Iceland comes to an end

We woke up after having spent a what can be described as chilly at best night in a bathhouse somewhere, not quite sure where, in Iceland with a stranger who'd picked us up while we were hitchhiking. It was still early but the night we'd spent huddled up inside a primitive house insured that we were ready to go in the morning. There wasn't much to the inside of the structure. There was a small wooden bench against a wall that you could sit on without you back being unnaturally straight and the floor was made of skinny wooden slats upon a concrete floor. The door leading out to the warm pool looked old and rickety, but it did the job we wanted it to do which was to keep the wind from blowing into what was our hope of a cozy night. Despite the undoubtedly dodgy sounding bathhouse we spent the night in it was all amazing as soon as we opened the door to the outside. The view was beautiful. Directly in front of the house was the warm pool and to the left was a river flowing toward the ocean. In the distance I could hear the waterfall that the river was coming from. It was kind of amazing. Kayzia, Ingrid, and I all got our things together around eight or so and, after soaking up our beautiful surroundings, we all walked downriver to where the car was parked to start our day off.

Ingrid was good company. She's a surfer and extremely fun to travel with. Our first stop was at a lighthouse on the top of some cliffs running up to beach. The lighthouse was beautiful, I will admit. The view was great as well. Beach stretching off forever in one direction and incredible rock arches off the the other with wonderful waterfalls and plateaus more inland. That was all cool, but it wasn't the thing that struck us most as we got out of the car. As soon as we opened the car door what stuck us was the wind. I used to think Northern Texas was windy, but it was nothing compared to what I was experiencing on the coastline of Iceland. Literally, I had to lean forward when I walked so that I could stay upright and continue moving forward. And I don't mean slightly forward either, I mean like at a hard angle. It was nuts. Looking over into the ocean the waves were going insane as well. I'm sure part of it was because of the lay of the land, but I could tell the ridiculous amount of wind was also having an effect on the massive waves. They were pounding relentlessly upon the beach. So much so that it made me afraid of the ocean for a moment. Just remember that while you're doing whatever it is you're doing the ocean is waging a war on all fronts.

After getting blown around a bit we went looking for an old army plane that'd crash landed somewhere on the beach. There was no address for the plane and no way for us to navigate to it other than to be like 'Eh, maybe this old farm road is where we need to be?' And that we did. It took us a pass or two before deciding on what we believed to be the right road down to the beach where the crash had been. Fifteen minutes down a sand road later we found the wreck. It was impressive.

After that all there really was for us to find were a bunch of waterfalls along the way. The drive was beautiful though, through some crazy strange environments. At one point we drove through a huge lava field that had been totally conquered by a thick layer of moss. For as far as the eye can see, all I could see was moss, moss, moss. It looked like another planet. After a bunch of driving and some goofing off we made it to the volcano glacier thing we meant to spend the night at. We didn't know where we were going to sleep yet, but we imagined we would do something similar to the night before and find a building to sleep in but it wasn't time for that. We all geared up and set off on a nice hike to a unique waterfall where the rocks surrounding it were all in the shape of hexagonal pillars. It was really cool and we got lucky enough so that it didn't rain on us the whole time. After the waterfall and we rounding the top of the climb there was a beautiful glacier lake was well. It was some beautiful hiking.

Ingrid and Kayzia

Where the three of us finally made it back down to the visitor center decided to all sleep together in one of the large private bathrooms. It's the kind that has a shower in it as well and so it was more than large enough for the three of us It was probably the warmest night we spent in Iceland.

The next morning we said our goodbyes to Ingrid. It'd been really nice getting to know her and not having to worry about finding a ride for a day or two, We wrote down names and became Facebook friends before she went off and we walked over to the main road. She'd offered for us to come visit her in Southern France when we got around that way and we were hoping to do so. That was in the future though and we were worried about hitching back to Reykjavik for our flight to Norway the next day. We made it to the ring road stuck our thumbs out. It was such that we could see cars coming at least five minutes before they finally made it around the long curve to us. Most of them were turning into the nature park we'd spent the night in, but the first car that was passing by us stopped and we met Natalie and Phillip. They were a cute young couple from Austria and we got along well with them. We did some exploring through some craters and the moss fields as well as watching the wind literally blow waterfalls upward. They took us all the way to Reykjavik and had a really good time doing it.

