End: Seattle WA.
The tickle of an ant running down my back, an uneasy feeling when you know they are the size of your finger. Tightening the sleeping bag, I close my eyes and tried to smother it by rolling over.
Waking with a blanket of fog covering the field, the stereotypical Seattle weather loomed over us as the day began. The mountains obscured. The sun, tamed. Sitting up, I noticed the amount of water covering my sleeping bag. Looking around, I thought the morning brought rain, drenching me as I slept. Sleeping bag soaked, I stuffed it in the ruck sack and continued with the morning duties. The water happened to be the huge amount of condensation as the temp dropped down to the low fifties during the night. Moving precariously, due to the location that we found our selves in, we packed in a hurry and moved to the gas station.
Another flat. The fourth one in a row and with my luck, still more to come. I know it is not Karma, it can’t be…
Knowing the rear tire was a pain to separate from the wheel rim due to the cold, I just pumped it to the max and crossed my fingers. With a cup of marshmallow filled hot chocolate and a small pack of doughnuts, we set off for the big city. Not the breakfast of champions, but one of cold, tired men that needed a waking up.
Highway 522 lead us straight into the northern part of Seattle. Acting much like an interstate highway, we faced a good amount of traffic, navigating the typical litter and gravel that covered the shoulder. Eyes peeled and senses maxed out, we flew into the urban environment. The one thing I think as I am riding these major roads is if I was a passenger or even the driver of one of these cars passing by, what would I think as I see two crazy men with beards hauling ass down beside me. With the biggest smirk on my face, I just tuck back into my crouch position and ride the rest of the hill down the bend.
Finally we are within the city limits of Seattle. One of the major mile stones of our trip and it just became reality. I was overwhelmed with excitement as we tore through the streets. Adrenaline still pumping and legs spinning, we notice a bike trail to the right and cut across four lanes of traffic to jump on. The atmosphere of a bike friendly city sunk in as a group of twenty cyclists rode in a pack in front of us. We made it. We are here, the west coast. The opposite corner.
Taking full advantage of the bike trails and network of roads, we made our way to the front of the shop. There. the sign states BikeWorks. A chill shop with more drive and determination to make a difference in the community than any shop back home, it felt like an honor to be before it. We would spend the rest of the day seeing the sights, taking in the city and hanging out with our host Megan.