step? bicycle trip? adventure? Well as some of you may or may not know (due to my lack of updates on my blog), I am back in my hometown. I have typed all of the updates for the last days of the trip so they will be up within a reasonable amount of time. A huge thanks for all those that donated, I’m working on the pictures/shirts/book/etc. right now, so you may get your award for Christmas! Stay tuned for more updates. Since the trip is over, I will be using this for blogging about an organization that I’m working with right now that adopts a block and helps people with whatever needs they have.
July 15, 16 – Didn’t know what to do with myself today, it was my first rest day and I didn’t have an agenda, however, being a restless soul I took my bike out around the farm-blocks. Did some blueberry, raspberry, and strawberry pickin’, all for a $1 a pound. I was headed to the Da Vinci Days in Corvallis the next day, however, since this wasn’t part of the original plan I had to get directions, with no printer available, I had Googled the directions and wrote down each direction, so I only had written directions taking me some 50+ miles.
The next day was the trial day, but I didn’t have much chance for learning from errors. My first mistake about following the Google directions was that I didn’t look at the map. My second mistake was that I didn’t read what I wrote. Google bicycling directions are great, but when it indicates to take a bike route, it says something to the effect of, “turn left 0.4 miles; turn Right 0.7 miles,” which makes it difficult when you don’t have a source of reference such as a street name. Fortunately, there was a highway nearby that I took all the way to Corvallis, where I got lost and found again. Unfortunately, along the way, crossing a bridge over the Willamette, I was admiring the beauty from the top of the bridge and my pannier got a little too close to the wall and my bike took a minor crash. I was blessed that there wasn’t a car coming at that moment, because I had to practically jump off my bike into the lane to escape my bike falling on top of me. It was the closest I’ve ever felt to actually almost dying, I’ve hiked near cliffs, rock climbed, {insert dangerous activity here}, but never have I had an experience where I knew that by God’s blessing I was still alive. My bike was okay except for the handle bars, which got out of alignment, but was an easy fix, I went untouched.
Along the way, I stopped for a much needed energy stop at a cafe in Adair Village, for some reason I was craving biscuits and gravy, which I’ve never ordered in my life, but it satisfied the energy slump. I talked to the owner for a bit, it’s quite surprising where you will find a philosopher. He was talking about fixing things and the difference between trying to fix a problem vs. hiring someone to do it and spending much more money. Then he talked about all of us born knowing nothing, so how can we learn anything if we let fear keep us from trying to fix something? Even if we break it, at least the next time you’ll know how to not break it that way, and hopefully, you’ll know how to fix it, this goes beyond mere appliances as well.
I got to Corvallis and met my next CSer, Ebba. Her place was great, she had a well developed farm in her backyard, she was raising chickens too! In fact, some CSers from before helped her slaughter her last crew of chickens, I would have loved to have been there for that. In Corvallis, they had the Da Vinci Days going on, but the most notable event was the Kinetic Sculpture Racing that was going on this weekend. They are huge contraptions that are bicycle powered, the first day they are judged for their creativity, the next, they must race through the town with a section of sand dune. The last day, they must peddle through a mud bog and finally float down the river, come up a ramp, and peddle back to the event. That night was Latin music, and I introduced my bike to people as Man Parts, that name’s for you Kim (and Sam’s Grandma). It’s funny the coincidence of it being Latin music that night and the story behind Man Parts. At work, there was someone who said they knew how to Salsa dance, and someone said I should teach this lady to Salsa dance, but I could only show her my man parts, meaning of course, the male steps of Salsa dancing, so there you go.
July 14 – Got a nice early start with what seems to be the official breakfast foodstuff of the trip: pancakes. They provide a lot of calories which really makes a huge difference in how the ride goes that day. I wasn’t sure where I was going to end up that day, but I knew that I didn’t want to camp by the side of the road again. Along the way I climbed this “hill” called Pete’s Mountain. It was the first time walking up anything. I was a little disappointed, but I have to realize I’m not a world champion bicycle tourer, so I had to get over myself pretty quickly. What waited on the other side was pure speed. I picked up the fastest speed on this trip so far and the fastest I’ve ever gotten on a bike, a whopping 43.6 MPH.
