Exploring the Olympic Discovery Trail and Discovering Something Completely Unexpected Along the Way

The Olympic Discovery Trail…also known as The Pathway to the Pacific because it goes from Port Townsend to La Push on the Washington Coast.

I have been fantasizing about bike packing this trail for about 4 years now.  Driving past the various trailhead markers in my truck as I have made many journeys from Oregon to Port Angeles over the years to visit my Mom, I would let my mind slip from the drivers seat of the truck to imaging pedaling my bike on that very pathway.  Curious as to what kind of discoveries I could find on that Discovery Trail, what treasures were around each bend.   Isn’t that at the core of the human spirit?  The most ancient of things…following a trail to explore?  I have been exploring trails ever since I was a kid, from the corn field across the street from my home in Hermiston, to tossing my rollerblades and walkman in my high school beater car and driving across town to the Nature Center Trail in Pueblo, Colorado.  But…for this Olympic Discovery Trail, I didn’t have the gear, the know how, or a good riding partner to accompany me on a journey like that.  So I would constantly content myself with my imagination.

But!  When my path crossed (literally and figuratively) with Aaron in late January of this year on another trail…I of course did what any other intrepid explorer would do upon first meeting another adventurer:

I tossed him my well worn map of the Discovery Trail and asked him if he was in on checking it out together sometime.  I mean…things needed to be explored out there! And I could tell he was just the man to be adventurous enough to join me and who would fully appreciate the journey as well.  Much to my delight, he took my map of the trail and kept it with him for months, and brought up planning ideas here and there during the dreary months of February and March.  He pulled up websites, and talked gear and took me to date nights of workshops on bike packing at the local bike shop here in town.  I smiled with glee when I noticed that map was folded and re-folded and more worn than when I had originally handed it over to him months earlier.  And this past July, he took me to that trailhead.

However, before we ever first stepped foot and nosed our front bike tires onto that ODT trail this past summer, we’ve been adventuring together quite often.

I wasn’t entirely sure who this Aaron fellow was when I first found myself hiking behind him up some snowy trails in January of this year, but I was happy to follow along as I usually am.  With Bella dog scouting out every pine needle and pine cone in between us.  I was lost in my own world that day, letting my thoughts come and go as I listened to each footfall of mine squish into that soft snow as the sunlight cascaded through the trees above me.  Bella’s faster footsteps creating a different drumbeat ahead of me.  The trail winding in and out, sometimes allowing me a distant view of Aaron up ahead, and sometimes the bend in trail separating us.  That day was beautiful and exactly what I needed in the midst of a pretty chaotic and confusing January for me back at home.  Up in the clear air, sunshine and mountains I could find a more meditative pace.  Unclipping my snowshoes and loading Bella Dog back up in the truck later that afternoon, I didn’t think I’d see him again which was perfectly okay with me since I had just embarrassed myself in front of him and the other hikers who kindly helped me figure out the 4 wheel drive function of my truck so I could extract myself from my parking spot.  Seriously.  I know.

But then, a month later I found myself skiing down Mt. Hood with him, swishing in and out of the s curves he was making on the hill in front of me.

Then about a month after that, I found myself following him along the McKenzie River Trail to Blue Pool and hiking up Misery Ridge on Smith Rock where I’ve always, always wanted to go.  Bella always happily in between us leading the way.  Then, earlier this summer, I found myself in a river raft tied to his river raft, floating down the Willamette with him and a bunch of his friends on a river float.  My feet splashing carefree in the water.

Then there was beach getaway weekend in May that I had (as usual) booked for myself earlier in January.  An annual tradition of sorts for me as a reprieve from the daily grind at work and life and I invited him to join Bella and I for our beach excursions.

Beach weekend was important to me.

You have to understand as a child, my life-long goal, and one that I held with amazing tenacity and was what I based every decision I made in middle and high school and college and grad school: I always, always fantasized about living in Oregon.  Owning a truck.  Driving that truck down the coastal highway in Oregon. With a dog.  In my fantasy, the dog always had it’s head out the window, tongue flailing in the wind.  It’s important to note that in my fantasy, I never put someone in that truck with me.   I guess even in my fantasies, I knew how to keep it real.

Certainly, romantic love is something I have chased my entire life, fascinated by it.

Confession: I don’t think I’ve ever known how to recognize romantic love.  I’ve been wrong about it a lot of times.  So, I have spent A LOTTTTTTT of time trying to figure it out.  Case in point-there is a jar above my fridge that contains over 447 years of combined long term marriage advice from approximately 20 happily married couples that I am close to that I have been collecting since 2010 after my divorce.

Reeling after that experience with divorce, I would occasionally run across the people in my life (cousins, aunts/uncles, trusted co-workers, friendly apartment maintenance crew members that I’ve gotten close to, the grocery store manager that I would share a small connection with, etc.) who would proudly share with me in daily, normal conversation, that it was their 12th wedding anniversary, or their 33rd, 50th, 9th, etc.  Fascinated and desperate to understand a successful, long term connection like this, I wanted to know what these people knew.  So after the usual, “CONGRATULATIONS!  Oh, that’s WONDERFUL!  What are you going to do this weekend to celebrate?”  I would ask them all, and if you’re close to me-I’ve probably asked you if you brought up your wedding anniversary-

“What is your ONE word?  What is ONE word you would use to describe how you got here to today….10, 25, 50 years of marriage?  I wanna know what you know.”

