Woke up at 4:30am, too early for breakfast. Spent some time rearranging and repacking all of my gear. Earlier this Spring, I re-read Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin series. Many of the best parts are where the Suprise is sailing by itself across some ocean vastness. Trying to pack for a trip like this reminded me of Capt. Aubrey's careful stowing of the holds and trimming of his ship.
Rode up RT 99 to E. Marginal Way past the Boeing Aircraft Plant and the new Museum of Flight. Lots of impressive aircraft parked outside, including a Concorde and a former Air Force One. Also went by Safeco Field, which has an ornately Victorian-appearing retractable roof. Then along the waterfront of Seattle and past the Edgewater Inn, which was the site of many a fabled Rock Star escapade.
Making a right-hand turn, I headed up Broad Street, right past the Space Needle, and began my Eastward journey. It was chilly and overcast, and I was able to ride along quite well, stopping only to replace my spare tube, and send 3 Lbs of gear I decided I didn't really need back home to myself via UPS. Rather than spending the night in Index, I continued on to Skykomish.
While looking for a place to camp for the night, I ran into one of those supported Tours, where they do everything for the riders except set up their tents for them. I've never had a very high opinion of that kind of Bike Touring, because having all that support makes it so easy; but since many of the riders seemed to be from England and the Netherlands, I did my best to hold back my disdain. I was unable to resist teasing the riders, however, about how elegant they looked, "strolling about in their eveningwear." This was also their first day on the road, and they had ridden about 73 miles from Bothell, with all their gear being carried for them, whereas I had gone 83.2 miles.
The European riders all headed off to find a pub (even though their breakfast was scheduled for 5:30am). There are at least 3 bars, and only about 150 people, in Skykomish, so their chances of finding a place to drink in was good. It was 9:30pm and still too light to go to sleep, so I went too, for a soda and some chitchat. Naturally, I wound up talking to the Town crazy person, a young man who had left Tidewater Virgina for San Francisco, in search of the Jack Kerouac's long-vanished Subterraneans.
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