After breaking my highest speed record I had to take a very short ferry across the river, where I was graced with the presence of 4 lovely Jehovah witnesses. We chatted for a little bit and they wanted to give me one of their Watchtower publications, but alas, my bike was full, so I kindly declined. When I got to Canby, I decided to take an alternate route to Champoeg (pronounced “Shampoo-y”), where they have hiker-biker sites. Hiker-biker sites are sites that the state parks have designated for people that are either hiking or biking, they’re found mainly on the coast as people are constantly touring the coast, so they’re not available at every state park. And the best part is that in Oregon they’re all $5. We got all the perks of the RVs and other campers that pay $27 (i.e. hot showers, beautiful scenery, and flush toilets).
When I got to Champoeg, I met my first tourer: Garth. Garth is a good guy, we chatted a lot about the gear that we use, what works and what doesn’t and swapped stories. We both were riding the same bike, a Surly Long Haul Trucker. He does a short tour a couple times a year, but I encouraged him to try the Pacific Coast. Although he was not confident in his abilities as a biker, I know that he would succeed. I impressed him, and myself, when I started the fire with a flint and Vaseline-soaked cotton pads.
July 11, 12, 13 – Woke up early to watch the World Cup Finals between Spain and Netherlands at McMenna’s theater and pub. I’ve only seen one other event where people are drinking at 10 in the morning and that’s Picnic Day in Davis, CA. It’s a really neat place, no admission and the game was in HD on a huge theatrical screen. I wish there were more goals scored so we could get up and scream in celebration, but Spain chose to score in the last minutes of extra time. I was impartial to both teams, but for the sake of sportsmanship, I chose Spain. When they finally scored the place went wild, one guy got on stage took his shirt off and spun it above his head like a helicopter (some people will know that song). The rest of the day was chill. However, I can’t stay in one place for too long, so I studied up on the bus system and caught a bus to downtown to watch a movie, Micmacs, which was directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet (Amelie). Another very imaginative movie, this director knows how to bring his imagination to life.
The next morning I met someone from New York named Nancy as well as a Swedish guy named Christoffer. Me and Chris became instant best friends. The three of us hit downtown in hopes of going to the Portland Art Museum, but it was closed on Monday. We then went to the biggest bookstore ever, Powell’s. I suggested the idea of playing hide-and-go-seek, but there weren’t any takers. This place is huge and their rare books room is a great place to see, well, rare books. There was a book that was accompanied by a letter by JFK and signed with his signature, I believe it went for $5,000, just to give you an idea of the rarity of some of those books. Christoffer heard that one of his favorite bands was playing in town, so we bought tickets to there and saw a really good show. After that, we met his couch surfer friend and there was one girl that sang and another guy played the guitar, good times. Christoffer had a little too much to drink and it was getting late, so me and Nancy headed back to the hostel, but Christoffer said he’d come later. I wasn’t sure how he did it, but he made it back to the hostel, upon his return he came into the men’s dorm and up to my bunk and whispered, “I made it…I’m messed up…but I made it back,” to which I replied, “go to sleep and good job.” He slept until 2 the next day.
I wanted to do some exploring of the outdoors so I asked Nancy to accompany me on a bike ride down a trail along the Willamette River and back to Downtown. It was a beautiful ride, the bridges in Portland are gorgeous, Oregon has no shortage of bridges whatsoever and most of them are bike friendly. We even ran into what seemed like a hidden nice part of Downtown. I returned to the hostel and watched a video in the common room, not a great place to watch this video. I posted it on Facebook, but here it is again: http://vimeo.com/12971599 I had never seen the video, but as I was sitting in the common area I started to think about if my niece had to go through the same thing and just how tough it would be for all of us. The dad is humble in knowing that there isn’t special reason why this shouldn’t be happening to him and that God’s plan is perfect. Now when I say crying, I mean I was quietly sobbing to myself, it was so emotional and touching, I couldn’t help it. I watched it again before bed and it still had the same effect, their other videos are great too, good job Phos Pictures!
