Cannon Beach, Saddle Mountain and Hood River, Oregon

Saturday, August 28, 2010: Cannon Beach, Saddle Mountain and Hood River, OR


My Friday morning in Manzanita turned into a fantastic day- I ventured north to Cannon Beach and rented some surf gear for the three hours that were left of sunshine. With the Saturn rockin' the beachy LA look with a surfboard strapped on top, I headed into Ecola State Park for Indian Beach, a local 'hot spot for surfing'- or rather, the beginners surfing haven.

Posted at the entrance to the Nehalem State Park camping area... and along any coastal lowlands. Good to note.

Spectacular Oregon coast

The water was ICY cold. I was without gloves or hoodie and couldn't feel my hands. When I got caught in the surf, I felt like I was in a washing machine of ice. But the sun was out, the shoreline spectacular, and the water full of keen newbie surfers. While I wasn't ripping up any 'gnarly waves,' I did have a fantastic time and it felt great to be in the water again.

Now isn't this just the schnazziest sportsmobile around.

Surfing, dude.
Indian Beach, Oregon.

I enjoyed a tasty local IPA at Bill's Tavern in Cannon Beach, a sufer/vacation town full of tourists on this busy Friday evening.

Cannon Beach, Oregon.
This view + Bill's Tavern IPA= excellence.

I was headed inland to Saddle Mountain State Park for some 'primitive camping.' By State standards, this just means no water or electricity directly to each site. Hardly primitive, but cheaper, so I really can't complain. Following the 7 mile windy road going a mere 10km/hour to get to the mountain summit trailhead, I came to a dark parking area with only a few of the ten sites remaining. In my hustle and bustle to set up shop at my bush campsite, the inevitable happened. I'm surprised it hasn't happened yet.

The short version: 6 cans of Coors light was a small price to pay to regain access to my car.

I locked myself out of the Saturn. No extra keys, no hidden key.... no CAA. Somewhat reckless, I know. It happened all the same, and while I didn't panic- I was FRUSTRATED. In the car were not only my wallet, but my cellphone. Oh, and the dry newspaper I was getting to start a fire, leading to the realization that I was without keys.

I spent a solid 1/2 hour hunting through the few things I'd brought to my hike-in campsite, just to be sure. I then spent another 15 minutes just standing by the car, racking my brain for things to do. I pried at windows. I pushed and pulled the sunroof. I layed underneath the hood, in the pitch dark in the middle of the woods, scanning for a 'golden' extra key hidden underneath. No cigar.

At this point, my mind was racing, "Worst case scenario? I break a window. And drive like a true hippie with plastic and duct tape."

Before jumping to the window smashing step, I figured I'd best ask for help. I meandered the 500m over to the next site,

"Hi! Is there any chance you happen to have a coat hanger?" I asked.

"A whut?" asks one of the two men sitting around the roaring campfire.
"A coat hanger. It appears as though I've locked myself out of my car," I say, as helplessly sounding as I can muster up.

"Ohhh. Hmm.. I dunno..." the one mutters.

"Or the ability to break into a car? That would also be helpful."

The one woman looks over at one of the men and smirks, "Ray! Ray, you must be able to do that!"

(I don't want to think about why he "must be able to do that.") Instead, I jumped at the opportunity for a solution that didn't involve window smashing.

"Really????" I ask eagerly.


"Hah...well, I can take a look," says Ray from the far side of the campsite, hatchet in hand.

Ray, a middle-aged portugese man standing no more than 5'5 tall, drenched in cologne, tosses the hachet and grabs a beer to follow me to the car lot.

Ray inspects the Saturn, flashlight in hand, peering through the windows, running his hands over the door frames and checking out the locks.

After a run-over of both sides of the car, Ray says,

"My daughter has a very similar car."

Long pause. (I'm thinking.... okay, annnnd?)

``I think we can do it," Ray pauses again, ``You know, this car has been broken into before."

"What?"

"Yes m'aam. Here, come feel the difference between the doors."

Well by golly. There was a difference. Apparently the driver's side door has been pried open before- just enough room for a coathanger to reach the open/close button. I honestly don't remember if this is because I've locked myself out before and this was previously attempted, or maybe once someone did break into the Saturn. In any case, this was great news given the circumstances!

"Now I need to find something that will work," says Ray. He wanders off back to his campsite and I man the car. aka: I was useless. The classic helpless female.

Ray comes back 10minutes later, his wife in tow holding the flashlight, with what appears to be a tent pole from the fly of his tent.


