Wednesday 1 October 2014

CYCLE TOURING THE USA (2) - PART TWO - SEATTLE TO BOSTON

 


USA (2) PART TWO

SEATTLE - BOSTON

22 May – 1 October 2014

8173 Kilometres – 134 days


 


PART TWO
24 June - 1 October 2014
6473 km - 103 days


Washington (2)
Washington Photos 


Oregon (2)
Oregon Photos


Idaho
Idaho Photos

Montana
Montana Photos


Wyoming
Yellowstone Photos
Montana (2) 
Montana Photos
Wyoming (2)
Wyoming Photos
South Dakota
South Dakota Photos
Minnesota
Minnesota Photos
Wisconsin
Wisconsin Photos
Michigan
Michigan Photos
 Ohio
Photos Ohio
 Pennsylvania
 
New York
Photos New York
 Massachusetts
Photos Massachusetts

 

Washington (2) 

24-25 June -Seattle

First thing in the morning, a short walk took me to the Canadian Consulate, merely to find they had no visa information and didn't know how to collect it once granted. This lack of info left me no choice but to proceed east across the US's northern states until Canadian access was granted.

The weather was most glorious and perfect to join a walking tour, sampling their world-famous clam chowder and feeding seagulls while watching the sunset.

 

26 June - Seattle – Riverbend Camping - 90 km

Unable to cross into Canada, the time came to start the great trek east, first heading south towards Portland and then east via the Columbian Gorge. Looking at the map, it appeared an exciting ride.

Even though cloudy, the weather wasn't cold. The remarkable thing was it was warmer weather in Washington than in San Francisco. Leaving, the route passed the Boeing factory, which didn't simply have a Museum of Flight, but also one of Light and I was sorry I didn't do the Boeing tour.

Being cherry time, my path was peppered by stalls selling delicious cherries and a few sweet ones were bagged for the road.

Heading south on the old Pacific Highway, I came upon Riverbend campsite. The camp was expensive, add one had to pay to get a hot shower; it became the costliest shower that far.

 

27 June - Riverbend Campground – Lewis and Clark SP - 98 km

It rained throughout the night, and on waking, rain was still dripping on the tent, which made me curl up and sleep an additional hour after which the rain had abated. Packing up was a quick affair and following donning rain gear, I hopped on my iron horse for the ride towards Vancouver. Albeit drizzling from time to time, the ride was enjoyable, partly along a bike path that ran through the woods for almost 15–20 miles.

A supermarket made stocking up in Toledo convenient, followed by the regular search to find a camping spot. The nearby Lewis and Clark SP was a lovely place in a forest, although a few mighty strange noises were in the woods. By evening, I zipped up the tent and hoped nothing would carry me away, seeing I was the only one there and their choices thus a tad limited.

 

28 June - Lewis and Clark SP – Vancouver - 108 km

The drizzle which woke me continued all day with the result there were barely any stops, and the camera never came out. So little option remained but to pull the cap down low and head towards the next campsite. Stopping at a Burger Hut to have lunch was a treat, if just to people-watch. Some, obviously, already had a few burgers too many, and the last thing they needed was one more massive milkshake.

It started drizzling once on the road, and I turned into the first inexpensive-looking establishment to get out of the weather.

 

Oregon (2) 

29 June - Vancouver – Portland - 60 km

Vicki, a 365-project friend, who lived in Portland at the time, invited me to visit and packing up was at leisure as the ride to their house was only a short distance. Vancouver's Old Fort begged to be explored and afterwards I looked for a bike path across the Colombia River.

The weather was glorious, and the bike path next to the river was jam-packed with cyclists. A stop at Blue Lake Park, a large scenic area, was a great place to eat my takeaway. People were out and about, kids were swimming, and all enjoyed the excellent summer weather.

Locating John and Vicki's place was uncomplicated and I was treated like royalty by these two amazing people. They didn't simply offer me a bed but treated me to supper at a floating restaurant. Then, at home, we chatted nonstop while my laundry was being done. How awesome is that?

 

30 June - Portland – The Dalles - 123 km

The following day was lovely; the sun was out, and one could even wear shorts. I waved goodbye to John and Vicki and continued my journey along the Columbia River. The way east led through the Columbia River Gorge and followed the Historic Columbia River Highway. The ride was stunning past numerous waterfalls and scenic areas. Vicki packed plenty to eat, and maybe it was those chocolate chip cookies that made me ride to The Dalles, a small settlement along the river.

 

1 July - The Dalles - 32 km

I emerged with a sore throat and could feel a fat cold coming on. I'd no patience for these minor illnesses and was kind of hoping it would disappear overnight. (Don't we all?) Pedalling out of town, a stop at Safeway provided medicine, claiming to clear a cold in record time.

Feeling positively rotten, a meagre 30 kilometres were cycled to the next campsite, a pity as the weather was great and the day wind-free. People informed the Gorge was a notoriously windy area. One could merely hope the wind-free weather would last until the following day.

 

2 July - The Dalles – Boardman - 114 km

Still feeling under the weather, staying one more day was enticing, but my restlessness got the better of me. With the wind in my favour, packing up was a speedy affair. A strong tailwind made effortless riding in the direction of Boardman – a good thing too, as I was feeling downright terrible.

Boardman had a beautiful campsite offering a genuinely luxurious lawn right on the Columbia River. The nearby shops provided a stack of food, but I had no appetite and just ate the salad.

The pedal or bottom bracket made the most ungodly noise and I could only hope it would see me through to the next village, roughly 30 miles further.

 

3 July - Boardman – Pendleton & Shuttle bus to La Grande - 100 km (& 45 miles by shuttle bus)

The next morning, a short bike ride took me to a surprisingly well-stocked bike shop for such a small community. After replacing the pedals, and with the wind in my back I rolled into La Grande early.

As soon as the road left the Columbia River, the landscape changed to vast plains where my path took me through endless wheat fields. Still suffering from a cold and not feeling too energetic, I pushed on over the hills and soon could see Pendleton far down in the valley.

In Pendleton, signs indicated the stretch between Pendleton and La Grange were off-limits to bicycles due to maintenance work. This was however well organised America and a shuttle bus service operated between the two towns. Unfortunately, the bus was only at 17h00, leaving a long wait. Once in pretty La Grange, I weakened at the sight of a motel room which made easy kicking back the rest of the evening.

 

4-6 July - La Grange – Baker City - 72 km

The cold and flu medicine bought didn't quite live up to its claim of relieving the symptoms super-fast and, still feeling dreadful, I continued along Highway 84. Once at the top of the hill, one could see the tarmac stretching miles ahead towards the historic town of Baker City and I'd a strong suspicion this would be the last flat section for a while.

Feeling positively rotten, the Eldorado Inn made a good enough place to spend the night. Being Independence Day, I thought it a pity I felt as awful as I did. Though all countries celebrate their independence, no country celebrated the day with as much gusto as the Americans.

Waking, feeling all blocked up, including a heavy head and a tight chest, there was no point in cycling. Instead, I walked to the shop, got more flu tablets, and returned to bed, where I spent two full days as I was clearly not going to cycle the flu away.

 

7 July - Baker City – Ontario - 135 km

At last, my cold abated, allowing pedalling out of Baker City. The road followed what is known as the Old Oregon Trail. The trail was an old wagon route and emigrant trail which ran from east to west across the country, remarkably similar to the Great Trek in my home country.

The landscape also reminded me of South Africa as it very much resembled the Karoo. The route passed through sleepy hamlets featuring abandoned train stations, a railway line, a pub and church, the only thing missing was a forlorn-looking Pepper Willow.

I followed the Snake River, and with such a name camping wasn't on top of my to-do list. However, the weather was perfect, around 30°C during the day – perfect for cycling. I was on a bit of a downhill run and hence continued towards Ontario - the last stop until crossing the border into Idaho.

 

Idaho

8–9 July - Ontario – Boise - 97 km

Once across the state border into Idaho, my path continued until reaching the turnoff to Boise. Then, being invited by Rachel and Patrick, two Warm Showers hosts, I headed downtown and followed the greenbelt bike path into the city centre. From the city, a short ride led to Rachel and Patrick's home. I've never met them personally and merely knew them from social media, as they were seasoned cycle tourers. Not simply did they have a beautiful home, but they were the most likeable people imaginable. We chatted forever, and I was easily convinced to stay an additional day.

Patrick was born and raised in The Netherlands, and as Holland was playing in the semi-finals of the World Cup Soccer, we visited the pub to watch the game. Regrettably, Holland lost but still, we all had a great time.

 

10-13 July - Rafting

I was further invited to join Rachel and Patrick on a river rafting trip down the Wallowa and Grande Ronde Rivers. This was an amazing opportunity which I grabbed with both hands. The drive to the start, and where we camped, was a long one. The following morning, we packed the rafts with everything needed and took to the water. I joined Bobby (and his dog, Trixi), Gordy was on his own, Rachel and Patrick were in one boat, and Bob, Ivy and Eve (and Bob's dog) in another boat. They were all charming people and we'd a total blast on the river.

The weather played along, and as the weather was in the high 90s, the river was the best place. Bob and Bobby fished from time to time and whatever was caught went straight back into the river.

We camped along the riverbank in the evening, and I was impressed by their conservation efforts as not a single scrap of anything was left behind at the places camped. They were incredibly well-organised, and one could tell this wasn't their first time on the river - even the dogs had lifejackets.

The time passed far too quickly, and too soon the time came to load the boats and return to the city.

 

14 July - Boise

I'd all intentions of using my day in Boise productively and doing something useful, like washing the sleeping bag. Instead, the day was spent playing with the camera in Rachel and Patrick's lush garden and enjoying the novelty of being in a real home. By evening, Sarah (another cyclist) arrived. We’d supper together, after which I packed my bags and got ready to resume my quest anew.

 

15 July - Boise – Glenn's Ferry - 125 km

In the morning I thanked Rachel and Patrick, and had all intentions of turning off at Mountain Home onto Route 20. Still, the wind picked up, and I soon found myself grinding into a headwind. There and then, I made a U-turn and continued along Route 84.