July 8, 9, 10 – I called Kelly yesterday and got her address. Me and Kelly go way back, she’s the mom of one of my childhood friends, Antonio, whom I’ve known since I was in 5th grade. Kelly moved to Portland not long ago, and my mom, being very good at networking with people, was able to help me get in touch with her. I figured on a 40 mile ride today, but what I didn’t know was that Portland is much bigger than I originally thought. It turned out to be about a 55 mile ride, and the heat didn’t help out too much, nor did riding on the side of Highway 30. On the bright side, it was still a beautiful ride and Portland is a very pro-bicycling city. I had the privilege of waiting on the side of a draw bridge with a couple dozen other bicyclists, and when the flashing red light ceased, it turned into the tour de Portland. I knew it was time to stop and get a Gatorade when I started to get the chills on a perfectly hot day carrying about 70+ pounds of gear. Shortly after that, I reached Kelly’s place and was greeted by her wonderful and curious kid, Quentin, and her granddaughter, Leilani. Very curious little people, they were about the same age, but Quentin was something else. He had a really good memory, I told him my name and he got it right away, and he’s 3 and talked very clearly. He reads books like Moby Dick and other books that would be considered way beyond his comprehension for his age, a really amazing kid. Leilani was a little rocket and loved playing cards, she too, is 3. I also helped her son Daniel get his rap video online. Later I met her husband Raymond and he was very willing to help me out in any way I needed. I’m very much appreciative of the love and kindness that Kelly and Raymond’s family showed me and I’m glad to know that there are wonderful people out there like them. While I was there I explored downtown for a bit, did some Salsa dancing, watched the Germany and Uruguay soccer match and went to a kid’s birthday party. Also, SPOT sent me a new product so that you could keep track of me along my journey, if you missed the link here it is: Stalk Tony, thanks mom for sending that out to me!
I would have loved to stuck around at Kelly and Ray’s place, and they said I could, but I wanted to meet more people, so I stayed a few nights at the Hawthorne Hostel. Hawthorne is the name of one of the many neighborhoods in the Portland. People say that it’s more Berkeley than Berkeley (lots of hipsters, coffee shops, small stores and cheap eateries), I agree. I met a lot of people at the hostel, there was Aimee who was just passing through, but she was from SoCal and travelling the country, but didn’t really know where she was going. Then there was Shan, who was from Sausalito and he lived on a boat out there. He was in Portland working different jobs. I also met a Canadian named Alana who was out here with friends that were attending a wedding. And there was Yvonne, who was attending a bow making class where they pick their own wood and carve a bow out of it. She was from Oakland and worked for a great non-profit called the Bay Area Wilderness Training. They have people that want to organize trips, they get the gear from sponsors, and when the group has raised the minimum amount, they train them in how to use the gear and get them out into the wild, “Wild,” I know.
July 7 – I woke up early, and the video above shows a little bit of my state. It was the first time that I was able to get out on the road by 6:30 instead of a lazy 11. I was a little nervous passing through Yelm because I hear that there’s a cult there that worships the warrior goddess, Ramntha. Their followers are called Ramsters, at this point I wish I was joking, but they know themselves as that. When there is no moon they believe that evil spirits come down and those spirits are afraid or cannot go where copper or bronze is, so the Ramsters clad themselves with the metal. To practice against fighting these spirits they climb a big hill at night, butt-naked, and run down the hill blindfolded, also if they bump into someone that’s their soulmate and consummate their union at once. Now, all of this is 2nd hand knowledge and if you happen to be a Ramster reading this, please clarify if I’ve got something wrong or if I’ve missed anything, thanks!
The bike path was beautiful and very flat, which helped me achieve a long ride that day. I was planning on riding to Portland, however, I was exhausted by the time I got to Longview, and good thing I stopped. If I rode out to Portland, that would have been a 130-mile trip, instead, I cut it short by 50 miles. About halfway to Longview I was getting very hungry, and being on a bike path between cities you know that there isn’t much to offer in terms of food. It was to my surprise when I spotted a restaurant, Mama Stortini’s Ristorante in Puyallup, WA. It looked like a very expensive restaurant, hardwood floors, dressed up host and waiters, bottles of wine on the wall; I mean, I ordered a hamburger with carmelized onions, havarti cheese, bacon, and some of the best fries in the world and it didn’t cost me an arm and a leg. Not just that, but when I told them where I was from, the hostess often visits her uncle in Vacaville, so she knew exactly where I was talking about, such a tiny world. Afterwards, stuffed and re-energized, I continued my journey south. I apologize to anyone from Longview, but that is an ugly city. It’s very industrious from the boats that constantly pull up there and the countless number of logging, concrete, and other misc. trucks that stop there. There always seemed to be a gray haze around even though the sky elsewhere was blue. I don’t know if the city needs help, but I wonder what could be done and where to start? I’m only staying one night and that’s more than enough, can’t wait for the morning.
