Thursday, July 18 - Champagne on the Golden Gate Bridge

[My journal got wet and unfortunately I was writing with a felt-tip pen, so the majority of the ink bled and 50 percent of what I wrote is illegible. I'll do my best to decipher/elaborate on what needs to be elaborated upon. Note to self: never journal with a felt tip pen.]
Arrived yesterday in San Fransisco after a rewarding 80-mile push. A long day of anticipation and picking blackberries on the side of the highway lead up to the moment that finally came when Alan, Christian, Dan and I were braving the strong wind to slam down a bottle of Champagne at the Apex of the Golden Gate Bridge. Although it was ideal that we could all cross the bridge together--sharing our moment of final victory--Matt was already up ahead of us, and Kristen accidentally took a detour that put her about an hour behind. We had no clue where Shannon and Colleen were, and Lee had broken from the group to visit his Grandfather who lived just north of the Bay area.
Once we all got back together, we rolled into downtown San Fransisco and bid farewell. Matt extended his hospitality to Shannon and Colleen, who we planned to meet the following day, and Alan had a boat to catch in which he would sail down to San Diego. Kristen, Christian, Dan and I ended up getting ahold of Duncan, Georgia and Lee and we all pitched in ten bucks each for a little hotel room that Christian had pre-booked for himself. One bed, five bikes and seven bodies... yeah.
Lee met up with some friends and went to a show at the Fillmore, Kristen met up with some of her friends, and Christian, Dan and I got burgers before finally crashing out in our teeny hotel. I awoke early this morning to spend my last 70 bucks on a bus ticket down to Oceanside. It leaves tomorrow morning. Lee said that he'd spot me some cash if I kept riding with him, Kristen and Christian the rest of the way down to S.D., and Duncan and Georgia invited me to go out to Mammoth with them to visit Duncan's aunt, but I had already told my family that I'd meet them down in Oceanside. So many opportunities!
To pull me through the last day, I ended up chiding my mom into loaning me 80 dollars to live off of until I got back home. That's actually what I'm doing now--waiting in a bank for my mom to transfer some funds into my account. Then I'll go meet up with the rest of the crew and enjoy the last of their company... at least for now.

Wednesday, July 17 - Flat tires and a dead fawn

Sorry that I haven't written since the fifteenth. These past two days have been so fast paced, I barely have time to stop and smell the sea.

Kristen's knees were bothering her yesterday so she ended up hitching a ride for about 10 miles to get back with us at the camp cite. Lee and I rode most of the day together. We wanted to see if we could catch a glimpse of the 2008 All-Star Game, but the day took a turn for the more exciting: We were riding on the shoulder when up ahead a packed little blue Corola pulls over. It turns out that the couple in the front seats were some of Lee's friends from Vancouver, Duncan and Georgia, who were doing a road-trip across the U.S. to Vermont. We coaxed them into stopping for the night at our next camp cite, and Lee and I met them there after going to the grocery store where we bought ingredients for a spaghetti dinner, eggs and vegetables for omelettes in the morning, and plenty of beers to celebrate.

On the way to the camp cite, Lee and I found a paralyzed fawn on the shoulder of the road who had obviously just been hit by a car. We debated wether or not we should kill it, but having not the courage to do it, we called local animal control instead.

When Lee and I finally got back, we had another great night huddled around a campfire, roasting s'mores, drinking cheap beer and wine and listening to Alan's bear stories. In the morning, Duncan pulled out his guitar and Georgia let Matt play her mandolin as Duncan, Matt and Alan plucked folk music as the crew loaded up their bikes.

Today, I got two flat tires. Luckly, Matt had let me borrow his patch kit and I was riding with Christian both times I got the flats. Anyhow, I gotta go--just stopped to eat and now I gotta get back on the road. San Fran tomorrow!

Monday, July 15, 2008 - Redwoods!

After leaving Eureka, (On the 13th) we rode all day, 32 miles of which was through the Avenue of the Giants, famous for its eternal passageways through the Redwood trees. In the morning, I rode with Kristen. She got a flat which I helped her change out just before the Ave., and by ther, Lee had rode up on us and the rest of the day was Kristen, Lee and I riding. Lee and I shared some of our goodies from Arcata while we were out in the middle of the gigantic forest. Kristen took off ahead of us and we all separated for a couple of hours to enjoy our time with the majestic trees.