"Let's try this," he says.

The wife held the flashlight, Ray wedged the pole through the door, and I watched in stressful anticipation.

He carefull jiggled, shifted, pulled, and then finally.....



'Click.'



The doors were open!!!!!!


I was jumping up and down and clapping my hands like an 8-year-old who'd just gotten the newest hot wheels set for Christmas.


"Oh my god! YAY!!!! Do I owe you some beer! I'll give you all I've got!" I exclaimed.


"Haha.. ok," Ray pauses, "What kind of beer do you drink?"


"It's Coors light. I hope that's okay! If there was somewhere nearby to get you your favourite I do it!" I blurt.


"Coors is fine with me," says Ray, grinning.


"Great!" chirps in Ray's wife. I later overheard them giggling about the extra beer they'd scored.

I dig out all of the cans I had left from the cooler- six in all, and hand over the box to Ray, hardly paying my dues for the lifesaving he'd provided.

Cradling the beer, Rays asks, "So where are all your friends?"

Great. Not only does he think I'm an idiot for locking my keys in the car, but an idiot with no friends. I explain my travel adventures and he still seems confused.

"Oh you know, I'm just 'enjoying the great outdoors'" I say... hoping the old cliche will end the questions.


"Well Bonita, safe travels," says Ray as he and his wife hug me goodbye.

I return to my site, with a renewed appreciation for the simple things- you know, like having access to your vehicle, passport, cellphone, wallet etc. I've also imposed a new protocol for the ins-n-outs of the Saturn.

With keys in hand, I slept well that night, deep in the bush of Saddle Mountain State Park.


I woke up on Saturday morning chilly, but ready to get outside and hit the road again. I was mere feet from the Saddle Mountain summit trailhead so figured the 2mile hike (1600ft ascent) would be a great way to start my day. I was on the trail by 7:30am and pushed myself up as quickly as possible. The views along the way were fantastic- across the Oregon mountains, with the sunshine and clouds moving quickly all around me. The peak was an icy wind, but I presevered with the self-timer photos until I got a picture that I was actually in.

Lots of clearcutting in the sprawling forests below

On my way up Saddle Mountain

Almost at the top...

Saddle Moutain Summit

Packed up and on the road east, I was amongst busy Saturday traffic heading west to the beach and east into Portland. I passed through Portland quickly- but took in the cityscape as best I could while singing along to Bohemian Rhapsody. That's right- a local radio station was playing Bohemian Rhapsody. If there's one thing I've been very impressed with along Oregon and Washington's west coasts is the radio. I pulled into Hood River mid-afternoon to find a lightly gusting wind. It was just picking up and the sand-dune launch area packing up. I touched base with a couple schools to inquire about renting, but I was shit out of luck. After talking to 4 schools and several randoms, there wasn't a 10 or 12m kite to be had in all of Hood River- they were all out in lessons. I was disappointed, but made arrangements to get out on a demo kite the next day. Lesson learned: bring my gear!

Hood River, OR. The Columbia River Gorge.

Lots of wineries and fruit orchards- this one with a view of Mt. Hood

To ease the disappointment, I scoped out some shops downtown and found a bike rental place. I was out on a sweet mountain bike for the last 2.5hours of the day and rode some great trails just outside of Hood River. After a pint of a local brew in town, I made my way to Tucker Park along Hood River and set up camp. I'm blogging from camp, enjoying the sunset with wine and chocolate. The place is rammed with weekend windsurfers and kiters from Washington, California, and Idaho... even two or three from BC. This is definitely the life.

The Route So Far...

Enter the gargantuan link below into your browser to see the route so far.

More photos are on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2342829&id=81002305&l=59c981cb3c