The area was highly desolate and had very little of interest. However, a strong tailwind blew me into Glenn's Ferry early. At the Three Islands SP, the camping fee was astronomical (as Patrick warned) and best to look elsewhere.

Glenn's Ferry turned out a fascinating place. Back in the day the area was one of the most famous and treacherous river crossings on the Oregon Trail. Not only was Glenn’s Ferry steeped in history, but it turned out the home of Equine Dentistry. You learn something new every day!

 

16 July - Glenn's Ferry – Truckstop - 109 km

This was the first day since departing Seattle I encountered a headwind. Unfortunately, my hopes of it changing never materialised, and the wind direction stayed east-north-east all day. As a result, the going was relatively slow. Petrol stations made convenient distractions to break the monotony and fill the water bottle.

Not a significant amount happened, except riding through the Snake River Gorge which stretched almost 50 kilometres and was highly picturesque. The gorge was further known for an unsuccessful attempt by Evel Knievel to jump across using a contraption called a Skycycle rocket! The things people do!

 

17 July - Truck Stop – American Falls - 135 km

Powered by a tailwind, I flew past farmlands and windfarms, indicating the area a notoriously windy one. Finally, route 84 (which I’d been following some time) turned south, and I veered north along Route 86, in the direction of both Canada and Yellowstone National Park. Overnighting was at the small settlement of American Falls, so named after a party of trappers whose boat went over the falls. Poor things.

 

18 July - American Falls – Idaho Falls - 130 km

Not merely did the day turn out one of comfortable riding, but I’d the benefit of a tailwind. From Pocatello, the road headed north through the Indian reservation of Fort Hall and past Blackfoot, which didn't have a great deal going apart from a potato museum. You know there's not much happening in a place that boasts a potato museum.

Dave's Bike Shop, in Idaho Falls, changed the inner tube and discovered what was causing the slow puncture. Not simply did they change the tube but did so free of charge.

I then searched for an inexpensive room, which turned out more difficult than expected. The one located was far out of town, and once the panniers were off-loaded, it took biking into the village on the hunt to find food.

 

19 July - Idaho falls – Warm Waters campsite - 110 km

So monotonous was the ride, one could listen to stories downloaded on the iPod; a novel manner in which to cycle but something one can only do in the absence of traffic. The path east ran past vast fields of seed potatoes and even more extensive wheat areas and, in the process, I met a French family pedalling around Idaho. Sadly, their holiday was soon coming to an end, and they planned on hiring a car to tour Yellowstone National Park.

Arriving at Warm Waters campsite early made basking in the sun the rest of the day. Warm Waters was a popular site and campers were floating on inner tubes downstream, only to run back to repeat the process. The camp had a great location next to the river providing plenty of trees. There were, surprisingly, no showers but I guessed that’s what the river was for.

 

Montana

20–21 July - Warm Rivers Campsite – Western Yellowstone – 95 km

By crossing the continental divide, one entered the state of Montana, and it's understood the name was derived from the Spanish word 'Montaña' (mountain). I, therefore, guessed the ride would include a few hills. Montana ranks fourth in size but only 48th in population density out of the 50 states in the US. Even more unique is that the western third of Montana contains 77 named mountain ranges, forming part of the Rocky Mountains. I sincerely hoped not all 77 were on my path.

West Yellowstone had a campsite as well as a supermarket, and the following day was spent at camp doing routine rest day chores. The best part of the day was spent lazing about; good thing too, as a storm passed through, complete with an impressive display of thunder, lightning and hail.

 

Wyoming

 22 July - West Yellowstone – Norris campsite - 52 km

I'd a slow start as the day was meant to discover new things and not do distance, and I was bursting with excitement to investigate this unique region. At the entrance of Yellowstone Park, the entry was a meagre $12 (valid for an entire seven days). Soon the road crossed into the state of Wyoming as a significant part of the park is situated in Wyoming. The day was fantastic, and the vistas surpassed all expectations. Yellowstone is truly one of a kind, a place where the earth bubbles, splatters and steams. Geysers erupted in front of my eyes; truly one of the most surreal places I’ve visited.

Camping was at Norris where a British family travelling the area told me an online visa application to Canada takes two months. I then had little hope of getting the visa in time to allow biking in Canada.

 

23 July - Norris Campsite – Gardiner - 42 km

The ride was short but fascinating and included many stops at extraordinary sights. That night, camping was at Gardiner to rethink the route, as the wind picked up, and the forecast was for 35 m/h winds in an easterly direction. The idea of exploring Glacier National Park went out of the window as I’d no intention of battling into such a wind.

 

Montana (2)

24 July - Gardiner – Big Timber - 152 km

The weather forecast turned out spot-on, and the wind grew stronger as the day progressed. With a near gale force wind in my back, cycling was like low flying, reaching speeds of almost 60 km/h - scary stuff. From Gardiner, my path headed north in the direction of Livingston from where it veered east.

Amazingly, once in Livingston, the wind direction changed and remained a tailwind. Arriving in Big Timber was thus in good time, and the lack of camping made me opt for a Motel.

I decided to stay, follow the wind and go wherever it blew me. An additional email was sent to the Canadian visa office, inquiring exactly how long the visa would take and how one would receive it. In the meantime, the plan was to head further east while staying close to the border in case the visa came through.

 

25 July - Big Timber – Laurel - 112 km

The route followed the Yellowstone River and I understood it the US's longest undammed river. Unfortunately, the wind wasn't as strong as the day before, and my legs felt tired following the previous day's long cycle.

On reaching Laurel, I called it a day but guessed one could easily have carried on towards Billings (a further 22 miles). But, as they say in South Africa, I didn't want to pull the ass out of the chicken.

After a good look at the map, a decision was made to head in the direction of Mount Rushmore National Park as I’d given up hope of ever getting the Canadian visa. There was not a single word from them, not even a "Thanks for your payment", just a pathetic automated email stating they had received the application and would contact me in due time.

 

26–27 July - Laurel – Hardin - 105 km & 52 km

The room was cheap, likely due to its location next to the railway line. Still, it was a good deal as the price included a complimentary buffet breakfast. My neighbours complained about the noise from the trains, but I never heard anything.

The way to Billings veered slightly southeast in the direction of Mount Rushmore and was dreadfully monotonous; hot, dry and rather lonely sporting views of endless wheat fields. The single slight bit of excitement was a flat tyre from tyre debris.

The first settlement came upon was Hardin, where a campsite and a few places to eat had my name on them. So, after obtaining the usual evening beer and crisps, it was time to set up camp.

The following morning, after biking nearly an hour, I realised I’d left my solar charger and phone behind and had little choice but to return to camp. Upon my return, I found the owners frantically phoning around to locate me. The Americans were such helpful people. Being already late, I considered it best to stay one more night and was promptly invited to a BBQ.

 

28–29 July - Hardin – Ranchester – 120 km

The going was slow as the ride was slightly uphill and into a mild breeze. However, the scenery remained unchanged as I cycled past familiar scenes of vast areas of wheat fields. The interesting part was harvesting wasn't done by the farmers but by harvesters. I further learned the harvesters working in this area employed no less than six South African youngsters to drive the harvesters.

Shortly before Ranchester, the road crossed into the state of Wyoming. Tiny Ranchester wasn't far, but the ride took practically the entire day. I crawled into camp dead tired—one of those days.

It rained all night, and as it was still raining upon emerging, I didn't go anywhere. The weather later cleared, allowing a walk in the river's direction and onto the old Connor battlefield. It's immensely sad when an entire tribe is wiped out; it’s final and can never be undone no matter how much money you throw at the problem.

Tiny Ranchester had no shop, except a small store at the gas station. Still, the settlement had a gunsmith, a taxidermist, and no less than two churches. Unfortunately, the village was further home to the Cowboy State Bank and I wasn't sure if I would put my hard-earned money in a Cowboy Bank. During my walkabout around the village, I'd two people praying for my soul. I must’ve seemed an absolute wreck.

 

Wyoming (2)

30 July - Ranchester – Buffalo - 95 km

Feeling miles more energetic, my route followed the old Black Diamond Trail, referring to yesteryear's coal mining industry. Although the peak mining years were long gone, some mining was still done in the area.

The road climbed slowly along the foothills of the Bighorn Mountains to Buffalo. Once there, it took pedalling around to locate a camping spot. There were no less than two campgrounds, but both were relatively expensive and, in the end, I settled for Indian Campground which gave a small discount. Then, off to the shops for my nightly rations.

 

31 July - Buffalo – Gillette - 115 km

The weather forecast predicted a headwind, but the breeze turned out not too severe, and around midday it changed in my favour. Unfortunately, the stretch between Buffalo and Gillette was extremely barren, without a hamlet or farm. Thank goodness for a rest area where one could fill the water bottle before continuing to Gillette.

Here I met a family (mom, dad and two kids) who enquired regarding my comings and goings. They were clearly a conservative family and dad the boss, as he did most of the talking while his wife remained one step behind, and the kids one step behind her. One of the first questions asked was "What's your religion?" On answering, "I'm an atheist", the family, in shock and horror, together took one step back. The only thing the man didn't do was spread his arms in a protective gesture to seal his family from this evil force. Afterwards, I was sorry for my reply as it instantly alienated me, and killed a conversation that could’ve been interesting. At times, it's better to go with the flow.

 

1 August - Gillette – Upton - 89 km

My late departure was not merely due to chatting to other campers but mainly due to predictions the wind would change in an easterly direction at around 10 am. I'd an Egg McMuffin and coffee at McDonald's, and by the time all was finished, the wind indeed swung east.

The ride to Moorcroft was a pleasurable one where I threw a left onto Route 16. Before leaving town I first stopped at the tiny West Texas Trail Museum to investigate and then continued in Upton's direction.

Clouds gathered, and with a distant rumbling, I rode as fast as my legs could manage. A sign stated: "Upton, the best town on Earth." The statement might’ve been a tad of an exaggeration as Upton's population was a mere 1,000, and even that number was most likely for the "greater" Upton area.