They dropped us off downtown where we decided to find ourselves a hostel for the night. It was difficult and the hostel was nice. I'd become friends with Phillip on Facebook and they'd offered to take us to the Blue Lagoon with them before our flight. The Blue Lagoon is a famous spa/ hot springs in Iceland near the airport and we decided to go along with them. The place was beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous and the hot water was everything we needed. We easily spent all day there before Natalie and Phillip dropped us off at the airport. They were great people and hanging out with them had been awesome. They also left us with the offer to come visit them in Austria sometime. Hitchhiking in Iceland was fantastic. It was so awesomely wonderful and a the people we met, both the natives and the tourists, were fantastic. Unfortunately it was time for us to say our goodbyes to Iceland and move on to mainland Europe, beginning with Norway.

Be happy,

Beacon.

Hitching Iceland

It was Kayzia's first hand at hitchhiking and it was a little bit exciting. I don't always get to go hitchhiking with someone, but when I do it's a pleasure. It's nice to have someone to joke with on the side of the road and to share the pain of any exceptionally long wait times with. I'd never hitched in Iceland before but as far as I had heard and from everything I'd gleamed from the map of the country it wouldn't be too extremely difficult. Mostly because Iceland really only has one road, the ring road, and the island nature of a country typically insures good thumbing. 

We'd spent the previous night at a thermal pool with our couchsurfer host, Einar, and eating hotdogs (apparently the national food of Iceland? Well, that and fermented shark). I felt rejuvenated. From the hot water yes, but mostly because it was exiting to stretch my thumb again. It wasn't a long walk from where we'd been staying to where I thought we could get a ride out of town. I don't really know how I pick these spots to hitch from. Sometimes I look at hitchwiki, but usually I pan around google maps until my unnatural hitching sense tells me 'that's the spot for a ride'. 

I was feeling a little bit of pressure this morning though as I talk a big hitching game and I wanted this to be a great first experience for Kayzia. The first spot we stopped at would have worked, but we were standing in the shade of some frosted trees on the side of the road and it was damn cold. We moved up a little bit to sunnier hitching and ended up finding a pretty good piece of road. It was under a half hour before Thoran (I'm not pretending I spelt that name correctly) picked us up. 

I'm not saying it's uncommon to be picked up by a single woman, but it's never what I expect. Somehow, still, it happens frequently. Thoran was a nice girl who'd, judging by the arrangement of booster seats in the back, just dropped her kids off  somewhere. She wasn't going far but she got us out of Reykjavik and to the one highway, highway 1, which was all we needed to get a longer ride. 

It was about 15 or 20 minutes before Kester stopped for us. He was a professor of technical drawing at the trade school in Reykjavik. He was on his way back home to a village about an hour outside of the capitol. This was our first real look at what Iceland looked like as not 5 minutes into the ride we were driving across lava fields with a fresh blanket of snow laying on top. Kester pointed out the various volcanoes for us and pronounced all with their increasingly difficult names. We attempted a few of them and I admit my tongue was not made for Icelandic. He took us around a bit and gave us a tour of his small village with 600 residents before leaving us outside his town and next to the only long term prison in Iceland. 

Never fear, there're only a hundred people in the one prison for an entire country. Pretty docile place. The first car that drove by, maybe 2 minutes later, gave us a ride up to the next town of Selfoss. It was another single woman who happened to be named Thoran as well. We took a break at Subway to get out of the cold and the wind for a second and then walked out of the small town to stand on the side of the road with the Icelandic ponies. 

We waited a little longer for this ride and we were getting cold when a work truck pulled over for us. It was a woman who owns a plumbing business and was off to check out a job site. She took us a good chunk down the road and left us at a nice petrol station. We bought an extremely expensive bottle of Vodka (because it's ridiculously taxed in Iceland), for the cold of course and went out in hope of one more ride before the sun set around 5. 

We stood for a short time, but it appeared most of the traffic was local. Ingrid was the one who stopped for us. She was French, on vacation in Iceland for a little while. She was driving around seeing the sights and such. Without even much of a conversation about it we all took it that we were a team now, at least for a little while. We became the navigators and she the driver. It was a good match up I think as we went along the coast exploring the magical waterfalls Iceland has nearly everywhere. 

We had done zero research for our trip to Iceland so thank goodness Ingrid knew what she was doing and what to look for.  There was the normal smattering of conversation before we came upon the first waterfall. And it was incredible. 

Down the highway about twenty minutes next waterfall was notning shy of spectacular either.

It was huge

While climing to the top of this waterfall we saw someone ahead of us who looked a bit familiar. And behold, it happened the lads we'd met up with for the spinning of the wheel had found their way out of Reykjavik and to this waterfall as well! Just a little bonus 'small world' feeling.