Route Map: 
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&source=s_d&saddr=guelph+ontario&daddr=oakville+ontario+to:Sudbury,+Ontario,+Canada+to:Sault+Ste.+Marie,+Ontario,+Canada+to:pancake+bay,+ontario,+canada+to:Thunder+Bay,+Ontario,+Canada+to:Brandon,+Manitoba,+Canada+to:Winnipeg,+Manitoba,+Canada+to:Regina,+Saskatchewan,+Canada+to:Saskatoon,+Saskatchewan,+Canada+to:Lloydminster,+Alberta,+Canada+to:Edmonton,+Alberta,+Canada+to:Jasper,+Alberta,+Canada+to:Banff,+Alberta,+Canada+to:Sicamous,+British+Columbia,+Canada+to:Kelowna,+British+Columbia,+Canada+to:Vancouver,+BC,+Canada+to:Bellingham,+WA+to:North+Cascades+National+Park,+WA+to:Everett,+WA+to:Fay+Bainbridge+State+Park,+Bainbridge+Island,+WA+to:Seattle,+WA+to:Manzanita,+OR&hl=en&geocode=FZ5amAIduoQ3-ylr-6nD0JoriDFgGyPHKHsDBQ%3BFc8JlwIdcNk_-yl5mXKPi1sriDHQGyPHKHsDBQ%3BFZBhxQIdsOIr-ympNwaPoaovTTHwWyPHKHsDCg%3BFUR2xQIdG_74-imlDjIRezk2TTEHXLFoa5RYmg%3BFT6NzAId4cbz-ikvS_pzpCNITTF_VuWGF0DSCw%3BFTrE4gIdnOOt-imN6RZMdyFZTTF0ix2PNFcFPQ%3BFZuM-AIdluAK-inXfLkAspDnUjEKLo5M3MAxyg%3BFYMz-QIdZ5A1-ikRKxr5-3PqUjFkyrnG-hoqKw%3BFVDOAQMdMMfD-SnrPaX7QB4cUzGxVHu3ljJKNQ%3BFeKBGwMdmK-k-Skrme1Hv_YEUzGQJneVMp4EBQ%3BFcn4LAMdj-5w-SkD2fFsaLIJUzE0xu1s2q0oBg%3BFYwCMQMd7EU8-Sn_rLBTsv50UzFqK-SF6by-RQ%3BFa3fJgMd6ED2-CkpPlVoCCuDUzGCKBkLvQIgHw%3BFUjqDAMdGIMc-Sn9SgyRRcpwUzFjlKzavq6vyg%3BFQu5BwMd5qfo-ClRhZb-e-l-UzHGsj3bldfKzg%3BFWkb-QId51fh-ClVtN7Foox9UzH3xLTaPeX4Tg%3BFQt57wIdQIKp-CkllQ21IO6FVDEciNbXbMfgpg%3BFQED6AIdX_qy-CkXh0XyLpaFVDHw4DnNqZx61Q%3BFSqb5AIdSdXC-CH3NS9CdY24eSn5-ez879yEVDEEDZRiK7vOlg%3BFekZ3AIdIVi3-ClbL_UEZACQVDGQR7Jx8kkkBw%3BFVrk1wId4qyy-CFWqxNRXlNw4Q%3BFcJp1gIdWVy1-ClVM-iTLBCQVDGa1URpRmUlEA%3BFaibuQIdYeac-CmVhLNfGraUVDFX9qzodsiUmw&mra=ls&sll=43.70073,-101.329505&sspn=35.340659,105.117187&ie=UTF8&z=4&layer=c&pw=2

North Cascades National Park, Bainbridge Island, Seattle, Newhalem OR

August 27, 2010

After a long internet check-in at a Starbucks in Bellingham on Monday morning, I scoped out a few google maps and decided to head inland to North Cascades National Park. Still with no complete map of Washington in front of me, I was relying entirely on the GPS and my memory of the maps I had looked at online. (I later had a major Ahhh ha! moment.... and realized I've had an atlas of the USA with me this whole time.) In any case, the drive east was great- it felt fantastic to be back on the road again, even if I wasn't sure where I was headed. The lovely thing about this particular approach is that it fully embraces the spontenaity of random wine tasting at one of the handful of enticing wineries along the way. Eagle Haven Winery is nesteled in Sedro Wooley, WA, and the lovely lady manning the tasting room was incredible friendly and probably would have kept pouring me wine all afternoon.

 I had made reference to some of the wines I'd tasted in South Africa and before I knew it I was hearing about her sister, a hunter, and her brother-in-law, a taxidermist, and their trips to Africa.

"But they've never invited me to come along," she says jokingly. Without having to pay a dime for my tasters, I was back on the road.

Eagle Haven Winery

The sign to the Marblemount Ranger check-in station caught my eye and a quick u-turn brought me to the off-road cabin with plenty of help to be offered. Once the two couples at the counter had been helped and I'd checked out the 3-D topographic map, I stepped up to the counter and found myself saying I was looking to do two nights in the backcountry and was looking for a permit and recommended trails.

What?

Honest to god, I hadn't thought of this before. I didn't even have two days worth of food with me. Where did this sweeping request come from?

