Mornin’ kids!  It’s a beautiful, sunshiny day here at Mt. Hood and time for me to finish the chronicles of Canada plus a few other posts.  You must understand that it’s so very tricky for me to remain on top of the website at all times.  If we were traveling by car, I could plug into an inverter and spew forth verbage all the live long day.  But since we’re spending an average of 5 hours a day on the road, plus packing and unpacking at least 2 hours a day and not having WiFi or electricity half the time, you can see how I might get a bit behind on my posts.  Feeling my pain?  Cause I have a lot of pain to go around from so many hours in the saddle and nights on a bedroll.  Not complaining, I promise, just trying to bring you into my world little by little.  Motrin is my best friend.  I’ll stop bitchin’ now.

Also before I move on, I forgot to share a little ditty about our ride up Highway 9 into Canada.  Anyone who drives or rides know how you can get lost in your thoughts, wondering about where you’re going, thinking about where you’re been.  I was at that place when I found myself snapped back into the moment by a black bear cub hauling ASS across the highway.  You know we slowed waaaay down, expecting mama to be not too far behind, maybe even a second cub.  Neither appeared but it was a reminder that we’re not alone when traveling the roads that cut through the deep forests.  We all know about “Deer:30”, now we had to remember about “Bear o’clock”.  Note to self:  Keep head out of bum.  And now, back to our regularly scheduled program…

After our oh so memorable night at Sooke River Campground (Sookie!), we headed northwest to a provincial (state) campground called French Beach.  It came highly recommended by the locals (and we really dug the locals).  This place was such an eden!  With thick groves of towering trees, ferns that dwarfed any adult and plants with leaves 3-4 feet long, we knew we were home if even for a couple of days.  Terry did good in scouting this site out.  We got camp set up and then I headed out to do the grocery shopping.  The market in town is pretty nice, but you must remember that we’re in English/French country, not English/Spanish.  All the packaging labels were in English and French, so this was throwing me off a bit, especially when I’m used to the latter.  Tonight’s dinner?  Spinach and cheese ravioli with marinara and prawns plus a side of vegetables.  Nice.  Who says you have to eat hot dogs the entire time (though they do make for a great breakfast).  You must also remember that in Oregon, Washington and British Columbia, the government controls all liquor, so in each state/country the laws are different.  Here in B.C., you can’t buy any sort of alcohol at the grocery store.  You have to go across the street to the Liquor Store to get even a beer or bottle of wine.   And after 5PM, you can only purchase beer or wine.  Whatever.  It does take longer when you don’t have the one-stop shopping, but when in Rome…

We had to make sure to stash our food well as it was rumored that earlier in the morning, a large black bear was seen wandering the roads of the campground in search of food.  Great.  Our side cases made for a tidy little pantry as well as fridge (bag of ice on the bottom and TA-DA!), and they locked down tight.  We knew that the bears know how to open most anything, but had to give it the ol’ college try.  Terry also mentioned that we should remove the cases from the bikes – better to have them thrash a case instead of the whole package.  Smart.  The night was quiet with the exception of the ocean rolling in and out in the background.  Didn’t I mention that we were right next to the ocean?  Sorry.  This part of the shoreline was miles of rocks, lined by trees and littered with crab and oyster shells.  I found 6 large oyster shells to bring home as a momento.  The best souvenirs don’t come from a gift shop.

And did I mention the provincial bird of B.C.?  Ya, it’s the slug, banana and licorice alike.  Dude, these things are NASTY!  They’re long, think and just YUCK.  They’re everywhere!  And they’ll definite ruin the bottom of your shoes.  You’ve gotta trust me on this one.  They blend so well with the ground that you REALLY have to watch where you step.  I didn’t.  Learned that lesson quickly.

