It was 20 or 30 miles before I really got situated. I caught the Bremerton ferry out of Seattle and before the one hour ride was up, I was pacing, both mentally and physically, anxious to get under way. Rolling off the boat ramp and giving a nod to a row of bikers waiting to load, I was finally in charge of this ride.
Hwy 3 across the Kitsap peninsula and down through Shelton, things were loosening up and I finally found myself in road trip mode. The Jim Brandes Memorial Campout was my destination for the day. This route was about 250 miles…my first real distance ride of the year, the sky was clear and the wind was warm.
101 out of Cosmopolis and on down to the Astoria bridge. Always impressive and always in a slightly different mood, this 4 mile span is a friend of mine. Looking east up the river and west out to sea I try and imagine the journey these waters have seen since their Canadian headwaters. Almost like a road trip of its own, passing cities,canyons, and deserts. Right now though, I’m pointed south, having crested the bridge,I crossed the Oregon borderline…
I don’t need to remind these readers of the sweeping beauty of this part of the coast. Leaning through the bends and curves from Cannon Beach through the tunnel and hugging the cliff at the very edge of the world then floating back downward to sea level coming into Twin Rocks.
Pulling onto Whalen Island and seeing many of the Guzzi contingent already set up was a welcoming sight, as was the reception by the hard working Gerri and Gary Jenkins.
Old friendships renewed and new ones made. What a great way to start the riding season! Plenty of tire kickin’ and Guzzi talkin’ ensued into the next day,but when the morning came, I saddled up and I was on my way. There were still a few days and a thousand miles to this outing yet to come.
30 degree swings in temperatures and 180 degree differences in landscape. Feeling relief at the cooling ocean air going down Hwy 199 past the California borderline where the pine trees turned to redwoods. Back up and east around Crater lake there were still snowfields alongside the highway, responsible I think for the alternating pockets of warm and cool as I climbed in elevation.
By the time I met back up with the Astoria Bridge, its mood had turned dark and all I could see of the other side was big black low clouds full of rain. Cinching up my rain gear and taking a deep breath, I headed north for several hours of a wet ride home after crossing the Washington borderline…