We did some catching up with them and they told us about this hot spring around the corner. The sun was about to set at this point but Ingrid, Kayzia, and I all decided we'd camp at the springs for the night. So we said goodbye to the boys and made our way down the cliffside to the car and on our way to some springs.

It took us a little bit to find the dirt road leading up to the edge of the plateu. Once we found the parking area though it was easy for us to find our way to the springs. It was gorgeous and we'd arrived just as it was getting dark. We were all extremely excited because it was cold out and sitting in a hot spring was going to be amazing. Me and Kayzia set our tent up while Ingrid did the same with hers, then we changed in the small bathhouse that was next to the pool that'd been made to collect the hot water. We got in. I'm not gonna say it was cold, but it certainly wasn't hot! All three of us soon realized out mistake and bailed ASAP. Soon after that we abandoned the tents as well and all joined forces on the wooden slats in the bathhouse. It was still cold, but much warmer (the vodka helped). We stayed up talking that night hoping the norther lights would come out. We were dissappointed by the lights, but I think our first real day hitching was a success.

The 'hot' spring

Be happy,

Beacon

Reykjavik

More than a few people asked me why I was going to Iceland, but I didn't have an answer for them. Simply put my logic went like this: Iceland is on the way to Europe and I want to walk El Camino de Santiago in northern Spain. 

But really, it was on the way to Europe and who wouldn't want to take a nice dip in a few thermal pools on the way to hike El Camino de Santiago? Our plane left Boston around 7 and arrived at 4 in the morning. The airport security checking our passports looked about as enthusiastic as we did, which was not very due to the early morning and rough nights sleep. 

Hi. How long will you be staying? Next. 

It was too early to be enthusiastic about   hitchhiking so we decided to take the bus into Reykjavik instead which was a good 35 minute drive from the airport. It didn't much look like there'd be anyone to thumb a ride from anyways. 

We'd decided to try AirBnB for the first time and we'd landed upon Daniel. He'd offered to pick us up at the bus station in Reykjavik. I thought it astounding considering it would be 7:30 in the morning. What other hotel allows you to check in that early?! The message he had sent us was only one sentence long: "I will have a white dog on my shoulder." He was easy enough to find.

So there we were, sitting in the bus station, when a man with a small white dog on his shoulder stepped out of his car. Turns out chihuahuas made it to Iceland somehow. 

Kayzia enjoying Chichi

Daniel was great. He made us coffee as soon as we got to his place as well as some Icelandic pancakes with rhubarb jam. It was fantastic. Through our brief interactions with Daniel in the early morning we learned a few things about Iceland. Mostly, that polar bears float over on the polar ice and run free in Iceland. Daniel mentioned it mutliple times saying: In 1918, the year my great grandmother was born, nearly 70 polar bears crossed over to Iceland. There were no helicopters or firearms. Can you imagine fighting a polar bear with a pike axe? It was December 31st and my great grandmother was a triplet, if she had been born just 1 hour later she would have been born in a different year than her siblings. My great great grandfather was sharpening his axe at the door during labor in case any polar bears broke in during labor."

Apparently it was very important we know this.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around Reykjavik. 

Big Lebowski bar

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After hitting up a couple of the themed bars they had on the main strip, such as the Big Lebowski bar, we ended up in the English bar for a pint of Guiness. Looking up at the wall behind the bar there was a wheel similar to that on wheel of fortune expcept instead of dollar values there were things such as "One beer" or "Two beers". About half of the options were "SORRY" and the two best winnings were "Eight Beers" or "A meter of beer". We were discussing your odds at coming out ahead, because it cost nearly twenty dollars to spin it, and decided the odds weren't bad when a group of young boys came in hollering "Spin the wheel!!" The young girl bartending pulled the wheel back as far as she could and gave it a hard spin. The previously loud and chattering atmosphere in the bar was suddenly hushed a considerable amount as most the patrons turned to watch the the rapid ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ticking of the pointer as it the pegs lining the outside of the wheel spun. She'd given it a good push and it took a moment for it to start to slow down. As it slowed the bar got more and more interested in the wheel. Instead of getting quieter though shouts of encouragment to the wheel started coming out, a lot of "Come on!"s and such until it got really slow. Then evey time it passed something good like the 8 beers or the meter of beer there'd be a short increase in excitment as if it'd help the wheel stop. Until it finally landed upon  the "Spin again" and the suspense started all over again. T-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-ti-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tick-tick-tick...tick (COMMON!!!)...tick (YES YES YES!!!)...... tick (WHOA YEAH!!!). And the whole bar let out a triumphent roar as the wheel landed on a meter of beer. The bartenders quickly got to work filling up 10 beers to make the full meter as the guys and everyone celebrated. We just happened to be the ones sitting next to them when they won and we just happened to be finishing our beers. They passed a few our way and so began a hell of a first night in Iceland.