The fact that the Ranger didn't seem taken aback at having a lone traveler inquire about a late afternoon departure for the backcountry was reassuring. She did take me through the 'bear aware' rigamorole while pointing out a suitable trail given the time of day and the "two nights in the bush" that I was looking for. My permit was printed (with emergency contact info, name, phone number, car information etc all logged into the register), I was on my way, and without having to pay a dime.

Luckily there was one more gas station before the mountains and forest took over, so I stocked up on energy bars and a can of beef something. It was the lightest canned item they had. Given the true spontenaity of this decision, my belongings ended up sprawled over two parking spots at the trailhead as I sorted out what I would need and would could stay. With the sun starting to set, my first leg of the trek was appropriately brief at a little over 2 miles. Assuming no wrong turns. Add in two wrong turns, and 2 miles becomes more like 4 miles, which meant setting up came in the dark.

Setting off at the Thunder Creek trailhead.

 This is approximately when bear paranoia sunk in. It's amazing the comfort we get out of being with others in the dark, or when there are legitimate threats 'lurking in the darkness.' I was clanging my keys like there was no tomorrow and trying to rationalize with myself as much as possible. The problem was, if I encountered a grizzly bear, there really isn't much I could have done.

Site #1

So the paranoia stuck around, while setting up my tent, starting up the stove, frying up some sausages and peppers, and cleaning up. I made damn sure I didn't spill a drop of anything sweet or salty- both of which attract bears and other fun nightime visitors.

Cooking dinner at site #1

 Despite this diligence, I was taking my dirty pot down to the glacial river running along side my site and when I switched from singing the spice girls to "CLANG CLANG RATTLE BING BANG GONNA MAKE MY NOISE ALL DAY" (nothing beats children's story songs to make you feel a-okay), I started clanging my pot to add some 'beats.' My pot, which still had a 1/2 cup of sausage grease in it- all of which ended up on my pants. Now I was in a real dilemma, I could wash my dishes, hang my food- take all the precautions to avoid bears visiting, except that now I smelled like a walking juicy jumbo. Fabric holds scent exceptionally well, so despite the pitch darkness and general haphazhardness of this whole event, I dunked my pants into the river to scrub them (with rocks... I had no soap to speak of) clean of sausage smells. In my packing frenzy I forgot my freshly charged ipod, which meant I'd be falling asleep to the creaks and croaks of every damn thing around me. I nearly talked myself out of hiking back to my car first thing the next morning.

 Bear bag. Nearly lost my food to the river trying to set this one up.

I'm happy to say that I awoke with a renewed appreciation for the outdoors to find find my hanging bear bag untampered. While I kept my keys jingling, I was able to get my mind off bears for most of the trekking that remained. Except for the 3 encounters with massive piles of bear poo. I jingled more aggressively in those parts. My second site was perched halfway up the edge of some mountain with great views of the glaciers. Turns out I absolutely booted it through the trails and made it there far earlier than anticipated- so I enjoyed the afternoon basking in the sunshine and napping in the shade.

plenty of great views along the way

along the trail to site #2

The park brochure (being short of "things do to" I read it end to end several times) describes the Stephen Mather Wilderness, which encompasses North Cascades National Park, Lake Chelan National Recreation Area, and Ross Lake National Recreation Area as a place for solitude, challenge, contemplation and cultural study. While I didn't endeavour in any cultural studies, I definitely got my fill of the solitude, challenge, and contemplation.

Arrival at site #2- YAY! plenty of time to take in the view

Site #2

The view from site #2

My restlessness took hold and to hurry things along, I had an all time early bedtime record of 7:30pm- the sun wasn't even fully set. I was back on the trail the next morning, and reached my car by 12:30pm on day three after covering a total of 23 miles.

With no showers available, I did my best to 'wash up' with the sink (a taste of the life of a bum, I suppose) and had a cold beer overlooking Ross Lake- a spectacular view and great 'reward.'

 I got back in my car and figured I'd head to the Seattle area. With a handful of stops at wireless-less Starbucks shops (the damn kiosks instead of proper stores), I finally hunted down a good connection and scoped out my options for state parks with camping available. It was 5:30pm and I was in Everett, WA and the closest option appeared to be Faye Bainbridge State park on Bainbridge Island. Island? Google maps said I would be taking a ferry. My head was swimming in logistical obstacles, matched up against a dwindling amount of daylight. I winged it and set the GPS for Bainbridge Island.

Suffice to say that was the best "decision" I've made in a while- after a spectacular ferry ride from Edmonds to Kingston, WA, with the setting sun overlooking Seattle and Mount Rainier (tallest in WA), I arrived at Faye Bainbridge State Park in the Puget Sound, camping by the sandy beaches with the lights of Seattle on the opposite shore. Hot dogs and wine hit the spot after another very successful day of no planning.