It certainly has been fun over the years listening or reading my friends and families response to that question.  Weather I’m standing in line at the grocery check out, or standing over my broken dishwasher last summer with the apartment maintenance crew, reading a facebook posting from a high school friend or sitting side by side on a cozy couch with my 90 year old grandmother 2 years ago, cups of English Breakfast Tea warming both our hands, I’ve listened intently to every response and worked hard to hold the answers in my head until I could get home to write it on a piece of paper if I didn’t have any at the time.  I have enjoyed the pause and thoughtfulness that goes with each answer-watching the years of marriage dance light and sometimes storms across their eyes as everyone has come up with their own answers.

The answers are unique with lots of similarities too.  And I value each one.  With over 447 years of combined marriage in that jar above my fridge, I figured it was time to synthesize the data this past spring as I was camping or biking or hiking with Aaron.  I collected the repeat words and tallied them to get the top 5 words in rank order.  As I pedaled along the ODT this summer,  I found myself reflecting on these relationship qualities as well as the adventures we’ve had leading up to ODT. The top 5 answers to my highly empirical study in rank order:

#1: Friendship

#2: Perseverance

#3: Compromise

#4: Humor

#5: God/Christ-Centered/Prayer

However, my favorite goes beyond just the ONE word, and into the stories everyone told behind their ONE word-basically their elaborations on the word they chose followed by most often an explanation.  Some examples include:

“Be willing to adapt-people change.  She used to dance…”

“Love the flaws”

“Compromise-say you’re sorry.”

“One time divorce came up, we were super poor, so we were seriously considering it.  But in the end, Nelson said the kids didn’t ask to be born, so we have to stick with it for them.”

“Great sex with my best friend.”

“Gus has been my best friend from the beginning and through thick and thin.  It helps to share everything with a close friend.”

 

As I found myself on day 2 of our grand Olympic National Forest adventure, I recognized that I have spent a lot of time trying to figure out romantic love.  It fascinates me.  I want to experience it.  So I’ve been collecting those 447 years of advice, listening to Ted Talks, reading things like The 5 Love Languages and putting myself out there.  But certainly, I never put anyone in the truck with me in my fantasy future life goals for myself.

And the life goal of Oregon, dog, truck, beach has certainly been realized for me in the past 10 years.   And hopefully you can see the brightness in my eyes over this.  I still sometimes pinch myself when I realize I really AM in Oregon.  And that truck?  Despite me needing to really learn how to use the dang thing to it’s full capacity, if you’ve seen me rolling into the parking lot at a mountain bike event with my bike on back, and the eagerness with which I am to offer shuttling bikes to the top or to a Moab adventure for friends, I am so thrilled.

It’s just…I never realized I’d be in the passenger seat, and that there would be someone else in the truck with me that maybe, might stick around for a while.  I know that the companionship could go away, but for now I’m happy.  And I’ve got my jar of love advice to guide me along the way.

As I was flailing my arm out the window as Aaron drove Bella and I south in the truck on the 101 for a coastal tour of his hometown on beach weekend getaway-I was lost in beach weekend bliss- singing tunes while watching the waves crash outside the window and the lighthouse steadfastly holding it’s place on the cliff and Bella dog’s head poking out the rear window-tounge flailing drool behind her in the wind…when I paused and looked over at Aaron.  And I goofishly grinned as I realized I was in the passenger seat.

It has felt like my adventure orb crossed paths on that snow shoe hike back in January, and has slowly been orbiting into his.  Everything he has suggested we do for a day trip or weekend adventure has been right up my alley.

“Do you want to go to the Umpqua National Forest and visit the hot springs there?”  Aaron would ask.

“Uh…..lemme think…..YES!”

Aaron: “Have you ever wanted to go to Glacier National Park?”

Me: “Umm…of course!  It’s on my list, along with all these other things…here lemme show you!”

And we compared our actual adventure lists.  There were numerous overlaps, but also lots of new things each of us had never heard of before but the other had.  We shared website links to race events, national parks, campsites and more in rapid fire texting late into the night.  He’d come over and peer over the maps I dug out of my adventure box.  Giddy with excitement and ideas I’d mention which times of year I heard the wildflowers were the best here and how it might be best to take the train in September or October to San Francisco according to a friend of mine because that’s when the Bay Area is sunniest.  I unabashedly told Aaron I wanted to train ride there and then bike ride all over and eat sour dough.   He would smile and start talking gear up the wazoo and into finer detail than I’ve ever heard before and as he went on, I may have zoned out a bit as he went on to describe the fabrics made and instead focused on his eyes and the light in them and suddenly…I saw a trail opening up before me.  A life path I’ve always been on, but here was someone who I could maybe really share it with and who would quite possibly expand it beyond anything I’d ever imagined before.   The stormy and confusing waves I’d been lost in earlier seemed to recede and the trail I’d been on suddenly opened up and brightened up with so much sunshine and promise.

