Every region has its great rides. I've traveled enough of North America to know many of them. Southern Utah is hard to beat for grandeur, and I can say the same for parts of SoCal, Maine, Montana and all the provinces of Canada. The NorthWest is no exception. I did a great ride and wrote it up a few weeks ago when I took a trip from my home roads here on Bainbridge Island, WA down to Astoria, Oregon. What a ride that was.
Today I did a ride that is an old friend, and absolutely unbelievable. You know the way an old friend just knows what you are going to say, and laughs before you finish the joke. And they call you on your shit, not letting you fool them the way you do the cute lady in the grocery store? This is that sort of ride for me.
I woke up this morning on San Juan Island, which for those that don't know is about the most NorthWest spot you can get to in the good old USA. You have to take a ferry to get there, and that boat ride takes a full hour at 20 knots. It's a separate story related to my boat as to why I woke up on San Juan, but I did. After finishing some things aboard Aeolus, I took advantage of some time before the next ferry off island and did a circumnavigation of San Juan on my C14. We used to live there, and so the roads are known to me, but like every ride, it is different with the seasons and the moods of the rider.
San Juan Island is a incredible mix of open grasslands and forested thickets. The whole island has only 7,000 inhabitants and is large enough that they are spread out sparsely outside the main town of Friday Harbor. This won't be a history lesson, but suffice to say San Juan has its share of fascinating stories. The roads on the island are in excellent shape and twist and turn constantly. If you take the outer roads, you can go all around and never be far from ocean views. But here you are not just looking at water, you are looking across salt water to none other than the mighty Olympic Mountains, those geological and biological wonders, or over to North Cascades National Park. Or perhaps, if you are on the north side, you are looking right over to Vancouver Island and the maze of island wonderlands on the Canadian side of freedom.
So put together these things in your minds eye for a moment: Great roads with no traffic, twists and turns with hardly a straight away, speeds from 20-50 legally, views across open water to National Parks left and right, and idyllic farms, fields and grasslands. Hard to beat.
But that was just my first hour this morning! Leaving San Juan, you take a ferry back to Anacortes, which is a milk run for me, but tourists come from all over to take this great journey. Islands dotted all around and wild landscapes. Once in Anacortes, you turn West and hug the coastal roads down to Deception Pass State Park. More quiet country roads with twists and turns. Deception Pass is world famous for the views and bridges, which cross high over a treacherous pass where tides rip fiercely in and out day after day. I once had a terrifying experience on my sailboat near this bridge, but though a great story, this is a motorcycle forum.
Once over this majestic bridge, you head down Whidbey Island, home to quiet living except for the Naval Air Station. The sounds of freedom roar frequently. Toward the bottom of Whidbey, after passing through Ebey's landing Historic Preserve, you get to the ferry dock at Coupeville. This is your launching point to cross over to Port Townsend. This time you are crossing Admiralty Inlet, the powerful entrance to Puget Sound. It's a short trip, but one that can be really nasty when the Straits of Juan de Fuca are angry, and that is one very pissed off body of water that needs anger management classes. When crossing over on this ferry, the Olympic Mountains rise larger and larger in your view. Though only 10,000 feet tall (modest by West Coast standards) they are jagged and snow capped and were the very last place in North America to be explored by honky white guys like me. And they are home to endemic species that only live there, since the mountains are so apart from other mountains.
Port Townsend attracts people from all over for all sorts of reasons. It is a maritime center first and foremost. Folks come from all over for the Wooden Boat Festival, or to get sails made from the best outfit in the country, or rigging done by the best outfit in the country, or check out wooden kayaks by Pygmy Kayaks, the best kit built sea kayaks in the world (I've made one and love paddling it). It's a great historic seatown with all the attractions you'd want and imagine. Bustling in the summer. Quiet this time of year.
From there you just toodle on down lovely rural roads in the shadow of the Olympics and across Hood Canal to Bainbridge, about 90 minutes away.
