FINISH LINE

//location:

     Brian's 

     Portrero Hill, San Francisco

//time: 1:19 pm 

//mi: 1,027

//from where I write:

Oh, articulation articulation how do I do this. 

Okay. Hang with me for this one. 

You know when you're in love + you find yourself walking around with a dumb ol smile wiped across your face, like you have a big fat secret? And your stomach gets all tight + bubbly and you just want to stop and close your eyes real tight and squeal? And stop passersby, grab 'em by the shoulders, look 'em straight in the face + tell them how in love you are?

That's how I've felt since the moment I rode under that first towers of the Golden Gate Bridge yesterday. 

I had to pull over like three times over the bridge's 1.7 miles just to soak everything up and embrace how real this all was. And the past two days being here I just can't placate my smile walking around. I feel like such a dang goof. 

And I need need to scribble down all this euphoria before it fizzles out into just a "Yeah, it was great!" but it's so hard to just sit still and pen it out cause I'm too freaking excited about everything and I, well, yeah, I love everything and things right now are so great + cool + perfect and I wish I had a better vocabulary to communicate my satisfaction, but oh well deal with this 'cause this is love unprocessed and it feels incredible. 

Salvador knows what's up.

I woke up around 6 this morning -- first one awake at the site. I rolled up my inflatable sleeping pad real tight; it'll be staying like this for a while, unfortunately. Dusted my tent off extra well as it was also fated to life in my Brooklyn closet for some time. I think I'll be taking 'em to Maine next, but I'll leave reveal of these plans for another post. 

It was only 27 miles from Samuel P. Taylor to here. Real relaxed. And it was Sunday, so lots and lots of cyclists zipping around with me as I rode closer and closer to SF. Like the fancy carbon-fiber-ultralightweight-i-spend-a-considerable-portion-of-my-disposable-income-on-cycling-swag-and-i-want-you-to-know cyclists. (I'm just being bitter; that'd be a fun thing to be able to afford to be.) 

[But also okay tiny side note: I feel like those kinds of cyclists -- the racer/day rider sorts -- and touring cyclists are entirely different breeds. Generally speaking, that is. I feel like touring cyclists are more laid back, not so competitive, more into where they're riding vs. how fast they can get there.]

Going through Sausalito, I knew I was getting closer and closer to the bridge. And, I mean, you know the Golden Gate Bridge: it's iconic, outstandingly recognizable, significant (to me, almost on a personal level). Around each turn and over each hill (hot damn there were so many once I got into Sausalito and obviously downtown SF), I got a little more excited.

Sausalito, Calif.

Like, you know when you were a kid and flew places and your mom/dad/aunt/uncle would come into the airport and wait for you right at the other end of the airport tram? And you knew to expect them there. And you emerge feeling a little giddy, and you smile as you scan all the faces looking for the right one. And then you run up and jump into their arms. 

That's how I felt approaching the bridge. I saw the tip of the towers peaking up as I was wrestling my way up the final hill before the bike pathway and immediately felt confirmation of everything. Like, oh hey, yeah there you are, you. I knew you'd be there, but seeing you here like that makes me comfortable. I knew you'd be here. Thank you. 

"Did this really just -- am I really here now, today, already?" And it stood there in its red, "Yes."

Was struggling with a selfie and a stranger walked up with her rent-a-bike and offered to take the photo. I said thank you, thank you, And then I told her I was really excited about everything right now. And she was nodding, "Yeah!" And I continued, "I just got in from Seattle and ugh it's been so incredible and today is so beautiful, isn't it??" She switches her purse to her other shoulder, "Yeah, I just in from Miami. It's great!" 

-_-

Brunchward bound, I struggled with some of the nutso hills of San Francisco before surrendering and just throwing my bike on a bus. 

Got off a few streets away from Bisou and began to bike there. I'd been looking forward to these mimosas every since I made the reservation five days ago. And suddenly I hear "Lily!"

I whip around to see Spencer + Shay (Brian's roommate + girlfriend respectively) walking on the sidewalk I'd just zipped by. I met Spencer once or twice back in Gainesville and a third time when I was in SF last fall; I didn't know him too well. Shay I'd never met before. (Brian was on a flight back to SF at the time, but quick intro: good friend since the beginning of college, met on a caving trip in Tennessee, traveled parts of China with him -- he's the coolest.) I gave them hugs followed by a disclaimer that I'll probably end up drunk by the end of brunch. It's cool, they knew I was tryna celebrate. Mike + Raphael met us at Bisou not long after we'd arrived there; we were already a couple mimosas deep waiting.

Though I'd read Bisou had great brunch, I was not charmed by the atmosphere and service at all. Food was decent and mimosas were pretty solid, but I could barely even hear myself think in the booming lounge-like space. Horrendous acoustics. I felt like I was in Miami or something. I wish we could've had a more downtempo meal where we could've all exchanged stories and lingered in the sun a bit. Kind of disappointed with my choice, but anyway onward and upward. Or downward; read on, and please keep in mind that I'm still rocking my cycling outfit and cleats, which are pretty dang slippery on anything not-bike-pedals. 

So, in my graceful exit, I slid down an entire flight of stairs and silenced the whole restaurant. Like, dead silent. The servers + bartenders quickly filled the silence with ARE YOU OKAYs.

I sprung back up, threw the restaurant a peace sign and was like, "I'm fine -- just biked from SEATTLE" and sauntered out of there. 

Bottomless does have a bottom, and it is nine.

[to my potential employers and family members: I apologize you have stumbled upon this, but, you know, I did just biked from Seattle, soooo] 

A proud moment and ironic end to the tour: my biggest injury was not on my bike, not on the road, not in the wilderness. But, hey, now I have a nebula on my ass and I'm okay with that.

(left) the damage (right) the art

Mike + Raph + I spent the rest of the day exploring Twin Peaks and the Sunset neighborhood, satiated a vicious affogato craving, eventually wandered into a tasty Senegalese restaurant for dinner, then parted ways. See y'all in New York. 

From Twin Peaks.

It was a gorgeous day: sunny, breezy, crisp, done. The day was done. My first solo bike tour, 1000+ miles of camping, an entire bottle of mustard, the month of August -- done. 

Post-production has always been slow for me. Emotional processing unfolds over several days, weeks following an end. And it's never quite finished, but is ever evolving. Goodbyes don't sink in until it's too late and we are too far.

For this trip though, there's not a "too late" or "too far."  And a goodbye is more of just a see-you-later anyway. While this may be the end of this trip, it's only started many more. And each has already begun, from exactly where this one had: in my mind as a mere what-if. From there it will become a promise -- to no one but myself at first. Next, words. A plan, a map, a day of tools, grease and sweat, the first mile. 

It feels good to be in love, and this is what this trip has felt like. Cheers to every mile. Cheers not to goodbyes, but see-you-laters. 

DAY 22

//location:

     Samuel P. Taylor State Park

     Lagunitas, Calif.

//time: 9:52 pm

//mi: 996

//from where I write:

Wow I haven't been this self-loathingly full in a long time. Like, lying on my stomach right now to write this is almost unbearable. 

This is pathetic. 

Jessica, Alban + I had planned to have this grand Last Night Feast. Camping together last night at Bodega Dunes, we got a little sentimental. It feels strange that my days on the road are ending; I know it'll only have been 23 days (and a scant 23rd at that -- planning a very early arrival in SF tomorrow am) but this life is just so drastically different from any norm I've been lived, it feels like it's been forever. For Jess + Alban, though, it really has been forever. Like, how do you snap back into normal life after 16 months and the world behind you? I was third-party-sentimental for them. I felt like I've really bonded with them in this final stretch and I'm so so incredibly happy for them and proud of their journey. It's weird to me that their end is tomorrow, too. 

And so, since all things worth celebrating should be celebrated with good food, we committed to indulgence and dreamt about the feast to come for our day's 41 miles.

I bought a giant loaf of bread from this lil bakery in Tomales (which was crawling with cyclists holy crap -- all the day rides our from San Francisco and Sausalito etc. It is Saturday, after all), a thing of brie, wine, chocolate, bananas, zucchini, corn and a giant bulbous eggplant, which I ended up wedging under my saddle and above my rack, secured with my bandana. It worked, but my legs kept rubbing up on it every other push on the pedals. Yum ~seasoning~. Ok. (Btw, wondering how I packed all this? I've become a master of Tetris feat. Obscurely Shaped Objects.)

Ew even writing and reminiscing about it now makes me a lil nauseous. TOO SOON.

And I'm actually too full to continue lying on my stomach + so I'ma finish writing this in the morning. And I think I'm feeling the wine and stuff and maybe some sadness that this is over. Or maybe it's happiness. Idk can't tell 2 full 4 emotions.

Last Night Feast: roasted eggplant + zuch + corn, brie + bread, inventive cheddar, eggplant+egg, tomato wrap (tied and toasted, of course). And of course, wine wine wine. 

dessert

//morning after

ok it's very early right now like 6:15 am and it's chilly so ima make this quick. got up at the butt crack of dawn so i can make my brunch res in SF. I'm stoked. But still recovering from dinner last night holy crap.

There were more cyclists at this camp than I've seen at any other. Fifteen total. We had a lil tent city going on. Everyone was super friendly. When I arrived (around 6pm), Alban + Jess were already there. Another couple and then a solo who all just rode up for a weekend camping escape. Oh, and another solo dude and i forget what his story thing was. Anyway, I rolled up to the entry gate and the ranger told me three poopy things: 1) $7 instead of the usual $5; 2) no showers due to the severity of the drought; 3) the regular hiker/biker site was full and i'd be the first at the overflow site, which he described as "off this second loop here, past the bathrooms and then up this hill..." and as soon as he said "up" I was like nah fuck that noise, sir, I camp where I pleaaaaase and rolled out. As I rolled into the NONoverflow site, I was welcomed with "hello stranger! have some wine!" and I was like MUH PEOPLE.