By the time we got into a town, it was getting dark, and again Lee helped me buy some food. After we ate, Alan rolled into town with a great big smile--he had found a small pool of water dug into a readwood and spent an hour swimming.

It was dark when we left the town to go find the state park where we would camp. We rode down a steep hill for a few miles before we finally figured out the way we needed to go.

We got to the campground and crashed out quick. The weather was nice enough, so Alan and I didn't even bother setting up our tents. We passed around our 'goodies' and all slept soundly.

Yesterday (the 14th) was a great day, too. We all got up early to get a quick start on Legett hill, the largest climb of the entire ride. Before the climb, Lee decided he'd get his beauty sleep... on the shoulder of highway one.

I rode the climb solo, as I thought that Christian, Alan and Lee were ahead of me, but when I stopped in Westport for lunch, they came filing in from behind. After a croissant and a chat with some bike-messengers from Seattle who are also doing a tour, Christian and I knocked out the last 13 miles to our camp just outside of Fort Bragg.

Last night we all got really really messed up. Alan and I were the last men standing, having made a vow to guzzle down the rest of the wine. Alan told more of his stories and was stumbling all over out campground. I awoke in the night to a light rain, stumbled some more around the site, put my electronics in a zip-lock and drank a nalgene full of water, hoping that it would provide relief in the morning.

This morning has actually been quite nice. Christian, Lee, Kristen and I rolled into Ft. Bragg while riding along a pleasant logging road that skirts the coast. What a beautiful morning. Only 3 more 60 mile days to San Fran. How sad. I don't know where I will stay when I get there, but I guess the worst case scenerio is that I'm awake all night, like my original plan when I went into Seattle. Who knows, maybe I'll luck out again and someone will let me crash out on their couch. I also need to figure out how the hell I'm going to get from San Fran to Oceanside. I guess I still have alot of adventure left, afterall... but I feel like the trip is really over when I get to Oceanside.

Sunday, July 14, 2008 - Humboldt County!!!! Wooo!

If everything would have worked out on the Colorado Trail, I would be finishing it today. Instead, today I am climbing the highest and most steep hill of the trip, just south of Legett. Alan, Christian, Lee and I did some 'drafting' this morning, a technique used by group cyclists so that they can work less and ride faster due to less wind resistance on the group.

After a while, Christian and Alan took off ahead up a hill, and Lee and I stuck together for the rest of the day. The air was thick from the Northern California forest fires less than 75 miles east. We had the opportunity to see a herd of beautiful, massive elk that were grazing just off the highway.
When Lee and I got into Arcata, he spotted me 20 bucks to get something to eat and we downed a pitcher of beer and ate some incredible hamburgers. Now somewhat drunk, we wondered around town hunting for Humboldt County's finest. Lee went into a music store and bought a Neil Young album and the store clerk showed us where we could find Arcata's most popular export. After wondering around the city square for a little while, we finally found what we were looking for.

Not long after that, we ran into Katie, Kristen and Chris again. Apparently, Katie and Kristen had once again decided to change their plans. Katie was just going to go back home to Alabama and Kristen decided to tough it out with us boys all the way down to San Diego. Katie is renting a car, driving out to Sacramento, and then from there, she plans on flying back to Alabama.

Excited that Kristen was back in the game, we all rode out of Arcata satisfied.

When Kristen, Lee and I rolled into Eureka, Shannon and Colleen called and said they were getting a hotel because Colleen was feeling sick. Lee wanted a hotel as well, so I decided to join, too. Matt, Alan, and Christian had already made it to the destination of the day 20 miles ahead, so I felt bad.

We stayed at the Heritage Motel in Eureka. Shitty. Eureka is a typical meth town. Colleen and Shannon bought some beer and wine and we ordered pizza and played drinking games. We packed seven of us into the room, but I've never slept more comfortably on a hotel floor.

We didn't wake up until 10:30. We all pitched in for a breakfast of cereal, milk, bagels and cream cheese before we loaded up our bikes. The hotel manager wasn't happy to see the seven of us filing out of the room, but in Eureka, I'm sure the guy had bigger problems to worry about that a bunch of well-to-do college-age kids piling in his hotel room.

We left Eureka after hitting the grocery store. Lee spotted me some more cash since all the banks were closed, it being a Sunday. Then we began another long, hard day on the rolling hills of Northern California.