With a massive storm rolling in, I pedalled like the clappers. Mercifully, I slinked into Upton, which sported the Weston Inn Motel, just as the heavens opened. The owner offered me a room at half-price, making it the same price as camping. He further allowed me to use the washing machine—what a kind man. (Or was it perhaps due to the smell?)

 

2 August - Upton – Custer - 103 km

The following morning the sky was clear, and Route 16 continued past oil fields, apparently the oldest in the area. The oil must be exceptionally shallow as the drills were half-sized. My path continued in the direction of Mount Rushmore and once past Newcastle, it swung east towards the Black Hills. Not simply was the ride hilly and into a gusty breeze, but a swarm of horse flies descended on me and, being uphill, I was unable to out cycle them. Ouch, ouch, ouch!

The KOA campsite outside of Custer, appeared a good enough place but I was utterly shocked at the price—$42 to camp. The Sturgis Bike Rally was on and all campsites full; no wonder the few remaining ones came at a premium. Even sadder was to find they only sold beer in 24 packs. At least the shower was good but what a price to pay to have a shower. I was tired and in no mood to talk to anyone. (As if their fault the camp was expensive, and beer sold in 24 packs.)

 

South Dakota

3 August - Custer (1620m)– Rapid City (976m) - 87 km

The first stop that day was at the immensely impressive Crazy Horse Memorial. The memorial consists of a mountain carving of Crazy Horse (an Oglala Lakota warrior).

The monument is under construction and carved out of Thunderhead Mountain; land considered sacred by Oglala Lakota. The sculpture's final dimensions are planned at 641 feet (195 m) wide and 563 feet (172 m) high. The head of Crazy Horse will be 87 feet (27 m) high; by comparison, the heads of the four US Presidents at Mount Rushmore are only 60 feet (18 m) high. The monument has been in progress since 1948 and won't be completed in our lifetime or the next generation's lifetime.

Then off to Mount Rushmore to see the colossal statues of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt. These world-famous statues were unimpressive after seeing Crazy Horse but, then again, the Crazy Horse Memorial will make anything look unimpressive. While there I understood the sadness in the below article by National Geographic.

South Dakota’s Mount Rushmore has a strange, scandalous history (nationalgeographic.com)

The Sturgis Bike Rally held consisted of 500,000, that's right, 500,000 bikers. The roads were crowded with motorbikes, and all campsites and motels in the area were filled to the brim. Both the bikes and bikers came in all shapes and sizes. The riders were both male and female, all seemingly tattooed from head to toe, and a few of those mammas were big; they made a Harley look like a scooter. The reason for their size soon became apparent as one often saw them sitting, a giant ice cream cone in one hand and an equally large Coke in the other. And there I thought I was the queen of unhealthy eating.

 

4 August - Rapid City - Wall - 89 km

Following a quick bite at McDonald's, my path followed Route 90 in an easterly direction. The road stretched dead straight into a hazy infinity; unfortunately, the wind came up, and it became an unpleasant battle into the wind. Finally, at the tiny, but fascinating, settlement of Wall, I called it quits and pulled in as the campsite was just $10 and considered cheap at the time.

Wall wasn't only situated opposite the Badlands National Park entrance but home to Wall Drug, a famous roadside stop and shop. Wall Drug started as a drug store and grew into what it is today. In addition, Wall is home to a funky Harley Davidson shop and campground. This tiny community was bustling with bikers en route to Sturgis. I’d an immense desire to pop a wheelie on cycling into camp, the thought of which gave me the giggles as I could just imagine such a sight, panniers flying and all!

 

5 August - Wall

The plan was to bike through the Badlands National Park, but the wind was howling. In the miserable weather, I stayed put. The bikers all left for the rally but returned later as Wall must’ve been the cheapest campsite in the area.

 

6 August - Wall – 1880 Town - 105 km

By morning there was no change in the weather. Still, there wasn’t a considerable amount one could do but pack up and face the elements. I departed Wall in a drizzle, a drizzle which continued, on and off all day. Little of interest was happening, and the only entertainment was taking selfies – I’ve to be extremely bored to do such a thing!

Towards the end of the day, another cyclist came into view. He was on a mission to cycle all 50 states, which sounded pretty monotonous, going around and around in the same country. But, then again, this was the nice part about bicycle touring – we all did our own thing, in our own time and manner. We chatted a while, before continuing to the next town. I finished the day’s ride in a tiny town named 1880 Town. Its single claim to fame was that the area was one of the film locations for Dances with Wolves.

 

7 August - 1880 Town – Kennebec - 105 km

With no change of scenery, the tarmac stretched miles and miles through farmlands known as the Great Plains. These plains were once home to large herds of American bison until hunted to near extinction during the mid/late-19th century.

Although I could imagine those great animals roaming the plains, the day nevertheless became a long and monotonous one to Kennebec. The entire way remained busy with motorbikes to and from the Sturgis Rally.

Mercifully, the old highway ran parallel to the interstate and made effortless pedalling away from the traffic. Eventually, I came upon a frigging expensive campsite at Kennebec, and I could just as well have taken a room.

 

8 August - Kennebec – Chamberlain - 55 km

As there was no change in the weather or views and lacking the energy to deal with the boredom, I called it a day once across the Missouri River. The campsite was a pleasant one on the Missouri River banks, but I first proceeded to the shop. Campers were always chatty and primarily curious about where you came from and where you were going. Feeling tired, I retreated to my tent early as the weather came in and started drizzling.

Being snug, an additional day was spent in tiny Chamberlain. Unfortunately, Chamberlain didn’t offer a great deal in the excitement line. There was nothing to do but relax, eat, and cycle up the lone hill to take a few river pics. Most remarkable was that this small community of barely 2,000 residents boasted a South Dakota Hall of Fame.

 

10 August - Chamberlain – Mitchell - 117 km

Feeling energised, I crossed the last of the Great Plains. These plains are an enormous expanse of steppes and in places nearly as lonely as frontier days. The area referred to as the Great Plains stretches practically 800 kilometres east to west and 3,200 kilometres north to south, and it felt I’d cycled the entire distance.

Nothing significantly happened except meeting the priest who treated me to coffee. There couldn't have been much for him to do in such a small place, which was rather conservative judging by the signboards.

These advertising boards were a contradiction in themselves as side by side they stood, one pro-war and the other anti-abortion. I failed to see how one could justify killing grown men. Still, God forbid one should choose to have an abortion, and guessed this insinuated it was all right to kill people from different races, cultures, and countries.

I made my way to Mitchell, a fair-sized village sporting a population of almost 15,000 and no less than three campgrounds and 20 churches; I kid you not!

 

11 August - Mitchell – Sioux Falls - 115 km

Coffee was in the company of one of the other campers. I chatted for ages to two bikers travelling around the USA. Biking through Mitchell turned out quite interesting. The town was, fittingly, home to a Corn Palace, a magnificent multipurpose building where the murals were made of cob.

Stalls sold all kinds of corn-related items, including racks and racks of T-shirts and other trinkets. Following a bite to eat, the time was past 11h00 before pedalling out of Mitchell.

A minor route took me past the small and fascinating towns of Alexandria, Emery and Bridgewater. These towns were lovely, and looked like part of a movie set, to such an extent, I was surprised to find ordinary people living there.

 

Minnesota

12 August - Sioux Falls, South Dakota – Luverne, Minnesota - 60 km

Parks and a bike path surrounded Sioux Falls and stopping at the falls came naturally. After a few pics and a walk to the old mill ruins, I continued to Luverne.

What a delightfully odd country this was. Minnesota is located in the Midwest, which wasn't even close to the "Midwest", no matter how I turned the map, it remained more North/North East. A place where a pie refers to something sweet and dessert-like, instead of the savoury, meaty main meal I'm accustomed to. A place where a scone is a biscuit, and not eaten with jam and cream but with egg and bacon or gravy. I love travelling.

Almost halfway to Luverne my route crossed into Minnesota. Feeling lazy, I succumbed to temptation and got myself a room in Luverne. I needed the internet and spent the rest of the day doing internet stuff.

 

13 August - Luverne – Jackson - 113 km

The day dawned bright and sunny revealing barely any wind, and the sky a brilliant blue. The temperature was perfect as Route 90 beat a dead straight path across the Midwest, passing tiny hamlets featuring populations of a mere 200. Yet, all seemed well in the Midwest, the corn stood high, cattle were fat, and soybeans appeared ready to be harvested.

I also discovered an hour was gained somewhere along the line - quite where and when that happened remained a mystery.

 

14 August - Jackson – Blue Earth - 84 km

I woke to a beautiful sunrise, packed my tent, had a cup of coffee, and ventured further east. Route 90 led past more cornfields, soybeans, pig farms and small villages.

Not much was happening except to watch dare-devil crop-sprayers at work. With the strong smell of pesticide in the air, I only snapped a few pics and then moved upwind to watch a few more minutes.

On slinking into the tiny settlement of Blue Earth, I jumped at the opportunity of a room, even if not entirely necessary. The next town was a further 40 miles away, making an awfully long day. Blue Earth was referred to as a city, but with a population of barely 3,000, the place was no more than a hamlet. The extraordinary thing was the village boasted a gigantic 17-metre-tall "Jolly Green Giant", a human pea statue, promoting the Minnesota Valley Canning Company. I'm not making this up!

 

15 August - Blue Earth – Albert Lea - 75 km

It became one of those days that dragged on forever, with little of interest. Saying that, each day, something happened. On this day, a farmer stopped and gave me $5, instructing me to have a cup of coffee. How sweet of him and I did precisely that.

There’s no point in cycling if it’s not enjoyable, and a campsite on the outskirts of Albert Lea signalled the end of my day’s ride. Surrounded by six lakes, Albert Lea was pretty but had a diminishing population. Not merely wasn't there anything happening but I believe the temperature ranged between 41°C in summer to minus 15°C in winter. Fortunately, I was there, slap-bang, between these two extremes.

 

16 August - Albert Lea – Preston - 115 km

The following day my energy levels returned, and the ride turned into an enjoyable day of cycle touring. The weather was perfect, with scarcely any wind to speak of. A dirt track took me through farmlands and left me highly impressed by the farming activities; which were neat and well-organised. The homesteads all looked well-maintained and the fields immaculate and well-tended.