July 6 – The plan today was…well there was no plan. I knew one thing for sure, and that was that I’d be pedaling. I didn’t really have any destination in mind, just try to get as far as I could and put the rest in God’s hands. Riding out of Seattle was surprisingly easy, aligned with trails and signs that made it difficult to get lost. During the times of riding in between cities I have a lot of time to think and reflect and it’s been a great journey so far and one thought always looms in the back of my mind, “What are you going to do when you get home?” I never planned this trip to be something of an eye-opener, although it’s happening, so I’ve been praying and thinking up different strategies of what to do when I get back. Instead of saying, I’m going to go to PT/nursing school or try to start a non-profit, I’m detailing each process in my head, get home, take GRE, find a job that corresponds with what I want to do, apply for school, save money, love and cherish my friends more than I’ve ever done, and relish the fact that I have so many people that care about me and to be active in showing that. That last part has developed from meeting so many people and getting to see how they interact with the people around them, from roommates to significant other to family. There’s so much more to relationships that I took for granted, we all have, but when you’re away from them for so long, you feel the roots of those friendships tugging at your heart and you wish to see everyone again. I suppose that’s the long way of saying, “I miss you, all of you.”
Back to riding, so it’s a pretty sunny day during the entire ride, very unlike the Northwest. As the day nears its end, I still haven’t found a place to stay. I queried about camping at a park where there was a forest, but to my dismay they didn’t allow it, or at least it’d a be a $300 per night basis (that was the amount of the fine plus they would make me move). So I kept on truckin’. I saw a few churches and thought maybe I could ask them if I could camp in their parking lot, but I kept truckin’. There was a lot of wild land out there, but Fort Lewis seemed to have wanted all of it and proudly stated that with razor wire and “DANGER” signs, so I kept truckin’. Eventually I found a large rusty metal swing gate that guarded an overgrown meadow. Keep in mind, my tent was about 10 feet from the highway, but blocked by about 5 feet tall foliage, I’m 5’10”, so keeping a low profile the entire time was critical to not getting caught (this wasn’t exactly legal, sorry mom!). You could clearly see the path to my bike and tent and my only wish was that I wouldn’t wake up to a sparsely-toothed face grinning at me or an officer inspecting my bags. A lot of people call this “stealth” or “ninja” camping, but I think I’m going to dub it Buccaneer camping for no good reason than to call it something else. The video below shows a little of my condition in the morning. For the record, I was not crying in the video, my eyes were full of gunk because of all the pollen around.
Monday, June 28th, 2010: Woke up and reminisced a cold and still pleasant version of the world’s best pizza, Waterfront Pizza. Simple really, tomatoes, olives, and cheese, but the dough and quality of those ingredients far exceed any pizza I’ve ever tried before. After breakfast I explored downtown PT with Maggie and Jesse. We went their place of employment, a café by the name of Undertown. You take stairs down to a place that resembles a cellar, however, it is decked out with art and artsy people and very talented baristas. I ordered a Chai, and Joe painted a feather with the Chai and foam on top, quite impressive. Sadly, I didn’t have my camera, but I think my vague description and a good imagination will allow you an image that may come eerily close to reality. After the tour, it was time for me to depart. On I rode, a little longer than expected, definitely longer than my knees expected. The ride was forested for most of the way until I got to Edmonds. Awaiting my arrival was a hill, possibly 3 blocks in length and an incline of 45 degrees, no exaggeration. After totally demolishing that hill, I found Luis, my next couchsurfing host.
It’s a slightly scary situation every time you surf and are looking for the house, not because you might get lost trying to find it, but you’re never sure what you’re going to find. Not that I’m looking for luxury of any kind, otherwised I’d be better off in a hotel, however, I wouldn’t couchsurf in the crest in Vallejo (the crest is a heavily concentrated area of gang activity). And because you’re, for the most part, naïve about the area you’ll be staying in, you don’t know what to expect. In Luis’ case, this was the polar opposite, a nice neighborhood, probably less than 5 years old, fully furnished 4 bdrm house, I mean, in my case, this was a mansion. We went out for papusas and this fried plantains, to me it sounded and looked gross, but, one bite, and you will never judge anything by its looks ever again. Although we had just met, he took me to a celebration that his coworkers were having for their recent softball playoff win. The great part about it was that I was the only one not speaeking Spanish, so I got to listen, and thaat’s what I did for most of the time. Not because people wouldn’t talk to me in English, but because I really wanted to try to see if I could hear every word clearly. If I had another month there, I’d have been bilingual, well, at least understand a good amount.