Sitting down to eat at the bottomless salsa bar in Sequim on day 1 of our ODT bike packing trail, I let my screaming legs stretch out while I consumed mass quantities of chips and salsa and a gargantuan burrito as I reflected on the muddy mountain bike festival I casually invited him to early on.  I remember meeting up with him and introducing him to a friend of mine  at the trailhead at the festival who had a loaner bike to borrow, before I left him and dropped in to the extra muddy trail that day.  I needed some bike time.  I needed to be on the trail where things made sense.  I’ve often said, “Things just make sense here on the trail.”  “Out there in the world and what I see at work sad things are happening-things  that just don’t make sense to me…but when I’m out here pedaling along a trail, it’s just makes sense.  Trail.  Pine needles.  Trees.  The feeling of contentedness after exerting my body for hours.  Smiles and cheers around a fire. I feel reset to drop back in to life.”

Later that afternoon on muddy mountain bike day, after both my bike and I had been thoroughly smattered in mud that only a good pacific northwest spring day of riding can do to a girl- I found myself as usual roaming the crowd of mountain bikers at the festival dropping in and out of conversations with different friends I have made along the way.  Not being the most socially skilled person, I like it best this way in a large group of people.  Me roaming, coming and going as my social bucket gets filled easily-eventually finding myself a quiet spot in the middle of everything, but also on my own next to the warmth of the bon fire.  I recall tucking into myself, my warm coat, pulling my beanie tighter over my head, wiggling my toes in my muddy shoes and looking across the fire and saw a smile.  He was standing opposite of me, alone but in the crowd as well.  Hands in pockets.  Similar hat and coat on.  Muddy as all get out.  And that smile just warmed me more than that fire or any fire ever had in my life. It came with a feeling of familiarity and comfort.

I smiled back.

All of this to say, this is the person who I would be following on the Olympic Discovery Trail.  And these were the feelings and thoughts and experiences that were swarming around inside of me as I followed his back bike tire along the trail.

The Trail:

 

The trail, or ODT, as we began to refer to it, is 140 miles of a combination of paved path and shared roadways that stretches across the north peninsula.

Much of the trail is converted railway.   With one section along Lake Crescent dubbed “The Adventure Section” riding more like a mountain bike trail.

The Olympic Discovery Trail….

True to it’s name, there was plenty to discover along the way.

The views!

There were…

Vistas of water, vistas of the Olympic Mountains, and of Canada across the way.

There were the adventures!

There were old railroad trestles to cross like the one just outside of Sequim in the Railroad Bridge Park that spanned the Dungeness River.  Or the uber cool double decker bridge across the Elwah River, AND…..

 

Perhaps my favorite part of the entire trip, a tunnel of all tunnels on the shore of Lake Crescent!  But more on that later.

The Itinerary:

Our trip was a total of 4 days of riding, with a mid way break in Port Angeles to visit my Mom.  So 2 days of riding followed by 2 nights of airbnbing/glamping it up in Port Angeles/shuttling the truck from Port Townsend to La Push, and then 2 more days of riding to La Push.   July 21st-July 28th, 2019.

 

The Bikes:

Aaron rode his beautiful 2017 Titanium  Why Cycles R +

 

I mean, it’s really beautiful, right?  It shined all along our trip.

Yes, there are two rubber duckies packed away somewhere in his gear that he picked up along our ride.

Notice his dialed in gear system.  Way to go dude.

The bandana on the back?  A Smokey the Bear print that I found for him at REI earlier this Spring.

Fun fact: One of Aaron’s first jobs was being Smokey the Bear at a campground when he was younger.

 

I of course rode my 2006 Specialized Sirrus.

I learned my lesson on packing light on this trip and will try to do better next time.  Do note that the majority of that top pack is just lightweight bulky sleeping bag.  I promise I wasn’t packing the kitchen sink in there.

But my bike did great!  Minus two chain slips along the way that were fairly easily fixed.  Other than that, we had NO mechanicals for the 4 days of riding!

 

The Riders:

 

Aaron:

Nickname: Smokey because he rode fast and basically smoked me a lot along the way and also because of the Smokey the Bear thing.

For this trip, Aaron sprung for the month trial of the Ride with GPS App and was able to get pretty solid directions along the way.

 

Carley:

Nickname: Pokey because of the being slow thing because of carrying too much weight thing.  Gotta give me a break though, it was my first bike packing trip evar!  I wanted to be sure I had enough water at all times.

I was so excited!

Which quickly turned into so hungry at the end of biking  day 1, and resulted in consuming loads of chips and endless salsa at the bottomless salsa bar.  THANK YOU Jose’s Restaurant!

 

Day 1:

(Day before we hit the trail)

Like any good trip, it wasn’t without it’s mishaps along the way and our cabin stay near Port Townsend before our first day of riding did not disappoint in this area.  We arrived super duper late at night to this lovely and affordable and..cozy cabin and a very nice gentleman who owns the place.

I may have brushed my teeth in the makeshift bathroom next to the largest moth I have ever seen the morning of our first day.  Moth took up the sink as it’s own personal bath, so I proceeded to finish my oral hygiene outside of the cabins. Had I not been so so so excited about the trip at hand…I may have been more bothered by these buggie events.