Minnesota is a relatively "roomy" state and I hardly saw anyone, except a few small communities. In Preston, one could camp at the fairground at a reasonable price (sometimes even free).

Following the usual shopping, the tent was pitched. I barely ever cooked in the US as food was always conveniently available.

 

Wisconsin

17 August - Preston – La Crosse - 106 km

I waited the next morning, but no one came to collect the camping fee. Then, to my surprise and delight, I discovered a cycle path that took me from Preston to Houston. The trail made a picturesque ride along the Root River and ran through the quaintest of villages and I was happy with the change of vistas.

Along the path I met Alex and Jill, a lovely couple, out for the weekend with their two-year-old son, Lennon. They biked from La Crosse to Lanesboro, camped there and were on their way home when I met them. They invited me to camp in their garden, which became a sociable evening. Jill made a delicious supper, and we drank a few beers. They also allowed me to use their laundry and I’d a decent scrubbing in their shower. All hugely appreciated.

 

18 August - La Crosse – Norwalk - 70 km

All good things come to an end, and following breakfast, and with loads of information, I left Alex and Jill's home. After visiting the outdoor store and computer shop, the time was virtually midday before riding out of La Crosse.

Shortly outside La Crosse I came upon a bicycle path to Reedsburg. The trail was interesting as, for the most part, it followed an old railway line, by then converted into a bike path. Building the railway line through the Wisconsin hills must’ve been quite tricky. Low lying areas were filled in, and tunnels were dug through the mountains, making the ride an excellent even 3-degree grade.

The extraordinary thing was the tunnels were freezing inside. To such an extent condensation flowed out the tunnels resembling smoke. The tunnels were scary and spooky as they were long and pitch dark (without being able to see the light at the other end). Water dripped down from the ceiling and bats skirted around my head, and I was relieved to clear the dark tunnel.

Norwalk's tiny settlement appeared shortly beyond the tunnel, which had free camping in the village park.

Lightning and thunder made me take cover, and I pitched the tent under a covered area. Following a shower and feeling like something sweet, I walked to a shop selling milkshakes. Unfortunately, Lisa was closing as I got there. So instead, she invited me for a beer at the pub, which turned out a fascinating and enjoyable evening.

 

19 - 21 August - Norwalk – Reedsburg - 73 km

The following day the tunnels were not as long and scary. Nevertheless, the enormous doors to these tunnel entrances were intriguing. I read they were to seal in warmer temperatures during cold weather (and of cause keep the snow out). Back in the day, tunnel watchmen were hired to open and close the doors as trains approached.

An effortless and relaxing ride led in the direction of Reedsburg which had a computer shop and accommodation, unfortunately the computer shop was already closed.

The following day, I took the laptop to see if they could sort out Skype which stopped working. While they worked on the computer, I handed in my sleeping bag at the laundry (a long overdue job). It wasn't the washing, but the drying that took forever.

The next morning, rain came gushing down and, as it was still raining by midday, I decided to stay and relax in front of the TV.

 

22 August - Reedsburg – De Forest - 80 km

The weather cleared allowing a visit to Reedsburg Pioneer Village. The Pioneer Log Village was a representation of early Reedsburg. The project consisted of nine original log cabins, some having been moved intact from surrounding areas and others rebuilt from original logs. Three pioneer homes, an 1873 one-room school, an 1873 log church, a general store and post office, a library, and a blacksmith shop, made up the village. Unfortunately, the buildings were closed due to the heat. Or, at least, that was what they said. The temperature was only 25áµ’C but incredibly humid.

My next stop was at beautiful Devil's Lake. Not simply did the area consist of a beautiful lake but was also home to stunning rock outcrops. I read that the area formed part of the Baraboo Range, which scientists believe was created 1.6 billion years ago.

Even more interesting was that I kept crossing the "Ice Age Trail," a thousand-mile footpath, entirely within Wisconsin. It was said more than 12,000 years ago an immense flow of glacial ice formed the landscape here, and it made me instantly want to hike the trail. Fortunately, I refrained from doing any such thing as hiking would require a completely different set of equipment.

Route 113 arrived at the Merrimac Ferry which crosses Lake Wisconsin. The ferry was more a barge than a ferry as it was pulled across the lake by cables. I guessed the barge was due to the shallowness of the lake as I read it has a maximum depth of 7.3m.

Once on the opposite side, I resumed my ride past Lodi and Dane. Shortly past Dane, a kind man stopped and offered to take my panniers to my next destination; how very nice of him.

The weather was incredibly humid as I pitched the tent at DeForest. Unfortunately, I soon had to retreat into the tent to avoid being devoured by the many eager mosquitos. Although hot, it was fun lying in the tent watching fireflies darting around.

So hot, humid and tropical was the weather, I could for the life of me not imagine winter in Wisconsin as I understood the average temperature for December, January and February was a mere 5°F.

 

23 August - De Forest – Waukesha - 135 km

Packing up was at a leisurely pace after which minor paths led past houses displaying home-grown products for sale, which looked rather lovely.

The rest of the day was a relaxing and fascinating day of biking, along a bicycle path that led to Waukesha.

 

24 August – Waukesha, Wisconsin – Muskegon, Michigan - 22 km (Ferry)

A short ride, partly on a bike path, took me to the ferry terminal in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. En route to the ferry, I met Bob, another cyclist, who accompanied me to the ferry terminal. I was just in time to board the ferry across Lake Michigan, which came at a hefty $100 fee. However, the ferry was amazingly comfortable and fast. Two hours later, I was relieved to moor at the pier in Muskegon, Michigan. My relief was due to the countless accounts of mighty strange sightings and disappearances in and around Lake Michigan. I overnighted in Muskegon but sadly never witnessed any UFOs or bright lights in the sky.

 

Michigan

25 August - Muskegon – Holland - 50 km

From Muskegon a short 50-kilometre ride took me to Holland and although it rained nearly all day, the weather cleared towards the end of the ride. Nevertheless, Holland sported a motel that provided a fast enough internet connection to reload the Garmin map which went on the blink.

The town of Holland came as a surprise as the town indeed resembled a tiny Holland, sporting windmills and wooden shoes. Shops were even selling apple strudel.

 

26 August - Holland – Covert - 78 km

The rain-soaked ride to Covert, was somewhat miserable. Fortunately, the weather wasn't cold but thunder and lightning made me take cover at a shop. Shortly afterwards, I finished the day’s ride on spotting a campsite in Covert, where I crawled in sopping wet.

 

27 August - Covert – Vicksburg - 80 km

So well did I sleep, the time was already past 8h00 before emerging from the tent. Coffee was from a store in camp and 10h30 before biking out of Covert in Vicksburg's direction.

The time came to cut across the state of Michigan towards Lake Erie. Unfortunately, no clear path headed across the state and the day was spent zig-zagging through farmlands on country roads. At one of these settlements, I met Sharon Wimple, running for state representative. On wishing her well in the elections, she put a few dollars in my hand and told me to have a meal. As this was the second time I was given money to buy food, I thought I must look somewhat scrawny.

Vicksburg had a campground on the outskirts of town, but the sites were costly. Fortunately, a welcoming chap invited me to share his stand; later, a friend of his also pulled in. They made a fire, and we sat around having a few beers. My hosts proceeded to get completely pissed, and I quietly slinked off to the tent. While lying there, I could hear them chatting away, getting increasingly drunk as the hours went by. Finally, I fell asleep but woke in the middle of the night with one of them sitting outside the tent telling me how much he loved me, suggesting he lay down next to me. I unzipped the tent and angrily shouted, "Fuck off!" It was uttered with such gusto you’ve never seen a drunken man scurry that fast.

 

28 August - Vicksburg – Jonesville - 93 km

The way to Jonesville was one more day spent zig-zagging through farmlands. Biking through the villages was preferable as they were pretty interesting but the streets running through these settlements were surprisingly narrow and busy.

On arrival in Jonesville, a reasonably priced motel lured me in. It made updating photos and journal entries easy while watching TV.

 

Ohio

29 August – Jonesville, Ohio – Twin Acres Campground, Swanton, Ohio - 115 km

Not a significant amount happened, and I was happy to come across a trail through the forest which provided a change of scenery. However, as soon as the path crossed the border into Ohio, I was back amidst cornfields and the traditional red barns. The day dragged on a tad but finally, the route spat me out in Swanton, exactly where I wanted to be and where food was bought from the small supermarket before pedalling to the campsite. Being Labour Day weekend, the camp was chock-a-block; fortunately, there remained space for a small tent.

 

30 - 31 August - Swanton – Stony Ride - 33 km

I didn't feel like cycling but was stuck on the camp's outskirts, without electricity or Wi-Fi, and therefore packed up and rode the short distance to Stony Ride.

Being Labour Day weekend, everything was chock-a-block full (and nearly double the regular price). I decided to lie low and wait for the holidays to pass before venturing further east.

Times like these allow hauling out the macro lens. What I like about this lens (Canon Macro 100 mm 1:2.8 L) is when the focus is spot on, one can zoom in and crop to your heart's content without losing detail.

 

1 - 2 September - Stony Ride – Norwalk - 92 km

A cycle path followed the old original railroad between New York and Chicago, which led past the interesting communities of Elmore, Lindsey, Fremont, Clyde and Bellevue and, finally, Norwalk. Two nights were spent in Norwalk as the weather report predicted heavy storms. Nothing, however, came of the predicted bad weather except a drizzle.

 

3 September - Norwalk – Motel 6, Middleburg Heights - 77 km

The following day dawned bright and sunny, but it felt like each dog in the district wanted a piece of me that day, especially the little ones. Soon, the road brought me to Cleveland's outskirts and not feeling like staying in the city, I took a room at a Motel 6.

 

4 September - Motel 6 – Geneva State Park - 95 km

The ride through Cleveland was fascinating, and on riding into the city centre, the route passed underneath the Hope Memorial Bridge with its "Guardians of Traffic". Each of the eight guardians carved on the bridge pylons holds a different vehicle. Collectively they represent the history of ground transport — from a stagecoach, covered wagon and hay rack, to a 1930s-era automobile and four types of trucks. In the process, one also had an excellent view of the city.