By the time I got home, it felt like I had done a world tour, not from fatigue, but from stimulation. What a panoply of sights and textures, for me and my Connie. I've never thought of it that way before, but it rings true that what is feeding me, feeds my bike. I'll happily never know which one of us is choosing the restaurant or paying the bill.
Today I did a ride that is an old friend, and absolutely unbelievable. You know the way an old friend just knows what you are going to say, and laughs before you finish the joke. And they call you on your shit, not letting you fool them the way you do the cute lady in the grocery store? This is that sort of ride for me.
I woke up this morning on San Juan Island, which for those that don't know is about the most NorthWest spot you can get to in the good old USA. You have to take a ferry to get there, and that boat ride takes a full hour at 20 knots. It's a separate story related to my boat as to why I woke up on San Juan, but I did. After finishing some things aboard Aeolus, I took advantage of some time before the next ferry off island and did a circumnavigation of San Juan on my C14. We used to live there, and so the roads are known to me, but like every ride, it is different with the seasons and the moods of the rider.
San Juan Island is a incredible mix of open grasslands and forested thickets. The whole island has only 7,000 inhabitants and is large enough that they are spread out sparsely outside the main town of Friday Harbor. This won't be a history lesson, but suffice to say San Juan has its share of fascinating stories. The roads on the island are in excellent shape and twist and turn constantly. If you take the outer roads, you can go all around and never be far from ocean views. But here you are not just looking at water, you are looking across salt water to none other than the mighty Olympic Mountains, those geological and biological wonders, or over to North Cascades National Park. Or perhaps, if you are on the north side, you are looking right over to Vancouver Island and the maze of island wonderlands on the Canadian side of freedom.
So put together these things in your minds eye for a moment: Great roads with no traffic, twists and turns with hardly a straight away, speeds from 20-50 legally, views across open water to National Parks left and right, and idyllic farms, fields and grasslands. Hard to beat.
But that was just my first hour this morning! Leaving San Juan, you take a ferry back to Anacortes, which is a milk run for me, but tourists come from all over to take this great journey. Islands dotted all around and wild landscapes. Once in Anacortes, you turn West and hug the coastal roads down to Deception Pass State Park. More quiet country roads with twists and turns. Deception Pass is world famous for the views and bridges, which cross high over a treacherous pass where tides rip fiercely in and out day after day. I once had a terrifying experience on my sailboat near this bridge, but though a great story, this is a motorcycle forum.
Once over this majestic bridge, you head down Whidbey Island, home to quiet living except for the Naval Air Station. The sounds of freedom roar frequently. Toward the bottom of Whidbey, after passing through Ebey's landing Historic Preserve, you get to the ferry dock at Coupeville. This is your launching point to cross over to Port Townsend. This time you are crossing Admiralty Inlet, the powerful entrance to Puget Sound. It's a short trip, but one that can be really nasty when the Straits of Juan de Fuca are angry, and that is one very pissed off body of water that needs anger management classes. When crossing over on this ferry, the Olympic Mountains rise larger and larger in your view. Though only 10,000 feet tall (modest by West Coast standards) they are jagged and snow capped and were the very last place in North America to be explored by honky white guys like me. And they are home to endemic species that only live there, since the mountains are so apart from other mountains.
Port Townsend attracts people from all over for all sorts of reasons. It is a maritime center first and foremost. Folks come from all over for the Wooden Boat Festival, or to get sails made from the best outfit in the country, or rigging done by the best outfit in the country, or check out wooden kayaks by Pygmy Kayaks, the best kit built sea kayaks in the world (I've made one and love paddling it). It's a great historic seatown with all the attractions you'd want and imagine. Bustling in the summer. Quiet this time of year.
From there you just toodle on down lovely rural roads in the shadow of the Olympics and across Hood Canal to Bainbridge, about 90 minutes away.
By the time I got home, it felt like I had done a world tour, not from fatigue, but from stimulation. What a panoply of sights and textures, for me and my Connie. I've never thought of it that way before, but it rings true that what is feeding me, feeds my bike. I'll happily never know which one of us is choosing the restaurant or paying the bill.