Friday, July 12 - Climbing, exhaustion, and Sobriety

Christian and I stuck together on the most difficult climb after leaving Crescent City, through the first of the Redwood trees. These trees are majestic. It was rewarding to coast down the hill after the climb. We stopped in Klamath on an indian reservation where we bought $5 sub sandwhiches. The natives were drinking tall-boys at the side of the gas station. We left Klamath for another large climb, and coasted downhill through more majestic Redwoods where we stopped to enjoy them and take some photographs before joining Matt, Alan and Lee at our camp site. Shannon and Colleen pulled into camp at sunset and it was our first night in four nights that we were alcohol-free. Alan told some bear stories, we ate dinner, and toasted with our marshmallows. We were all exhausted from the two harsh climbs and slept soundly, even without any beer ; )

It's morning now, and we have not yet begun to ride. I just decided (on the spot) after some talk with the x-smokers of the group that I will become one myself. I crumpled my 2 remaining cigarettes and tossed the pack in the fire pit and vowed to be finished. I don't have the money to spend on any more smokes.

Cheers

July 11, 2008 - Losing my Debit Card and Crossing the Border

I'm exhausted, so this entry won't last long. Yesterday night, we rode to Harris Beach. Shortly after closing my last journal entry, Lee from Vancouver caught up with me and we rode together the rest of the way into camp, stopping at Arch Rock. We were first to arrive at camp and we pitched our tents before biking into town to pick up our groceries. Matt and Alan arrived and set up camp and then Lee and I went into Brookings and bought beer, wine, s'mores ingredients, chips and salsa, and some hotdogs. When we got back into camp, everyone else (Richard, Chris, Kristen, Katie, Shannon and Colled) had arrived and Kristen broke the news to us that her and Katie decided to rent a car to drive down to San Francisco. From there, they planned to ride down the rest of the way to San Diego. We figured we would be in San Diego around the same dates and would be able to hang out when they got there.

Chris, Richard, Katie and Kristen will all be taking an off day tomorrow, so this is really the last night with the entire group at its peak. We celebrated eachother's company over plenty of beer and wine, singing songs alongside Alan and his mandolin. A perfect but bittersweet ending to this wonderful group of travelers.

This morning, I woke up early and packed quick. I was out of the campground having already said good-bye to the off-dayers by 9:15 and I was on the road. The bike shop in Brookings wasn't open yet, so I took my chances with not buying a new spare tube nor patch kit until I Crescent City. Crossing the border felt good. They were checking to make sure that nobody was bringing in out-of-state fruit over the border.

I was the front-runner pulling into the city and had coffee and a breakfast bagel at this great little cafe. Called some family and relaxed for about an hour. When I was about to leave the cafe, Alan, Matt and Lee came into view from down the road. We went grocery shopping and ate more lunch on the beach. Matt, Alan and Lee went on as Christian led the way to the bike shop, where I realized that I had lost my debit card. I paid with what little cash I had for the tubes, and Christian covered the rest. I found a branch of my bank a few blocks away where I cancelled my card, ordered a new one, and was able to withdraw some cash.

Christian has become an amazing friend. He told me not to be afraid to ask him for more money if I needed it. I invited him later to hike a section of the Colorado Trail with my friend Dan and I in August, and it just might happen.

Anyways, I'm tired. More tomorrow. Goodnight.

There and Back- My first publication

You can pick one up for free at the Auraria Campus, any Denver area REI, or visit www.thereandbackmagazine.com to learn how to order an inexpensive subscription. If you're outside of Colorado, e-mail me your address and I'll send you a copy.

Thursday, July 10- Ah! So this is life...

These past few days have been filled with the moments that I live for. After riding problem-free the rest of the way from Bandon to Humbug State Park, we all decided to pitch in and save some money on two tent sites as oppesed to the Hiker/Biker section of the park. On the way in, a spectacular view of the roxky Oregon coast glimmered with the sun. I almost hitched beck to Port Orford to buy the beer for the evening, but Chris decided to treat us to a 24 pack of Busch, as he was already there.

Christian, Matt, Kristen and I decided we'd go for a dip in the ocean (Katie said that the tempurature and humidity here reminded her of back home in Alabama) and we were all screaming our asses off as the frigid waves would crash over our tired bodies. After hugs and pictures, we went back to camp to eat and greet Christ who just showed up with the beer.

After getting drunk, Lee gave me a tall-boy as a thanks for the night before. I have a feeling he and I are going to be getting along just fine. I also helped Lee figure out his new simmer-lite stove.

