I could hardly believe the amount of force and destruction wrought by the volcano. I remember watching it on TV, but my brain just can't remember the intensity of it until I see it again in photos and video.

Anyway, we rode down to Paradise Point State Park, about 25 miles from the Oregon border. Tomorrow, we light out for Portland to stay with Darby C., Diane’s sister.

A Parting of Ways

September 17, 1985

Big day. We rode down into Victoria and decided to catch the afternoon ferry at 3:30. that gave us lots of time to sightsee in the downtown area.

First we hit the Empress Hotel, then on to the British Columbia Museum of Natural History, which was fascinating.

From the study of earlier inhabitants to the history of settlements, exploration and industrialization to the representation of native birds, animals, plants and marine life, the museum demonstrated everything in superb detail. I was amazed at their replicas.

We grabbed lunch and did laundry again. It was fascinating seeing some of the old haunts again. It’s been three years since Susan and I were here.

Just as we were finishing up, Jon asked if he could go out on his own when we got to Port Angeles. I hadn’t expected anyone to want to leave the group, but I wasn’t that surprised either. Jon wants that time of solitude and soul-searching independence.

After reaching Port Angeles, he went west and we went east around the Peninsula. Now we are three.

Billy, John and I stayed at a KOA near Sequim last night, then rode on to Dosewallips State Park. We had a long talk about goals and the future of the trip without Jon. Billy’s purpose for this trip was to minister to people and churches along the way. He hasn’t gotten to do much of that so he’s thinking about meeting his parents in Edmonds and flying home with them.

John is also feeling a little desire to ride on his own for a while, but he’s not sure he’s ready yet. He’s here to gain a better understanding of himself, a better sense of what he wants to do with his life.

Me, I feel like the odd man out, though I suppose each of us feels that way. I was here mostly to spend time with my friends.

Crossing into Canada

September 14, 1985

Larabee was a small, pretty state park. We watched the sun set way out across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We got light sprinkles during the night, but I slept well. Then again, I’ve slept well every night!
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I still think about Beth quite often. I suppose I should about someone closer to my age, like Anne.
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The next morning came cold and damp. We finally pushed out at about 9 a.m. We followed parallel to the old interurban tracks that ran into Bellingham. They are now a hiking trail between the city and the new state park.

John, Bill, Charlie and Jon at the border.

From Bellingham, we rode north to Canada! Finding no provincial parks to camp at, we thought to stay in a motel. The only problem was that the Delta Town and Country Inn ran $65 for a night, too much in our estimation.

So we’re sitting on the front steps trying to decide what to do when a man comes walking up to the motel. He asks, “Where are you headed?” We don’t know where we’re going to stay. “Why not here?” Too many clams, Billy says. “We can work something out,” the man says.

This guy, Vladimir Pabis, is the owner. Sure enough, we soon have a room with four fold-up beds at only $40 Canadian. We get a key to the sauna room, TV and refrigerator!

Same time, a woman walks by with pins for the 1986 World’s Fair to be held in Vancouver. She gives us a bag to give to friends!
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Today we caught the Ferry from Tswassen over to Sidney and had lunch there. We watched some square dancers at a small mall while we ate. Then we watched a spinnaker race in the bay. That afternoon, we rode down to the Butchart Gardens. John and I went through them while Billy and Jon waited outside.

Mr. Butchart had been a fairly successful cementeer in the early part of this century. After the limestone rock quarry quit yielding good stone, Mrs. Butchart thought the pit looked as though the land had been desecrated. She began landscaping the quarry and bringing in topsoil. Since then it has become one of the prettiest flower gardens in the world.
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We spent the evening with two families. Billy and I stayed with Randy and Karen Gibson, who live in a house in the countryside north of Victoria. They’re slowly renovating the house, built in 1910. They’ve already done lots of landscaping on the five-acre lot, and have finished most of the interior restoration.

After church today, Randy took us on a tour of Victoria. Quite a pretty city, eh? We went by the Scottish Castle and the lieutenant governor’s mansion, and around the University of Victoria.