Anyway, gtg pack up things and Jessica said she + Alban wanted to get up at 6:45 to say bye to me, so that's going to be a lil sad goodbye soon. ugh. all these things. 

I'll just eat this banan--HOLY CRAP FUCKING CHIPMUNKS TORE A HOLE IN MY TRUNK AND STOLE MY PITA WHAT IS THIS A JOKE COME ON IM ALMOST DONE WITH THE TOUR JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE LOOK HOW MANY OTHER PEOPLE'S SHIT IS IN THIS CAMP WHY COULDNT YOU FIND SOMETHING ELSE OR JUST DO YOUR NATURE THING AND EAT EARTH STUFF GOD.

goodbye.

comrades 

chowtime

DAY 21

//location:  

     Bodega Dunes​

     Bodega Bay, Calif.​

//time: 9:15 pm​

//mi. 950​

//from where I write:​

Penultimate night! 

And for the rest of the ride I will smell like I just stepped out of a campfire.  finally able to do laundry (free showers yay!). Dried all my clothes by waving them over the campfire. 

Today was a shirt lil guy: 30 mi. Sonoma County's killin' me though. Still the ever unrythymic rolling hills. And my bike's been acting funny when I switch gears. Like, I'm used to it sticking + clanking up sometimes but now it's just like every skgle hill. And I have to stop, pull to the side (highway 1 doesn't really have a shoulder whatsoever) and manually switch gears.   

Typical scenery of today.

That lil speck on the road is a cyclist, for scale. Gorgeous ride, but killer offbeat hills and coming down em, you're flying and trying to keep your eyes and ears to the shoulderless road. Also, I could hear sea lions barking the whole way ^_^

Also these suicide shifters are tough -- every switch into a gear is a task. I have to time the motion just right and balance with the incline + traffic. Lately, it's been a struggle and I just end up covered in grease by the end of the day. 

Three days, 100 miles, no shower whadddddup.

Bodega Bay is a cute little town. I dropped my stuff off and set up my tent at the campground just a mile north of town, then rode in to get few groceries and a snack/dinner #1. Called up my little brother and chatted with him for a bit. He starts college in about a week and that's exciting and stuff.

Dinner #1: a fish taco, and a fried artichoke heart taco from The Birds Cafe. I could've eaten like four more.

And this was Dinner #2. Tomato, Swiss and sundried tomato + evoo tuna, tied up and toasted. If anything from this trip kills me, it'll be mercury poisoning.

Alban + Jessica showed up at camp today! They're so fun. I've loved sharing bits of this last leg with 'em. They're just the kind of couple who when you're hanging with 'em, you just feel like you're hanging out with two best friends. You know? They're the kind of couple that make you so happy they're together because it just makes sense. 

Their entire journey -- every day of it -- Alban has documented in his journal. I think he's on his fourth or fifth book. He swears by Moleskine. And they've logged each point extensively, too. Coordinates, date, km/day, total km (they're right on the cusp of 15,000) and one short, outstanding note about the day. 

Alban + Jessica's log.

Jessica has a brick of a journal going, too. Beautiful leather book holding photos, sketches and portraits, various tickets, etc. Very culturally rich and colorful. 

Iran; Jessica's book.

Cambodia; Jessica's book.

Jessica's book.

Laos (I think?); Jessica's book. They met this old man in Japan. He asked them if they liked beer, and then rushed inside his home and brought out beer galore, sake, and that frozen octopus.

And they also shared with me their photo collection of people they've met + shared memories with along the way. As j flipped through their collection, they got excited about each photo and shared a story about the person. Where they met, what they were like. I had such a good time looking through their trip like this. Then it was my turn, pajamas and all.

They always take two photos: one to keep and one as a gift.

One of Jessica's sketches is of a woman selling grilled bananas off a street cart in Thailand.

I suddenly remembered that I had just bought a banana and thus dessert was decided. (I had intended to eat for breakfast, but I keep accidentally eating my breakfast for dessert.)

Alban + Jessica had a bunch of bananas (the traveler's best friend) and threw a couple over the fire, too. We stuk some dark chocolate covered cookies in them and watched as they bubbled + charred over the flames.

And as we were banana grilling, this trio of European guys roll into camp, sit down at the other picnic table and start playing the ukulele. Just strumming away.

It was pretty funny. Usually I set up camp right when I arrive, and most cyclists do from what I've noticed. Seemed like they came there to play their uke. It went well with the bananas. 

There was an Italian, Slovenian and French dude. Flew to Vancouver, bought bikes, and set sights on San Francisco. They were funny. We all shared the fire for the night, and now I'm passing out snug in my sleeping bag. 

Jessica drew this for me and left it in my handlebar bag. Found it when I woke up the next morning :) That thing on the back is this two pound whale I bought two days ago. It was an impulse buy, is heavier than my tent, and I do not regret the purchase whatsoever.

DAY 20

//location: 

     I forget where, and for some reason didn't bother recording it in my book either. I think it was when I stopped to whip up a quick lunch outside Sea Ranch, Calif. 

//time: unsure

//mi: unsure

//from where I write: unsure  

Whoooo this California coast is a wild one. 

Small climbs but they're continuous. But not even in a rhythmic undulation--it's like, off-beat rolling hills that you can't quite really lock your mind into. Usually with climbs I can do that, but these hills are just annoying. 

I'd much rather one behemothly large one + smooth sailing the rest of the day. Leggett was a good day. 

Ran into Alban + Jessica on the road again yesterday.  Now, with my modified itinerary, were set to arrive in SF the same day, so I'm sure we'll see each other lots over the next three days. 

As I ride down the way to Manchester Beach State Park (where I camped last night. not recommended: no showers, no flush toilets, no lights in the bathroom, cantakerous old host), I saw Alban + Jessica's little orange 'WORLD TOUR' flag and immediately recognized them.

They stuck their arms up to wave and a third sprung up alongside. The three all called out my name.

"Yoooo!" and I squinted at the other guy, but didn't recognize him. 

"Heyyy," I said, and rolled to a stop. And I looked over to the new guy, "I don't know youuuu."

He introduced himself as Jön, from Canada. He said he was happy to finally meet me after Alban + Jess asked him about me, if he saw me along the way or something. And he said he just met Mike + Raphael along the road, who also asked about me. And earlier in the day, he's met Ignacio (whom I met at Standish-Hickey) and Ignacio asked him about me and how I was doing. 

And Jön was just like, WHO IS LILY I DONT KNOW A LILY. 

And then I roll up like, yo. 

This is why touring is fun. 

// 

And here are some photos from my twentieth day on the road:

Just north of Albion, Calf.

Architectural pit stop: coastal hike along some Sea Ranch neighborhoods.

Sea Ranch, Calif. Overlooking coastal cliffs.

Sea Ranch, Calif.

Sea Ranch, Calif.

Sea Ranch, Calif.

Sea Ranch Chapel 

Sea Ranch Chapel

DAY 18

//location:

     Russian Gulch State Park​

     Mendocino, Calif.​

//time: 7:00 pm​

//mi: 846​

//from where I write:​

Was really feeling writing a second ago, but suddenly just overcome by urgent desire to shower.

Ok. Grand. That felt good. Actually, it was rather tepid and unsatisfying. ​

Though I did find a little bottle of abandoned peach ginger shampoo in the shower, so that made me feel queenly. And in feeling queenly, I remembered I had thrown in a couple little sample packs of Kiehl's overnight biological peels, so lathered up with that stuff. Little luxuries make a big difference on the road. ​

I'm accidentally way ahead of schedule. Originally I had told myself I'd arrive by Sept. 1. Modified that to Aug. 27. ​

Now, it's looking like Aug. 24 and that's even with me cutting some days' mileage in half.​

ive deduced the reason I keep accidentally jumping ahead of schedule is because these days have just been so beautiful--of course I don't want to ​stop biking. 

shot along the way 

shot along the way (today was distractingly beautiful) 

shot along the way 

Plus, I can feel myself getting stronger + my body adapting to these longer days. Six hours of biking every day doesn't feel so bad. Funny, though, that despite the fact that I had trained in the months leading up to this, I haven't had any cramps or body aches or anything. Sometimes when I'm tackling climbs my lower right back will really pinch up, but I can tolerate it if I take a break now and then.

Like ok today: supposed to be just a 30 mi day since a) I needed to draw my trip out and wait for Brian to get back to SF on the 25th, and b) I figured I'd be beat from all the climbs. (Today was nutso hilly and was the day of the infamous Leggett Hill.)

But I passed my original end point and I was like, you know what--don't feel like stopping. So I didn't. And then before I knew it, I'd shaved off my tomorrow. 

Russian Gulch State Park

Leggett. Oh, Leggett. Deserves a mention among the records for sure.​

This was scrawled on the inside of the food safe box at Standish-Hickey, the campground right before the climb.

I'd first heard about Leggett from Parker back in Bruceport, Wash.  He told me all the cyclists I meet leading up to Leggett will be having a fit about it, but it's not all that bad. 

I kept repeating that to myself every time my mind wandered to the memory of the elevation profile.  

Like, look at it. 