The Lakeshore path was in poor condition except for the stretch through the well-off areas. Soon the trail reached the city's outskirts and followed the shores of Lake Erie. That night camping was at Geneva State Park right on the lake.

 

Pennsylvania 

5 September - Geneva State Park – Erie - 95 km

The weather was stunning as I set off along Lake Erie and no sooner the road crossed the border into the state of Pennsylvania, founded in 1681 as a Quaker Community.

The day’s ride finished in Erie where camping was on the water. It was a convenient spot, but a storm came in during the night, and I feared the tent wouldn’t be able to withstand the high wind. There was nothing to do but crawl out in bucketing rain, peg in the guy ropes as best I could, and sopping wet crawl back in. Fortunately, the storm passed quickly, and although it rained throughout the night, the high winds subsided. Phew!

 

6 September - Erie – Dunkirk - 87 km

By morning the weather cleared, and it became a beautiful day out on the bike. Not wanting to cycle to the falls in a day I decided to make the ride two short days. A leisurely ride ran through vineyards to Dunkirk and midway. During the day the road left Pennsylvania and crossed into the state of New York.

 

New York

7 - 10 September - Dunkirk – Buffalo - 87 km

Being early September, the weather was great and the sky a bright blue with no wind to speak of. A good deal of the day was spent talking to people met along the way.

In the process, the way passed a massive wooden statue of a Native American. It’s said (sadly) merely around 1% of the county’s population was native. Even less than Asians, Chinese, and Filipinos, not to mention Europeans.

On the outskirts of Buffalo was a very professional-looking bicycle shop and, as my bike needed a service, I found a room nearby.

The next day, and being a Monday, the bike shop was closed. In the meantime, I succumbed to temptation. I ordered a Canon EF 24-105mm f/4L IS USM lens, which I’ve been eyeing a long time and couldn’t leave Buffalo until my order arrived.

The following morning, I returned to the shop where I left my sad-looking bicycle in their capable hands. My assumption that the bike would take a day or two was clearly incorrect. Waiting for the cycle was no big deal as seeing I'd to wait for the lens, I could as well do the whole lot in one fell swoop.

 

11 - 14 September - Buffalo – Niagara Falls - 50 km

With the bike serviced and the camera's new lens, I pedalled along the river to Niagara Falls. My efforts were well rewarded as the bike ran smoothly and the new lens was a treat. As a person got closer to the falls, the river started flowing faster, and one could see "smoke" rising in the distance, adding to my excitement. Surprisingly, the area wasn't a typical "waterfall type" terrain as the landscape was pan flat and lacked mountains or high cliffs. Then as if the earth opened, the water spilt over the precipice to the river below. I couldn't wait to try the new lens and almost immediately set out to the falls, where gazillion photos were taken.

 

15 September - Niagara Falls – Albion - 88 km

After three days I got onto the Erie Canal, which runs across the state for 363 miles from the Hudson River in Albany to Lake Erie. My bicycle was newly serviced and ran like new (albeit $550 later). My new lens was on the camera, the sun was shining, and I’d the benefit of a slight tailwind. Life was indeed good. On this day I discovered the Erie Canal and overnighted in Albion who can thank the canal for its existence.

 

16 September - Albion – Newark - 117 km

The discovery of the Erie Canal Heritage Trail, which followed the canal, made a lovely day of biking while meeting interesting people and watching boats cruising along the channel. It looked genuinely pleasant and made me want to do the same. Digging the canal, which opened in 1825, must’ve been quite a feat in its day.

Towards the end of the day Newark, a typical canal community, made convenient camping as the village provided amenities for the many boaters.

 

17 September - Newark – De Witte - 105 km

The canal also had a fascinating history. Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, the lack of an efficient and safe transportation network kept the population (and trade) primarily confined to coastal areas. For many years, explorers searched for a waterway to the west. Then, in 1807, Jesse Hawley, a prisoner in the Canandaigua Jail, wrote a series of essays proposing a waterway from Lake Erie to the Atlantic Ocean. He described the route, costs, and benefits of what would become the Erie Canal in great detail.

Today, a pleasant road runs along the canal; squirrels darted across the path, and grey herons waded in the shallows, all while passing numerous old locks. I couldn’t help but wonder if Jessy Hawley was ever financially compensated for these efforts.

 

18 September - De Witt – Rome - 60 km

Even though not in the mood for cycling, the ride remained pleasant, offering beautiful views of the surrounding woods and the canal. Rome was far more extensive and revealed a considerably longer history than the other settlements along the canal. While investigating the area I learned Rome was an ancient portage path until the Europeans arrived. This ancient trade route joined the Great Lakes and Canada via the Mohawk River to the Hudson River and the Atlantic Ocean. I then realised the Erie Canal wasn’t such a new invention.

 

19 September - Rome – St Johnsville - 87 km

The trail passed many locks, some old and a few still operating, and fascinating to watch boats being let through while chatting with the operators.

In St. Johnsville, camping was possible at the Marina - a lovely place on the canal. Although no more than a hamlet, St Johnsville was settled in 1725 and a church was built in 1769 “for the benefit of the Indians”. Again, I was baffled at how Europeans justified going to another part of the world, killing the people, taking their land, and then trying to convince them to take on those values.

 

20 September - St Johnsville – Schenectady - 87 km

A nearby Mcdonald’s made a leisurely breakfast before continuing along the canal, sometimes flush next to it and sometimes further away. The area was pleasant, and I ambled along until reaching Schenectady, another city with a long but sad history.

 

21 September - Schenectady – Waterford - 40 km

A short ride led to the end of the Erie Canal Trail where I’d difficulty deciding what to do next. I could follow the Hudson River north to see the fall colours or head straight to Boston from where the plan was flying out. Eventually, I wasn't sure the detour north would be worth the effort and thus headed towards Boston.

 

22 September - Waterford – Pittsfield - 76 km

My route first swung by Troy, a remarkably fascinating village situated at the confluence of the Hudson and Mohawk Rivers (two major waterways), a location which made Troy the fourth wealthiest city in America around the turn of the 20th century. To this day, Troy is graced by beautiful Victorian architecture and a few elaborate private homes.

From Troy, the route headed east in the direction of Boston. Feeling lethargic and picking up $20 made me opt for a room at the Berkshire Inn.

 

Massachusetts

23 September - Pittsfield – Northampton - 70 km

I loaded up and pointed the bike in the direction of Boston. However, I always felt sluggish at the end of a long ride as I didn't quite want the ride over. Thus, I pulled into the Knight Inn, just off the cycle path, to drag the ride out one more day.

 

24 September - Northampton – Worcester - 105 km

The ride to Worcester was slow as the road ran slightly uphill. Still, it remained a beautiful ride as the fall colours started showing themselves. Due to the many photo stops, Worcester was only reached late afternoon.

 

25 - 30 September - Worcester – Boston - 70 km

My last day of cycling in the US arrived far too soon, and a pleasant descent took me to Boston. I sped past tiny settlements and trees in full autumn colours, down cycle paths, right into the heart of Boston.

I was happy and sad to reach Boston. It marked the end of my trip through the Americas, which started in Ushuaia, Argentina many moons ago. Time to relax, put my feet up, and look for a flight to a different part of the world. Hopefully, to a place featuring a slightly warmer climate.

A few days were spent in Boston, exploring that lovely city and its numerous interesting sights and organising things for my flight out. I meandered the city’s historic downtown featuring well-preserved architecture where old buildings sit comfortably next to modern ones. I ambled past pricy Victorian brownstone townhouses across the "Salt-and-Pepper Bridge" and along the Charles River banks.

Rumours had it, one could get a bike box at the airport, but following phoning two airlines at Boston airport, none had boxes for sale. Eventually, Back Bay Cycles boxed the bicycle.

As always, the longer I stayed, the more interesting the city became. Although Boston was beautiful, friendly and culturally rich, the city was further far older than expected. Founded in 1630 by the English, it’s also the place where, between 1765 and 1783, citizens revolted against the British. Fed up with the high taxes levied by Britain, the Boston Tea Party was formed. I found this all remarkably fascinating.

Steve, the owner of the Everet Hostel, offered to give me a ride to the shop to pick up the bicycle. He also suggested (can you believe this?) getting up at four in the morning to take me to the airport for my flight to Jamaica. I was immensely grateful for his generosity as it wasn’t merely a hassle but also expensive to get myself and bike to the airport. 

Wednesday 25 June 2014

CYCLE TOURING THE USA (2) - PART ONE - SEATTLE TO SAN FRANCISCO









USA (2) PART ONE

SEATTLE TO SAN FRANCISCO
8 173 Kilometres – 134 Days
22 MAY – 1 OCTOBER 2014





PART ONE
SEATTLE - SAN FRANCISCO
22 May - 22 June
1700 Km - 31Days



 


Washington Photos 




 


 

Washington

22 May – Seoul, South Korea - Seattle, Washington, USA

My flight from South Korea landed in Seattle USA, just as the sun started peaking over the horizon. The early morning light was amazing, and water and forests, a beautiful sight, surrounded the city. The remarkable part was arriving in Seattle before leaving Beijing, China. Dead tired, I collected my luggage, hailed a taxi and headed to downtown Seattle. We first swung by the bike shop to drop the bicycle and then searched for the hostel booked. Discovering my backpack, containing all my valuable items, was left in the taxi, no doubt, put me in a flat spin, to put it mildly. Yellow Taxi Cabs had a lost-and-found section, but I only left my details as I’d no phone number, car registration number or name to give them.

A snooze was called for as I never slept a wink during the flight. On waking, I discovered the lost bag placed on my bedside table. Happy dance! It must be mentioned, the taxi driver was the sweetest Somali guy, and we chatted non-stop during the ride from the airport. I knew if someone were going to return the bag, it would be him. So, a massive thank you to this unknown Somalian taxi driver.

 

23 May - Seattle

The next day was to explore the city as I’d a day or two to kill while the bike was serviced. The cycling maps ordered would also take a few days to arrive. Seattle had a lovely waterfront and market area and a delightful old town that made a pleasant stroll.