Tomorrow we begin south. I still have ascertained no notable purpose in going on this voyage.

A Dilettante's Day

September 12, 1985

Indeed, his guitar did fit. We’ve come many miles since then. After picking him up and spending the night at the Imperial 400 Motel, we rode back in Seattle to do some sightseeing and celebrate my birthday.

We went by the REI headquarters on Pike and 11th. I bought a quilted polypropylene pullover for my birthday. Later, we rode down to the wharfs and the guys bought me lunch at Ivers. We had fish and chips, clam chowder and, of course, Mountain Dew. Hah, we pretend to be bicycle tourists, and yet we enjoy the trappings of the city.

Heading toward Edmonds, I managed to break my front derailleur cable and we stopped at a bike shop to get it fixed. A couple hours later, we were in Woodway Park, a small suburb of Edmonds where we were to spend the night with friends of friends of Jon.

The Wrights managed to fix us steak and potatoes along with salad watermelon and the best ice cream I have had in a while. We are really roughing it on this trip.

The next morning after bidding Dr. Wright adieu, we struck out for Mukilteo where we anticipated catching the ferry over to Whidbey Island. We were right on time. Then we put in some miles across some beautiful farm country to Fort Ebey State Park.

Jon, the triathlete

From the old World War II gun batteries, we could look west to the San Juan islands and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The sunset was so pretty. Clouds coming off the Olympic Mountains parted occasionally to let the sun shine down on the bay. We could watch shimmers move across the water toward us.

This morning started out quite cool. We rode north to Deception Pass and regrouped there. In 1702, when Captain George Vancouver discovered Whidbey Island, he thought it was a peninsula extending south from the mainland, but after coming up the eastern side, one of his trusted officers, Joseph Whidbey, found that the pass went back out to sea. So he named the pass Deception and the island Whidbey.

From Whidbey Island, we crossed to Fidalgo Island and then rode east to the mainland: most of us anyway.

Jon took a wrong turn and rode into Anacortes before realizing his mistake. He rode sixteen extra miles, but he needed some energy drained anyway. [Jon was a top triathlete at the time, and the rest of us were mere bicycle mortals.] He caught up with us at lunch. I had a grilled cheese with salad, a root beer and apple pie with ice cream.

Another 10 miles has brought us to Larrabee State Park.

So Long at the Fair

September 10, 1985

Yesterday we rode from Dash Point on down to Puyallup where we were going to see the seventh largest fair in the United States. But it cost $4 to get in the place so we just sightsaw around Puyallup and then rode back up to meet Billy at the airport.

We got a cheap room at Seattle just across from the airport.

Today we’re seeing the wharfs of Seattle and riding up to Edmonds today. It is good to see Billy. His guitar may fit in the trailer!

Seattle and the Sound

September 8, 1985

We’ve arrived in Seattle. I came in about an hour ahead of John and Jon, and got my gear together before they arrived. John knew of some friends of friends whom we stayed with last night.

Dr. and Mrs. Brown own a beautiful home overlooking Puget Sound. We’ve got beautiful weather and full stomaches. I think we will travel down to Puyallup today to see a fair and spend tonight at a state park.

Billy arrives tomorrow evening. We will probably come back in the early afternoon to find a campground near the airport.
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Puget Sound is breathtaking. The temperature is about 55 degrees, quite a change from the 100-degree heat of the Ozarks. On the western side of the Sound, I can see the Olympic Mountain Range occasionally when the clouds part.

I had forgotten how impressive the mountains up here were.

Most of today’s riding has been city riding. The trailer pulls fairly well while on level ground, but when I go uphill, I feel like I’m dragging an anchor. Hope I can keep up with them.

We’ve camped at Dash Point State Park not too far from Tacoma. There are a lot of fir trees, dense underbrush and the briney smell of saltwater. This is a lovely place to spend the night.