Day 2 at French Beach brought Jack some new friends as well as a trip into Victoria.  We had our fingers crossed that we would enjoy our time here better than Vancouver.  And Victoria proved to be quite a delight!  We had the BEST fish and chips EVER at a place that overlooked the harbor.  We could watch the seaplanes take off and land on the water.  We saw the ferry we’d be taking back to the states dock on one side of the bay while little tug boats (we dubbed them bath toys) taxied people from one side to the other to the other.  It was quite a ballet of boats and planes, all knowing their next move and where they were supposed to go.  We waited for the Hollywood crash and burn, but no go.  We also scouted out some movie time for Jack (have to keep all members of the trio happy – something for everyone) and hit the local IMAX theater for 45 minutes of life along the Baja peninsula.  Actually, it was quite entertaining and very informational.  Time to head back to camp for some time with friends and a walk along the beach.

Back at tent city, Jack was playing with a group of new friends down the way when I heard a BLOOD curdling scream and saw Jack come speeding up the road, tearing off his sweatshirt.  I could barely make out, “BEES!  BEES!  THEY STUNG ME!”  Yep, the kid got it again…twice.  He had been playing on an old log and guess who had a hive they wanted to protect?  Ol’ Jack got it in the bottom lip and neck.  Again, mama to the rescue with the sting patches and some hydrocortisone cream.  We were worried that he might have a reaction this time as Terry and I swell like a mother whenever we get stung.  Jack got really tired and just wanted to hang by the fire, swaddled in his sleeping bag.  Terry made a series of phone calls to check and see what we should be looking for as far as a reaction while I hung back with Jack at camp, the epi-pen at the ready.  I had it so at the ready the I DISCHARGED THE F@^%ING PEN INTO MY THUMB!!!!!  Holy shit it hurt!!!!  So here we were, Jack asleep with a swollen lip and me hurling the pen out of my thumb with blood spattering the perimeter like a crime scene.  We were quite a pair!  I think the pen hit all the way to the bone as it has taken several days for the swelling and pain to subside.  Nice one, Sandy!  Never a dull moment.  Idiot.

Jack turned out to be fine.  After a little nap and more cream, he was ready to play with some friends.  We, too, made some friends with some very cool families from Victoria.  Sarah, Carsten (sp), Izzy, Jordan and several others were quite inviting and we spent the evening roasting marshmallows, sipping some brew and swapping stories about our respective countries.  We took turns talking about Canadian and U.S. life, amazing each other with our tales.  The one that got them the most were the tales of minivans with outline stickers of the families along the back window.  Izzy was COMPLETELY floored at the idea of people actually advertising their family on the car.  I swear, I’m going to send that girl some of those stickers, knowing that she’ll loose it as soon as she opens the envelope.  And they knew we were American as soon as they met us just as we knew they were Canadian. Funny how the accents work.  Terry took Jack and some of the other boys down to the beach for some rock throwing and guy time.  They had a blast and didn’t return until almost 11PM.  We thanked everyone for their hospitality with promises to connect in the morning before everyone departed to their respective homes.

Our  last morning on the island brought some last minute picture taking.  It was a sunny morning and I wanted to capture just the right picture along the creek I had spotted the day before.  I set forth down the stairs, along the log and settled on the shore of the water.  I happened to look down into the mud and spotted a very fresh mountain lion print, not more than an hour or two old.  Hmmm. One quick snap of the camera and I hauled ass back up the stairs and into camp.  I have NO desire to take my chances with the wildlife.  Do any of you remember that one opening scene of Six Feet Under?  I didn’t want to be that guy.

We had a lot of food left over that we couldn’t pack when up wandered Sarah and her 18 month old son, Lucas.  They came to bid us farewell.  Hey Sarah, interested in taking home some food?  Yup!  Problem solved.  We chatted for a long time till finally her husband pulled up with the car and the other boys, one of which was their older son, Sebastian and friend, James (not sure if he was actually a son or brother).  We promised to keep in touch with each other.  They were a fabulous family and like minded in so many ways.  Lucas even wanted to hang on the bike before we left, including a stint with Jack’s helmet.  He smiled a huge smile, not really interested in getting off.  We bid farewell and headed toward Victoria and our ferry back to the states.

In line at the dock, we again met some other really cool riders, each heading or returning from their own journey.  One was going to Galveston, Texas, and back in 2 weeks.  Good luck with that!  The other, Mike, was returning from a stint in Alaska.  He lives in Santa Cruz and has a daughter in Woodland.  Hoping to hook up with him again in the future.  This boat ride proved to be much rockier than the previous.  Thankfully, we tied down our bikes pretty well, praying that they were upright at the end of the trip.  When we docked in Port Angeles, we found our way to the 101 and headed toward Olympic National Forest, not sure where we were going to stay.  That’s part of the fun along the journey.