Skiffin'

There were a myriad of reasons for the way I was feeling.

1. I was alone

2. I was wearing a hat

3. What I was doing was a little bit crazy, not a lot, but just enough

4. It was beautiful

5. I was smitten, with a girl

1. I was alone. That may not seem like a big deal. It’s not uncommon to find one’s self alone after all. However, when I work on a boat for nearly three months I find that it is quite uncommon and come the end of the season, regardless the caliber of my crew, I find myself praying for some time spent in perfect solitude without one single chance of interruption. Would you like to know what my favourite feeling in the entire world is? The thing that beats anything and everything there’s ever been in all of creation? It’s when I finally get home, whether it’s from the boat or from traveling, and I can sit alone in my car with the radio turned up as high as it’ll go and I can sing my little heart out. I’m not a good singer and I don’t sing in front of people. Not even drunk. Not even karaoke. But, when I am alone in my car, as most do, I turn into a rock star and I can let loose the tension that naturally builds up in a person. It’s the best feeling in the world, especially after being unable to do so for so long. That’s why I was happy that I was alone. I was truly alone and I could yell and scream and sing and not give a damn because the only thing anyone would hear was, maybe, a faint echoing wail bouncing off the mountains. I was going on a skiff ride. For those of you who don’t know, a skiff is a small boat that we have with our larger boat. It’s the equivalent of going on a car ride for me because it was a long skiff ride and I was going it alone. I had my headphones and a playlist ready to go as well. It was going to be a two parter and I had at least 45 minutes of ‘me against the world’ ahead of me after I skiffed by the Hoonah scow, or the scow girls as their called. That was the first part of the skiff ride, I needed to get my hat.

2. The scow is like our ‘neighbor’. Normally I am anchored up in Mite cove on the Deer Harbor II. On a nice day when I look between the mainland and Mite Island there is this little floating house with a crane anchored in the next little bite over with the Fairweather mountains sloping down to Taylor glacier in the background. That little floating house is the scow. In the Crustliner it’s about a 10 minute skiff ride and I feel like I’m sinking the whole time. In the Bullfrog it takes 5 and I’m catching air if there’s a swell. I was in the Bullfrog, and I was catching air. I had on a flannel that the girl in #5 had given me and it made me feel special, almost like I had super powers and the small skiff wasn’t what was making me fly over the water like this. I was on my way there for one reason, and one reason only. They had a hat for me. But not just any hat, a hat the girl had made for me. It’s hard to know where I’m going to be and even harder for other people to know that same thing. So she’d sent the hat over to the scow in hopes that I’d stop by sometime and they could give it to me. I didn’t feel like stopping over there as it was in the opposite direction of my ultimate goal, but I wanted, no, I needed, that hat. I gunned it all the way up to their small dock, basically some aluminum bolted to two logs with some small pink cleats running along it. I tied the Bullfrog off by the bow and as soon as Megan saw me she went upstairs and brought me down a small bundle of fabric. Everyone there knew I was there for that hat and nothing else. She handed it over to me with a ‘I should have given you this a long time ago’ which kind of made my heart sink. I thanked her, made an excuse to everyone for not hanging around, which was promptly ignored, and I hopped back in the Bullfrog with my bounty. Off I went with the hat fighting to get out of my pocket. All I wanted to do was wear it, but I didn’t look at it immediately as I was savoring the suspense. I waited until I was out of sight of the scow, or at least far away enough to feel alone, until I couldn’t take it anymore, and I pulled the hat out of my back pocket to examine it. It was beautiful. Really, it was. It was layered in 5 colours. Starts out maroon on the bottom, one of my new favourtie colours, followed by a light light blue mixed with an almost grey, then a sky blue, a light gray, and a dark navy blue on top. The little tag on the side, which was made out of a piece of rubber glove, the kind all the fishermen wear, had the initials IQ on the outside and my name on the inside. It stands for Ice Queen. Not because she’s cold, but because she is damn good at what she does. She is who I was going to see in Pelican, the small boardwalk town, down the strait 7 or 8 nautical miles. I was ready to ride for an hour through anything the ocean/weather was willing to throw at me just so I could see the Ice Queen and it was all okay, because I had a hat.