It was a long climb. About 3.3 mi over an hour--and perfectly fit to the 60min long This American Life episode I'd downloaded over breakfast this morning. (I find podcasts great accompaniment for climbs.) And as always, the downhill made up for the uphill. Hairpin turns, which are kinda scary, and I maxed speed @ 46 mph. Yoooo.

Oh! And I ran into Alban + Jessica again today. Just a brief passing and hello. 

And speaking of people who are doing nutso crazy things, I also met a dude who's walking from Tampa to Seattle. He was also staying at Standish-Hickey Campground last night.

He's 23, and when in introduced himself to me, for some reason I knew he was a "ph" Stephen. He handed me his card later and I was very satisfied to turn it over and, yep, sure enough. Ha.

He walks 15-20 mi/day. His shirt yesterday read "walked here from Florida." Today, "Google."

Anyway, we ate breakfast at this little place across the street from camp.  

As we sat outside with our breakfast burritos, I watched several cyclists pedal by. Leggett-bound. Dooooom. I felt like I was watching troops send off to war. I waved at each one of them + said "good luck" in such a whisper, I don't even think Stephen heard me.

He's quite the interesting character. Each sentence he speaks ends with a decisive period. These are facts I know, he seemed to say. He knew a lot about psychology. Ran an SEO/social media management business. 

Sometimes I just wanted to close  my eyes and watch the sun make patterns of my eyelid. Sometimes silence in the mornings is nice.

As I was gearing up to leave, we talked more about Leggett. "Don't make a mountain of a hill," he said encouragingly, despite him confessing from his observations yesterday that Leggett would actually fall in the category of Tiny Mountain. 

"Nope!" I said. "Ain't nothing. Not a big deal. No such thing as mountains." I hopped on my bike.

"If there weren't mountains," he said, "we'd have no valleys." 

Of course, dude walking across the U.S. 

"Touché," I said, clipped in my shoes and ride off.

View after the Leggett climb and outside the forest that followed. Smelled the ocean before I saw it :)

DAY 16

//location:

     Burlington Campground

     Humboldt Redwoods State Park, Calif.​

//time: 9:25 pm​

//mi: 736​

//from where I write: ​

Today was gorgeous + yummy + full of kind people.

Gorgeous: sunny, relatively flat the whole 50 mi, slight tailwind, first few miles on Avenue of the Giants, which is basically just like swimming through redwood forests. Generous shoulder on 101 made for a relaxing ride as well. 

Yummy:  started off the day with an epic breakfast at a poppin' joint in Eureka called Chalet House of Omelettes. Line out the door and around the side of the restaurant - of course it was good. Asparagus, mushroom + tomato omelette with Hollandaise and two pancakes fluffed to heavenly perfection. Then posted up at a cozy coffee shop, Old Town Coffee & Chocolates. Americano + dark chocolate almond biscotti. Later, another Safeway waffle doughnut + made myself a tofurkey, swiss, avocado sandwich for dinner. Which brings me to another reason I love touring: I get to justifably eat any and everything I want all day, errday. It's great. Lowfat chocolate milk? Nah, pass me that whole goodgood. Ice cream for dinner? Y'all know I'm about that life. 

Kind people: waitress at breakfast was genuinely caring when asking about my trip and have me some advice to avoid a couple areas down the road. Said they were seedy areas. And a particularly more than usual # of people congratulated me and cheered me on today. + dudes at the Henderson Center Bicycles helped me with my new cyclometer (I just couldn't stand riding any longer without one) and gave me a bunch of free energy gels. But also a highlight of my day was meeting Alban, and eventually his wife Jessica.

I was unlocking my bike outside the coffee shop when this man approached me with a curious sounding "Hello?" But seemed to linger just long enough to form itself into an exclamation point.

I whipped around, studying the man for less than a second. "Hi!" 

He asked me where I was going. 

I couldn't tell if whe was just a kooky dude roaming the streets or if he, too, was a cyclist.

His "Me too!" to my "San Francisco"  confirmed the latter.

But then he totally threw me.  

"Oh nice, nice. Heyyyy." (I usually say something like this in reply because 8/10 people you meet on this last leg are SF-bound.)

I asked him where he started. 

"We start in France." 

whut. 

So, Alban + his wife, Jessica, started in France, crossed Europe, through China, Laos, Cambodia, then to Japan; flew over to Seattle and are in the final 250 mi of their nearly 10,000 mi + 16 month journey.  (and their blog, if you know French: www.lattitudeterre.com).

I almost bowed down right there in the street. Ridiculous. Incredible.

I realize there is a tree blocking half the bike, but you get it.

Their setup is something I'd never seen before. While it's technically a tandem, it's not your traditional doubled up bicycle. Theirs is made by some German manufacturer (figures): the front seat is recumbent + the rear is like a regular upright bicycle seat + handlebars. Later, Jessica and Alban explained that as they were choosing the bike during their planing phase-which began 5 years ago--they saw this one at a bike festival in Switzerland; they thought it was perfect because unlike the traditional tandem, both riders share the view. 

I was in awe of their contraption and entire adventure, and Alban offered to let me take a cruise down the street with him.

WHOAH YES. 

So I sat in the recumbent seat, where Jessica normally rides. Alban unhitched the trailer and hopped on back. 

Derrrp. Ok not the best selfie, and you can't tell we're riding a bike. But you can tell how much fun we're having and that's all that matters. 

It was surprisingly easy and super fun. Though it did feel a little strange not having control over the breaks. That was all Alban, and gear shifting, too. They never swapped spots, he said.

 We chatted for a bit longer. Just bike stuff.

We really appreciated being able to take the time out of life to so a trip like this (though, this is the stuff of life, no?); me one month, Alban + Jessica 24 of 'em. 

Then we geeked out over how cycling is the best pace to experience things, and how addictive touring is. 

There's hardly really a "goodbye" on tour, so we said our see-you-laters and I made my way out of Eureka. 

DAY 15

//location:

     Gold Bluffs​

     Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park​

//time: 10:05 am​

//mi: 2hungry4math ​

//from where I write:​

​I am absolutely starving.

And I already went through my last resort protein bar stash last night (shaaaame).

new low

Went on a hike + came back insatiable so I fought my way through the Clif bars. And mashed up a sorry can of salmon sigh some dijon mustard, shoved it into a pita and convinced myself it was dinner. 

My stomach is grumbling so intensely right now. Wow. 

& had half a pita for breakfast and now the only good I have left with me is an envelope of the sundried tomato + olive oil tuna whose package advertises it as "gourmet," and on this trip, I've come to agree. 

Of course, it doesn't help that I'm reading Ruth Reichl right now. It's a memoir of her time as the NY Times restaurant critic. All this woman does is eat + love lood + love New York. And her story is entertaining so I can't stop reading, but it's making me deliriously hungry.

It's also making me miss NY and the industry and warm food and sushi and all other good things that aren't six miles up a dirt+gravel climb. 

Also, talking about NY with Mike (cyclist mike, not hitchhike mike), made me miss it a lot, too. He lives there. 

I'm so excited to move into my place in Brooklyn. It's in a more industrial area right in bk navy yard, but seems spacious and the price is great, too. I like one of my roommates a lot + the other I haven't met but I trust the one's judgement so I'm sure the other guy's cool, too.

Actually for some funny reason, I trust Elijah's judgement so much that I don't even know what the place looks like. I don't think I've ever gone into something so blind before. Should be fun! 

Ok I'm pretending like I'm not thinking about food right now by that's honestly all I can fill my imagination with. Can't wait to buy a waffle iron and unpack my one egg wonder pan.

Damn it Ruth Reichl and your sashimi + wine poached pears + lobster risotto. 

Currently waiting for this family to get back from their little a.m. beach stroll so I can tether my bike to their car roof and peace outta here. It's cold, kind of misty, breezy. Mini rockslides keep shooting off the cliffs in front of my.  

Especially toward the tail end of my hitchhike ride yesterday, I couldn't ston obsessively assessing the gravely road to Gold Bluffs. 

As thankful as I was that I'd been offered a ride down, I was just as terrified of the thought of venturing back in the morning. 

Last night during my hike I decided I was pretty much left with two options: 

1) scope out camp + see who's leaving tomorrow, and who of those folk has a vehicle that would be capable of accommodating my bike; 

2) get up early +  begin what I'd anticipated to be a 3hr fight with the hills and sand.

So this morning I woke up, and on my waddle to the bathroom (drank way too much water las night to satiate hunger), I stopped to talk to the family whose site I'm sitting at now.  

As my eyes widened explaining the six miles of gravely impossibilities, they eagerly offered to throw my bike on top of their SUV and drive me out to paved road.

So, so thankful. 

Dominic, Mia + Terry, you've made my day and saved me 3 hours and an unquantifiable volume of frustration.   

DAY 14 PT. II

continued from previous post. still basking beachside.

God, life feels really good right now. Sunny, sprawled out belly-down on the warm beach sands here at Gold Bluffs. Slight breeze. Closing my eyes to rest about every third sentence.

It actually feels very strange to not be biking right now, especially given that my past two days were both 60ish miles. 

[here, I fell asleep, drooled on my arm and woke up in a sweaty panic, as you so when falling asleep in the sun.] 

Feast your eyes upon the most comprehensive David Foster Wallace collection I've yet to see.  I wish I could've nabbed em all.

I'm kind of dreading tomorrow. A super sweet lady (you rock, Debbie!) working at Mercer Street Books in Seattle recommended Gold bluffs to me as soon as she heard about my tour. (Mercer Street Books, by the way, is the best used bookstore I've been to. Very respectable collection and ultra-decent prices.)