Christian is a crack up: throughout the night, he continued to eminate his Swedish humour. Timo, of Amsterdam, is incredibly kind and proper, declining alcohol and going to bed early. Timo even apologized when Christian's drunk-ass tripped over his tent.

Lee, Chris, Matt and I decided to go for a late-night walk to the beach. The cliffs bordered the bay and framed the moon which was beginning to set on the midnight horizon. Black waves tumbled to our toes and I found my peace, there on the beach, with a group of beautiful strangers who I could forevermore call my friends. The others joined us, and we all sat against a log as the moon sank into the black ocean. Connor, a kid heading North who we had just met, pointed out several sparkling constelations andsattelites while the rest of us relaxed and tasted the sea salt on our lips. I walked back to camp early with Katie and immediately fell asleep.

This morning, we were all slow to awaken and get moving. After two cigarettes, Christian and I rolled out of camp together. He is much more fit than I, so within three miles, he was ahead of me. I met back up with him and Alan, a newbie to the group from Missoula, Montana. We had a big climb, which was rewarding, because I must have hit 40 mph while decending down the opposite side. There is nothing better than crying because of the wind in your face when you're splitting down a hill.

Wednesday, July 9-Rum and Riding

Last night was great. After leaving the Fox Hole, I rode the rest of the way to North Bend, passing by Susan and Eric and catching Katie and Kristen before the bridge that we had to walk over because of the strong wind. After breaking away from the girls, I hunted down the nearest liquor store, which was in Coos Bay, one mile south of North Bend, but 12 miles away from the night's campsite (Sunset Bay--which deserves it's name). I got a flat tire in Coos Bay, and am currently riding without any spare tubes (but with a patch kit that Matt gave me). I changed the flat, cleaned and greased my chain, and bought a handle of rum and 2 liters of coke that I hauled the remaining 12 miles to camp. We all had tons of fun; Hot showers, warm meals, a camp fire, and plenty of shots and cocktails. I smoked up with Matt and supplemented my state with plenty of rum.

We added two more to our number. Timo, from Amsterdam, and Lee from Vancouver. At camp, I learned that Chris got two flat tires and Shannon and Colleen had some problems and had to hitch hike to North Bend to fix their bikes.

This morning, I woke up hung-over to the sound of Jimi Hendrix and The Doors blaring from Shannon's tent across the site. It's hard to be annoyed when hanging out with such amazing people and being on such an incredible adventure. I rode with Matt most of the morning and I am now sitting in a Bakery/ Deli in Bandon, Oregon. Tomorrow, I should be crossing the border into California.

Tuesday, July 8- Tumbleweed

The further south down the coast I've come, the less touristy it has become. Lincoln City is more like a real town with real people than Cannon Beach and Astoria.

Everyone here is more or less separate but we are all following the same route and are sleeping at the same sites. We are all getting along great and are having an awesome time. I stayed with this group last night and will do so again tonight. We stayed up late, cooked together, and my tired body took a shower and fell asleep. When I woke up, we all cooked breakfast together and left individually, (this now being yesterday, the 7th) and we all went at our own pace the next 60 miles to the next decided camp area, Honeyman State Park. The ride yesterday was gorgeous. I took it slow because I was still recouperating from the 110 miles from the day before. I saw a beautiful lighthouse, took plenty of pictures, and rode easily, problem-free. The wind in many areas was strong behind my back. Trees on the coast line were bent naturally in the direction of the wind. When I got to Honeyman, Matt was already there and talking with Lupe and Michael, two room-mates who were walking the Oregon coast to raise funds for Oregon State Parks. Gereat people. Here, our group picked up a few more members: we met Chris from Connecticul and Richard from Arizona. In florence, before Honeyman, I treated myself to a seafood dinner in the local tourist trap. I paid 25 bucks for a bunch of fried seafood and french fries. I could've eaten better at a McDonalds.

Across the street was a bike shop where a group of kids from the east were on a Church trip, cycling down the coast. One of them got a gust of wind and blew over the guard rail--only the bike got hurt.

Anyhow, back at Honeyman, Matt, Shannon, Colleen, Christian and I went to look at the Dunes. Later, the Canadians and I smoked some green and had quite the relaxing night. We also ran into some dreadlock kids from Brooklyn who were heading to Virginia.