3. It’s not super crazy to skiff from Mite cove to Pelican, but most people don’t do it. It’s just that the strait is a very large body of water and the skiff is very small vessel. If I were to hit anything, a floating log or some of the other debris that frequents the straights, I could easily fall out of skiff and be lost to the cold water. And visibility isn’t always the best as fog and pouring rain can be a factor. I was lucky in the sense that it wasn’t foggy when I left. I was also lucky that the seas were nice enough for me to make the ride and it was slow enough for me to take the night off. I was not so lucky in the factor of pouring rain, but that was only to be expected. I had the Bullfrog, an extra gas can, and a warm hat. I’d bundled my raingear in the bow with a roadie and a life jacket I never planned to use. It was going to be a bit of a skiff ride, but I was more than stoked about it. A lot because of that alone feeling I was looking for, but more of it because I was off to see the Ice Queen. It wasn’t super crazy, I mean it was a little bit, skiffing to Pelican to see this girl, but it wasn’t totally nuts.

4. It was beautiful. Fucking beautiful. Behind me huge cumulous clouds were billowing above the Fairweather mountain range. They were glowing a soft pink as the setting sun spilled itself upon them from somewhere across the Gulf of Alaska. Since I was headed towards Pelican the swell was with me and it was smooth riding with the wind in my beard and cold water v-ing out behind the skiff. There were two ranges of mountains, one on either side of me, which created the inlet I was in and each mountain that was further than the next in the distance was just a little bit hazier and bluer in colour as happens with distances of a grander natures. They started out a dark green and faded to gray-blue shapes near the limits of my vision. I was singing away, more a screech than anything, and ecstatically thankful for my good fortune on the skiff ride when a dark gray wall appeared across the inlet in front of me. It’d come from nowhere, but I had expected nothing less. I throttled down and let the little skiff sit at an idle with the wake catching up and lapping against the stern. I left it in gear and took my hand off the tiller. Without my hand to hold it straight the outboard flopped to the side and, since I was still idling in forward, started driving the skiff in small circles. I stood up and put on my bibs. I put on my rain jacket as well and whipped the hood over my hat. I opened my roadie and drank it down swiftly as I watched the wall get closer and closer to me while the skiff turned itself in shallow circles. It was a heavy rain. I finished my beer and, doing like the natives, ripped the can in half and threw it over. Sat back down and throttled straight into the downpour as only a man on a mission can. It wasn’t bad at first, but soon it really started coming down and I could hardly see in front of me. It was a feat just to keep my hood from flying back and I could only look ahead with one eye as the other was being brutally battered by the sky. I passed what they call the ‘lollipop’, a marker for a shallow spot, and I could see the small island that signified a little over half way not too far off. The skiff wouldn’t go any faster, but that’s probably good because the heavy raindrops already stung my skin as I buzzed over the salt water. The coldness was dripping down the sleeve of my rain jacket as I tried to keep my hood from flying off. I was determined to keep that hat dry. My throttle hand was going numb, but I wasn’t about to slow down. I wanted to be there because it was cold and because I had butterflies in my stomach. The closer I got the more they went into a tizzy. I was determined. I was going to Pelican and I didn’t care how much it was raining and I didn’t care how cold it was. Then, suddenly, I broke out of it. I’d punctured the wall of rain and found myself on the other side of it. I could see the edge of the ice plant and the three islands they call first, second, and third (real original Alaska). I was almost there, I was going to make it to Pelican. And it was beautiful.

5. It’s that silly giddy feeling you get in high school when your crush looks at you. That’s how I felt. She’s the Ice Queen because she makes the ice at the plant in Pelican. I’m fairly smitten with her. And by fairly I mean entirely. Really, there’s not too much more I want to divulge about it. Just know I was extremely elated.

Be happy,

Beacon

Whales, whales, whales

               I’m back in Alaska! Woohoo! I’m back with Amber and Gordon and the boat! Yay Alaska! I certainly did miss it here, I always do. Sometimes I pretend like I don’t, but, truly, I always do. It just can’t be beat. The scenery, the food, the people. Nothing has ever compared to it no matter how far I’ve ventured. There’s something innately awesome about that. It may have something to with the incredible scenery and wildlife or it may be that Alaska feels like home. I do feel that way towards boats now and everyone loves their home. So why wouldn’t I love Alaska in that same way? I feel lucky to have found something as cool as this. Really lucky.