 

Day 2:

(First day of riding!  42 miles from Port Townsend to Dungeness Recreation Area)

In the morning, we left the cozy cabin and drove into Port Townsend for a quick stop at the local bike shop in town: The Broken Spoke.    I silently prayed that the name of this shop wouldn’t be a premonition of things to come to our spokes or other mechanical issues in the days to come.

They gave great advice the weeks leading up to our trip when I would call with various questions, and they also gave great last minute tips when we stopped in that morning to pick up some last minute items.

“How comfortable are you two kids with riding on a busy road with no shoulder?”  the friendly shop owner asked us.  I puffed out my chest and displayed my most bike confident stance with my hands on my hips and replied, “Fairly decent.”

“Well, you two be careful on Hwy 20!  Most of the trail is separate paved pathway from the road, but after the first 7 miles from Port Townsend, the trail shares that highway with no shoulder for about 5 miles or so.”

I glanced at Aaron to see how he was taking this, and nodded my head in understanding back at the gentleman while I plucked a pair of shiny new riding gloves off of a nearby shelf and silently prayed that we would make it through these first treacherous miles of the trip so we could go on to discover the miles and miles ahead that I’d dreamed about for so long.

“Try to ride that section first thing in the morning or right after lunch to beat as much of the traffic as you can.”  He went on to say.  “Also, when you need to, when the road gets really curvy, you kids just merge and get out there in the middle of that car lane and make those cars behind you slow down.  Really own your space on that road!  Otherwise, the cars will whiz right past you thinking they can miss you.  So you just own your space.”

We thanked him for his advice, and in hindsight, I am so thankful for that “own your space on the road” advice.  Otherwise, I’m really not sure I’d be here to type this write up.  The cars honked impatiently, but we survived to ride another day.  It isn’t worth having drivers risk it to squeeze past on some of those blind corners.

After The Broken Spoke, and a coffee and bagel stop run, and a couple of quick obligatory pre ride photos: we were off!  I remember saying numerous times at the trailhead that morning.”Is this really happening?” “Am I really gonna do this?”

I have to be honest…there were feelings of doubt.  After all my talk and dreaming of riding the ODT…would I be able to do it?!??  I hadn’t really thought about that before, until right then.

I quelled those thoughts as I pushed off with my foot and silently told myself I got this, Life’s a Journey…so Ride On..all those things I tell myself and live my life by…and as I clipped in and began pulling that weight on the back, I told myself that if I didn’t make it to La Push…well, at least I’d have a couple of fun days along the way.

My bike certainly felt different with all the weight behind me.  I’m used to riding with panniers on the back for bike commutes at home to and from work, and around town, but this was a bit different and took a little getting used to during the first 5-7 miles.

I distinctly remember riding past mile marker 1, ringing by bell and being filled with just so much joy at the adventure that lay ahead of us.   The first few miles through and outside of Port Townsend were mostly light gravel pathway winding it’s way through a cover of trees and behind farms.  I sunk in to the familiar sound of bike tire against gravel as I methodically pedaled along grinning from ear to ear.

All that bliss was quickly interrupted by the, as promised, busy stretch of highway just outside of Port Townsend that we would need to take for the next section.  I tightened my grip on my handlebars, adjusted the tiny rearview mirror attached to my sunglasses that Aaron thankfully had just given to me that morning, and pedaled onto the road.  I don’t mind riding roads for the most part, but part of the reason I chose the ODT as my first long distance bike trip adventure was for the “separate paved path feature”.  And the majority of the trail is separate from roadways, with plans of fully connecting it one day, but not all of it is at this time.  And I knew that going in, but boy…the multi-load semis barreling past me on that twisty, turny, mostly uphill no shoulder busy highway made me second guess my life choices at that point.  But at that point, there really was nothing to do but pedal and “own the road” when I needed to for my safety, and marvel at the tiny rearview mirror attached to the side of my head that displayed gaps in traffic behind me for when it was safe to move out into the road or not.  Suddenly, there was absolutely nothing in my life but this moment.  There was no space for the typical brain pattern of mine…wondering about the future, ruminating about the past.  There was no space for my typical positive attitude and comments and random songs or whatnot that I usually fill the air with when tasked with pedaling uphill.  There was just pedal, shift, check tiny rearview mirror, and adjust my space on the road as needed.  Occasionally I would find a brief moment to look up and worry about Aaron up ahead and watch the cars and trucks whiz just past him or honk at him, but maybe only once or twice very quickly.  I tried not to look at the white crosses that were covered in flowers just to the right of me as I pedaled as fast as I safely could to get through this section.  Man, where were those good bike vibes I had earlier with the sound of bike tire against gravel pedaling through the pacific northwest trees gone?

We found a small pull out halfway through this section to circle up with each other and touch bases.  Aaron leaned off to one side of his bike and looked back to me shouting over the traffic, “How’s it going!?”

“Holy crap man!  How much longer on this section?”  I smiled/yelled back as a herd of Harley Davidson’s began roaring past us.  I love how in my toughest struggles in life,  I really turn up the positivity nob on myself even higher.