The ferry from Edmonds to Kingston, WA, just outside Seattle

Faye Bainbridge State Park

The next morning was drizzly and cool, with the view of the city completely blanketed by fog. I caught a morning ferry right into Seattle and ventured further from the downtown core to save money on parking. As with any major city, 8 blocks away saved me $16 for four hours of parking, and I got to take in more of Seattle by walking. Pike Place market was a 'major attraction,' with plenty of fresh fish, flowers, bakers, trinkets etc. The usual market fare.

Pike Place Market, Seattle

Coming into Seattle on the ferry from Bainbridge Island

Pike Place Market- plenty o fish to be had

Given that Starbucks has been my blogging lifeline with their free internet, I made a point of visiting the original Starbucks, too.

The original starbucks

After my fill of city life (and a brief moment of consumer weakness with some discount clothing shopping- it was a gold mine!), I headed south on the I-5 towards Oregon. The Mount St Helen's National Memorial was en route, but after hitting commuter traffic, I found myself in a familiar predicament- running short on daylight with no plans for where to camp. I wanted to see the Oregon coast, and if the wind was good, head inland to Hood River for some more kitesurfing. The atlas showed state parks dotting the north Oregon coast, so I figured I'd find a place to camp no problemo. I was wrong.

From one State Park to another- none offered camping. I was weaving through dark roads in who-knows-where Oregon, with so many twisty turns I started to get car sick. It was 9:30pm, and most State Parks close up at 10pm. I was starting to imagine myself knocking on some farmhouse door asking if I could pitch a tent on their lawn. Low and behold, my lack of planning pulled through again and I came across a tiny convenience store with a helpful young man pointing me 2 miles south to Newhalem State Park where camping was indeed available. Stretching along a tiny peninsula of the Oregon coast just outside Manzanita, OR, this park sits right on the pacific ocean and draws a large "horse crowd." In fact, that's all the camping they had available-"horse camp." My site came with corrals. And horse shit all over the place.

Horse Camp. Yes, those are the corrals in the background. For drunk, reckless campers.

In any case, it was a campsite, and I could hear the ocean not 100m away. Wine and hotdogs hit the spot again, with leftover blackberry pie for dessert. I woke up to sunny skies and a spectacular beach streching out beside me.

Newhalem State Park on the Oregon coast, just outside Manzanita, OR

I'm writing from the Manzanita library, which is literally the "hot spot" of the town. As I sit on a wooden bench outside the library- which is clad in cedar-shingles and might as well be a beach house, and a woman walks up,


"Where is it [the internet]? Is it just all around us?" asks this elderly woman returning some books in the drop slot.

"Haha, yes it's everywhere," says the man on the bench under the tree nearby.

"Oh, I see. I always see people sitting here and wonder how they're getting it."

"Yes, that's the wonder of wireless internet," says another man perched on the rock.

A couple minutes later the man on the other bench, in khaki shorts, boat loafers, and a loose white dress shirt gets up, macbook and hand, and says,

"Well, the only thing that isn't everywhere is a powersupply. Do you think there's an outlet in one of these rocks?" he chuckles, "Have a nice day, the both of ya's."

While the wind isn't looking good in Hood River, the beach here is still fantastic... so who knows what the day holds.

repeat picture i can't delete for some reason.

Rolling On: Vancouver, Squamish, Bellingham WA

August 23, 2010: Back on the road

Two weeks in Vancouver sealed the deal for me and making my way back to the west coast sometime post-masters. It was cram-packed with the usual shenaningans- nights on the town, the grouse grind, BBQs on the beach, tennis with Roo, homemade indian food, canoeing in Deep Cove, and climbing in Squamish- sprinkled with a few visits to the MHPM Vancouver office.

Gearing up to climb Smoke Bluffs, Squamish

The view from halfway up.

Climbing. Thanks to Emily and Lisa for the expert lessons in trad climibing, but Heather and I stuck to top down.

Heather and I. Taking in the view while Emily and Lisa did their thing with trad climbing.
I should note, this was Heather's third time putting on a harness. First time outdoor climbing. WELL DONE!

The view from Jesse's humble abode.
It was just under two years ago that Mom, Julie and I ventured here as the classic tourists for a kayak adventure. Wewould have paddled right by Jesse's place!