Okay, now that I’ve set the stage, let’s talk about whales.

               Whales are pretty cool. I don’t really know what they do all day. Whale stuff I suppose. I just presume whale stuff is pretty cool. Maybe it isn’t, but I think it is. So, the other day we were headed from south Chatham up to Sitka. We were loaded down with around 200 totes of fish, kings and cohos, and only sinking a little bit. It’d been a lot of running the few days before that and we were a little bit ragged from all the nights spent driving up and down the TOTALITY of SE Alaska. Amber was up at the wheel driving and she called down to let us know there were a ton’o’whales happenin’. Not really a big deal because there’re always whales hangin’ about. I mean, it used to be like ‘oh my god whales!’, but now it’s more like ‘cool, some whales, call me if they do something badass’. Sometimes they’ll breach, but you don’t see it all that every time. They have to be in the mood. Lots of the time they’ll do this weird flipper flap thing where they lay on their back and flap a flipper around. It almost looks as if they’re waving at me when they do it. But, mostly, I just watch their little back come out the water when they come up to blow. It’s an awkwardly shaped back too. Well, if you ask me it is. Like they used to have a dorsal fin but it’d been deemed unnecessary during some sort of evolutionary phase. Maybe that's why they're called humpbacks.

The ones Amber had just spotted were off the starboard bow. Humpbacks normally aren’t that exciting. They don’t have the element of grace or danger that orcas do, they just blow a lot. It’s still fun to watch that, don’t get me wrong, but if I’m really comfy somewhere I’m not going to ruin that just to see some little spouts of water being blown upwards from the ocean. Lucky for us, on this particular day, there must’ve been something in the water because the humpbacks were going crazy. We could see them breaching a ways off, sometimes a couple at a time. Really rad. Amber was excited, I was excited, and the greenhorns were REALLY excited. Normally, as we start to get closer to whales, they show us their tail and dive, but Amber took the Deer Harbor out of gear and ghosted up to them. They continued breaching. Over and over and over again. There were these two that just wouldn’t stop breaching and flapping their flippers (flipping their flappers?). Definitely hams. I’m sure they were just trying to impress us with their moves. They certainly weren’t camera shy. It’s a rule of thumb that as soon as I grab my camera the whales disappear, but not this time. They loved it. They bathed in it. They kept at it with zeal, like they were getting paid for this photo shoot. All four of us sat there watching these whales play for half an hour. They were so close that Gordon, the boat dog, was afraid of the giant *SLAP* they would make as they came crashing back down on top of the ocean.

*SLAP*----------*SLAP*----------*SLAP*

Their little humped back

Whale tail 

The force it must take for them to launch out of the water like that…

Flapping flippers and flipping flappers

What a ham

              

All in all, whales are pretty cool. 

Be happy, 

Beacon 

Adios Seattle!

I was still coming down from the days hike. Not physically and not literally, but mentally. I was wrapping my head around the scenery, replaying it over and over again within the boundaries of my mind. I couldn’t believe something so dramatic existed here in Seattle’s backyard. The Cascades had been arcane. When my attention dances away to fantasy worlds, those are the mountains I’ve always found. When I read Lord of the Rings, the Cascades are what Frodo and his rough crew trek through. Not New Zealand, but, apparently, Washington. Those mountains on the Seattle horizon are everything mountains are supposed to be. Jagged, ragged, and protruding from Earth with an urgency. Like frozen, wind-whipped waves. Slanted slabs flaring out of alpine lakes at intense angles. Each distant peak a dark star in the day sky. The peaks were frothy, the slants were serene, and the mountains themselves? They were wicked.

Transcending over it all, dizzyingly, Rainier was in the distance. I could feel Rainier’s presence as I stood atop a small peak, yoked to the earth, looming over me. No matter the distance, if you can see Rainier you can feel it. It’s similar to the look and feel of a full moon in the daytime. As if it’s a backdrop and the world is the stage, so immense that it’s not even real. It looks like a projection or, perhaps, a giant cutout someone has propped up against the horizon. The mountain sits there, with white hair, just watching. Quietly waiting. Watching.