Right now, I'm writing this at 10 AM from a po-dunk bar on the side of the highway called "The Fox Hole", 20 miles south of Florence. All of us in the group met here for coffee and food. There's a vietnam vet here who is thumbing his way north to Astoria. Guy's name is 'Tumbleweed'. He keeps trying to talk to me as I'm trying to write this.

Today's destination is Sunset Bay, a little over 50 miles south of Honeyman. We're all taking it really easy today. We've got about 15 down, and 35 to go. The morning was calm; I was on the bike by 10, and have been happilly riding ever since. Can't wait for camp tonight--we're pitching on a bottle of whisky and are all ready for a rest and a good time.

Monday, July 8-Cycling!!!

On the train from Seattle to Portland, I met Greg, who films professional snowboarding videos. He lives in Portland--really cool dude. When I got off the train in Portland, I blitzed over to catch my other bus to get back to Seaside so I could ride the rest of the way down the coast. On that bus, I met another cyclist who is an older guy from London. He was planning on riding all the way to Virginia.

I got off the bus at Seaside along with another guy from London (not the same guy riding to virginia) who was also planning to stay at the hostel. His name was Luke, and he was taking a year-and-a-half off of work in order to do a world tour. He said he's been to over 50 countries, and he's still got another year of traveling to go.

Once Luke and I got settled in at the hostel, he sent me on my bike to the nearest grocery store to pick up a 6-pack of "something local". When I got back, we paid the hostel $5 to have some home-made Vietnamese food cooked by the owner of the hostel's sister. Luke offered me a few beers with the meal, and when we were hanging out in the dining room, Nicholas came in to join. Luke and Nicholas got into an argument about the European time-zones, so Nick got pissed off once again and that was probably the last time I'll ever see him.

Luke and I had a great night without Nicholas's company. He gave me his information and told me that if I ever went to Europe, he could set up all sorts of places to stay. Really cool, really smart, all-around awesome guy. At around midnight, some Indian people from Seattle joined Luke and I in our dorm room. We shot the shit for an hour, I showered, and we all hit the sack.

The next morning (July 6th), I didn't get the early start I wanted. I was on the road by 9:30, and was dead set on hitting the 100 mile mark by the end of the day. Less than one mile into the ride, my left foot started to knock off the panier with my heel. The panier would get caught in my back spokes, bringing me to a screeching hault. Then I noticed the nuts that were holding my rack to the frame were loose, and that the rack was bent and crooked. I ended up tying down the left panier to the rack with some nylon cord, I tightened the nuts, and seing as how the crooked rack didn't seem to cause any problems, I let it be.

I rode all of 110 miles that day, pulling into Beverly Beach exactly 12 hours after leaving the hostel and a half an hour before the sun dropped into the sea. It was hell riding with all of the weight from the resupply package I'd recieved at the Seaside Hostel, so I tried to eat as much of the heavy/bulky stuff as I could. It was a beautiful ride, but I was more than happy to roll into Lincoln City, the 90 mile mark.

When I got to Beverly Beach just before sunset, I met six other cyclists who were also riding south down the coast. The first two faces I saw were Kristen Ragland and Christian Sojoerein, who were trying to build a fire. Kristen had set up the big logs in an awkward tee-pee shape, and with the help of Christian, she was finally able to get it started.


Kristen was travelling down the coast with her friend Katie, and they are both from Alabama. Katie teaches Freshman in high school about computers and Kristen does outdoor programs with disadvantaged adults out in Utah. These girls are hilarious. When I rolled up, Katie was on the edge of the camp-site trying to find that perfect spot to get cell-phone reception so she could talk to her brand new Mr. Charming back in Alabama--and as I already mentioned, Kristen was failing to light a pile of dry wood on fire.

I soon learned that Christian was born and raised in Sweden and lived there until he was twelve, when his family decided to move to Madrid, Spain, where he currently lives.

I also met Matt, a guy from San Fransisco who started in Astoria and is cycling back home. He's a bit older than the rest of the people, but he is great company, and knows alot about cycling. I also met Eric and Susan, two Portlandites who are riding down to San Diego and then flying out to Tuscon, Arizona for a Kung-Fu conference.

There was a Canadian couple who happened to be riding along the same route. Shannon and Colleen-- by far the most energetic and fun-loving people I think I've ever met.

Some of the people mentioned above happened to be camping at the same cites a day or two prior to my meeting them. Apparently, they had began to decide to stick together and last night, they invited me to ride with them. It might not be a bad idea, but it sounds like they only want to do a 60 mile-a-day average, as where if I ever want to make it down to San Diego, I'll need to average at least 100 per day. But today knocked me out. I don't know if it is going to be possible for me to make it down to San Diego by the 20th to meet my family.