Following the obligatory cup of coffee at Starbucks, REI was up next. Big mistake as the store was quite marvellous. They had nearly everything a person could need for the outdoors, and all looked good quality stuff. I soon discovered it was pretty impossible to leave without buying something - this time, a solar panel to charge my growing number of devices.

 

24 May - Seattle

No maps came, but the bicycle was ready and not simply did the shop thoroughly service the bike but they also fixed the broken front rack. A Garmin North America map could be bought from Best Buy located on the opposite side of town. In the process, I got to ride all kinds of public transport. Purchasing the map was easy, and all one had to do was download the map from the internet; easy — famous last words.

 

25 May - Seattle

I was lucky to meet up with Mike (a 365-project friend), and we sauntered to the folk festival. Later, we walked up the hill to get a few night shots of the city skyline. Thanks, Mike.

 

26 May - Seattle

Getting itchy feet, I was keen to get going, but it would be a waste of money leaving without the maps ordered so I, stayed one more day.

A fascinating underground tour kept me busy. Way back in the 1800s, Seattle was a low-lying city built upon tidal flats whose streets were regularly flooded. Eventually, the town council raised the street level by building retaining walls, increasing the city level by one story. It’s underneath these streets where the morning was spent.

I later learned the maps had arrived a day earlier, but no one told me and I never asked. Silly me!

 

27 May - Seattle – Shelton - 80 km

Boarding the ferry that took passengers from Seattle to Bremerton was with great excitement as it was my first day on the road in the mighty USA. Unfortunately, not a significant distance was covered as it was already late upon reaching Bremerton.

From Bremerton, Route 3 headed south. The scenery was sublime and entirely unfamiliar, featuring tall pine trees and a snowy mountain backdrop. Even though not warm, the sun was out, and a pleasant day was spent pedalling to Shelton.

Being Memorial Day, the fascinating thing was that practically every village passed had a festival of fete of sorts, complete with corn dogs and lemonade. This was the USA, after all! Shortly before historic Shelton, a campground lured me in, a good choice as it provided a nearby food store.

 

28 May - Shelton – Centralia - 120 km

I emerged to a drizzle that lasted all day. Although cold, the ride remained beautiful, past small settlements resembling movie sets.

Centralia, dating to the 1800s, came as a pleasant surprise and revealed a historic downtown. Tiny Centralia was a delightful place where camping was behind a motel. With a food store nearby, the hotel made perfect camping. These places were fascinating as there were many homeless, disabled, drug addicts or mentally ill people. However, they were all exceedingly kind and eager to help wherever possible.

 

29 May - Centralia – Longview - 115 km

The next morning, a cycle through town revealed old murals and buildings after which the route took me out of town. The day turned out great as the sun shone, and the vistas were magnificent. At the same time, the path proceeded past a multitude of villages.

Towards the end of the day, and upon reaching Longview, home to the Cowlitz Indian Tribe, a motel was the single option. Unfortunately, Longview had no camping, and a motel was a blessing as the weather became freezing.

 

Oregon

30 May - Longview – Fort Stevens State Park - 115 km

From Longview, Route 4 followed the Columbian River, which turned out part of the historic Lewis and Clark Trail, both a cycle and hiking trail. The path followed the river until reaching Cathlamet from where one could cross the Columbian river to the state of Oregon. Crossing the river was in two parts, first by bridge to the island in the middle of the river, and then by ferry to Westport.

Cyclists met while crossing the river advised about state camping on the outskirts of Astoria, and heading there, was thus, a no-brainer. In addition, Astoria had an excellent tourist information which provided good information about the route and camping further south.

Once stocked up, I set out in the direction of the park. The park was vast and immensely fascinating, and not merely was the park the breeding ground of the snowy plovers, but it hit used remains of an old fort, a shipwreck, as well as hiking and biking trails. Soon, the other cyclists I met earlier arrived, and by evening a big campfire was made, both to keep warm and to socialise.

 

31 May - Fort Stevens State Park – Nehalem Bay State Park - 70 km

After packing up, I waved goodbye to the other cyclists and set off in the direction of the next state park. These parks were quite fantastic as they had Hike & Bike sections where one could camp at a mere five or $6. This suited me fine, as I’d no intention of rushing down the coast.

The day’s ride was stunning, and the views quite spectacular. Reaching Nehalem Bay was in good time, where the tent was pitched, and one could laze about the rest of the day. The park was located along a sandbank between the ocean and the Nehalem River and offered popular beach horse rides. Later, the other cyclists (Lam and Jeffry) arrived and a fire was made again to keep warm and heat supper.

 

1 June - Nehalem Bay State Park – Cape Lookout SP - 62 km

Following the coast brought many remarkable sights. Shortly after stopping at The Three Graces or Crab Rock, Garibaldi made an excellent opportunity to grab a bite to eat. This small settlement had a whole host of fascinating things.

Even though stopping gazillions of times, Cape Lookout SP was reached early. The park had a few hiking trails leading to a lookout which kept me busy the rest of the day.

 

2 June - Cape Lookout SP – Pacific City - 30 km

First thing in the morning, the road climbed up and over the hills to Pacific City. Once in town, and while filling up my water, a super-friendly guy started a conversation, and we chattered for a while. He turned out the Pacific Inn owner, and no sooner was I ensconced in a lovely room, free of charge! Not only was I generously given a place to stay, but the staff offered to do my laundry, and I hoped this kind offer wasn’t due to me reeking to high heaven.

The rest of the day was spent charging devices and chilling out watching TV. What luxury! By evening, I considered it time to do the American thing and eat at a traditional pub featuring country music, beer on tap and burgers. Oh, my word, what’s with the massive portions?

 

3 June - Pacific City – Beverly Beach SP - 70 km

Not thinking I would see Lam and Jeffry again, I was surprised to find them shortly beyond Pacific City, slowly crawling up a long hill. We cycled together, had coffee at McDonald’s, and shopped at a small grocery store. Afterwards, we agreed to meet at the next Hike & Bike and we hence proceeded at our own pace.

The stretch to Beverly Beach was short but exceptionally scenic, past Neskowin Beach, Boiler Bay, Pirate Cove, Rocky Creek and Devil’s Punchbowl.

 

4 June - Beverly Beach SP – Jessie M Honeyman - 70 km

Lam and Jeffry wanted to visit the bike shop the following morning, and I continued south. Spotting a fudge shop, a place no cyclist ever cycles past, two large pieces were purchased. While outside the shop, devouring one, the owner presented me with one of her famous chocolate brownies, neatly wrapped. Was that super kind or what? And I assumed capitalism was indeed dead!

 

5 June - Jessie M Honeyman - Bullards Beach - 112 km

From Jessie M Honeyman, an undulating coastal road led to Bullards Beach. The Oregon coast was picturesque and even more so with a tailwind. A few cyclists were already set up by the time I slinked into camp. Unfortunately, the wind was super strong, and two of my tent poles broke while pitching the tent in the high wind. Fortunately, other cyclists could help to repair it.

 

6 June - Bullards Beach – Gold Beach - 100 km

Flying out of Bullard’s Beach was with the aid of a 45 km/h wind, confirming cycling south was a good idea. Gold Beach, situated along the Rogue River, was so named following the discovery of gold in the river’s mouth in the mid-1800s. Unfortunately, the wind was howling, and best to give camping a miss as I didn’t entirely trust the tent in the strong wind.

A short walk led to a grocery store as well as a laundry where Steve, a remarkably fascinating man, was busy doing laundry. He appeared homeless, travelling by bicycle much like me, except I wasn’t interesting. His bicycle wasn’t a touring bike but appeared a “trick bike” with which he pulled a trailer stacked with three crates. He was the kindest person one could imagine and offered me his last washing powder, so I didn’t have to purchase any from the machine. How kind is that?

Returning, a store selling peculiar bits and bobs lured me in and, to my surprise, I uncovered a pack of tarot cards. I lost mine ages ago and couldn’t believe they were sold in this tiny village.

 

7 June - Gold Beach – Crescent City - 116 km

The next morning, en route to Crescent City, I again ran into Steve, who was busy collecting cans. He quickly offered me a muffin he had bought earlier and gave me a beautiful feather, something which nearly made me burst into tears. Still, the fact he remembered my name, impressed me most.

We chatted a while before I waved him goodbye, leaving him to his job of collecting cans. A short distance further, the route crossed the state line into California. It led past farmlands and small settlements, and I was surprised to meet a cyclist on his way north. Riding north meant he was into the prevailing wind, and not simply did he have a huge load but a crate (instead of a handlebar bag) holding a puppy. The little thing looked quite happy sitting there, enjoying the scenery. In Crescent City, and enquiring about camping, the closest was a wild camp without water or facilities. The next one seemed too far away - a perfect excuse to find a room.

Interestingly enough, just like most towns cycled through, tribes inhabited this region. Sadly, foreign trappers, settlers and gold miners reached the area in the mid-1800s, robbing them of their land, like in parts of Africa and Australia.

 

California

8 June - Crescent City - Palm Café & Motel - 70 km

Shortly after Crescent City, a cyclist was parked by the side of the road. She wasn’t merely equipped with four panniers but also a trailer, home to two dogs. I could barely get myself up the hills, let alone pull a cart and two dogs!

It became a beautiful day of cycling - the sun was out, and the route headed through forests and from time to time along the coast. Still, the area remained undulating and included one big(ish) climb. My legs felt tired, and though cycling days were short, there were no rest days since departing Seattle.

Later I ran into Casy, whom I’d met previously. We chatted a while and I decided to stay put at a nearby motel. The motel was way over-priced but feeling tired; I paid the price. The café had good food, as well as a daily special, which made the decision even easier.

 

9 June - Palm Café & Motel - Clam Beach State Park - 40 km

Trinidad’s pretty town and picture-perfect harbour and lighthouse called for a photo stop and shopping at the village store. Not much further, I caught up to another cyclist, and we cycled the few kilometres to Clam Beach campsite. Albeit early, Clam Beach seemed a good enough place to spend the night. The ground, nevertheless, later turned out somewhat exposed and sandy.