He gave no answer, or if he did, I didn’t hear it.

RUMBLE!

RUMBLE, RUMBLE, RUMBLE!

RUMBLE!

RUMBLEEE!!

The herd of Davidson’s kept flying past as I watched him nudge his pedal with his left foot back to striding position and he pushed off.  I followed suit and we were back to riding with traffic.  Cars honked while I pedaled my heart out up an especially steep and twisty section of the highway.  I knew I had to be out in the middle of the lane because the curve in the road was so tight here, cars sailing along wouldn’t see me until they were right in the bend of the turn and were right on me to slow down.  I merged out into the middle of the road when it was still a straightaway just before the bend and as cars approached me from behind they started stacking up while I worked my way through the twisty uphill section.  The car directly behind me was cool, they knew what was up, and were patient with me while I pedaled as fast as I could.  But the cars and trucks 2 or 3 back weren’t cool, probably couldn’t see me and were laying on their horns, making the whole ordeal even more stressful than it already was.

But I was alive.  And not squished on the side of the road in between a car and a railing.  And there were approximately 130 more miles of beautiful ODT to explore ahead of me.  SEPARATE PAVED PATH ODT I might add. So honk away I thought.

Eventually, we emerged from the highway on a nice downhill slope with expanding shoulder, hurray!  And into a major highway intersection and guess what we passed?  To our immediate left as we sailed easily to the intersection stop:

Our cozy cabin from hours ago that very morning where we had just loaded up the bikes to head to the trailhead!

I giggled while Aaron chuckled and scoped out the map for our next leg of the journey.

Shortly after, we found ourselves on the separate cement pathway of the trail.  We rolled past some cute restaurants that backed up onto the trail complete with patio outdoor seating-one restaurant being an old railroad car.  Cool!

We pedaled on.  We passed a Worldmark Resort near Discovery Bay.  Aaron did the slowest fall off his bike ever.  No damage.  I giggled.  The trail opened itself up to us and we pedaled on.  We came across our first view of the sound:

We pedaled along a quiet back road for quite a while, rolling past quiet homes and barking front lawn dogs.  We dipped in and out along the highway at different trailheads that I used to notice from my driver’s seat in my truck…but this time I was atop my bicycle looking out at the highway, before I dropped back into the trail.  I was smiling from ear to ear while I took it all in.

As we entered the town of Sequim, the weather turned to windy and spitting rain with some pretty gnarly looking clouds off in the distance.  And..hunger and fatigue really set in for me.  I struggled to keep up with Aaron as he swiftly pedaled a loop around the city park.  Guitar rifts were being amplified across the park in preparation for the music in the park that evening.  My thoughts drifted to dinner as the space between Aaron and I lengthened.

“Are you fading on me?” Aaron inquired as he looped back toward me as we exited the park and biked through some neighborhoods on our way to the main drag and a restaurant called Jose’s we had heard about that boasted a bottomless salsa bar.

I downshifted gears as the wind pushed into me and mustered up a smile as I responded “I hope I can do this trip!  Do you think I can do it? What if I can’t do it?  Will I make it to La Push?” I finally put words to my fears I had been mulling over in my head for the past hour or so.

We pedaled in to downtown together and I gingerly extracted myself from my bike.  I was clumsy with the bags and the locks, not being used to this setup and also the fatigue.  And my legs were just screaming at me.  Later, I learned it was because I wasn’t riding clipped in.

We found a wonderful front patio table right next to our bikes and proceeded to make a rather significant dent in their very yummy bottomless salsa bar.  I couldn’t sit for the longest time, preferring to bounce from tender leg to tender leg trying to stretch out the screaming aches while I helped consume in rather quick fashion the 4 baskets of chips they brought us to go with the salsa.

By the end of dinner, the legs were much better and I was feeling revived after eating.  The final leg of day 1 of riding was heading out to the Dungeness Recreation Area just outside of Sequim that I had scoped out online the weeks prior.  It promised some hiker/biker campsites, and it certainly did not disappoint.   Pedaling through the campground was a fantastic feeling- passing tents and families and RVs and the smells of smores and campfires and happiness.  We turned at the hiker/biker sign and followed a tiny ribbon of dirt path for a while until it dumped us out into a cozy group campground complete with a bike lock unit smack dab in the middle.  I was home!

As I was settling in to the tent and my sleeping bag, Aaron pulled out his tiny strand of tinkle lights and popped them up in the pocket of the tent above our heads.  See?  There it is again.  Familiarity.  Comfort.  Like coming home.  I couldn’t have been happier as I drifted off to sleep that night with nothing but our bikes beside us, snuggled in our sleeping bags twinkle lights above us as the world spun around and around and we were on this quiet dirt patch of earth.

 

Day 3:

(17 miles from Dungeness Recreation Area to Port Angeles)

The next morning was sunshiny and a beautiful day for riding.  We had a short day ahead of us, and I couldn’t wait to get back on trail to finally follow it all the way into Port Angeles.  I have visited my Mom in Port Angeles a few times over the years, and every time I do, I take some time to myself and take the ODT as far out of town as I can on foot.  I have put in some half marathon training miles on that stretch of trail.  I have walked with Bella on hot summer evenings just the two of us, her nails making the staccato sound on pavement, while I let my mind wander as usual in fantasy land of one day riding that trail end to end.  Basically, I couldn’t wait to get to the point of the trail I recognized, and show it off to Aaron.  Pointing out this and that along the way, most importantly…I was going to pedal him right up to my mother’s doorstep later that afternoon and introduce him to her.