Welcome back BBQ at Jericho for Jesse and Ruth after 2.5months on the road touring the US.
Jesse grilling, and WASHOOS in the background. What's WASHOOS? Two boxes,each with three holes. Eight washers. Sort of like horshoes, but throwing washers into the holes for points. It's right up there with frolf/beersby, bocce, and croquet.

Canoeing at Deep Cove.
Ruth's "young buck" boyfriend, Jesse, is living the life right on the ocean in this tiny town outside of Van.

Ruth missed the "homeliness" of baking and we went to town in the kithen at 3357 West 7th.
My first pie! With fresh blackberries picked from right outside Jesse's in Deep Cove.

Sunny Sunday at Spanish Banks

With Margot back home in Metis for her summer vacation, Katharine back to Georgian Bay for some Ontario cottage life, Heather and Erin off to Vancouver Island, and Ruth off again to Tadoussac, Quebec, I figured it was about time I hit the road again.

Bellingham, Washington has been on my hit list of great kiting spots for a while now, so I headed straight south to this tiny town to spend a few days camping, hiking, and sailing the Washington coast.

I checked in with the local kite shop to ask about wind conditions and any camping recommendations. After making plans to kite the next day, I found myself arriving at the nearby Larrabee State Park on a busy Saturday evening with all sites full. It was nearing dusk and my options were limited- fortunately traveling as a lone female does come with some perks- namely sympathy for a lack of planning. The park ranger let me use an "emergency" site, which ended up being far more appealing than the usual selection (imagine ram-packed sites, RVs and massive tents a plenty, screaming kids and raging generators). It was a hike-in site, but I was more than happy to make the trek to escape the weekend RVer noises.

By the time I had a good fire going, my tent setup, and some food re-heated, I was exhausted. Note to Smith/Storm: where's a solid fire-building team when you need one? The dry spruce was in abundance, but everything takes twice as long when you're on your own. If work sucks, then you are both more than welcome to re-join me. Washington is fantastic!

Larrabee State Park, WA

Sunset at Larrabee State Park, WA

Not that I'm keeping track of the "best days of my life," but if I was, yesterday would rank amongst the top ten. I woke up in total solitude, packed up my gear, and wandered back along the highway until I found a trailhead I was certain I saw on the way in. The wind wasn't going to pick up until mid-day, so I figured I'd find a short hike to pass the time. Despite my searching on the Gremlin, I couldn't find a visitor's centre to get a trail map. The Park Rangers were also useless. 

When Storm left, he also took his Gremlin with him. In and around Vancouver, I was a-okay with navigating. Driving south, however, was a different story. I conceded to it's usefullness and bought my own before heading into Washington. Getting lost can be a ball when you're not on any kind of timeline... but not so fun when your by yourself and you have no one to laugh about it with.

So I took a mental snap shot of the info board which showed a blurry, faded trail map. It looked to be a 2-3mile hike. Maybe I took a wrong turn, maybe I just mis-read the map, maybe I am a much slower walker than I thought- but I didn't make it back to the highway until 4 hours later.

The wind had picked up at a solid 15-18 knots and while my legs were burning from some steep climbs,I didn't want to risk the wind dying for the next week and not getting on the water (as is my usual luck).

I managed to catch a ride for a deep water start on the local kiteshop's seadoo and got an incredible 3.5 hour session in as the sun was setting. While I would have loved to keep going and the wind was still going strong, my body was telling me otherwise.

Locust Beach, outside Bellingham, WA

Hiking in the Chuckanut Mountains, WA

Trail critters

Not me (water starts make it tough to get photos...), but other kiters at Locust Beach

I made it back to the State Park after dusk, hiked into a remote site, started a fire, had a turkey sandwich, and enjoyed a half bottle of chardonnay. The fact that it cost only $4 made it that much tastier.

I packed up this morning with plans to head south- not sure where to exactly. I stopped for breakfast at a great lookout spot along the highway and met two young missionaries- they were maybe 16-17 years old, and extraordinarily friendly. These two young men, named Elder Zachariah and Elder Isaac, were currently living in Mount Vernon and were enjoying their one 'day off' a week and checking out the Bellingham coast. Apparently all missionaries preface their name with Elder. One was born in Missouri, the other born in Japan, and combined, they have lived in over 20 states. I guess since it was their day off they saved me the 'conversion schpeel' and were everyday, interesting people to talk to. The one says, "You know those guys who wear white shirts and black ties with books- that's what we do."

Breakfast stop.

Despite the beauty of this coastline, this FREQUENTLY used train tack ran right by the Sate Park and kept me from any kind of deep sleep.