 

10 June - Clam Beach – Humboldt Redwood State Park - 95 km

From Clam Beach, country roads took me to Humboldt Redwood State Park. The areas outside the big cities were surprisingly rural.

With its old town and Victorian houses, Eureka made a perfect place to shop for a new tent. Adventures Edge, an outdoor store offering a good selection of camping equipment was just the place. With the new tent strapped to the bike, I was eager to try it out.

Soon afterwards, a turnoff pointed to Avenue of the Giants. What a spectacular sight, to see massive Redwood trees said the tallest trees in the world. These trees can get up to 2,000 years old. Virtually all the trees in the park were between 400 and 600 years old; which is pretty old for a tree.

Red Crescent had no grocery store, and I was pointed down the hill to the previous campsite. I sped downhill only to find no shop, then back up the hill to the next camp. I, luckily, had enough food to see me through. Eager to try the new tent, which was surprisingly easy to pitch and like moving into a new house. Slightly bigger and heavier than the lightweight one-person hiking tent used to date, it turned out a perfect tent made by Columbia, which lasted many years afterwards.

 

11 June - Humboldt Redwood State Park

Humboldt Redwood State Park was so unique it called for a day of hiking. Following cycling the four miles to the shop to stock up, I returned to my spot in the woods. The camp was surprisingly quiet for such a beautiful location, and me the sole camper. Later, more cyclists and Kat (the lady with the dogs) arrived. Our chatter continued until late as she was a fascinating yoga teacher who previously lived in India.

 

12 June - Humboldt Redwoods SP – Standish-Hickey SP - 80 km

The following morning, and in the next village, a family cycle touring the region recommended Standish-Hickey SP. I was told of a substantial hill looming, and best to tackle it on fresh legs. I thought this sound advice and cycled to the said campsite where I was the single camper.

 

13 June - Standish-Hickey SP – Mendocino - 88 km

The next morning, my route ran past the drive-thru tree and I snapped a few more pictures. Afterwards, I continued over the mountain which mercifully wasn’t as severe as predicted. The road soon spat me out at the coast, where a hilly ride took me via Fort Brag and to the next Hike & Bike.

 

14 June - Mendocino - Manchester Beach KOA - 66 km

The day was a short but immensely hilly ride and, as the internet was a priority, I pulled into KOA Manchester Beach thinking such a large and well-known campsite would’ve Wi-Fi as well as laundry facilities. But, unfortunately, the Wi-Fi was a disappointment and only free for an hour. Moreover, my Wi-Fi was quite useless as I never had a connection. The laundry, nevertheless, came in handy and I chucked a few things into the machine.

 

15 June - Manchester Beach KOA - Bodega Bay Dunes State Park - 120 km

The Californian coast was slightly undulating, but a beautiful one that called for numerous photo stops. Then, with good weather and cycling a pleasure, I proceeded to Bodega Bay.

 

16 June - Bodega Bay – San Rafael - 134 km

I veered inland to Bodega City, which offers interesting bits and pieces. The city and bay had a long history. As elsewhere, the Miwoks were the original landowners and the Spanish first surveyed the area in 1775. The Russians claimed the area for King and Country in the 1800s. To this day their legacy remains in names like the Russian River State Marine Recreational Management Area and the Russian River State Marine Conservation Area, two marine-protected areas in the Russian River.

The town was further The Birds’ film location, and the old schoolhouse was still used. Roadworks and detours encountered made a long day on the bicycle.

Eventually, I landed in San Rafael where a motel room became home that night due to a lack of camping. San Rafael was awfully close to San Francisco, but it was already late and I’d enough cycling for one day.

 

17 June - San Rafael – San Francisco - 35 km

A short cycle led over the iconic Golden Gate Bridge and into San Francisco. Shortly past the bridge, I met a cyclist who accompanied me to a hostel. Unfortunately, the first one was full. So we continued past the waterfront to the next one, but only after stopping for coffee and a bagel. The Adelaide Hostel turned out lovely (a tad pricy but so were all hostels in SF). It came with a complimentary breakfast and a highly central location.

I used the internet to catch up on online work but discovered that I had lost my daily journal.

I further discovered my phone’s SIM card slot faulty; no wonder my phone never had an internet connection. The Garmin map bought in Seattle never loaded on my device and I sent them an email inquiring regarding what to do. As if that wasn’t enough, my camera lens got stuck (after dropping the camera). Although still functioning, it lost the auto-focus. At the camera store, I bought a new lens. It wasn’t good quality but an 18-200 lens and, hence, one instead of the two previously carted around.

 

18 June - San Francisco

I further visited the computer shop to see if they could retrieve the lost file. The weather in San Francisco was glorious and a good day to take the streetcar to the waterfront. Besides wondering about and blending in, I obtained information regarding a train to Seattle. The news was good as a train departed San Francisco daily at around 22h00 to Seattle.

One still had to put the bicycle in a box, available at the station for $15 plus a $10 handling fee. I further understood all one had to do was go to the AM track office, where the bike and bags would be loaded onto the train. Though the train was from Emeryville, the ticket included a bus ride from the Amtrak office to the train station.

The plan was to return to Seattle and cycle from there, either across Canada or east across the US. In the meantime, my new passport was eventually ready, which my sister forwarded to the hostel in Seattle. Happy days!

 

19 June - San Francisco

With no phone call or email from the computer shop, I took a walk to find out what was happening. Regrettably, they couldn’t recover the lost file, and a big blank remained in the journal.

Garmin never returned the email, and I sent them an additional message; it didn’t make any difference as they never answered emails. Such poor service.

I was eager to get going but could hardly leave without the laptop. I further needed to apply for a Canadian visa, which seemed more trouble than it was worth. The online application was lengthy, and I lost interest even before registering. What a mission!

 

20 June - San Francisco

All these tedious doings were getting to me, and I joined a walking tour of San Francisco. Afterwards, a visit to the computer shop revealed they were still busy, and they advised me to check the following day. However, as the next day was a Saturday, they only opened at 12h00, which meant one more day in San Francisco.

At the hostel, a more serious effort was made to complete Canada’s lengthy and complicated online visa application. My word, it was like applying to become president. Canada wanted all your family information, both dead and alive and therefore, late at night when all was finished.

 

21 June - San Francisco

After breakfast, I picked up my laptop, and once at the hostel, I could complete the visa information. Still, there was no word about what form the visa would take and how it should be collected, and I guessed some form of proof would be emailed. The website gave the estimated processing times for the various offices but not an online application.

Eventually, all was done and even if no processing time was mentioned, I imagined it would be a long wait, in the region of three weeks or more.

 

22 June - San Francisco

I made my way to the Amtrak station. The bike boxes sold were quite large and easy to fit the bicycle once the pedals were removed and the handlebars turned sideways. The remainder of my stuff went into one large bag (bought in China Town). Unfortunately, the train wasn’t due until evening, and I’d a whole day to kill.

The best part of the day was spent trying to rewrite my lost journal - a laborious task - and by evening a short stroll took me downtown to the Amtrak office, from where busses ran to Emeryville.

The train was a strange setup – I’d never seen a double-storey train before. It was extremely comfortable and provided plenty of legroom. It was good because my seat was next to a rather large person. I then realised how difficult it must be to lug such a size around; everything is double the trouble. One constantly needed to feed the body to maintain such a size. All this effort must leave them exhausted by the end of the day.

 

23 June – San Fransisco – Seattle – By train

For the most part my time on the train was spent trying to rewrite the journal, not an easy task taking my goldfish memory. With the help of my photos and Google maps, I reconstructed the past month’s events. It wasn’t perfect and made uninteresting reading but I again lost interest long before the job was done. Fortunately, there was nothing to do, and one couldn’t go anywhere and I was thus forced to finish the job.

The train ride was picturesque, and quite a novelty sitting back and watching the landscape go by without pedalling a single stroke.

The train reached Seattle late; mercifully, the hostel was basically across the road from the train station. Once the bike was reassembled, I packed my belongings and cycled the short distance to the hostel.

 

24-25 June - Seattle

First thing in the morning, a short walk took me to the Canadian Consulate, only to find they had no visa information and didn’t know how to collect it once granted. This lack of info left me no other option than to resume my quest east across the US’s northern states until Canadian access was granted.

The weather was most glorious and perfect to join a walking tour, sampling their world-famous clam chowder while feeding seagulls and watching the sunset.

Friday 23 May 2014

CYCLE TOURING SOUTH KOREA

                                                         

SOUTH KOREA

 628 Kilometres – 13 Days


 5 May – 21 May 2014




PHOTOS

E-BOOK



5 May - Hong Kong – Seoul, South Korea - By plane

A short taxi ride took me and my meagre belongings to the airport. Once again, the overweight baggage fee was shocking, but nothing one could do but pay and get the job over and done with. The flight from Hong Kong touched down in Seoul three hours later and although I couldn’t draw money I could at least pay by card—what a pain. Priority was thus to contact the bank and I could only hope all would be sorted out by morning.

 

6 May - Seoul

To me, Seoul was merely a name on a map, exceptionally far away and what an exciting city Seoul turned out. The first thing one noticed was how incredibly modern the city was. I believe Seoul was the most technologically advanced city I’ve visited. Even at touristy places, no brochures were available, simply barcode scanners. Even though scanners were used in other countries, this habit was more prevalent in Seoul. That said, the old wasn’t forgotten. Old traditions were alive (albeit with a fake beard and moustache), and one didn’t have to go far to stumble upon an ancient temple or palace, at times right amidst new ones.

 

7 May - Seoul

After taking the bicycle to the bike shop to be reassembled, a short detour took me to the Bukchon Traditional Cultural Centre. Later I popped into Deoksugung, an old palace site where stunning old buildings remained.

On returning, my amble took me through the Namdaemun Market (famous for its street food) to pick up my daily portion of Kimchi. It seemed Kimchi accompanied every meal and was often eaten as the main dish. Kimchi resembled fermented vegetables, sometimes eaten on its own or fried in a pancake. Whichever way prepared, it was delicious and I needed my daily dose. It all made sense as the key to traditional Korean food was fermentation.