I'm not sure I'm so glad I troubled the trek out down here, though. Davidson Rd., leading to Gold Bluffs, turned into packed gravel + sand shortly after it'd begun. Maybe there was some sort of smooth, continuous surface deep down, but dang it have to have been way deep.

The climb was so steep and unstable, I ended up walking my bike. Two miles passed, myself reconsidering my choie and cursing my stubbornness appx. every 1/4 mi. 

Is this even worth it?  

Debbie said it was absolutely awesome.  

Ok, fine. I bet it is.  

6 miles to the campground though?

 Fern Canyon does sounds pretty sweet.

It's worth it. ​

Occasionally a truck or SUV would pass and I would resurrect one of my many Imagined Scenarios of the Road.​

This particular one involves me toiling my way up a difficult hill and some gracious soul stopping to offer a ride.​

In previous instances I'd imagined this, as n​I've as the offer was, I played it out with a polite, stubborn and sweaty decline. But this time, I imaginary-promised myself I'd definitely take it. 

With another four miles to the campground, I had already been walking for ~45 min. Tried to bike a stretch and lost balance in the gravel, pounding myself and my 70lbs of luggage into the ashy bed of clay and rock.

A large truck passed, kicking up dust into my face and adding to accumulated plaster on the roadside plants.​ Then, a Nissan Xterra -- passed, then paused. 

Imagined Scenario of the Road #13 was becoming a reality. The man, Mike, unloaded a cardboard box of about a dozen large potato chip bags from his truck as he made room for my bike.

How strange, I thought. He was coming from Canada and his friends back in SF requested he bring back the Canadian ketchup flavored Lay's.​

He was very nice and we made small talk till we arrived at the campground. He said I looked miserable walking my bike.​

And when -- from Mike's passenger seat -- I told the park ranger I was here for one night, hiker/biker site, please, she dryly said, "You have to arrive on foot or on a bike for those."

I, still sweaty in my dusty neon cycling jersey, looked at her and pointed to my bike as I explained the situation. Like, seriously lady, you bike here from Seattle and tell me, after that nightmarish 6mi road, that I can't have my $5 camping site. ​

//location:​

     Fern Canyon​

     Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park​

//time: 6:18 pm​

//mi: hiked here, idk​

//from where I write:​

I won't write much because it's pretty chilly here, but just been poking around this gorgeous Fern Canyon place here. Stunning to be surrounded by these towering walls laced with fern. They look like small green hands. And the stream's icy, and the pebbles are soft. Pictures might portray this place better, though I think this is one of those places/moments that can't entirely be captured so concisely. 

DAY 14

//location:

     Gold Bluffs Beach​

     Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park, Calif.

//time: 2:34 pm​

//mi:​ will calculate later bc I lost my cyclometer

//from where I write:​

Yay rest day! Probably knocked out a solid six miles today. Eat my SHORTS. 

Though I couldn't tell ya exactly since my cyclometer popped off my bike yesterday. I have no clue where though. I just remember glancing down at one point to work out some mileage calculations and nope - no numbers, no​ nothing. Kind of bummed about it. It's not a necessary device but sure is helpful. And satisfying. And motivating. Earlier in the day, I remember envisioning the 999.99 tick up to 1000.00. I'd be in San Francisco at that point. It was going to be exciting. 

And it still will be exciting, just demetricated. ​

Oh also something funny and cool happened yesterday. First of all, we made it to California. Mike + Raphael + I got into Crescent City and went grocery shopping right at Safeway. Since being on the road, I find myself more and more stunned and incompetent in grocery stores: there are just so many options. And I still always want flowers when I see them.

From the depths of the produce section, between the $4.99 watermelons I wish I could carry and the $7.99 pre-cut fruit medley that I would never pay for, I spotted a display of waffles. Like, stacks of waffles.

They were in the bakery's doughnut case. Does this mean--I didn't want to rush into any assumptions, so I shuffled my way over to the case to confirm. Yes. Yes these were doughnut waffles. California, what are you doing you incredible genius, you.  

My mouth literally dropped into an "o" and my eyes followed, widening at the possibility. I rushed around the store to find Mike and alert him of my discovery. I think he was moderately amused. Or was at least acting like it because he didn't know how else to react to my excitement. I keep forgetting I don't actually know these guys that that well, and maybe not everyone finds waffles as thrilling as I do.

After groceries, the boys dropped me off at a cafe to blog as they forged ahead; they do longer days than me. We said our goodbyes and promised to meet up in San Francisco.

Everything that day was perfect: tailwind, smooth back roads, and sunshine as soon as we crossed the border, as if someone had just flipped the lights on and fog machine off. California was so far so good. It kinda sucked that my day's ride would be coming to a close so soon; Mill Creek Campground, where I was planning to stay, was a mere hour south of Crescent City. Tis was the kind of day that made you want to pedal on forever.

So, I did. Or as forever as daylight would let me.

Not far past the Mill Creek Campground entrance, I spotted to bikes thrown into the bush by the road. I immediately recognized the panniers and setup as Mike+Raphael's.

"Oh my god," I said aloud to myself as I broke into a smile and almost a giggle, pumping out the last few feet of the climb. Of course they got distracted. I propped my bike up against a sign and climbed over the fallen Sequoia that I assumed they'd ventured over. And there they were, just chillin at the other end of the tree. Hangin' out. 

Every time I see a sign like this, it's like freakin' Mario star power. INVINCIBLE.

We bike together for a whole longer and after a satisfying flight down the mountain, I saw the perfect beach for what is been hoping for: a crisp Pacific swim. The boys and I said goodbye again, since they still had another 20 miles in their day, and it was already 6pm. My new destination, I decided, was only another few miles down the road.

So, I walked to the far far end of the beach, made myself a tuna sandwich and a peanut butter banana, took my pants off and eased in just to my belly button. It was absolutely freezing. Refreshing, but freezing; there was no way I'd go for a fully immersed swim. I don't imagine biking while wet is very pleasant either.

I ditched the few-miles-down-the-road campsite 'cause the hustlers wanted $20. I'm not paying $20, as a cyclist, to pitch my tent on a groomed lawn and pee in a flushable toilet.

So, onward into Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park I rode. 

Way deeper into the park, approaching Elk Prairie Campground, I recognized those same panniers and the twinkling red lights that were no other than Mike + Rapahel's. 

They looked back as I rode up to them and started laughing. I put my hand by the side of my face to hide as I laughed and cruised right between them. "Noooope" I  called out.

Funny. We resolved to just stop saying goodbye to each other 'cause it was getting pointless. I'm not sure I really believe in goodbyes anyway. 

This is Big Tree. It's about 1500 yrs old, 21.6 ft wide and 304 ft tall.

Raphael + Mike way up. This whole grove was like a giant playground. 

[very sunny out + im falling asleep now. will continue in a bit]

DAY 12

//location:

     Harris Beach State Park​

     Brookings, Ore.​

//time: 9:45 pm​

//mi: 568​

//from where I write:​

Today was The Ultimate. Longest day I've ridden so far (62 mi), but definitely the most fun. (Also I'm seven miles from the California border yeeeeehaw.) 

Last night I slept at Cape Blanco, which ended up being like 7 miles off 101 (merr -_-) but gorgeous anyway. 

I was the only cyclist camping there. I heard Hugman Mtn State Park 11 mi down the road was a pretty popular bike spot so I'm guessing there were lots of folks bunched up down there. Or that's what that other cyclist Eric told me anyway. He was trying to get me to meet up with him down there but by the time evening was rolling in, I was afraid of a potential downpour and I really wasn't trying to go for another hour on the road. (I forget if I wrote about that Eric dude on here yet -- I'm a little backed up in my journal transcriptions. He's the dude who's doing Canada to Mexico on a fixie to "find himself," though I think that sounds more like a death wish.)

But anyway, we've been keeping tabs on each other and checking in for safety. Becca and I are also still in touch, but she's like 2 or 3 days behind me. I heard other cyclists talking about her and her 45 lb dog she's tugging around the other day and got really excited and butted in the conversation from across the camp all "hey that's my crazy friend!" 

Anyway, right, so back to Cape Blanco. After eating half a loaf of cranberry walnut bread I picked up at a little bakery in Bandon (holy dang delicious) for my pre- breakfast (heh), I did the 7 mi warmup ride to 101 then continued onward to the next little town, Port Orford, where I spotted the snugly populated parking lot of Paradise Cafe. My brain did the immediate diner=eggs translation thing; I saw two other touring bikes, leaned by bike against a bench and headed in. 

Someone to my right all the way down at the end of the bar by a pair of outlets waved to me. (Cyclists + travelers, by the way, have a sixth sense for electrical outlet location.) 

I identified these dudes as the cyclists and walked over. The Where-To-Where-From conversation led into more general what's up in life kind of stuff. 

The two guys are brothers: Mike + Raphael. 22 and 18 respectively. They started biking from upstate NY on May 21st and were going to San Francisco as well. Only later did I learn that they had made an ever so slight detour to the freakin Alaska border.  (Here's their blog: faroutguys.com)

There was a third dude, but he bailed mid-Montana, pre-Rockies. 

I wish my brother came on this adventure with me. But I guess Pretty Lights in Red Rock wins over 1,000 mi with big sis *shrug*. 

I got toast, hashbrowns + 2 over easy eggs. (The west coast, by the way, really rocks on the over easy egg frontier because every single over easy egg I've had out here has been A+ Gold Star Check Plus.)

I chowed down, journaled and snuck envious peeks of my neighbor's Jumbo Fluffy Hot Cake that was 3x the size of his face. Mike + Raphael + I chatted for a little while afterwards, exchanged contact info and said goodbye; they were headed out as I was dressing my last piece of toast.