So I must once again bid you adieu.  Time to find a WiFi in Government Camp as well as some wall plugs to charge the many electronic devices we’ve been carrying.  Take care, stay cool and hope to catch up some more before we depart to Bend.

Cheers.

We left Seattle on a not so typical sunny morning.  Do we really have to leave now?  The impending traffic battle was upon us, so we knew we had to hit the road sooner rather than later.  We reluctantly left the security of this awesome city to head north.  Our destination today?  Vancouver or bust!  We did have to do a small stint on Highway 5 to get to Highway 9, our preferred route, avoiding the major border crossing as well as, well, Highway 5.  Our desire to stay off the freeways found us gently rolling through the hills that bordered several small lakes.  Each lake was lined with very large homes and private docks.  If only it was sunny and warm enough to use the lake more than 2 months out of the year.  I say 2 because here it was, almost the middle of June, and we had yet to break even 65 degrees.  As much as I love the cold, a few degrees here and there wouldn’t hurt.  But there is a reason the foliage is so lush.  One must remember that.

Not 15 minutes after leaving Seattle, ol’ Mr. Jack reported through the intercom, “I have to go pee.”  Of course you do, buddy.  Pulled over at the cleanest Shell and spent 15 minutes gearing down, peeing, then gearing back up.  Okay, NOW are you ready?  Because little man, this is NOT going to happen again.  We roll most of the time fully geared up, meaning wearing our anti-smell good liners to prevent us from getting soaked by the menacing clouds.  It never rained.  We didn’t smell pleasant.  And stops like this were not helping the cause.

When you’re on a motorcycle journey with anyone under the age of, oh, say 18, there are going to be a few things that you must endure, knowing that it’s the only way you’re all going to survive.  Hours of “The Naked Brothers Band” looped through Terry and Jack’s headset while the groin crushed not so gently against the gas tank, making sure that your dozing passenger is comfortably rested against your back.  Terry has endured a lot to make sure time on the road is good for all.  Okay, maybe not himself, but it’s never all bad when you get the opportunity to go on a road trip.  I owe him one…or several.

With only a mile or 2 to go till the border, I made sure passports were handy in the top case and the head cam was rolling.  New card?  Check.  Fresh batteries?  Check.  A guarantee they won’t want us to tear down the back and bend us over?  Not so sure.  But hopefully having a little one harnessed to Terry will help prove that we’re not complete loons.  Like I said, no guarantees.  We charged forward only to be stopped by a line of cars 7 to 8 deep.  Fine.  Shut off engine.  Restart and move 3 feet.  Shut off engine.  Rinse. Repeat.  While waiting, we did have many curious onlookers asking us about our travels, including 4 dudes hanging out the windows of their truck, salivating at the idea of hittin’ the road.  Our turn!  We rolled up to the window, took off the helmets and proceeded to answer the barrage of questions.  No, we don’t have any firearms.  No, we’re not going to sell anything.  Did we have hotel reservations?  Where?  For how long?  When we told them we were probably going to camp, we got the most quizzicle look from the female (there were 2 border agents and the dude wasn’t looking too friendly).  And seriously, we got our first “eh” straight from the male agent.  No joke!  Priceless.  We finally rolled out, thankful that we got out unharmed as we spotted a GS1200 to the left, fully stripped, it’s owner no where to be found.  Oops.

Does ANYONE know why it smells like manure every 10 feet?  OH MY GOD!  The stench was nauseating and continued on for far too many miles.  Just when you thought the shit tour was over, again with the fumes.  Ugh!  Okay Sandy, concentrate on the scenery.  And the scenery did not disappoint.  The mountains spanned on either side, some still dotted with snow at their peaks.  Rows upon rows of blueberries grew along the roadside.  (Maybe the manure was for the berries, but that’s still no excuse.)  The cloud cover was less than inviting.  Very, VERY dark clouds loomed ahead and thankfully we weren’t heading east.  It was westward to the city of Vancouver, home to over 500,000 people.  Hey, it can’t be that bad, can it?

