Bike Touring 101

A return to my Yurt days makes it hard to leave Port Townsend. There is no better place that I have found to sleep than in a Yurt.









I'm not in Port Townsend any more, and definitely not in S.F. yet!





One of many ominous Tsunami warning signs along the coast







I make my first friends along the ride











Riding with Kelvin down US 101











Jerry, also on his way from Canada to The Mexico border











Taking a rest break















Peeling Myself Away
Port Townsend, what a place! My mom and brother pulled out of town Wednesday morning, I was originally scheduled to follow later that day...but what's the rush? So Wednesday turned into Thursday but Thursday turned into Friday, and why leave on Friday when I can leave on Saturday? It got a little embarrassing as I would see people around town, a quizzical look on their face..."I thought you left yesterday, or the day before that?"
In the end I finally pulled myself away on Saturday. With a send-off from Amanda, Lampy, Chloe, Sam, Duncan, and Maggie, I got on my bike, waved goodbye and was on my way. A call from the Lampert/Webby family that night helped ease the transition.

Anatomy of a Ride
My day starts promptly at 7:00 AM when I turn off my alarm. At 8:00 I start stirring, tired, sore muscles throughout my body. The next few hours are spent stretching, eating, packing up, looking over the day's route, and mentally preparing for another day ahead. By 10:00, 10:30, or a couple of times as late as 11:30 I am off like the wind.
0-5 mph starting or stopping speed
5-10 mph riding up big hills, nasty head winds, or when the donuts wear off
10-18 mph This is where I spend most of my time (I have been averaging 12-15 mph
over most stretches)
18-25 mph All of a sudden the world looks pretty good from the seat of a bike
25-30 mph Startin to pick up speed, I drop to the lower bars and hold on tight
30-39 mph RIPPIN' the donuts must be kickin' in
40+ mph I'll know when I hit it?
The first hour is spent getting into the grove of the day. My pace is lite as I warm up and get the feel of riding again. I usually stop after about 25-30 miles to have a huge lunch, stretch, and take a break. The second 25-30 miles are a little tougher, but I am in my groove at this point. All in all, I ride for about 4-5 hours per day with another 2-4 hours of breaks and time to explore and shop for food each day.
Before I get to camp I stop at a grocery store and stock up for dinner and breakfast the next day. In camp is time to stretch, clean-up, eat, look at the next day's route, and not long after dark I am in bed. My appetite for food and sleep are insatiable, 9-10 hours each night.

The Lonely Road
I spend a lot of time in my head, listening to music, thinking about all sorts of stuff, and taking in the subtleties not experienced in a car. From the first camp it set in that this was going to be a long and lonely stretch. I have a few interactions with people here and there, but mostly it revolves around questions about how far am I going?, where did I start?...then there is some parting comment, "you got a long way to go" "sounds like a great trip" "Huh." The most impressionable comment came from a guy in his 60's who chatted me up for a while, then after a long pause he said, "It sure seems like it would be more fun if you had some one else to ride with you." Most of the time I agree with him, but that is not the reality for this next stretch, so I try to focus on the benefits of riding alone, ask myself why I chose to do this, what do I have to learn...
About the third day I encounter another biker, Kelvin from Canada. We are working off of the same book and have a similar time frame for traveling south. Day six I meet Jerry, another solo biker, again working off the same book and time line. I hear about some other folks who I am yet to cross paths with. There is a little group of us scattered within 25 miles of one another, meeting at campgrounds, passing each other on the road, stopping to take breaks together. I see or chat with some one from this group every day or two.

Where to Next
I crossed over the Columbia River yesterday and arrived in Astoria, OR. The bridge is 4 miles long, shoulder less, windy, and loaded with cars. It is the most harrowing part of the ride so far. Like arriving in Ketchikan, it is the transitions into towns where traffic picks up as does the pace of life which are the biggest challenges. Tomorrow I will ride south down the Oregon Coast for the next 10 days, followed by another 10 days to S.F.