A lot of this section of trail was amazing paved path bordering different farm fields, before finally opening up to the water front of Port Angeles.  Our first view of the water for the day was here:

And I happily watched Aaron hop off his bike and go explore down by the water-remembering when I had just over a year ago-stood at that shore looking out on the horizon searching.

We made our way into town and because it was early in the morning, we spent some time doing the downtown Port Angeles thing.  We stopped at one of my favorite coffee stops, checked in at bike shop in town I love, Sound Bikes and Kayaks, and then stopped in at the Olympic Coast Discovery Center before heading off to lunch at Coyote BBQ-another amazing outdoor patio seating style restaurant complete with super talkative local bearded dragon owner Mark and his two lizards out front.

After lunch, it was time to head on over to Mom’s.  I thoroughly enjoyed pedaling vs. driving to her house even though it was all steep uphill on a pretty full stomach of amazing BBQ chicken salad.  After much pedaling uphill, we rounded the turn to her place, and there she was on her front porch waving to us.  Grinning again from ear to ear, I thought what better way is there to introduce to your mother to someone than after a couple of days of bike packing?

There was lots to share with Mom about our adventure so far, and there was the truck to go back and get and move to La Push.  So we all hopped in Mom’s car and drove back to where we came from to shuttle the truck back.  On the way back to Port Angeles that evening, we stopped for Jose’s restaurant and bottomless salsa bar round two as we shared tails of the trail and Mom and Aaron got to know each other and I ate my weight again in salsa.

Our lodging for the next two evenings was an Airbnb I booked on the cheap the week prior, and it was adorable and so cozy and so nice to have a shower.   I was asleep in a snap.

Day 4:

(O miles.  0 day playing in Port Angeles)

After sleeping in and enjoying coffee in bed, we left the bikes behind at the Airbnb and drove the 20 minutes from Mom’s house to the Olympic National Forest in her backyard.  We had our sights on Hurricane Ridge, and it did not disappoint:

 

Sitting in the backseat while Aaron drove and talked with Mom, I had the windows down and enjoyed the warm wind blowing while I marveled at the ease and speed of car driving.  As we emerged from the forest and the trees gave way to the view of the mountain ridge in the distance, I felt like I was back in Colorado in the Rocky Mountains.  It was such a different experience from the coastal towns we’d been biking through the days before.

Standing outside the visitor’s lodge, Aaron reminisced on some memories from a memorable 50 mile backpacking trip he took through this very section of the Olympic National Forest 20 years ago.  Strange how life takes us on different paths, and how they can loop back and intersect on one another.

We all shared dinner that night at one of Mom’s favorites: Gordy’s.  Later that evening, Aaron and I borrowed Mom’s car to drop the truck at our final destination of La Push.  Dropping the truck there that evening, I was giddy with excitement again about continuing our journey the next morning to make our way to this location.  By this time, I was rested enough and ready to be pedaling again.  I’ve said it before, but isn’t that just one of the most ancient parts of the human spirit?  To traverse over land for miles.  Just to see what promises lay ahead.  I had planned to split the last section of our bike trip by two days to chunk it up (mostly, because I didn’t want it to end), but also because I’ve never done such long miles before with or without so much weight.  So we would be camping tomorrow night at a campground called Fairholme just off the banks of Crescent Lake-a beautiful lake I had been going to with Mom for the past couple of years.

 

Day 5:

(52 miles from Port Angeles to Camp Klahowya)

Here’s where the adventure gets really good.

I had originally planned for this day to be a 32 mile day, with our longest mile day the last day…but it’s like I always say, “You wanna know how to make God laugh?  Tell him your plans.” So we ended up doing 52 miles on this day.

The day started out wonderful, as I sipped my last bit of coffee from the airbnb mug and haphazardly signed the guest book before wheeling out my bike onto the patio.  I’d spent the last hour or so packing up my gear, lighter and tighter this time.  Opting to leave this thing or that thing behind.  Did I REALLY need that extra couple of oranges I’d been carting since Port Townsend??  Or that extra pair of gloves?  So my ride was a bit more streamlined as we climbed out of Port Angeles.

We’d gotten quite comfortable in our routine by this point, me biking behind Aaron.  Him stopping occasionally at junctions to check the Ride with GPS app.  Me throwing in my usual random positive commentary..”Did you see those pigs back there?!?”  Or “My chain totally fell off back there, but I got it back on lickity split-like.” Insert proud, accomplished smile.

It was sunny on this day and the highways we did have to enter according to our maps I studied closely in bed the night before promised wider shoulders, of which was thankfully true.  That stretch of treacherous highway from our first day was thankfully behind us.  As I rolled into the adorable small town of Joyce, I found Aaron and his bike leaned up against the “Joyce Museum”.  It was close to noon, and we’d been biking for a few hours.  It was time for a rest break and Aaron knew I could geek out on old photographs and history artifacts.  I may have mentioned this in our shared Google Doc for the trip under the to do list item: “Carley needs to read up on some books about the history of the area.  Carley really nerds out on that stuff.”