Oh, HELL YA it can!  Once we even got close, we hit commute traffic.  Hmmmm.  This feels strangely like the 101 in Marin.  Not cool.  We had yet to make a hotel reservation, so we pulled over into a parking lot and scanned the iPhone for a place to rest our weary throttle thumbs for the night.  The Metropolitan in downtown?  Perfect.  Thank you hotels.com!  Now the address into the GPS and we’re there in no time.  Aha, sucker!  Thought you were gettin’ off that easy!  You see, the Canada maps in the GPS were about 4 years old, enough time to COMPLETELY change some of the downtown routes and, just for our pleasure, erase some roads right off the map.  This made for a bit of an argument  between riders (via intercoms no less).  We did finally get there, unloaded and went in search of a casual meal that was close by.  Dinner?  Done.  Back to the hotel for some indoor pool time then off to bed.  Couldn’t do much with the internet as it was an ETHERNET cable that provided your online service.  Come on!  And did I mention that this city is NOISY!  I was awakened at 2 and 3AM by the sounds of racing cars and chatty people.  And it was a Wednesday!  And we were on the 9th floor!  Okay, I’ll stop with the bitching, but seriously.  I’ve stayed in plenty of major cities and the only other city to rival this noise was Barcelona (and that’s saying something).  We were going to stay 2 nights in Vancouver but we were really jonesin’ for some camping time.  Too much not-so-friendly city makes the Borden’s a little edgy.  Off to Vancouver Island we go!

The ferry ride to Vancouver Island was beautiful!  And we met some friendly Canadians who gave us scads of useful info about the island.  And just how friendly are Canadians really?  Let’s just say I never had to bend down to chalk my own bike or make sure all was stable.  Terry made some rounds on the upper deck with Jack while I sat at the workstation to write and upload pics.  After 1 1/2 hours, we arrived at the harbor, made sure our loads were cool then drove off in search of the perfect campsite.  It was getting late and we needed to get somewhere, set up camp and search for grub.  We headed to the southwest side of the island toward the town of Sooke (for all you True Blood fans, Terry and I pronounced it “Sookie”).  The owners of Sooke River Campground were nice enough to let us have a spot next to the river for one night as they were completely full the entire weekend for a bluegrass festival.  We just had to be out by 10AM the next morning.  Not a problem.  I set up camp while Terry hit the grocery store.  Mmmmm.  Roasted dogs, a side of veggies and a few shots of Jack Daniels.  Just what the doc ordered.

The owners told us upon arrival that there was a very good chance of live music at various campsites throughout the night.  Little did we know that this was a pretty major bluegrass gig and there were going to be some well known musicians joining in the festivities.  Knowing absolutely NOTHING about bluegrass, I couldn’t tell what some of those names were.  You’re going to have to trust me on this one.  We went out for an evening walk, heard some banjo in the distance and headed in it’s direction.  Out under the dueling RV awnings was a band that consisted of bass, banjo, mandolin, guitar, harmonica and other various instruments.  We sat down on the grass and soaked in the moment.  Jack was completely hooked.  We watched, chatted with some of the bands family members and eventually were approached by the supposedly famous guitar player.  He looked at Jack, grabbed him and put him in a chair.  He sat the guitar on Jack’s lap, got his fingers positioned and let him play along.  The bass player spotted Jack and turned her bass around, facing him.  He was officially a member of the group.  Guess the guy must have known Jack was a musician in the making.  Eventually, Jack peetered out (it was almost 11PM), and we headed back to camp, thanking each band member for their time and talent.  Because it doesn’t get dark here until almost 10:30PM, we found ourselves fooled quite often into thinking it was earlier than it actually was.  We literally poured ourselves into our sleeping bags, hitting the pillows mid-snore.  And speaking of pouring, it did rain that night.  Not too worry, though, as we didn’t melt and it gave the bikes a much needed rinsing off.

