(Updated from a booth at the McMenamins Olympic Club in Centralia, WA)

Passing through Portland our second time was bittersweet. I think in our heart of hearts both Laura and I have decided that Portland will be our new “home” after our sojourn. The city is progressive in so many ways no city in Los Angeles is even close. Beyond the bike infrastructure and great public transportation, Portland, more than any city that I’ve ever been in, has a real sense of community pride.

We passed through Portland again for two days to charge our batteries – literal and otherwise. While there we stayed with Ethan and his family in the backyard in a family size Coleman tent. We had great discussions over the last few days that really secured in my mind that would end up in PDX. As if to make it even harder to leave, the Saturday when we were to push off was Tour d’ Fat – the great bicycle and beer festival put on my New Belgium.

Laura and I went to a TdF years ago (2007) in Portland and had a blast riding in the bicycle parade. It was the first time I met Jonathan Maus of BikePortland.org in person – and as if to remind me of all this we ran into him again this year. We hung around for the beginning of the bike parade and but eventually pedaled away with heavy hearts.

Eventually, I assure you, we were able to escape the strong gravity of Portland. We made our way to Vancouver, WA through a very circuitous and confusing series of poorly signed and designed bike paths – a stark contrast to Portland. From there, we navigated through the hilly urban sprawl of Vancover to the hilly country of parts north.

It was as if we crossed some invisible geological divide where climbs went from 4-6% to 10-15%. It was humbling. On our route to our first campsite in Washington (Paradise Point) we hit some pitches that were comical in how steep they were. One particular stretch that stands out was on 29th near Washington State University. It was a stretch so steep that you could see it jut from the ground about a half mile away mocking you. Fortunately, we rode around it through the campus.

When we arrived at Paradise Point, the camp host told us that it was full and that we would have to talk to the ranger on duty to see if we could stay there. We waited around for a few minutes while the ranger finished a presentation on fires at the campsite’s amphiteather. We spoke to him and he was as enthusiastic and friendly as any park ranger we’ve ever met.

“Of course there is room for you. It’s our policy to make room for people on bike,” he said. We weren’t sure if this was the official stance of all Washington State Parks but we weren’t going to argue.

Dinner was corned beef and hash and we slept well. Sore from the hills but happy that we had made our first state crossing.

The next day we were greeted with more hills. Trying to avoid riding on I-5 we diverted off to a Green Mountain Road. Note to self – when a road has the word “mountain” in the name it means some serious climbing. It started manageable enough with some rideable grades, but then the road jutted upwards once again in a way that defys physics. It was the first time while on tour that we had to push our bikes. The grade was too steep for too long and instead of trying to switch back and forth on the road we opted to hoof it.

Green Mountain Road was a humbling experience. Once we were at the top we really had second thoughts about what we were doing. Were we prepared to do what we set out to do? Fortunately, the roads the rest of the day were rideable by mere mortals such as ourselves, but the thirty minutes of pushing our bikes haunted us.

We happened upon a car show at Kalama. Cresting the hill before town we see the city streets closed and flooded with people. I thought it was a bit ironic to run into a vintage car show after pedaling all this way. There were the typical nice old shiny cars. However, the one that I found tremendously entertaining was the Chia-Car. A full sized car with grass growing outside of it.

As we got closer to our campsite we were passed by another couple that was touring! It was nice to see fellow bike tourists after having traveled the last few days with hardly a cyclist in sight. They didn’t stop to talk though as they were huffing it up a hill in synchronized seriousness.

We caught up with them eventually at Seaquest, our campsite for the night. It was their first tour. Amelia had just passed the BAR and this was her trip before buckling down. Her boyfriend was just along for the ride. They looked pretty tired and a bit shaken by the riding (they weren’t prepared for the hills in Washington) and were already talking about hopping a train to San Diego.

I told them to give it until a few days on the Oregon coast before they make any hasty decisions. There was so much good riding ahead of them.

Seaquest itself was a beautifully wooded campsite. The primitive hike/bike sites were tucked away from the RV sites. At night, it was pitch black and the quiet enveloped our weary bodies.