When I got outside they were still there so we decided we'd ride together for a little ways. 

I was going to Cape Blanco about 40 mi south and they had their eyes set on the border. I figured Id just split off @ Gold beach or earlier if I was riding too slow. Ended up keeping pace pretty well though. 

It was a gorgeous ride through the mountain passes. And it was fun riding with someone(s). Plus, I like em -- they're fun and I enjoyed their stories from their 5,000+ miles covered. 

One can only bike by so many blackberry bushes before stopping, so eventually we did​ and feasted. I like filling my water bottle with em and having infused h2o for the day; or just shoving them all in my mouth is pretty great, too. No wrong way to do it.

--falling asleep, will finish in the a.m.--

We pedaled ​onward from the blackberries and into the clouds. They laid right on top of the road pretty much the whole day. It was neat biking through them: colder, misty spritz. Some stretches I could've convinced myself I was on another planet.

We saw a nice place to pull over for some beach exploration, tossed our bikes on some rocks and scrambled our way down to the shore.

Mike wanted to go swimming. Crazy. It was freezing. I ended up going accidental half-swimming. ​

Raphael+I went down to the eager to watch Mike plunge in. AND a cool thing: we saw a lil sea lion playing around on the waves, too!​ must've been like 7ft waves. He was having a ball flipping around in the foam. So cyoot \(^_^)/

I went closer to the ocean so that the waves would wash up to my calves. ​The first couple did, then the next came up to my butt and almost tripped me and dragged me in. Crazy powerful undertoe.

Mike came out after a​ brief encounter with some of the waves and we all just posted up on this giant driftwood log farther up.

The sand was incredible. Surprisingly warm, all pebbles, just some very small. Still more a pebble than a grain of sand though. 

Even now as I'm writing this, I'm a little chilly and wish I were back at that beach with half my legs submerged in the heated pebbles. Have no clue how they were so warm though; it was overcast all day and all sand I'd played in so far on this trip was warm on the surface but got all damp and cold as you dug deeper. 

I also found a heap of kelp. And kelp is something that always amazes me just because I forget how freakin big it is, and I like to imagine the massive kelp forests underwater, too. (Can't wait to get scuba certified.) 

The kelp mass was washed ashore like an enormous beached mammal. I broke a tail of it off and it was heavy and leathery. I used it as a jump rope for a little bit, but man is that tricky business. Slippery sand, heavy, smelly kelp. Nah.

OH man and right so I was planning on stopping at a little campground just past Gold Beach that was indicated on my ACA map, but as we rode and rode, I saw no comforting, familiar brown and white tent icon that signaled any such campground. I've come to love the brown and white road Signac by the way. They usually mean good things like places to sleep, bathrooms or pretty views. 

As the two miles that was supposed to lead me to the campground became four then six, and we kept climbing and climbing, I just accepted that I probably had passed it somehow and I'll just be ending my day in Brookings instead. 

And that climb we did was one Id been dreading. The elevation profile was exceptionally intimidating but the ascent itself really wasn't the worst thing in the worst. Tough, for sure, but not impossible. 

(side note: I am vowing to stop looking at elevation profiles here on out because it doesn't really matter anyway. You're going to to do climb whether you're anticipating it or not, and I'd rather it be a surprise than something I dread.) 

Sailing 2-3 miles coming downhill at a 6% grde was unbelievable. Hit my max speed: 43 mph. I couldn't stop smiling the whole way down. Gorgeous views of the cloud-immersed shoreline. Smiling so big I actually started laughing, and then crying because of the wind.

I felt on top of the world. 

DAY 09

//location:

     Bread + Roses Bakery​

      Yachats, Ore.​

//time: 11:00 am​

//mi: 350-something​

//from where I write:​

Today's slated to be a most interesting one. I think it'll be another short one too -- quite a few climbs. 

And SEA LION CAVES. 

Goes without saying, but this is everything I've been waiting for. I saw a gimmicky lil billboard for it back in Waldport that said it was 23 miles ahead. I didn't realize it was so close! I thought it was way south oregon coast. Though I guess I an right around, if not past, the smack-dab-middle. I'll be camping in the dunes tonight, which I'm stoked for. I doubt they'll compare to Colorado's though. The Great San Dunes will forever be my favorite place in America; at least mingling around Top 3. 

Um I just bought two pints of blueberries and a bunch of apricots at this little farmers market outside here. And I'm very enthused about these apricots; I hadn't realized I love apricots so much until I impulse-bought one at a fruit stand last week.

Im learning so much about myself on this journey wow.

----- 

//location:

    The Sea Lion Caves

//time:  2:45 pm

//mile: idk/doesn't matter nothing matters 

//from where I write: this bottomless pit of despair has no light source by which to photograph and also works much like a black hole in that it instantaneously gobbles up any shard of illumination or hope

A beacon of shining light.

The many albeit fairly tolerable hills of Yachats were fine so far. I'd been climbing for a whole before I saw the welcoming brown and white sign proclaiming SEA LION CAVES 1/4 MILE. There had been no other indicator of it aside from that billboard miles and miles back. 

I excitedly pumped my legs around the final bend before I saw the official carnival red Sea Lion Caves sign at the mountain's summit.

"Yusssssss." An audible and staggered one I managed to work between breaths. (Not unusual for me to say weird shit while biking and gasping for air, especially on climbs.)

THIS IS WHAT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR. THIS IS THE PINNACLE OF THE TOUR.  HUNDREDS OF SEA LIONS. WORLD'S LARGEST SEA CAVE. YES.

I bobbled my way in past the mere tourists (I rise above as a true devout fan and admirer).

Sea lion memorabilia everywhere and for some reason a popcorn machine, $2 a bag. Whatever. 

I beelined to the illuminated neon sign "Admissions" as I tried to downplay my excitement and not look like a complete noob. Though I'm pretty sure I was the most enthused person under the roof.

I rested my hands on the center as I looked at the young guy -- his face populated with as equally many freckles as mine -- trying to find the right words to say. I pauses once I spotted the price sheet; $12 for Adults, $6 for Mature Adults. I'm mature.  

"Hi, can I--" 

He interrups me, "You know there aren't any sea lions down there, right?"

I stared at him right between the eyes, for if I'd looked directly in 'em I'm afraid he's see how truly shattered my soul was.

"Whut." 

He started to apologize and babble about how they've reduced ticket prices to fall rates to compensate, but really who are they kidding.

I blurted out the obvious question. "Where'd the go?"

Like, how does the world's largest sea cave, usually home to hundreds upon hundreds of sea lions just LOSE THEM ALL.

HOW DO YOU LOSE SO MANY SEA LIONS? 

"They migrated--I think last night or this morning, actually," he said, salting the wound.

In my head this time: "Whut." 

But aloud, I maintained composure.

"To where? "

I tried to turn the tragedy into an educational experience, while recalling my Cambridge sublet's wifi password: Everything Is An Educational Experience. 

"Males went north to British Columbia; females went south to Northern California," he recited.

"Oh hey, me too! I'm going south to Northern California, too!" (This is the child insisting she once saw Santa Claus eating the cookies.) 

"They'll be pretty far off the coast. Don't know if you'll see 'em."  (This is dad telling child that the cookies were delicious, and chocolate chip are his favorite kind.)

I hate all of your freckles. 

I turned around, swiped up a handful of postcards and headed to the cashier.  

"Thank you, have a nice day," she said. 

"Nice" lingered and throbbed in my ears. I headed outside, found shelter from the wind and began writing.  

They would begin their migration this morning.  

DAY 08 PT. II

//location:

     Beachside State Park

     Wakonda Beach, Ore. 

//time: 7:20 pm

//mile: 355  

//from where I write: you'll have to color up your imagination cause I didn't have my phone with me on this walk.  

Speaking of ever appropriately named places. 

I'm tucked away in the most perfect little hideaway on this beach right now. I don't know what the beach it's called, just that it's behind my tent here at the ever appropriately named Beachside State Park. Today's ride was a lovely leisurely one, mostly flat aside from the climb out of Depoe Bay. I took the scenic route detour instead of staying right on 101 + I'm glad I did -- for the views mostly, but also this route was at least 100' lower in elevation than 101. Smooth, well maintained roads and even a bike lane (luxury). 

Biked through Cape Foulweather, which is seemed like a particularly funny name on such a gorgeous day. 

Obviously I know not all days are as sunny as today was. I do like that it stays light out so late over here though. Sun sets around 8:40 and it's not darkdark till 9:30ish. 

Here in this little beach hideaway, I've just been reading; and watching small clumps of people barrel out to the shore as they emerge from the access path. I see them get excited about the soft sand, and about being let free from the however-long car ride. They make it to the water, go stiff once a foot's in and stagger about for a while until I imagine someone in the group declaring it is enough and the fun has been had and it's too windy and too chilly for any longer a visit. They plod back to the parking lot, in a more tightly wadded bundle than they'd arrived in, and the beach is empty again.

I'm over here bundled up with my wind-water-everything-blocking biking pants, merino base layer top + windbreaker. So goes the beach in Oregon.

Getting pretty chilly; might just turn it in soon. Turning it in means cocooning up in my sleeping bag and reading/writing and probably eating some nuts. 

DAY 08

(wow what is wrong with me those hands are terrifying.)

anyway

//location:

     Kathy's house

     Depoe Bay, Ore.

//time: 10:12 am

//mile: 324 still 'cause I'm restin' like a queen

Yo, so I've officially been on the road for one week (note added during transcription: apparently I'm really proud of this because I totally forgot I mentioned it in yesterday's entry.)