Saturday, July 5th- The People that Make America Great

The kindness I've fallen into here in Seattle is enough to make me want to cry. I spent last night with Jon and Melissa, who were adomant about not letting me pay for a thing. They paid for everything I drank, and on top of that, they let me sleep on their couch.
After calling them up yesterday, Jon and Melissa had me meet them and their friends Steve-O, Teresa, Chris, and Jason over at a bar called JuJu's, where where we hung out before going a block down to Shortys, then next door to The Whisky Bar, where Steve-O bought me another beer and two shots of Jager. After leaving the Whisky Bar, we took off to watch the fireworks above Lake Union. After a great display, we went to one more bar where we could get beer and tamales, which again, was completely paid for by Jon and Melissa.
We left the bars and went over to Beth's, a local breakfast cafe/ Denny's type of place. Steve-O paid for my meal and drove me over to Jon and Melissa's condo on the north side of the city.
This morning, when I woke up, I looked in the handle bar bag on my bike and Steve-O slipped an envelope into it that read "Tattoo/Road Money". Inside was sixty-two bucks. What a crazy kid, Steve-O.
Right now, I'm sitting on Melissa and Jon's balcony, enjoying my last morning in Seattle. They're still asleep, and I would love to go out to buy some coffee for them, but there's no way I could get back into the building.

I couldn't have asked for a better fourth of July. I watched fireworks with all of my great new friends, whose faces shine bright enough to pierce through these overcast Seattle skies. I've never felt more encouraged, never felt more respected and wanted and loved in my entire life. Jon, Melissa, and Steve-O, you guys were like older brothers to me. You paid my way (and then some!), gave me the d.l. on the city, and treated me like family. I'm already looking forward to the next time we all can get together (Denver, maybe?) and share a drink. Thanks guys--you're a true credit to humanity.

Friday, July 4- Sex, Drugs, and Seattle

It rained the night of July 2nd when we were on the fringe of the golf course, and when Josh and I woke up, we packed our gear and rode a little while in a calm drizzle. It got really hot later in the day, and I ended up riding shirtless into Bremerton. While riding into the city on the side of a buisy 6-lane highway, I was screwing around with my camera when the battery door fell open and sent my batteries careening across the thoroughfare. Needless to say, I was not able to take a photograph of this intense highway I was riding on.

While on the ferry from Bremerton into Seattle, I saw Ron Ortiz, a guy who taught history at my high school and chaperoned the "Guitar Club" that I played drums for. He was doing a motorcycle tour of the Pacific Coast with some of his friends.

Josh and I rode our bikes off of the ferry and into downtown Seattle. After riding around the city and seeing our fill of Pike's Place Market (including the very first Starbucks), I called my friend Anna who used to live in Seattle, and she told me about The Rosebud, a bar she used to work at on Capitol Hill. Josh and I showed up, and after a drink, we parted ways. He was leaving to go meet his girlfriend at Sea-Tac airport, and they're going to spend the fourth of July weekend together before Josh loops around and starts to head south to Albaquerque. We hugged, exchanged numbers, and I was once again alone, for the first time in weeks.

It's difficult to give the chronological order of what happened next. I ordered another drink, and met some people out on the back patio of The Rosebud. All it took was five minutes of small talk for a guy named Chuck to invite me to sleep on an airmatress at his house.

But the wonderful opportunity to sleep for free on Chuck's couch came at a price. To say the least, my friend Chuck is one of the craziest/generous guys I've ever met.

We left The Rosebud and went back to Chuck's place. After snorting lines of coke on the back cover of a Rolling Stone Magazine, Chuck and his friends lit a joint and passed it around. And then another. And one more. More coke. Okay, now off to the bars, says Chuck.

When we were still in Chuck's driveway, a guy we were hanging out with named Brian kissed me. On the lips. And I'm not talking a peck--this dude full on kissed me. He put his hand on the back of my head, and flew at my face full force. I was speechless. He did the same thing to another guy later on in the night who ended up throwing his fist into Brian's face. Poor Brian-- mabye he should learn not to kiss-rape random dudes.