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The view had been the same one I’d seen photographed in a thousand adventure magazines, yet it was still a hundred times better than that. It hadn’t been what I’d expected to see only an hour and a half out of Seattle and I’m still quite shocked. It was incredible, hiking of that quality lying so near a city as large as Seattle, and it wasn’t completely overwhelmed by the masses either. I suppose there were so many peaks, so many little secrets and Easter eggs to be discovered, that the hiking wealth could easily be spread around. For me, it was love at first hike. It made me want to revive manifest destiny. And, when I crested that one tiny summit in the midst of the field of mountains, all I could think was ‘everything I’ve done in life has been worth it, because it got me here, to this view’. Being up there I had wanted to be nowhere else. My breath had been taken, and I didn’t really expect it to be returned anytime soon.

Juke Box and I had climbed one of the countless hikes that disappear skyward to secret lakes nestled in the mountains. It was a steep climb, but absolutely worth it as we laid out next to the clear, cool water. It was pooled between two peaks, perfect for swimming and drinking the Scuttlebutt beers we’d packed up the mountain. I was grateful that Juke had taken the time to bring me here. It was nice being able to have a little bro-time for a while. It keeps a guy sane. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with women, but, when I spend too much time with them I tend to go a bit insane. It seems I always meet up with the opposite sex while traveling. That’s just how it works for me. It’s not often I walk into a bar somewhere and walk out with a bromance you know? It’s always Tinder or meeting a girl out on the town. Long story short, I was pretty thankful for some chill time in the mountains without feeling like I had to impress someone.

Even so, earlier, before the hike, and knowing it was going to be my last night in Seattle, I’d arranged to meet a girl later that night. This would be the last chance I would be able to see a girl in this capacity before work in Alaska began and, needless to say, with 3 months on a boat waiting ahead of me, I was pretty interested in making it happen with a girl that night. Juke knew of my plans and asked me if we should get started down the mountain around five or six since it was a bit of a hike back to where the Mini Cooper was parked at the trailhead. I thought about it.

We were laying in the sun, on a rock slanting into the lake, and we’d just climbed down from the peak behind us which had had a 360 degree view of all the mountains in the area around us, including Rainier. I’d gone for a swim over to the small island in the middle of the lake. It was a hot day and the lake was cold. The sun was out and the beer was good. I really didn’t want to leave. Somehow the thought of one last night with a girl had been dampened. It wasn’t as important as it had seemed that morning. Somehow, I’d lost my sense of urgency. I’d wanted to tell him ‘forget the girl man, the world’s fucking me better right now than she ever could’. Somehow I didn’t say it. I should have, but I didn’t. And I’m typing it now, so that’s close, right? I was probably too afraid to sound like a fluff if I said it. People don’t talk like that in the real world and it scares me sometimes because I think like that a lot. Like a poet. Not that I’m a poet, but sometimes I think whimsically. I’m afraid to talk like a poet though. I don’t like them, but I guess I’ve never met a legit one... Still, I should have said it and, to be honest, I regret not staying at that lake.

The sun was going down over the steep mountains as we hiked out. Looking up at the sky I knew it was beautiful. I knew the whole sky would be afire tonight and the view from the top of the mountain would have been breathtaking. It was sad leaving. But Juke Box had work the next day and I had a girl to meet. I just wish we could have stayed the night. Camped out to watch the sky put a show on for us over that little lake. I wish we would’ve done that. I wish I would’ve let the world fuck me. I prefer stars to ceilings anyways.

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I don’t know how the citizens of Washington have managed to keep all this on the hush. I don’t know how they’ve managed to hide the fact that there is the most amazing, endless hiking right around the corner from their spot on the sound. The only conclusion I can come up with is that the people of Seattle are all required to sign a contract stating ‘I will tell no one, friend or foe, of the treasures we hold’. I’ll probably never be allowed into the club merely because I’ve typed this out. Regardless, kudos to them. I can’t believe it still. I can’t believe how good it was and I can’t believe I’ve never heard a lick about it. They’ve got some discipline, and skill, to keep it all out of the national eye. Props. I’ll be back, don’t think I won’t. You’ve captured my attention if not my heart Seattle. Thanks, a little galvanization always helps the cause.

Be happy,

Beacon

Just a couple more stories before I'm gone

Hitch with truckers

There was one day I woke up and I just didn't want to ride my bike. I don't know what it was or why, but something inside of me was morally opposed to riding a bicycle all day. I didn't wanna do it. Maybe it was my chafed butt or the longer days we'd been pulling? Whatever it was, it was something. Stumbles was kind of tired too, but not like I was. She dragged me out and onto my bicycle somehow.