So I must bid you adieu for now.  I need some coffee as well as time for a shower.  There’s is more to come, I promise.  Our experience in Canada deserves 2 entries so you must be patient.  Remember, I’m held hostage by lack of electricity at the campsites and lack of WiFi almost everywhere.  Annoying but a reality I have to deal with.  Honestly, it has been nice being where technology is not.  A nice change…

Cheers.

As I sit here on the upper deck of the ferry from Vancouver to Victoria, all the memories of Seattle come flowing back.  But no more about Canada…I’m getting ahead of myself.  You’re just going to have to wait for that one.  WiFi’s been tricky hence the delay in getting up a new post.

There’s so many positive memories about our time in Seattle!  It’s a wonderful city, quite clean with plenty to do for all members of the family.  From restaurants to local sights to the harbor, if you say you’re bored then you’re just boring.

With so much to share I’m going to just give it to you straight from the gut (which seems to be growing rapidly with the lack of hardcore exercise):

No rain +Cool weather=Happy Mom!; Hotel Vintage Park was the best hotel choice (highly recommended); SHOWER!; 8 block walk to and from Pike’s Market is great exercise; no charge for parking the bikes (even behind Curtain #1); free wine from 5-6PM (went back twice within 10 minutes); Terry, thanks for getting coffee in the morning; Starbucks on EVERY corner (no Peet’s to be found in Starbuckville); fish throwers at the market; HUGE F-ING LOBSTER TAILS!; finally some fresh fruit; only one waiter in the restaurant but had a fabulous attitude and some serious hustle; salmon chowder better than clam chowder; STILL NO RAIN!; Jack being such an awesome passenger; haven’t killed each other yet; loving the fog; Japanese version of the Dollar Store – it’s the $1.50 store; video games in the room; did I mention free wine?; Terry shuttling the bikes back and forth to the dealer for a new shock for him, new tires for me (I owe you one);  squeaky toilet seat; what’s with the liquor licensing?; monorail to the Space Needle; smelly severely obese couple in the elevator (nauseating); Jack looking out through the telescopes…all of them!; Hey, it’s Mt. Rainier!; views of the sound and the islands; friendly locals – not so friendly tourists; street performers; all afternoon spent in Experience Music Project and Science Fiction Museum; Terry, again, shuttling the bikes from the dealership back to the hotel (now I owe you twice); Jack gettin’ his groove on for hours in the demo room; Jimi Hendrix experience; interview with Santana; what do you mean there’s a Jim Hensen exhibit?!?;  DUDE!  THE ORIGINAL KERMIT AND BERT & ERNIE!!!;  being 6 again…and never wanting to leave; early Jim Hensen drawings; original counting letters from the beginning of Sesame Street; playing with muppet fur; writing Adventure Trio IN the muppet fur; move aside, kid, these are memories from MY childhood; doing muppet puppet shows with Jack over and over again to “Movin’ Right Along” and “Mahna Mahna” (and remembering the words); Terry and I mesmerized in our own little wonderland; pizza delivery!; something brown; laundry in the sink; damp laundry right back in with the stinky stuff; finding parking right at Pike’s Market; chattin’ with the cool local Harley dude; ah, fresh Chinese food and strawberry smoothies;  thank you, kind lady, for offering to take our picture (I’m finally in one); so many people asking about us, so many cards handed out; Hey camera crew!  We’re over here!; leather cuff from local Kim Sun; promise of a scenic ride north to Canada; yes, I have the passports in a safe place; not wanting to leave Seattle; not dropping the bikes on those very steep hills; think we burned up a clutch or 2; missing Hank but got my dog fix with the one in the lobby; menacing clouds; Are those puddles?!?; wish we were camping; promises to return.

And there you have it, a sliver into our Seattle experience.  I highly recommend you visit this fabulous city.  You have already?  Well then, get back in the car and do it again!  So what if it rains!  So what if your hair frizzes?  I’ve got mine in a bike helmet and ya know that ain’t lookin’ pretty.

It’s off to Canada, eh.  Wish us luck, keep your weather fingers crossed and I’ll get to ya’ll when I can find a f@*$ing WiFi.