Anyhow, we went over to the Beacon Hill neighborhood where we went to the Beacon Hill Pub for more drinks. This is where I met Jon and Melissa, THE raddest people in all of Seattle. They weren't near as maniacle as Chuck, and it was nice to have a down-to-earth conversation in the middle of all the mayhem. After another few bars, (I can't remember which ones... Comet, I think was one of them) I got in the car with Chuck and had the most exhillerating three minutes of my entire life. I shit you not--Chuck's driving could easily have rivaled Nick Cage's in Gone in Sixty Seconds. Picture us fishtailing so bad that we come within inches of parked cars. Picture us blowing red lights. Picture going 70 in a 25. Now picture the long-haired tweeker driving the car. You have just pictured the most intense 3 minutes of my life.

When we stumbled out alive onto Chuck's driveway, we clambered into his house and drank more beer. Chuck and his buddies pulled out some tinfoil and plastic straws to smoke Oxycodone. More lines of coke. More Oxycodone.

Regardless of the drugs, Chuck was great. He was an entertainer, and an incredible host. He blew up a king-sized air matress just for me, pulled out some clean sheets and blankets, offered me a bowl of Trix in the morning, and did everything he possibly could to make sure I was comfortable. If you ever read this, Chuck, I owe you one, man.

The thing about Seattle that makes it Seattle isn't it's lively/artsy/cultured down-town area, but it's surrounding neighborhoods and the people within them. I'm writing this from Mama's Pizza in Capitol Hill.

So I am EXHAUSTED. I am hung over and running on 5 hours of sleep. Seattle is beginning to overwhelm me. The only reason is because again, tonight I don't have a place to sleep lined up. I've figured that the worst case senario is that I'm up all night and I'll wonder around the city until tomorrow afternoon when I can catch my train to Portland where I'll be able to sleep. I thought about staying at the Green Tortoise Hostel tonight, but all that is available is a queen sized bed for $37, which is worthless to me, because I'll be in a hostel wasting money tomorrow night back in Seaside.

Jon and Melissa gave me their phone number last night back at the pub. They told me to give them a call if I wasn't doing anything for the fourth, which I think is exactly what I'm about to do.
Happy fourth, everybody.

Wednesday, July 2- Clear Cutting and Shelton the Shit-hole

Another 64 miles today. Josh and I are currently just north of Shelton, a little shithole town less than 34 miles from Port Orchard and Bremerton, which are both just a quick Ferry ride away from Seattle.

This morning was great. I awoke to the condensation gethering on the roof of my tent and a thick fog that capped the tops of the trees just outside my door. I'm a little sore from riding, but I'm mostly just tired.

The logging here is depressing and makes the ride through Washington a total downer. At first I was completely disgusted, but after thinking about it, I realize that everyone in America (including myself) has become so dependant on this industry, that to say it is awful would be extremely hypocritical of me. I do know that I take too many things (furniture, housing, shops, etc.) for granted, which are all things that I really don't need. The industry itself seems to do an okay job at re-harvesting formerly logged areas, but I think the bottom line is that I am too unknowledgable about these things to build an accurate and justified opinion. Afterall, this is the ever-expanding, all-encompassing America. Gotta have wood! (but not really).

I really ought to start eating healthier on the days that I ride--I had four doughnuts and a liter of milk for a 'snack' today, smoked a ciggarette after, and felt like shit for the next 10 miles. And to prove that I didn't learn my lesson, I binged on disgusting fast food when Josh and I got into Shelton.

The people we met in Shelton were the most unfriendly people I've met on this trip. A guy honked at me when I was riding today (I guess I was in the middle of the lane, but still) so I got pissed off, gave him the finger and he rolled down his window and bitched me out, which of course, I returned. There was a cop two cars back who didn't even seem to notice us.

Josh said a hooker tried to call after him, and after we ate dinner, there were a handfull of kids that were leaning out of the window of a pickup to yell at us. We got out of Shelton as fast as we could.

Right now, Josh and I are camping on the edge of a golf course. Earlier, a guy hit a ball over here and came to look for it--I don't think he saw us, but I can't be sure. If he did, then he obviously didn't report us, because we're still here.

My legs look like pizza crust and have been pillaged by the armies of mosquitoes that thrive in this region.
My mom's birthday was today. She was glad when I called her up--it was nice to hear her voice. I miss everyone in Denver, especially the family, very much. I hope they all are doing well and are enjoying the summer.

Seattle tomorrow! I'm anxious. So much to see and do, but no where to sleep when I get there. Onward ho!