I’ve already begun to think about things I miss. I guess I mostly miss Beth. I suppose that’s silly in a lot of ways. I’m not even sure why I miss her. I’m not around her that much to begin with, so why should I miss her so. I hope I see her sometime this year.

Crossing the River

September 5, 1982

Susan and I stayed in a hotel at Vancouver, Washington, last night, just across the Columbia River from Portland so she would be half-way fresh for her flight back to Dallas.

“Therefore when we build, let us think that we build forever. Let it not be for present delight, nor for present use alone. Let it be such work as our descendants will thank us for, and let us think as we lay stone on stone, that a time is to come when those stones will be held sacred because our hands have touched them. And that men will say as they look upon our labor and wrought substance of them, ‘See! This our fathers did for us.’” — Ruskin, quoted on a plaque on the bridge over the Columbia River.

Susan left. I cannot express my grief. For six days, we’ve eaten together, prayed together and slept together. We haven’t been out of each others’ sight except to go to the bathroom.

And now, there is this void, this vacancy, this emptiness in my heart.

Riding down the road, I looked over my shoulder to see if she was keeping up and no one was there. I set up my dinky, little Sierra West tent, and it suddenly seemed very spacious. The flood of memories that this past week has wrought will be slow in leaving.

Emotions Take Their Toll

Fog curls above Hood Canal at daybreak.

September 4, 1982

Sorry I haven’t kept up. The past couple days have been trying. Let me review them for you.

The 2nd was the physically most exhausting day and perhaps mentally, too. When we got to Olympia, we checked into a Motel 6. We both hurt so much that day. The muscles were finally telling us what we didn’t want to know. And then Susan said she wanted to go home. And she had no laugh in her voice.

I about died.

I don’t want her to leave. She’s thinking of flying out of Portland. It’s hard. I’ve not been this close to someone in awhile.

As hard as the 2nd was physically, the 3rd was emotionally. Susan and I sort of blew up at each other near the end of the day. It had been a long day of riding, and we had come through some rain. Then we took a turn too early on the way to the Lewis and Clark State Park.

I decided we should just cut over and sooner or later we would hit the highway with the park. Susan got scared after a little ways. She wanted to go back to the interstate or nearer civilization. And I got impatient. We had words. I watched tears well up in her eyes. I about died. I was angry. And sad. And afraid. I was afraid that I had hurt Susan and that she might not forgive me.

Well, sure enough, we came upon the park pretty quickly. I was relieved and yet we still hadn’t said anything. When we found our campsite, Susan came up and hugged me and said, “I’m sorry.” Gosh but I about died again. She was sorry and the whole thing was my fault. I never felt so humble in all my life.

The experience was hard to take. Susan and I are closer because of it. For this I am grateful.

Spending the night in the state park was good. We walked around and talked and shared, and that was very nice. It rained that night. But I slept well. Sleeping next to Susan made me feel secure.

Today began in rain. We stopped long enough to visit the Mount St. Helens Visitor Center. Then we put in about 70 miles to get to Vancouver, Washington. Both of us felt good. Our muscles are finally mending. We (I should say I) had three flats today. Depressing note on an otherwise wonderful day. I’ll finish in the morning.

Settling in with a Partner

Susan stopping for a water break near the bridge over Duckabush River.

September 2, 1982

Susan’s birthday! I greeted her this morning with a Snickers with three candles, a birthday card, and a little stuffed animal. She liked it.

Yesterday, we made 60 miles and crossed our first mountain pass. We were tired at the end of yesterday.

Susan riding through a forest of fir trees and fernfalls.

Most of the road had good shoulder area. And we could ride side by side a lot. The area is beautiful. Huge fir, the sky-blue bays and fresh air are invigorating.

Susan and I are becoming closer daily. Struggling through the same adversities will do that I suppose. She’s a strong and beautiful woman. I couldn’t ask for a better partner.

We got to talk some yesterday. I got to hear about her last year and some of her life. I hope I can take care of her, for she has some weaknesses and troubles, too. But they are minor when compared to her strength and fortitude.