Fist Days on The Road - The Beauty Of The Olympic Peninsula And The Washington Coast On The Way To Cannon Beach, Or

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Transcribed from a letter written April 11th, 2015.



Wow! After 8 days of riding I’ve made it around the Olympic Peninsula, down the Washington coast, and crossed the Astoria-Megler bridge into Oregon. This letter is being written as I take a few days to relax and heal up from the first week of riding in Cannon Beach, Oregon. The weather has been miraculous, the first 6 days on the Peninsula almost seeming like summertime. The last two days into Oregon were a bit wet and windy, but who can complain at 25%!?(MISSING)



After a week without checking my email, text messaging, or hearing the ringtone of my phone, I am beginning to settle into a steady state of calm. Being inches from semi-trucks loaded down with timber, passing by at 80 mph may be a little nerve racking, but when the shoulders open up and the traffic subsides, there's a space which exists where obligation is a foreign concept. Imbibing the beauty of the Straight of Juan de Fuca and the sweet scent of the sea breeze, I became aware of the compassionate wisdom and strength of the coastal sentinels standing tall in the Olympic National Forest. They stand as a testament to the power and prestige of the natural order of life, which occurs for me right now as of primary importance. When was the last time "being" was of primary importance? When was the last time “experience” was of great enough worth, by itself, without need of certification or accreditation? There is no value or comparison which I could exchange for this opportunity.



The night of day 2, as I stared into the starry sky, I was overcome by the sensation that this 365 day “solo” bicycle tour was indeed a pilgrimage, but that in no way was I “alone,” for I had embarked on a 365 day journey with God - a spiritual quest through which growth is inevitable and a specific destination irrelevant. That night, under that stars, I knew my heart had begun to open and that my education in Reality begun. It is interesting that this was the night of Easter Sunday, a metaphor of the journey taken in complete faith.



Of course the very next day my faith was tested. The guidebook I’m following turned out to need some revisions, and described a couple of campsites outside of Port Angeles which have since been closed down. It was getting late in the day, and tired and hungry, I was beginning to pedal further and further past the town of Port Angeles and onto the shoulderless highway of the Elwha River Valley. Then I passed a couple of houses on the edge of a huge field and heard the grind of someone working on metal in an open garage. The sound of the grinding entered my ears as a whistle calling me back to ask for some help. I turned around to ask if I may camp in the open field next to the garage. The man was very pleasant and assured me that there was camping 6 miles further up the road. I was relieved that I had some clarity on where I was going, though still tired and hungry. As I pulled out of the driveway a man from across the street had come out of his house and flagged me down. What a guardian angel he was!



Tim, a retired lineman and his son, Pat, acknowledged that the turnout to the State Park was indeed about 6 miles away, but the actual camping was quite a bit further off the highway. They offered to drive me out there, but also invited me to stay at their home. The prospect of sleeping in a warm bed sounded extremely appealing and I graciously accepted their hospitable invitation. They still insisted on driving me up to the campsite anyway, just so I could see it. So, Tim’s son Pat climbed into the driver’s seat of an almost brand new Ford F150 and I climbed into the passenger’s seat. Tim got in the back seat and off we went on what turned into an extensive and incredibly informative tour of the Elwha River Valley. They showed me the route that I would have taken from their house to the campsite, a treacherous stretch of highway that hardly had any shoulders and twisted and turned in and out of the mountains for miles with very low visibility areas. It was truly a miracle that I hadn't risked this area of highway at dusk. Then they showed me the 11 mile ascent into Crescent Lake, another shoulderless section with a sign that warns cyclists of the impending danger of riding the stretch, and a blinking light to activate before doing the 1 hour ride through the lake basin. I'm glad they took me through this area because the next day there was no way to observe the beauty of the descent to the lake for all the effort it took to stay on the 6 inches of shoulder before hitting the guardrail. They showed me the Straight of Juan de Fuca from Salt Creek, an old World War II government installation. Absolutely gorgeous! Staying with these wonderful people was a great affirmation to the kind and generous nature of people and the natural inclination to give. When we turn off televisions, this is the sort of news that I believe dominates our lives, the news of good people doing good things.



The next morning I was on the road by 6:30 a.m. to brave the ferocious logging trucks on my way to Forks, W.A., home of Twilight. Sorry, I didn’t see any vampires, werewolves, or Sam and Dean Winchester. I camped at Bogacheil State Park that night and began to notice something incredible – the little muscle twitch in my left thigh, which I often confuse with my phone vibrating, had begun to subside. The first 2-3 days I had felt it and wanted to reach for my phone on numerous occasions – how interesting how our bodies become programmed by our environment and our habits. At Bogacheil, I didn’t notice the twitching. I haven’t felt it in a few whole days now.



In Humptulips, I talked to a gas station owner who was so inspired with the idea of digital detoxification being something people are talking about that she shared her story of a 5 year battle with internet addiction, during which time she had zero social interactions with anyone offline. She had to commit to only using the computer one time per week and leaving all her devices at home while she was at work in order to escape the internet’s hold on her. She validated a long held belief of mine in these words, “The sum of all relationships is the shared experiences, and the shared experiences of ‘online friends’ aren’t significant enough to give much meaning to those relationships.” We also talked about how human touch and being able to see and smell others is incredibly important to relating to others – to truly “experiencing our relationships.”



The interaction in Humptulips got me thinking of those closest to me and the love I have for them in my heart. I also found myself ready to cross the Oregon/Washington border and take my first break at my closest and dearest friend’s beach house in Cannon Beach. I was looking forward to having a few days to be able to connect and process through my experiences with a loved one. The universe knew that my anticipation must not go unchallenged, and I was given 1 day of stomach upset and two days of rain. It was glorious just the same. I rode wing to wing with bald eagles, over long bridges, slept under the stars on the beach, and played peek-a-boo with a muddy sea otter. Washington was a welcome initiation to being on the road, and now I was about to leave it behind. Cruising down Hwy 401, along the North bank of the Columbia, the Astoria-Megler bridge came into view. The threshold to Oregon and the start of my first short break, I was excited to reach it, but did not know the extent to which the Astoria bridge is an entity to be reckoned with on a bicycle. A 3 mile bridge with a vicious crosswind, tiny shoulder, and a fair amount of traffic, oh and a sustained ¾ mile climb at the end! Wow! The bridge can be seen for 5 miles as 401 approaches Hwy 101 and both thoroughfares merge to cross the Columbia. It was 5 miles to contemplate and prepare for those winds, and that tiny shoulder, 5 miles to talk to my legs, coaching them to pedal like mad. Then finally, the light turns green and I turn onto the bridge – Ahhhh!...I made it!



From Cannon Beach, with love and compassion, fully embracing life and all the possibilities our world has to offer,



Node S. – Natty Pilgrim

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