I'm spending my anniversary at a family friend's beautiful abode in Depoe Bay. Her name is Kathy + she is so, so sweet. She also has a lil chublump of a cat named Missy. & I actually made it here ahead of schedule because I just decided to crank out the extra 13 miles yesterday instead of staying at Devil's Lake State Park. A tiny bit of a time pressure has been added to the trip as I now have a ticket booked out of San Francisco on Aug. 29th. (Some kind of long-but-not-really-that-long story behind the hard date: I'll have to be moved up to New York on the 31st since my pops, who's helping me move myself + stuff to the city before he moves to Virginia to start at a new job on Sept. 1.) 

But yeah so Depoe Bay. It's gorgeous. Apparently the whale watching capital of...Oregon? America? The World? I don't know, but it's the whale watching capital of something, which is pretty cool. I hope I see a whale while I'm biking. 

Maureen, Lily + I visited Kathy + Depoe Bay exactly four years ago on our little high school graduation bus trip around Oregon. I don't even know what we were doing. just like poking around place to place on the Greyhound. Looking at stuff, eating stuff.

I'll always remember when Maureen left her camera + all her lenses + accouterments on a picnic table in Cannon Beach, and realized that only when we were already well on our way to Manzanita (next town south). So the next day in Manzanita, we decided to rent bikes_ bike back to Cannon Beach to retrieve it all, since someone was so kind to return it to a nearby hotel. Wow hat ride was hell. And as I was about to depart for that stretch two days ago (Aug 7), I remembered four years ago's ride + mentally prepared myself for the road ahead. That memory, plus a couple local's cautionary good-luck-to-Manzanitas, plus the elevation profile for that stretch -- I was fully prepared for the almost-worst (I saw one other climb on the profule that was worse, and it was on board for later that same day, actually). 

But hey, you know, it was not bad at all. Definitely nowhere near what I'd remembered. Plus it was absolutely stunning. If I took an absurdly long time with it, it was because of the views. I had to keep stopping. Everything was too beautiful not to. And that's why I'm biking anyway.

Distracting views right out of Cannon Beach.

Tearing up the road since '83 and still performing like a champ.

Looking back at Cannon Beach.

Haystack Rock

Summit

 I stopped at the summit of the climb for a good half hour to soak it all up and sketch + paint a bit. Kinda neat 'cause the wind up there was so intense it just pushed around my watercolor on my sketchbook page. I liked that that happened. The painting itself turned out pretty alright. I just love drawing and paining along this trip because, as one of my instructors @ the Harvard program said, drawing lets you remember things better. And that's very true. Sure pictures are more accurate for others; but for yourself, drawing really engraves the moment in your mind. And now, when I look back at this little painting, I'll remember sitting atop the stone ledge after that long climb, and not being able to decide if I was hot from the raw, unyielding sun, or cold from the blustery wind; and in the end not really caring either way because everything was so beautiful.

Climb's always worth it.

At that scenic view spot, and a lot of other stops, many folks asked me the usual: Where are you from? Where are you going? San Francisco?! Are you by yourself? Alone?!

Then come either the god-bless-yous, you-go-girls, expressions of admiration/dreams to do the same one day. Any of which are always wrapped up with well-wishings of safety + a warm goodbye. 

I truly am appreciative of those little tokens of encouragement. You know, it is nice to hear. And at the end of any ride, whether it's a 1/2 mi steep climb or the day's 53 miles, I think to myself "Yeah girl, you go. This is tough shit, but by god it's so much more than worth it." And a lot along the way every single day reminds me it's worth it. 

Somewhere along the Cannon Beach-Manzanita stretch.

Pulled over here for an extended lunch break. (Forever on that peanut butter, pita, salmon jerky grind.)

Just south of Lincoln City.

-----

//location: 

     Kathy's house

      Depoe Bay, Ore. 

//time: a little later (11:45 am)

Just went on a little walk around the neighborhood. It's incredible. Right up against the water. It's sunny out and the pebbles down at Little Whale Cove were toasty to sit on and soft to pet. 

Today's a short day. Only 32-some miles. Kathy + I went out for a knockout good breakfast at this place just north of here called The Beach Dog (the restaurant had dog photos, figurines, magazine clippings, all things canine decorating the walls and any shelf space). I had some crispy skillet potatoes with a garden's worth of veggies, two perfectly over-easied eggs + and english muffin. Now just resting, writing and drinking tea before I leave. I feel like a freaking QUEEN staying here. Dang. Today should be a great ride. 

DAY 07

//location:

     Grateful Bread

     Pacific City, Ore.

//time: 10:20 am

//mile: 

//from where I write:

Man my butt is looking GOOOOD. Shoot. My body's actually holding up pretty well, all things considered. Officially a week in and no broken anythings, no bike maintenance troubles, no crippling cramps. (Though I think writing that out just now, I may have jinxed myself. Or maybe I just can't say it out loud -- that's it.)

Yeah, wow cool. One week in. Day seven. Here we go. I feel like -- ok, no I don't feel like I just started. Never mind.

I'm in Pacific City now, about 20 miles from my start point this morning at Cape Lookout, and 20 miles from tonight's post in Devil's Lake State Park. Tomorrow's another rest day -- only 13 miles wahoooo! I've only taken one other rest day so far + that was the Astoria-Canon Beach ride (DAY 05) at only 25 miles long. After those 13 miles tomorrow, I'll be staying with an old family friend, Kathy, in Depoe Bay.

Currently, I'm anxiously awaiting my epic breakfast scramble from this great-smelling (food coming out of the kitchen's looking pretty yummy, too) bakery/restaurant place called Grateful Bread. Why does that name remind me of something. What is it. It's bugging me hold on.

...

Walking Dead? Okay never mind yeah that was it. Less of a relation than I thought. Walking Dead ≠ Grateful Bread.

Anyway, I stopped over at this hang gliding place right on the edge of town + asked for recommendations for hearty breakfast noms. Figured hang gliders know how to breakfast.

Oh wow I just realized I don't even think I mentioned my breakfast from Cannon Beach the other day oh my god the waffle had

[and here is where I stopped writing because today's breakfast was set before me and my attention could be diverted to nothing else.]

------

//location:

     Kathy's house

     Depoe Bay, Ore.

//time: 10:00pm

//mile: 324

//from where I write:

Ok, I'm probably going to pass out a few sentences from now, drooling till this pen bleeds, but this record's worth a shot anyway.

omg wow I just fell asleep.

Ok let me just bullet some things out real quick in case I don't get to em:

• ahead of sched/ticket booked
• waffle
• queen
• good for nothing chipmunks

falling asleep ag  a  i n

a g   a i  n                         A g     a  i    Nx

DAY 05

//location:

     Cannon Beach, Ore.

//time: 405 pm

//mile: 214

//from where I write: 

Dinner at Sweet Basil's in Cannon Beach, where the waitress poured me not a glass of wine, but a bucket. So I accidentally got a little drunk and whatever, but s'cool 'cause I was just going to go sprawl out on the beach afterwards anyway. #whalelife

Posted up on the beach: windy but pleasant. 

(so, although I'm writing this on DAY 05, it's actually about DAY 04)

It always feels so good to start a new journal, like taking a shower. (My other journal turned jnto more of a log/itinerary/tip catalog.)

But speaking of shower, man have I had a cool past 24 hours. Quite luxurious actually. Where'd I leave off...I think the diner. Ok right -- diner, breakfast, good. Pedal pedal pedal. Washington forever hills. Signs for astoria begin to appear and I get excited.

But WOW that bridge over the Columbia River. Five miles, tiny shoulder. 55 mph traffic on my left, hard raised edge for ped traffic on my right. 

And then there was a giant enormous incline at the very end. Holy crap. Approaching it in the otherwise entirely flat bridge was like, oh dang what is thatonstrosity in the distance. No way. Nah, there's no way if have ok climb that. Maybe thy have a special little pedestrian/cyclist walkway under the bridge or something.  

There stands the epic bridge.

This is my experiential diagram of the Washington-Astoria bridge. Join me and my thoughts as we travel the bridge from right to left. 

And I'm not sure how in their four miles I convincedhself that that was true but I let myself believe that till I was practically at the foot of the climb. The last mile was hell. 

Sheer incline with absolutely no mercy to stop. If I did, there's no way is have been able to start back up again. Plus, slowing down, I'd be all wobbly w/ my bike and the shoulder afforded me no room for such wobble.  

I mean ok it wasn't that bad I guess 'cause I did do it after all, but it was damn work. For sure. 

Astoria, though, was well well worth it. At first, I was planning to just stop in astoria for food+groceries then head over to Fort Steven's State Oark for he night. It was only another hour's ride NW of astoria. I posted up in Blue Scorcher's Bakery with a -- ok get ready for this -- cardamom roll + lemon ginger cayenne kombucha. Ate, drank, peed, blogged. Walked out to my bike to saddle up + head out when I looked down the street to see an illuminated sign: NORBLAD HOSTEL•HOTEL. 

Ok ok this could totally be a thing. Yeah. And I started mentally rattling off a list of why I should stay in a hostel tonight. Oh, let me count thy ways:

-bed would be so cool

-misty morning sucked, would be wonderful to dry things out a bit

-laundry + this is my last pair of socks

- unlimited shower (!!!) 

-  it's next to a brewery, so beeeer

- bed

okay done. yes. so I strolled over + asked about their rates. $29 for the night. I've paid $12 for a campsite before, so this is just really 2x that plus, like, a really fancy latte -- if I were the type to get really fancy lattes, which I'm not. So wow think of all the money I'm saving in life by not being the Fancy Latte Type. Yeah this hostel is definitely a go.  