So I happily rolled up to the front door of the museum and hopped off my bike to give Aaron a high five and introduced myself to Margaret, the museum caretaker who told me she works there 7 days a week.  For the next hour, she shared with me old scrapbooks of the Native festival in La Push of Welcoming the Whales, old photographs and stories of the Joyce Daze event that we missed by 1 week, in which hundreds of fresh baked pies would be lining the shelves of the museum instead of old artifacts.

“Earl!  These kids are riding their bikes to La Push!  All the way from Port Townsend!” She hollered in the back as I giggled and mosied my way over to the old cars parked in the next room over, and busied myself with old newspaper clippings of the story of the Olympic Hot Springs Resort that used to exist in these parts.  Smiling at the images of suspender clad strong faced men and old-timey styled bathing suited women having a fun time in the natural hot springs.

I stepped back outside in the sunshine and Aaron had procured us a lunch/picnic from the convenience store next door while I had been lost in conversation and history with Margaret.  There was a picnic table on the front deck of the museum, so we plopped right down and ate.  Pies were still swirling in my head from when Margaret had mentioned the pie festival for Joyce Daze, so my appetite was up.  Lunch consisted of veggies I had carted all the way in from the airbnb that morning, a sliced apple, an entire block of Tillamook cheddar cheese that Aaron kept slicing and passing my way, crackers and salami for Aaron.  Amongst other things that lived in my backpack throughout the trip…part of a snickers bar and my trail fav: cheeze-its.  And of course, last but not least included in all this picnic spread- 2 rubber duckies Aaron must have picked up at the counter at the convenience store next door.  And 1 other princess crown wearing rubber duckie.  “For me?”  He nodded while slicing up apples and cheese. I think my wigging out over the gigantic moth at the cottage back in Port Townsend left an impression on him.  In retrospect, I was a bit of a princess about that, but in my defense…it was HUGE!

Lunch was followed by some more climbing along a quiet back road with lots of shade, before we descended on to Lake Crescent and the “Adventure Section” of the trail we’d been told about by the bike shops and the map.  We swooped past the busy trailhead full of day hikers, and pedaled on this rocky section of the ODT that followed directly along the shores of the lake.

“Perseverance”

One of the key words from my love jar above my fridge.  Could have been applied to this section of the trail.  I desperately wished for my mountain bike, and not the fully loaded down skinny bike tire bike I had under me now.  But I persevered, and bounced along happily anyway, occasionally having to get off my bike and walk sections that were just too exposed to a steep cliff or too deep with rock.

Eventually, I came up to Aaron who was waiting for me outside of a very dark tunnel.  Much like a tunnel you’d see on a highway with cars, except this one was on a hiker/biker trail…and did I mention very dark?  I approached with trepidation, and we entered the mouth of the tunnel and headed into the fullest of the darkness…the other side couldn’t be seen from where we stood, but a couple of hikers coming in from the other direction informed us as they turned off their headlamps that you could see the other end just around the corner.  Somehow, being able to see the other end, even if it was very far away, was comforting.  Aaron peeled ahead, while I took my time experiencing it.  It really was quite an experience to have been outside in the broad afternoon daylight just moments before, pedaling away, to suddenly be fully engulfed in darkness not being able to see the hand in front of your face without a light. Pedaling in that tunnel, you just had to trust your tire wasn’t going to hit a small hole or large rock.  You had to trust that the trail was right there.  But then, I must have turned the corner, because I could see the other end and a biker silhouette waiting there. I happily pedaled on to meet him.

We approached Fairholme campground shortly after that which is where my internet research had us camping for that night.  However, as we circled the campsite we quickly found out that there weren’t any hiker/biker spots here.  There was something that was called “Walk In” camping, which I had read online the weeks leading up to our trip, assuming that would be where we could stay the night.  However, we quickly learned that walk in camping is for cars to pull up, and then walk about 20 feet to the campsites.  And they were crowded.  It was Friday, and you could tell everyone was there with their families, coolers, badmitten sets…and they were there to party.  I spun the pedals of my bike backwards while leaned up against a tree and looked inquisitively at Aaron not sure what to do at this point.

To which his reply to me included the following plan: We bike around the campground loops, me in front, him somewhat to the back of me and using my best smile and positive sing-songy voice, hollar at the top of my lungs like I’m hocking beers at a baseball game.. “ROOM FOR ONE MORE TENT?” Insert smile.  “ROOM FOR ONE MORE TENT? WILL PAY YOU EXTRA!”  Insert more smiles.

I did it.  It didn’t work.

So back on trail we went, heading toward La Push, covering miles I had originally planned to cover the next morning.  I longed for that cool lake we were leaving behind I had planned to sink my feet in weeks ago while piecing this trip together.  I could hear God chuckling at us while we pedaled up the steep highway into the setting sun, cars sailing past.