 

8 May - Seoul

I’d all intentions of leaving but changed my mind as tons more remained to investigate. Good thing as well, as in picking up camping gas, I discovered a cycle path along the river to Busan. Albeit sceptical, whether the trail led all the way to Busan there was no harm in trying.

I’m not sure what I’d envisaged, but Seoul was utterly different from my expectations. Not merely was the city super modern sporting interestingly designed high-rise buildings. Still, the city was also modern in a funky way, and revealed many cool and cosy-looking coffee shops and restaurants. Old buildings sat comfortably amongst new ones, and narrow pedestrian lanes and malls buzzed with all kinds of goods and food.

Again, I must mention how technologically advanced this city was, as I imagined it enough to make practically anyone feel like Rip Van Winkel. I was convinced no one ever paid in cash; swipe-and-go or scan-and-go was the preferred payment method. I presumed both paper and money would soon be obsolete and hence no surprise to find Seoul, very fittingly, sported a money museum.

I strolled the Cheonggyecheon, an 11-kilometre stream, right in the heart of the city. It’s believed the river was rediscovered after a raised highway was demolition. By then, the area was a peaceful and relaxing space featuring stacks of greenery, public artworks, wooden bridges, and small waterfalls.

 

9 May - Seoul – Yange Pyeong (Yangpyeong) - 91km

More than happy to get on the bike, I headed out of town, grinning from ear to ear at the opportunity to discover this new country. There’s such an amazing sense of freedom cycling in a direction, not quite knowing where you’re heading. While significantly more remained to explore in Seoul, I was eager to hit the road and thus turned my mobile home toward the river and soon landed on the famed cycle path along the mighty Han River. At the time I understood it was the longest bicycle path globally. Moreover, the day was a public holiday, filled with cyclists dressed to the nines.

Twice I met up with other cyclists. The spacious pathway made easy chatting while biking. As a result, I received a stack of information, which came in handy in the coming days.

A wave of joy washed over me, and I realised I didn’t want to do anything else. The best part was that the route ran along the old rail line, resulting in it being flat and all hills avoided by riding through old rail tunnels.

 

10 May - Yangpyeong – Chungju - 100 km

It took the entire day to pedal the 100 kilometres to Chungju. The path made a lovely day of pedalling, offering hundreds of reasons to stop and, in the process, I met a cyclist on his way to Busan. He was the sweetest boy, riding on his road bike with merely a wee backpack. He waited as I slowly slogged up the hills and translated the information boards encountered. Nearly all the signs were in Korean and not useful to me and I was happy with the explanations. At one of these stops, I tried beondegia, a popular snack in Korea. Beondegi was steamed or boiled silkworm pupae, seasoned and eaten as a snack. Unfortunately, I only ate one as it had an unpleasant taste and smell.

In the town of Chungju, I said goodbye to Ben (his English name) and got myself a room while he carried on to the next village.

 

11 May – Chungju – Suanbo Hot Springs - 25km

Departing Chungju, I met another cyclist, this time on a heavily ladened bike. The Koreans were extraordinarily generous and appeared they couldn’t let you go without giving you something. With two energy bars in my pocket, I waved him goodbye and soon reached the small mountain town of Suanbo, famous for its hot spring.

On cycling into town, looking for a place to dip, I heard someone call my name. It was Ben; we’d breakfast together, which turned out quite fascinating. Koreans sit on cushions on the floor and eat from low tables. The dining area was a raised platform; one had to remove one’s shoes before stepping onto the platform. Ben didn’t only pay but escorted me to a spa where he had stayed the previous night.

The spa was my first Jjimjilbang (Korean sauna) experience and resembled a public bathhouse. This interesting set-up offered separate mens’ and ladies’ facilities. Inside were a variety of hot and cold pools. Firstly, you stripped down, then had a shower, then a total scrub down and only then could you enter the pools. No bathing suits are required. Public nudity wasn’t something I was used to and I thought the practice a tad unnerving. It appeared most of the ladies had never seen a foreign woman naked as it felt they never took their eyes off me. I couldn’t wait to submerge myself and stayed underwater until I dared to dash to where I had left my clothes.

The remarkable thing was, in general, these facilities provided napping rooms. They weren’t meant for overnight sleepovers, but generally, cycle tourers used them as such. The room simply had a mat on the floor, but a free place was a free place, even if I didn’t think I could ever get used to a wooden pillow.

 

12 May - Suanbo Hot Springs – Gumio Weir - 103km

It rained all night, but by the time I woke, the weather had cleared and it turned into one more lovely day. The bike route ran through small mountain villages where villagers sat winnowing outside their homes.

I usually prefer inexpensive accommodation and, consequently, often spend the night in establishments where rooms are let by the hour, for purposes other than sleeping. I’ve, thus, had my fair share of oddly shaped beds. However, the bed was a round one this time and offered all the necessary personal care items.

 

13 May - Gumibo Weir - Dalseongo Bridge - 108km

I’m sure freedom means something different to everyone. I look at freedom as living the life I want to live. As I departed, I knew this was my freedom, at least for now. The ride featured incredible vistas as the road stuck close to the river, past small villages, old temples, and lush and green farmlands.

On spotting a nice grassy patch, I thought it was a perfect place to pitch the tent. But unfortunately, the site turned out to be the Millennium Plaza. As a result, the entire area lit up at night, making one feel a bit like a goldfish in a bowl.

 

14 May - Dalseongbo Bridge – Namji - 90 km

When camping at a public square, there’s no sleeping in. After boiling water to make coffee and loading up, I attempted an alternative route. Unfortunately, Miss Smarty Pants’ way didn’t pan out, and she’d to backtrack to that morning’s starting point. The path turned into a hilly ride; sometimes, it required walking the bicycle up the steep gradient. The lack of breakfast soon made dwindling energy and a lunch stop at a trusty 7-eleven came at just the right time. With renewed energy, I tackled the remaining hills. I uncovered digs in Namji, perfect for charging my growing number of gadgets.

 

15 May - Namji – Busan - 111 km

The stretch from Namji to Busan marked my last day of cycling to Busan, and even though stunning, the trail wasn’t without a good few hills. My route took me over the mountains, past villages and fantastic scenery. Being spring, flowers were blooming, making it a pleasure out on the bike.

In the dying moments of the day, the route spat me out in Busan, where I was in no mood to deal with the evening traffic following a few days on the tranquil cycle route. I, nevertheless, had no choice but to brave the traffic in search of budget accommodation.

I always feel half sad and half happy reaching my destination. I thought I cycled through the entire city to get to the centre. Luckily, a tourist information came into view to find all the necessary information. They provided the location of a budget motel in one of the narrow lanes. A lane that transformed itself at night into a food market and a hive of activity.

 

16 May - Busan

As a ferry sailed from Busan to Japan, I searched out the Japanese Consulate, only to find this consulate didn’t issue visas to foreigners. Instead, one had to apply in one’s home country or have a permanent residence card.

Changing course, especially due to circumstances beyond my control, wasn’t one of my favourite situations. I considered packing the bicycle and flying elsewhere a hassle. Not only was it costly, but it took a few days to get back to cycling. Nonetheless, the whole fiasco was my fault as I wasn’t too fond of planning or reading up about countries. It took the surprise out of travelling, but the surprises were sometimes unpleasant.

I could um and ah days on end where to go. The world was vast with numerous options and countless fascinating destinations. But, right then, my options were limited (due to my nearly full passport) to places where visas weren’t required and where one could cycle a few months without changing direction or applying for a visa.

Thus, my best destination was the Americas, as I already had an American visa and had unfinished business in the USA. However, this obvious destination didn’t necessarily mean I would go there. The best would’ve been to return to San Francisco (where I left off last time) and pedal north. It would’ve been the best, weather-wise as well but, as I said, just because San Francisco made sense didn’t mean I would do it.

 

17 - 21 May - Busan

The following day I loaded up and cycled to Blue Backpackers offering more facilities. In the process, a bike shop was uncovered, and the plan was to ride there the next day to acquire a box or bag to pack the bike. Still unsure which direction to go, the decision was best left until the very last minute.

By morning, the bicycle was handed in to be boxed. Though several things needed repairing, I didn’t fix them, as I imagined it better to do so once I’d arrived in my new country (wherever it may be).

Busan was the second-largest city in South Korea, and the metro system was quite extensive. I ventured into the belly of the earth to investigate the famous Buddhist temples, situated on the city’s outskirts. These temples were a pleasure to visit, as they were tranquil and peaceful. South Korea’s temples seemed to have a green tone instead of the red hue in China.

As always, the temples were adorned by the four Heavenly Kings, or gods, each watching over a different direction of the world. They were the protectors of the world and fighters of evil. Wondering around, I started chatting with a small tour group; they kindly offered me a lift to the metro upon departing.

In the city, rows and rows of food stalls sprang up, and one could pick and choose from the large variety of dishes. I’d my fill and returned to the hostel to organise my last few belongings for the exceptionally long flight to Seattle, USA, via Beijing. From Seattle, the plan was to pedal south to San Francisco. The prevailing wind and already having a visa to the USA were the main reasons for this decision.

 

22 May – Busan, South Korea – Seattle, Washington, USA

We flew into Seattle in the early hours of the morning, and what a delightful sight. The exciting part was arriving in Seattle before leaving Beijing. I was, as usual, dead tired, collected my luggage, hailed a taxi and headed to downtown Seattle. The first stop was at a bicycle shop to drop the bicycle and then the hostel which I booked ahead of time.

Once booked in, I, to my horror, discovered I’d left behind my backpack holding all my valuables in the taxi. So, in a flat spin, I contacted Yellow Taxi Cabs. Unfortunately, I’d no number or name to give them, but they’d a lost-and-found section where I could leave my details.

Being sleepy I took a snooze and, upon emerging, discovered my lost bag on the table next to my bed. Of course, I was thrilled (to put it mildly) and did a little happy dance. But then, the taxi driver was the sweetest Somali guy, to whom I chatted non-stop from the airport. I knew if anyone were to return the bag, it would be him. So, a massive thank you to this unknown Somalian taxi driver.