Tuesday, June 29th, 2010: We played with the idea of rock climbing yesterday, but because of the unpredictability of the weather,nothing was certain. It was cloudy outside and rain was a high possibility, but we took the gamble and went climbing at a place nicknamed, “Exit 38,” since it took Exit 38 to get there. The area is unsuspecting of any sort of climbing unless you have someone in the know, Luis, was in the know. We hiked through a trail that looked like it was designed by George Lucas, with Ewoks waiting for the cue word, “Action!” We passed one wall that was about a 5.7, 5.8, and someone was already climbing on it, so we hiked on. Eventually, we passed a non-profit group that helped inner-city girls get out of the city and do something engaging. We found a wall between the two groups that suited my level perfectly. Although the climbing was great, what I remember most are the chants the girls came up with to encourage their teammates. The shrills of accomplishment, the screams of victory, and the laughter of “I can’t believe I just did that!” It reminded me of when Pam and Jenn went indoor climbing, shy about how well they might do, but nonetheless gave it a go; consequently, I had to practically pry them off the wall because they enjoyed it so much. I found myself nervous though, I had climbed in the sterile environment of indoors, where routes are brightly labeled and numbered for your convenience, but out here, I had to focus, look around take calculated risks, trust the rock, and trust my equipment. Furthermore, I had never belayed for lead climbing, which is a form of someone clipping into the rock at various oints, so you can’t keep the rope tact, but you can’t keep it too loose. Too tact and you will be practically dragging the climber down, too loose, and if they slip they might fall further and increase their chance of injury. Knowing all these risks and Luis still trusted me. Thankfully, I must have lost a little weight because I was able to squeeze into his harness, the harness of a 150 lb. man going on a 180 lb. man, “big man in a little coat” ring a bell? Luis had another struggle, I didn’t know how to lead climb, so we resorted to him climbing to the top, hooking the rope in and letting me top rope. This presented an additional strain on Luis, because for every climb that I did, he’d have to do 2, one to loop the rope to the top, and the other to “clean” the rope, or get all the carabiners unhooked. He was a good sport about it and fatigued by the end of the day. I didn’t have any slips, the puzzle was just my level, and I would love to come back and do it again. For the rest of the day, we cooked a meal and relaxed.
Wednesday, June 30th, 2010: Very much like the evening before, we chilled, I updated the website, did most of the busy stuff I needed to do. I explored the city a bit and when I got back, found out we were going to play soccer. Again, I found myself as the non-Spanish speaker, but the game of soccer is a universal language. I did cause a few fouls, but nothing more severe than shouldering a guy who wasn’t looking where he was running. He was dizzy for a moment, but quickly rejoined the game when the stars faded away. We topped of the night with a restaurant that serves your meat raw on a piping hot iron block left for you to cook yourself. I’m not sure if it was my cooking job, the ingredients that the restaurant gave me, or some combination of both, but it turned into on of the greatest philly cheesesteak sandwiches I’ve ever had. I grew up in a family of fast eaters, but I spent a good hour slowly eating and tasting and savoring that gorgeous sandwich. I can’t quite remember the name of the place, but it was in Mukilteo, a small town made busy with the ferry crossing.
Thursday, July 1st 2010: Luis had to work, and it was time for me to depart. With my bike packed, my legs hesitant to go, I pushed on towards Seattle. It was a simple 30 miles, at least the distance was simple, the route was tricky in some places. As usual, I lost the trail and rode through busy streets with what could hardly be called a shoulder until I haphazardly rediscovered the trail. Seattle is a very artful and bike friendly city, along the way there were rows of signs that made a “flip book” movement as you passed by them, you can see what I mean in the video below.
Vlog #3 – Trail Flip Book from Globewalk on Vimeo.
When I got to the Green Tortoise Hostel, I found that they didn’t have my reservation, but, and I didn’t know this either, the truth was that my reservation wasn’t until the next day, thankfully, they had room for me and I just had to switch rooms in the morning. I needed some street clothes so I biked to the nearest Goodwill store to “rent” some clothes. Goodwill clothes are decently priced and so it’s convenient to purchase an outfit since I was going to be in Seattle for almost a week. My “hipster” friends would be proud of me, buying a shirt that actually fit, pants that weren’t baggy (not the tight girly pants though), and some Puma shoes. I’ll try to get a pic of my handiwork. Bicycling in downtown Seattle looks intimidating with the amount of traffic, but they, the city, residents and taxi drivers (gasp!), cater to bicyclists, but it could also be that I was riding next to an officer on a bike. Weaving in and out of traffic is easy and most of the time you are faster than the traffic itself. With my knee starting to bother me, I decided that it was time to retire to bed.