We considering camping on the side of the trail once we entered back onto the separate paved pathway, but we needed water to make dinner and hydrate, and most importantly have coffee in the morning, and river access at this point was scarce.  The trail at this point in the trip however, was stunning.  Just paved pine needle pathway for MILES.  Lots of our pictures and videos are of us sailing along easily on our bikes.

But I was getting tired and starting to fade again like day 1.  We ventured off trail toward a horse campground that was on the map, but turned back around after I took a short nap on top of a picnic table and after finding no water there either.

52 miles into the day, we eventually came to a campground that had a sign out front stating the campground was full.  We rode in anyway, hoping for a hiker/biker section much like what we had at Dungeness Recreation Area Campground on our first night.  This campground seemed quieter than the party town of Fairholme campground back at the lake.  Turns out there were only two hiker/biker spots at this location, both of which were taken.  Bummed, and starting to feel what it must feel like to be homeless, my mind was on the Pad Thai Backpacker’s Pantry freezed dried dinner I knew was in Aaron’s pack, and my sleeping bag.   Aaron’s mind was clearly on PMA…one of the 10 basic essentials outdoor wilderness training workshops tell you about to bring on an outdoor adventure.  Positive Mental Attitude.

“It’s kinda fun trying to find a place to camp!” He shouted over his shoulder at me, while I considered attacking his pack, stealing his Pad Thai, and running off into the woods with it.

That’s when we came across campsite #52.  Campsite is a generous word for this spot.  Cars were parked all around it, and there really wasn’t any spot to lay a tent…but it was an unused…for good reason…spot.  It was a site.  Maybe you could camp on it.  God has his humor, doesn’t he?

So we quickly pedaled to the front and paid for our spot, after being accosted by the camp host complaining to us over her dinner that I honestly almost sat down and ate for her, about bikers coming in late in the night, camping for free, and leaving super early in the morning.  Her rant continued while I starred at her potato salad and chicken.  I offered to pay double to make up for the other bikers,  our deal wasn’t completely sealed that we could have #52.  But she let us have the site, and away we went to have a much earned dinner.  My memories of this evening are foggy.  I recall eating dinner while listening to Aaron ponder where to put up the tent. I munched away while staring at the giant root of a towering tree next to our picnic table, and very shortly after finishing dinner, I pulled out my air mattress, laid it down next to that tree unfilled with air, and then laid my sleeping bag on top using the root as a pillow.  That’s the last thing I remember.

Next thing I knew, Aaron was off behind the picnic table calling to me.  It was dark.  I carefully got up, grabbed my mattress and sleeping bag and hauled it over to his makeshift sleeping arrangements for us for the night.

“Ever slept under the stars?” He asked while he climbed into his sleeping bag.

“Never have I ever.”

And that’s the last thing I recall I was so tired.

But sleeping under the stars turned into sleeping under the RAIN.  I sat up confused, trying to sort things out.  Where was I?  Meanwhile, Aaron being the handy, ex-boy/Eagle scout that he is wasted no time quickly fashioning up a tent cover using just his rainfly and sticks and I don’t know what all else probably a pine cone gutter system…. but it worked WONDERFULLY.  And I giggled as I fell back asleep.  Might as well laugh along with God, right?

Day 6:

(35 miles from Camp Klahowya to La Push)

I moved slowly in the morning, dragging everything out.  I didn’t want the adventure to end.  I wanted to soak up every moment.  Sipping my coffee on the picnic bench while watching Aaron move about, expertly packing up his things,  I wondered if on the ODT I have discovered the thing I have been looking for all my life.  I thought about the words in my jar above my fridge:

#1: Friendship

#2: Perseverance

#3: Compromise

#4: Humor

#5: God/Christ-Centered/Prayer

I thought about all the self work I’ve done in my life up until this point.  Was I ready finally? I kept my hands wrapped around the mug and steeled into myself.  The air was cold this morning, it was going to be overcast today.

Friendship…perseverance…compromise…humor…God/Christ-Centered….

I started playing catch up to Aaron’s packing.  Rinsing out my coffee mug and tucking it away into it’s spot in my back bag.  Attaching my camp flip flops to the bungee cords on the back of my bike and lacing up my riding shoes.  Expertly cinching down the rainproof bags that I was so clumsy to use on day 1.

Aaron finished tightening down the last of his straps around his bike frame, and looked over at me,

“You ready?”

Placing both of my hands on my hips in my most confident bike stance I looked back at him and smiled before replying with my favorite,

“Let’s Ride!”

 

………..

We made it to our final destination in La Push and excitedly rode our bikes up to the beach access area. A couple of younger guys were unloading their surf boards from their truck and noticed us riding in.

“Where you two headed off to?” One of them inquired.  A question I had gotten quite used to on our journey along the way.

“RIGHT HERE!  THIS VERY SPOT!!!”  I proclaimed with glee.

…..

Yup, life is now surrounded by PCT trail maps, shiny new titanium mugs, sleeping bags, and more bike paraphernalia than I’ve ever had before.

I have fallen in love just like it’s supposed to happen.  Slowly over time and trails, mountain tops and ocean views.  Gently letting it rock me like the river or in a hammock on a hot summer day in the woods.