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Ciggis smoked 11

Miles 36

Money spent 17.53

Bicycle touring on a brompton

Heroes and villains, my Nikon is seriously starting to piss me off.  It’s so heavy and bulky, I had a chance to drop it off in port Townsend and I wish I did.  The uke is also a hero and a villain, it’s hard to carry and dangerously swings around.  I’m not sure what to do but both may get jettisoned soon, I hate the thought of not having the uke as it has brought much joy but it’s dangerous and when the rain comes and it will it will be difficult to care for.


I’m sitting just passed the pass of mount walker, I’m crushed after 30 miles, mostly up hill.  I pull off on to the side of the road to rest my body and my brain.  The logging trucks showed up with a vengeance and they are frightening as hell as are the Q-tips in thier 40′ motor homes dragging a car behind.  The shoulder all but disappeared in many places and the the bridges have none, my load is still to heavy and it makes the Brompton unsafe at speeds.

Bicycle touring brompton

I start singing to the traffic as it hurtles by at break neck spends on the windy mountian top, a cyclist rides by and I admire her well earned spandex covered tush and keep playing.  A few minutes later and she is riding back up the other side of the road, I put the uke down, we call across a freeway of traffic, I have a new riding partner for the rest of the day but she is not on tour and continues where I leave off with an invitation and a place to stay in the opposite direction I am headed.

Today started late last night when I got a text from my brother, he was in Port Townsend, I was with a friend and it was late so I caught up before dawn and tracked him down.  I called from the front desk phone, wake up you lazy so and so Hog Waaloop. We have breakfast in the lobby lots of coffee and he sends me off with a bag of Fritos and three bananas.

I don’t know why every day starts with a huge fucking hill but it does and I would spend today completly lost battling big hills and contemplating why I’m doing this.  I’ve been asked so many times and still don’t have an answer.  I’m not sure why everybody feels the need to tell me I’m going to die out here but it’s well over 50 people now who have sent me pre maturely off to the grave.  I don’t want to die, that’s why I’m doing this, to live.  The freedom and time with no clocks, no schedules and nothing but my eyes and ears and all my senses on full overload.

The days are mine and they are hard earned as they should be, there are very few cyclists on this stretch and I understand why, the traffic is crazy scary.  I live in each moment and think about everything in the world from my pink socks to red necks and wonder why they all drive such shitty trucks, I’ve never seen a red neck in a banging new ford and I wonder why?

My day starts at 8:15 and by 100pm my ass announces that the days is done, cold beer in hand and lots of good no cook food I’m pretty happy and already stinky again.  I’m headed south but not committed to continuing south, east sounds fun also and when I ditch my my extra cargo I think the riding will be that much better and faster.  I still am learning to climb out of the saddle with the new front bag and while I’m sore and very tired I feel good, no I feel great.

im the only person in this creepy campground roadside and the constant barrage of traffic irritates me.  This is a rest stop thT locals use as a sex pit,  get me out of here

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