Friday, July 2nd 2010: It was a good morning of editing my photos that are on Facebook right now. Thankfully, I was able to use Lightroom, so the photos are dressed up the way I like it and because of the additional options, it takes about 3 times as long to edit them than on Picasa. Afterwards, I got lost for awhile walking around Seattle and at every corner of downtown it was like a reenactment of Braveheart. A horde of masses on one side and a mass of bodies on the other, sans the war paint. Our battle song was the illuminated florescent walk sign, where we stepped off the curve and tried to flow through the opposing rush of people. There are a lot of people in Seattle and it’s nice when you can turn into a small street with little foot traffic. The city remains beautiful because they have people cleaning the streets most of the time, if they weren’t there, everyone would be drowning in a sea of cigarette butts. What’s also great is that the downtown area is very involved with their residents, I saw the Vicci Martinez Band playing live for their “Get Out for Lunch” series, where they have local artists play M-F for lunch. Vicci was this tiny little woman with vocals that would give no hint of her stature. She had a lot of soul put into each lyric and her movements echoed the passion in her voice. Near the end of the day, I hung out with my roommates Raymond, Nita, Sarena, Nelson, and Lucy. We played Blackjack, but I urged them to play Egyptian Rat Screw. Mussa, a tall fellow from Africa didn’t quite understand the concept of not slapping all the time, until we had to put restrictions on his playing. After that game we decided to play Rummy, which lasted for a few hours. Lucy and Sarena are from England and are travelling down the coast to San Diego, Raymond and Nita are from North Platte and Nita had never seen the ocean, so Raymond obliged to show her the world, a modern day Aladdin that guy. Sleep eventually lulled me away from the game and into my dorm (in the hostel).
Saturday, July3rd 2010: I was able to meet up with my good pal Chris Cortez. We always have good conversations and just have a good time. I decided to take him indoor climbing. He did really well and learned quickly some things that people don’t pick up within the first couple of climbs. His fear of heights didn’t deter him from trusting me to hold him from falling to his impending doom. I wanted to climb, so we went to the bouldering wall, where Chris totally owned this one tough route. Lunch took place at an Oprah-famous burger joint called Red Mills. Their burgers were excellent and their onion rings were otherworldly. I also saw the largest stack of bacon looking to be about 3 feet high and 1 foot wide; there are two things that I’ve concluded that Seattlites love: cigarettes and bacon.
Later that day, without Chris, I went to a fun event in Seattle, which was really fun. They played some loud music out there, and where there’s music, there’s people to talk to and dance with. The kind of music they played was bluegrass/fiddle/ho down, kind of the type that’s good for do-si-do-ing (which swing dance really comes in handy). Near the end of the event there was a blob of people dancing their butts off. One girl from Australia taught me the official moves to square dancing.
Sunday: Returned to the event and somehow met someone that went to UC Davis! I forgot how I included myself into their conversation, but I somehow did, and next thing I know I’m meeting Jason, Erica, and Justin. They were really cool people and it’s crazy to know that Erica went to the same college as me. Also, I asked the first question and got it on video, I’m just finding ways to bleep out the one cuss word in it, or at least making the video age-restricted, anyone have any ideas? I kind of clung on to them and they invited me over to a bbq that Jason’s friend was having. They didn’t look like the murderer type, so I said of course! The friend’s name was Zipper (his last name), and I talked to them about the project and what I was doing and handed them some heart cards. Some of them also were bicycle riders and had ridden long-distance trips before and gave me a few pointers. Also, I got to ask my 2nd question! And once again, I’m trying to make it more age-appropriate, however, the context of the question really isn’t the best, so if potty humor isn’t your thing, just wait for more questions to come. Also, at this time, I’ve decided that once I’ve exhausted the questions that were sponsored, I will ask my own questions, geared towards finding what inspires people to do what they do, what makes them get up in the morning, or what dreams do they have, that way, these will be more in line with the project and what it’s supposed to project.