The wind wasn't even bad, I don't know what was wrong with me. I could go, I just really really really did not want to. I said fuck it. I'd ridden most of the miles for the day and I didn't want to continue hating myself for the next couple hours. It's about the smiles, not about the miles (generally our motto if we had to hitch somewhere due to something or other). I get on the side of the interstate with my professional hitchers stance and thrust my thumb out. I'm mentally prepared to admit to someone I'm just a tired bum who doesn't feel like riding the last bit of miles. I stand there for 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 20. I start singing to myself. 30 minutes. Every passing truck raising my hopes, giving me a shot, but none answering my call. 40 minutes... A semi-truck pulls off on the side of the road. A semi? Really? A fucking semi? 

First off, in all of my professional hitchhiking career around America not one semi-truck has ever pulled over on the side of the interstate to pick me up. Yet here I am, not even properly hitching, with a bicycle on the side of the road, and a semi has pulled over. I really thought he'd just pulled over for something else and it had nothing to do with me. Until he got out of the truck and waved me over. Like seriously? Where am I going to put the bike? I still couldn't believe a semi had pulled over for me. I walk over to where he had pulled onto the shoulder of the interstate. The guy hardly speaks English, but he gestures me into the truck. I gesture to my bike. He gestures to the truck. Whatever, I shrug, climb into the passenger seat, and greet his driving partner sitting in the back bunk. The guy then hands up my bicycle through the passenger door and we manage to fit it in between the passenger and driver seat. He closes my door, runs around the front of the truck, and hops in. Then we're off.

The driver was from Mongolia and his partner, the one in the back bunk, was from Iran. I talked a little bit with the driver, but his English was not very good. He soon reaches around behind the drivers seat, pulls out a half gallon of grapefruit juice, and gets me to fill my water bottles up with them. He goes back to driving and the guy in the back seat starts talking to me. His English was probably better than mine and we instantly launched into traveling stories. I'll never forget, he was telling me about Iran in the present time and some of the political things going on there, when we had this bit of conversation: The reason things are bad right now is because the people who have been deprived and crazed for all of history have finally gotten into power. I asked him what the name of the group was, the group that was now in power. Who are the deprived and crazed? He looked at me as if I was a little slow and answered me simply, "They're the religious people." We both laughed.

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Bozeman

We'd organized a warm showers host for the night in Bozeman, Montana. John was his name, and from everything I could tell (via our texts) he seemed like he'd be a great host. It'd been a long short day. The wind had been brutal and, when we finally got to the pass taking us over the mountain, the hill wasn't even large enough to block the headwind. We were riding uphill and into the wind. I guess we should have been used to the wind by that point in the journey, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t still curse it profusely. The backside wasn’t any better either. We were going downhill, but the wind was making us pedal for that downhill. That’s just wrong.

When we finally arrived at the bottom of the hill and roll off the on ramp on our way to this guy’s house we find him waiting there for us at the first stoplight. A cool greeting to come into town to. He guides us back to his house, through the wall of bushes, and into the back yard.

Turns out we were his first Warm Showers experience. He’d never hosted anyone else before! We got to be the pilot episode for him! He did a damn fine job and I hope we didn’t disappoint him either. He was ecstatic to be hosting us. He’d bought us groceries to make sandwiches with, oranges, watermelon, and he’d made this super incredible guacamole. All of which we devoured. He introduced us to his wife, Donna, and we quickly got the whole story. John had signed up for the Warm Showers program without really ever telling is wife. When he got my message he asked her if it’d be alright for us to stay. She didn’t want anything to do with it. I suppose it is kind of strange to invite smelly strangers into your house for a while? I’m used to it at least. After she wasn’t so receptive to it he asked her “So, I should tell them: Sorry, you can’t stay here because my wife is a bitch?” She agreed to let us stay. Her and Stumbles kicked it off super great. And you could tell she actually was having a good time. We hung out and chatted and laughed and drank before finally the mention that maybe we should stay an extra day came up. Just like that, it turned out we were zeroing in Bozeman.

It happened to be one of my favorite zero days. Why? Because we did absolutely nothing and it was absolutely fantastic. Literally, all day, we sat out in ‘wicker heaven’, what they call their outdoor patio, reading and drinking beer. I can’t even describe how good it was for me to just have a reading zero during this bike ride. For some reason that was all I’d been craving. And It was sweet bliss. 

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There ya' go, two more small stories from the adventure. I'm off to Alaska in a few days! Not totally sure if I'll get some more biking stories out there or maybe some other stories, but I'll do my best! 

Hope everyone is happy out there, 

Beacon

P.S. Good job supreme court.