Sanity restored by showers + real beds + clean socks. All the good things. 

Man I love myself for making that decision. Fresh laundry is awesome. The beer I had with my artichoke pizza at Fort George Brewery -- awesome. Pillow top mattress + plushy towels. I felt like a queen. I still feel like a queen. 

Commodore Hotel. (Ate a great bfast at the hostel's Street 14 Coffee.)

Astoria.

Astoria.

Hm I think Becca is meeting me here in cannon beach tonight... Not sure when. I lost her back a couple days ago when I was camping in Bruceport + she had to stop for the night in Raymond.  Whatever, I'm just doin' me right now at the beach so if she comes around, cool. If not, I hope she's doing all right. Waiting for her to text me back.

I almost wiped out really bad going down an exit ramp into cannon beach today. God that was really bad. I think I found myself going like 40 mph down it, and I felt that it was too fast so I was like YO GIRL SLOW DOWN. So I was gradually applying pressure to the brakes, and then it began to curve and I was like shitshitshit slow down. And then I saw gravel on the shoulder around the curve and I was like DOOOOM. And somehow -- I have no idea how -- my bike was leaning at like 60 degrees and physics and gravity and stuff definitely should have just thrown me to the ground but somehow I defied it (HA!). & as I was braking, trying to shift my weight carefully but quickly to offset the curve, my bike didn't even fall! It was one of those moments where you're so happy you escaped something so terrible, that you almost get caught up in the victorious moment and end up wrecking anyway. You know? Anyway, so that didn't even happen and I calmy just pulled over once I was off the ramp and sat down and promised myself I would never let myself go that fast ever again ever. 

Anyway, I'm just so happy nothing happened. Very lucky. in the picoseconds I was skidding, I imagined my face not on my face anymore. It was not a good thing and I would like to keep my face on my face and my bones inside my body as long as possible. 

The sunset and breeze are extra enjoyable this evening. Probably because of the restorative Astoria stay, probably because of the wine, probably because of my evaded crash. 

And I'll leave you with my slightly tipsy self on the beach. #whalelife

DAY 04

  //location:

     Rocket Diner

     somewhere along WA-104, Wash.  

//time: 10:35 am

//mile: too lazy to go outside and check my cyclometer (170something?)

//from where I write:

When the waitress went to the back to deliver my order (The Universe Scramble), she yelled, "She wants the universe! No meat!" and I smiled at that. 

~W O W~ 

I must document how happy I am right now. My hands + arms are so tired from this morning's ride but I am just gonna suck it up and write about this cause I just--

I AM SO HAPPY. ok cool now how do I even make this make sense. Let's see.  

well, first of all, I'm at a diner. A diner. A DINER. WHICH MEANS EGGS. 'DINER' AND 'EGGS' ARE SYNONYMS IM NOT SURE IF YOU KNEW BUT THEY ARE. 

Ok.

And I'm extra happy here because I only had two peaches for bfast this morning (picked em up at a cool lil Mexican fruit stand in south bend that also sold me some excellent $2 shrimp tacos) at the camp site (bruceport county park) because it was misting/tree-raining* when I woke up and my tent had collapsed on my face so I woke up in a bit of a little OMGIMDYING fit, and just packed up all my stuff as fast as possible and peaced out. 

[*tree-raining (v.): when moisture condenses so much on the trees that any subtle gust causes the water to rain down, and you think it's actually raining, but it's just** tree-rain. 

**sometimes it's still actually raining though, and you get excited and cocky like "oh cool nah it's just tree rain," then you go out in the open and it's still raining and you're like, "shit."] 

And then this morning's ride was...it was kinda rough. Long, gradual climbs. Lots of logging trucks carrying tiny forests. Lots of mist. Good thing I've got these water repellant pants.

 

I thought about a lot of things over the hills today. I thought about New York, and what that'll be like, and what it's always like, and how I always love it, and what will happen when I no longer love it, and if I will ever no longer love it. I thought about a past love and how I realized that's what it was only when it was too late (though I don't think there ever was or will be a "right time" to realize this). I wondered what he's doing and if I'll ever see him again. I thought about the calamari we ate at 4am that one night, and how silly that was. And about the extra sauce I ordered and how it wasn't all that good, but was at the time because everything was good at the time. 

 

I went back to thinking 20 feet in front of me. No nails, none, none, good. Avoid that little rock thing. This sounds like a big truck coming up.  

Alright, and another logging lot. These make me sad. But I guess this is where all the paper and stuff I use comes from. And Christmas trees, too, I suppose. I wonder who will get that one. Dude, what if all these trees grew pre-decorated. Like, they genetically engineered a Fir varietal to do that. No, actually these ones are probably for paper. Why did they leave that one tree standing like that? Just one little guy? Is that the ocean over there?

This one's a logging truck, I'm calling it now.

Niiiiice.

One of the long, long, gradual climbs of the morning. Not sure if this photo portrays it well. Do you feel tired looking at this? I feel freaking tired looking at this. 

I'm hungry. I'm hungry. I'm hungry. I definitely do not have enough energy in me to be doing these climbs right now. But the one time I did stop to retrieve snacks from my bag, I just looked at the rain cover over my panniers and the contraption of bungee cord web over it, decided it wasn't worth it and forged forward. 

So, when 101 (what I was traveling on) hit 104 and I saw a little fork+knife symbol with "<--5 mi." written below, I was like OH HELL YES. Those five miles flew by out of sheer excitement. And I don't even know what the name of this place I'm in right now is called because all I saw was the DINER sign and the blinking OPEN sign and I just pulled right over and practically leaped inside.

I saw Parker's bike leaned up by the door, too, and smiled to myself. Parker is an older man I'd met at the campground last night; he was my neighbor and we hung out for a while, shared a bottle of wine and chatted touring stuff. He got into touring early last year and said he did around 3,000 miles by the end of the year, and right now he's on his way home to Portland from Vancouver. I want to bike to Canada. 

He's got a real sweet setup. I should've taken a photo. Very minimal, but quality stuff. I think he's probably in his 60s and seems very healthy. Though last night when we were chatting, he went through two cigarettes and I'm not sure how good that is for the whole breathing component of biking--and life--but Parker's just doing Parker and seems like a pretty cool life he's living, so go you, man.  

Funny to run into him here at the diner, though. He left about half an hour before me. He just came over and we talked a bit while I was waiting for my food; turns out he averages 10mph touring, which is the same as me so far! That made me feel pretty good. He said a lot of other touring cyclists average that-abouts, too. Yay. 

 I'm eating (though I'm sure most would call this inhaling) this breakfast bidniss now and it's so so good I don't even know what more I could want in life.

The other diners in here now seem like regulars. They're known by name, and talk about the Atkins diet, crying tomatoes and one man just learned that "transparent" means "see-through."

Very warm hospitality and cold water.  

Also, I looked at myself this morning in the camp bathroom mirror -- like really took a good look at myself -- for the first time in a couple days. I just hadn't really stared at my face like that in a while I guess. I have a lot of freckles. I mean, I always knew I had a few, but did I always have this many? Were these guys from the last couple of days biking? Is my face going to be covered in freckles by the time I get to San Francisco? I could deal with that. I also think my eyes are sunburnt, if that's a thing. I don't know if that's a thing. It probably is. And my dad's probably going to freak out about that when he reads it. It's ok, Dad, I can still see. My left eye is just kind of pink and soupy. Ew that's disgusting.

This breakfast is amazing. 

DAY 02

 //location:

     Lake Sylvia State Park

     Montesano, Wash. (Doesn't that sound/look uncomfortably like 'Monsanto'?)

//time: 9:42 pm

//mile: 104

I'm laying in my tent right now, lumped so far to one side it makes me confident this one-person tent could easily be a two-er (I'm on a slight slope). When I bought this tent last sept I considered buying a 2-person one because I was like, hey well maybe since I'll be keeping this tent for a whole, I might maybe eventually have someone to share it with but then I was like nah, not worth the extra bulky for a maybe-one-dat deal. Anyway, I'm totally  satisfied w this tent (Eureka Solitaire) because of its lightweightedness and most of all its meshyness. The whole top is mesh with a roll-away rain fly. But for clear nights like these, I leave it all open to see the stars and silhouettes. Like, I'm sleeeping under a 120-year-old Douglas Fir right now + its limbs sprawling across the sky making this, like, lattice over the moon--incredible. 

Anyway, wow. I haven't even begun talking about today. I just have so many thoughts from the ride and people and things and I want to write it all, but honestly I'm so pooped I might just pass out. 

Anyway, I forgot to mention this yesterday when introducing Becca: I interrupted her breakfast with a "Hey, where are ya coming from?" As she was slicing an avocado open with her fingernails. I just thought that was a little interesting thing. So, yep. Becca + Archibald. 

She's chill. And Archie is, like, the most well-behaved dog. I'm thoroughly impressed. I think if we do decide to continue the ride together (though to be honest, I was looking forward to solitude. I'm happy I met her though!), I think it'll work much like our ride today: we start the day together, have breakfast and then agree on a end point for the day. I'm faster than she is since she has Archie and his trailer and stuff, so I ride ahead and am usually like 1.5-2 hrs ahead of her. But then we just meet up at the end point campground or wherever we'll decide to pull over and share a camp site. It's cheaper that way, too. 

I do not accept these signs. And no it wasn't closed. 