After the bbq I hung out with some hostelers and watched the fireworks from a nice vantage point, I shot some shotty video, but it’ll be up soon, nonetheless.
Monday July 5th 2010: A very slow day, lounged around, got some rest before my ride tomorrow, which I’m not sure how far I’m going to go. But, as all resting days go with a restless young man, I went out dancing with my new friend Erica and her friend Jaizi (“J-Z”). It was great to hang out with some Californians, just more ways to make me homesick. It was a lot of fun, we didn’t really have any plans, just went to places that didn’t have a cover charge. One place was playing old school funk and you know I can get down with the funk! Jaizi was off the chain though! She’s got really long hair that bounced around everywhere when she danced and she had some funky-good moves. All these places were in Capitol Hill, which is equivalent to Castro in S.F., but it didn’t seem like that at all, at least compared to the one instance I was in Castro. We just finished watching a Christmas play or ballet and decided to go eat afterwards. We head out to look for a good place to eat, driving around randomly and spotted a row of restaurants that looked up to the task. We find a parking spot, my friend opens her door and is greeted by a man wearing nothing but a Santa hat, I literally mean, nothing but a Santa hat, on his head. What was funny was that he was strolling extremely casual, without a care in the world, like it was the most natural thing. So, I didn’t see anything like that in Capitol Hill, so it’s tame as far as I can tell. One great thing that I saw was that there were a group of people playing bicycle polo! I only saw that on video, but here it was, right in front of my face. Walking home was weird, it was about 130 and the entire city seemed empty, lit up, but deserted. All-in-all, it was a great ending for my time in Seattle, and I look forward to more visits in the future. The next big city: Portland.
Days 2-4 (June 25th to 27th)
It’s been a busy day today, still have things planned…feels a little weird saying that word, “planned.” It’s been only 48 hours in Port Angeles and I already have plans for dinner, plans to come back, plans, plans, plans; 48 hours! Back to what I was saying before, woke up this morning in Amy and Brent’s house on the most comfortable inflatable mattress I’ve had the privilege of ever sleeping on. No back aches, my body never touched the floor from some invisible leak, I should have gotten the model number, dang.
After a nice breakfast with Amy and Brent, I finally put the full load on my bike. It was a little difficult at first, one of the attachment hooks got knocked out of place, but after an easy fix, everything was butter. The back rack swayed with each tilt of the bike; each sway knocked my balance off a little bit, but those 3 years in the Chinese acrobatic act helped keep me from falling completely off. Once I got rolling, I felt like a steamroller; rocks would shoot out like rockets from the pressure of my back tire at unsuspecting victims (no one and no cars have been hit, as of yet). My first stop: First Street Haven, a restaurant picked by the loving Sherry and Terry from Couchsurfing.com. Little did I know they would be responsible for keeping me in Port Angeles longer than I originally expected.
The Official Starting Point at the USCG on Ediz Hook Port Angeles, WA
Afterwards, I figured the Ediz Hook would be a great place to make the official start of my journey with it being the beginning of the trail that will take me through most of Northwestern Washington. Discovery trail is a very well maintained trail that takes you through the town and then follows the waterfront for a majority of its length. When it’s not by the water it’s going down the purest of green trees lined up alongside the path providing a shallow canopy of shelter from the sun. I took the Discovery Trail to my first real couchsurfer host, Sam. Sam let me in on a hidden spare key. Later, I met his brother Shane who was a scruffy guy. Although his appearances seemed unfriendly, he was actually a really cool guy with some awesome nature videos of the backcountry of Washington. When Sam got home, we talked a bit and I realized that we share a lot of the same interests and dreams to get to know our fellow people, but with different reasons.
Day 4 – Sol Duc Falls from Globewalk on Vimeo.
Sam was kind to let me stay an extra night on no notice. The 2nd day I was there, I spent some time with Sherry and her daughter Kelly. We went to Elwa Wall where all my rock climbing friends would drool with envy. Sherry enjoyed the deer fern along the way. The next place was a large waterfall known as Sol Duc Falls (pictures to be released soon) with deer fern everywhere. After a full day of hiking and climbing, me and Kelly went to a church in PA called the Upper Room, similar to The Father’s House. Finished it up with an angus hot dog and smoked fontina cheese and Sherry’s delicious potato salad (without the deer fern). That night (Saturday the 26th), me and Sam talked some more, with my eyes half open from exhaustion.
