Second to last day, what else is there to do besides reflect? The ride was beautiful today, but I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with the excitement of reaching the finish line. Washington has really given us a flashback to every terrain and environment that we have seen on our bikes. Eastern Washington resembled the Sandhills of Nebraska as well as the flat farmland in Indiana. The pass could have been in Montana. The West’s vegetation is something new, but the terrain brings me back to Appalachia.
We left Poulsbo after Kate made us some delicious pancakes topped with Greek yogurt, a delicacy introduced to us by the Welch’s in Chadron, Nebraska. The roads were a bit busier than we would have liked, but nothing compared to the danger and high speeds of I-90 and Highway 2. Besides, we knew we had the Olympic Discovery Trail (ODT), a 120-mile trail, to look forward to. We rode on State Route 104 as the rain began to come down on us lightly. After climbing some ridiculously long hills at a serious grade (our elevation gain was 4,078 ft —> highest of all time), we reached the beginning of the trail. Suddenly the rain picked up as we sat at the trail head. Our gloves and socks soaked through quicker than ever before.
With mushy clothes, we alternated between the highway and the ODT because the trail did not remain separated. The gray skies and pouring rain reminded me of our crazy ride through Indiana where we chanced upon The Homestead in Remington, Indiana. Our bodies chilled and legs tightened up, especially with the hilly challenge.
Eventually we made it to a consistent trail. It was all paved except for a brief portion that reminded me of the disheveled terrain of the Illinois and Michigan Canal Trail. It was gorgeous because we were closely surrounded by trees but not very comfortable with dirt and tree roots as a riding surface. The rest of the trail was magnificent; branches densely yet stunningly arranged at our sides and overhead dropping residual rain upon our raincoats. Charlie, a massive fan of wild flowers, has been overwhelmed with all of the new flowers and trees. There were a lot of posts blocking motorized vehicles from entering the path; we laughed all day about my collision with a post along the GAP Trail.
The one odd thing about this trail was the staggering grade of many of the hills. We did a lot of walking. Slowly pushing our bikes up the trail, we giggled about our early struggle reaching the Ohiopyle campground off of the GAP Trail.
The final 30 miles of our 70 mile day seemed to take forever. My quads were shot from the steepness of the hills and cold from the rain while Charlie’s brakes barely worked and his hands froze. A common theme of most hilly or rainy rides is Charlie’s hand numbness. Most notably, our ride to Devils Tower in the nasty fog and rain. Thankfully, the sun would sometimes peak through the clouds, and we would try to defrost.
Finally, the smell of salt filled our noses, and our tired impatience dissipated. We were riding along the Straight of Juan de Fuca! The coolest part of it all was that we could see Canada on the other side!
We finally reached Port Angeles, a city at the tippy top of the Olympic Peninsula. We biked to Cory’s house for our final stay. Everyone in town lives on top of a massive hill, so to round out our hilliest day, we begrudgingly walked up Tumwater Road. Cory is a member of the Coast Guard, and we spent last night playing trivia at a local bar with all of his buds. I knew that I would be a weak link, but Charlie, the nerd of our duo, also let down the squad. Neither of us watched enough television as kids to know the names of animated pets, and I don’t think we are mad about it.
We walked along the water and watched the beautiful sunset from a fire tower. This journey has been 67 days of incredible skies and some sunsets I’ll remember forever.
We are arriving on the Pacific coast today, but it won’t come easily. We have a 70 mile ride in store for us. “One more dawn, One more day, One day more.”
-Maddie