My pannier broke and that sucked and made me a little bummed but s'all good--pulled over for 30min and sewed it right up. Also peed in a suburban ditch because there because there was nowhere else to go and I was like eeeep hope no one's staring out there windows oh well gotta go and my pannier's broken and everything is difficult right now leave me alone. 

Woke up to this face on day 03. 

Self v. Sleeping Bag, wrestling matches daily. 

K will write more later bye. 

Day 01

 //location:

     Jarrell Cove State Park

     Shelton, Wash. 

//time: 9:11 pm

//mile: 70

This is simply placeholder text, really. Just sending a pulse: everything went pretty darn smoothly today. It was beautiful all day, and now I'm wrapping it up with a crisp sunset and some chocolate covered almonds. 

I passed a bakery with wifi on the way into the park here, so I'm planning on stopping there tomorrow morning and writing more tales of the day.  

Till then, I shall fall deep into sleep in this shallow little tent. I forgot how tiny this guy is; it's like the size of my aura on a good day. Damn it, I just realized I left my blow-up pillow in my pannier. Nope. Not even gonna think about trying to get it. Goodnight. 

 //

Okay here's the real DAY 01 post.  

The view from here (Olympic Bakery; Shelton, Wash.): 

I'm not sure where to even begin with yesterday. But I guess Seattle's a good start. Woke up at 6:30, got the last bit of everything together. Matt + I ate breakfast together and then he sent me on my way. 

It was really surreal actually leaving and saying goodbye to him + his fam (who are the coolest folks ever btw). I was kind of nervous after fully loading up my bike Friday evening and pushing it around the backyard. Really wonky, heavy. I asked myself what I was doing. You're biking to freaking San Francisco, Lily, of course that's what you're doing. After hopping on my loaded bike for a quick ride down the street that morning, though, I was more confident. It felt like nothing once I was moving and had a little momentum going. Well, not nothing, but you know. Sure as hell didn't feel like "nothing" on the hills that were to come. 

Some final feels before the ride: ​

Anyway, okay I'm just gonna throw down some pictures here cause I know everyone's like ooo pictures and then I'll bullet out some more important updates, but then I've gotta hit the road again. Currently at a little bakery off the side of the road that has wifi. And yeah, need to charge my phone and keep on pedaling to Elma, Wash. 

Breakfast of champions: 3 scrambled eggs, 2 veggie sausage patties, cheddar cheese. Banana + giant coconut water. 

Goodbye Seattle! 

The setup. 

Found a lovely waterfront lunch spot. Peanut butter + pita + salmon jerky for days. 

I gave myself a month to get to SF because of exactly this: roadside distractions. 

En route to Jarrell Cove. 

Jarrell Cove. 

Quick + somewhat important updates:

//I've been offered a place I stay once I get to Astoria wooooot

//No I have not showered yet.  Different clothes + yesterday's socks. 

//There are blackberry bushes literally everywhere along the roadide and they are distracting+nourishing me. 

//I met a girl also camping at Jarrell's Cove this morning who's biking to freaking TEXAS via San Francisco, so we're gonna try to bike together a little ways. She seems really cool, and has a puppy with her. Let me emphasize that a little further: she is towing a puppy. To Texas. Puppy to Texas. Damn girl you go.  

Her name is Becca. Her dog is Arch Duke Ernest Baldwin. Also goes by "Archie, Baldy, Arch, and shithead." 

Becca + Archibald join the trek. 

The fully comprehensive all-everything packing list

GEAR

• eureka solitaire 1-person tent
• camelbak 1.5L
• cable lock
• 6L waterproof stuff sack
• thermarest pro plus small self-inflating sleeping pad
• 16g CO2 canisters (2) + attachment 
• small 2 oz. bottle of tri-flow lube
• super glue
• sewing kit
• potable aqua germicidal tablets
• m-wave pannier + trunk; w/ waterproof rain cover
• 2 sapre tubes
• tire patch kit
• mini air pump
• pocket knife
• sork
• pepper spray + taser
• head + tail light
• tire levers
• cotton twine
• riding gloves
• helmet + helmet rear mirror
• bungee cords

CLOTHING

• short sleeve cycling jersey (2)
• sports bra (2)
• merino cycling socks (3)
• cycling shorts (3)
• water repellent cycling pants (1)
• lightweight windbreaker
• poncho
• merino wool long sleeve base layer
• black skirt + black tank (my normal human being disguise)
• pajama shirt

HYGIENE 

• survival kit (adventure medical kits brand)
  • escue mirror signaler
  • matches
  • compass
  • duct tape
  • whistle
  • tiny lil fishing kit
  • emergency blanket
  • ignition fuzzy things (unsure of purpose; will explore more when I'm freaking out and think I need to create a fire or save my life or kill a bear or something)
• PF 85+ sunscreen
• anti-itch cream
• anti-fungal cream (idk what 3 pairs of socks + 30 days looks/feels/smells like, so *shrug*)
• hand sanitizer
• body powder (this was an impulse buy and I feel like I might need it for chafing struggles?)
• toilet paper
• toothbrush+paste
• advil
• BC powder
• dr. bronners unscented soap
• travel hair conditioner
• hand cream
• face cream
• deet-free bug repellent 
• neosporin
• fast-drying towel
• deodorant

ELECTRONICS

• film camera
• color roll (3) + bw roll (1)
• tiny bluetooth speaker
• iphone
• iphone charger
• ANKER external charge reservoir (holds 3 full cell charges. megathanks to Ian for lending this to me!)
• nikon dslr
• earbuds
• GoPro (thanks for letter me borrow this, Nathan!); GoPro head strap (thanks, Matt!)
• extra GoPro battery
• nikon charger

ENTERTAINMENT

• pens
• all-weather journals (2)
• normal journal (1) (actually it's not normal; it's really freakin cool but i'll save my gushing for later)
• books: 
  • speaking with the angel (short story anthology edited by nick hornby
  • catcher in the rye 
  • garlic + sapphires (cool memoir about Gourmet magazine's food critic, Ruth Reichl)
  • glass castle by jeanette walls (read the first chptr today and it reminds me of my mom a bit)
• sketchbook

FOOD

• salmon jerky (4 bags)
• bag of garbanzo beans
• 2 cans of salmon
• smoked salmon
• vega sport endurance gels (4) (plant-based energy raaaaah)
• red ace beet performance supplement (idk, impulse buy mostly bc of appealing packaging and small cautionary sticker about pink pee)
• harmless harvest coconut water
• loaf of banana bread
• honeycomb dark chocolate (yeeeah boi)
• pita bread
• jar of peanut butter
• can of beans
• can of spaghetti
• trail mix (sprouted almonds + sunflower seeds, dried apple, cranberries)
• bottle of gatorade, bottle of water
• can opener

Day pre-0

//location: 

Moore Coffee Shop

Seattle, Wash.

//time: 4:15 pm

Everything right now feels very familiar: coffee shop, different city, journaling, phone died and kind stranger is charging it for me. 

Just this time, I'm suited up in lycra and less than 48 hours from my first mile of a thousand+.

Today was originally supposed to be my first day on the road. I think I'd be approaching my first camp site around now. Unfortunately -- no wait -- fortunately, I had to delay my trip two days, so I'll be off August 2nd, 8am. Should be about 7 hours to my first night of three till I reach the coast. Originally, I was going to shoot down through Seattle, Tacoma + Olympia en route to Portland but then I was like, yo, nah lemme get at that coast. So last week I just switched things around so that I'm outbound westward instead of southward.

Ugh I just put my en down and sat back in this plushy booth thing I'm lounging on and realized how much I'll be writing about for this tour preparation stuff. Holy crap. It feels like I've been in Seattle for two weeks at least; so much has happened. In effort to keep as much in real-time as possible, I might skip over some details now and tomorrow and then revisit that stuff later down the road. Like, when I'm hanging out with myself in my lil baby tent and have nothing better to do but write about all these Seattle shenanigans. Now, though, I'm hustling around getting all my shit together and i feel a little impatient and anxious spending time writing when I know I have 89 other things to be doing before departure.

Man I wish I could just rub my face all over this paper + my thoughts would just osmosize (word? is now.) onto the page. 

Oh that reminds me: I need to get oil blotting tissues for my face. Ok oil blot tissues + sunscreen. See? This is exactly what these pre-0 days have been like. Mid-conversation, mid-shower, mid-slurp, I'll just be like Oh yeah I need ___ and make a mental, digital and physical note of it.

//location: 

Matt's house

Seattle, Wash.

//time: 11:00 pm

I'm laying in bed now just mass-downloading music via Spotify. I subscribed to a premium account for the month so I'll have unlimited access to music and stuff. Figured that was the best idea. I've found some good stuff. Also downloading a bunch of meditation mantras/audio segments for whatever reason. I feel like biking + pacific northwest + minimal lifestyle will inevitably lead me to mediation in some capacity. I'm going about music downloading as I have been going about all my final round shopping this week: survival mode. What if I suddenly get a craving to listen to gospel? Better download some of that. Ok. Oh definitely going to want to throw back to some Noah and the Whale. *click* OH. Comdey yes yes. Defintiely. Okay. Louis CK...all. Demetri Martin..haven't listened to him in a while. Ok, he can come, too. And same thing when I'm walking around Bartell's (Seattle's CVS/Walgreens): What if I'm stuck somewhere and sweating like crazy and I'll wish I had this tiny little handheld fan. Yes. No, that's dumb you don't need a miniature fan, Lily, come on. WHAT IF I NEED THIS FAMILY SIZE BAG OF TWIZZLER PULL N PEELS.

Ok, this is getting absurd. I'm going to sleep. Will write more tomorrow including entire packing list, etc.