At the Elwa Dam
Resting at the Elwa Wall
The next morning, I stumbled onto Discovery Trail towards Port Townsend, it’s hard to find it again after you come off it. To my dismay, the Discovery Trail doesn’t go all the way to Port Townsend, doesn’t even come close, leaving me with no option but to ride on 101 for awhile. I felt slightly at ease with a 4 foot shoulder and cars speeding at 60+ mph, but ease turned into panic when I rode on Hwy 20. Highway 20 has low traffic travelling at high speeds, but what it lacks in cars makes up in its treachery with hills and 4 inch shoulders with sudden drop offs. Eventually I arrived in the sleep town known as Port Townsend. I met my host, Jesse, and started off with conversation that I thought was funny, yet, I now need to fire my writer.
Jesse and Maggie (I hope I spelled your name correctly) are great people, full of spunk and both host an assortment of skills. These skills range from cooking to musicianship to juggling! Jesse was subdued for the most part by an injury that occurred spontaneously. I tried to help, but his injury may be beyond my help. I didn’t stick around long because I had made plans to attend a Schwenker with another couchsurfer. Jonathan was a great guy who made some really good beer and invited some people over that I would love to get to know better. One of them showed me a Gooey Duck, the largest clam in the world that lives buried a few feet below the surface. I couldn’t stay long since the greatest pizza in the world was waiting for me at my hosts’ place. When I returned Maggie and Jesse were watching the Jerk featuring Steve Martin, great movie! I’ll update again about what’s gone on since then soon, or check out: http://www.facebook.com/globewalk for micro updates.
Upper Room Church Saturdays at 6
I’ll start where I left. I said my goodbyes to my family, no tears (except my dad, love you dad!). I expected to be sobbing uncontrollably as my parents disappeared from sight, however, that wasn’t the case. I sat next to a weathered looking man donning leather apparel. His name was Guitar John and he played Blues up and down the coast. We chatted about how he could rob a plane and get away with it; hypothetically, of course, but since he was afraid of flying and Hawaii being the only place he would fly to, we decided that jumping out of a plane into the ocean after robbing it would not be successful in any way.
The next stop was Sacramento and I bypassed sitting next to the menacing, skinny fellow for the much plumper woman behind him. This was the 10-hour portion of my journey to Eugene and I believe I would have opted for Kid Rock as I only got 2 hours of cumulative sleep, but blissful sleep nevertheless. In Eugene I switched seats to an empty row until a man by the name of Dunbar, with a striking resemblance to Leonardo da Vinci, sat next to me and began a deep conversation about the pleasures of life and happiness. Not far into the conversation, Shawn, overhearing what he thought was “Utopian colony,” joined in the conversation. He was going to college to make prosthetics (Prosthesis Engineer?) and wanted to volunteer 2 months out of the year to help those in other countries where resources are scarce. We debated about Good, Evil, the government system, communities, and law, until they reached Portland where we parted ways.
I’ve been told that I’m a good listener, and I agree with that sometimes, but with two hours of sleep, it was a real challenge with Jarmel. Unfortunately for Jarmel, and partially for me, he had his ipod shuffle stolen at the bus station and put the blame on a woman that sat near us creating an awkward tension that they both kindled with accusations and sass. But when they weren’t taking jabs at each other he liked to talk, complain mostly, but there was still some decent talk. By the time the lady got off in Tacoma, Jarmel charmed his way to a cease-fire.
Seattle, my refuge for a few hours. Went immediately to REI and stocked up on gel “food,” thanks Toni for the gift card! Being really tired and having 4 hours before my last bus arrived, I decided to take my final leisure activity and watched Iron Man 2. I went back to the bus stop and met a wonderful lady named CJ returning home. We chatted for quite some time, very pleasant, and informative in many different aspects. See you when I get to Port Townsend!
The ferry ride was beautiful: sun setting in the background, the soft smell of the salty air, cool wind blowing, Mt. Olympia in the background, it was very serene.
Lastly, a couple of “thanks.” Thank you Powell family for your hospitality and picking me up from the Greyhound station. Thank you Body in Balance family, my family, all those that are praying for me, and all those that have helped financially, I’ve doubled my goal of what I wanted to save and will use that to bless others and the Himalayan Cataract Project. I have a lot more to say, but my eyelids are denying that request, so off to bed I go.
Good Night,
Anthony “Tony” Rosas