Before I completely bag on our latest venture, I must thank Steve for recommending this place.  It really is a grand place for kids and families.  If you’re of the same ilk as Terry and I, you must first find your “happy place” and the bar, THEN you can sit back and enjoy the ride.  And trust me, there are more twists and turns here than anything we’ve seen behind the windshield…

We had a long day on the road, our longest yet, around 242 miles.  We were trying to make up some time so we had a short ride to Seattle the following day.  And yes, we did have to ride the 5 for a while.  I know, I KNOW, I said we didn’t roll on the scary roads with Jack, but there was no alternate route when it came to shaving a few hours.  We kept is slow, our heads out of our butts, and watched for the crazies.  There’s a reason why motorcycles roll in the fast lane – you have an escape route on the left and only one lane to watch for on the right.  We were passed by a 1200GS that looked very pleased to see us.  He was able to maneuver traffic a lot easier than us as he didn’t have NEARLY the amount of gear we had.  Traffic through Portland got kind of dicey.  I made the mistake of getting in to my own head and had a bit of a time driving over the vast amount of bridges and lane changes.  It’s not cool when you lose yourself for a while, letting your mind get the best of you.  I don’t have any music flowing in so I find myself singing Christmas carols (not joking) or some other songs to get my mind back on track.  Portland is a beautiful place but requires a ton of lane changes to get to where we were going.  Let’s just say we won’t be taking the 5 back down on our return.

It was hard not to miss Great Wolf Lodge as you rolled along the freeway!  It’s a monstrous hotel that boasts an indoor water park, complete with water slides and wave pool.  We didn’t tell Jack about this as we wanted it to be a surprise.  And dude, he was so surprised.  As Terry stood in the meandering check-in line, Jack and I viewed the scene from the lobby side of the looking glass.  He sat for at least 15 minutes as we watched the throngs of people run from slide to pool to water gun.  He couldn’t wait…I could.  Getting into a bikini right now, after weeks of not training for anything, was not my idea of a grand time.  Whatever.  Suck it up and suck it in, Sandy!

We got to our room, complete with forest theme bunk beds and flat screen for Jack, and changed into our swimmin’ gear.  I refused to walk “as is” to the slides (just can’t do it) so I threw on my cargo pants.  Hey, if someone really wants to take them while we’re out on the slides, have at it!  The bad karma is all yours.  We opened the door to this family-filled wonderland and were immediately hit with the stench of extreme chlorine.  Damn!  At least I don’t have to go for that chemical peel!  There was a bar on the left (good on ya’ to the planners on this one, but we did bypass it) and headed to the wave pool.  After a time riding the waves we did the smaller slides and the dump bucket then decided to force Jack on one of the steeper slides.  It was a giant tube that we all sat in, clutching the handles just in case.  Halfway through the ride, Jack’s smile disappeared and was replaced with screaming.  Oops.  You can assume that we didn’t do that again.  I finally couldn’t handle the chlorine stench anymore and retreated to the room.  It was that bad.  Besides, a shower was in order as well as some laundry time.

Also at this glorious haven of giddiness was a ploy to make you spend more money than you were prepared to part with.   Kids and parents were running all over the ENTIRE facility with these magic wands, shaking them at various locations, racking up “points”.  You could check your total points at several check-in stations that only came to life if you had a magic wand.  And how much were these magic wands that you HAD to purchase once your kid saw everyone else doing it?  Anywhere from $14.99 to $19.99.  Imagine if you had more than one kid.  Doing the math?  So, you’re pretty much held hostage by the marketing department and hoping you have enough money for dinner and a beer later.  Yes, Jack and Terry returned to the room with a shiny new wand.  Time to run from floor to floor, flicking the wrist at any and all  inanimate objects.  It was insane!  I felt soooo bad for the dad’s that were forced into this “quality” family time!  They looked beaten (think John on “John and Kate Plus 8”) and ready to hit the suds.  A lot of “Yes, dear’s” and “Whatever you say”  were being said.

But let me get to what I really want to vent about.  When did it become okay to treat your spouse like the enemy?  And when did it become okay to not care about your own health anymore?  Dude, there were so many out of shape bodies milling about followed by out of shape kiddies.  Really?  You’re going to pass down your poor eating habits and lack of exercise to your children?  Really?!?  And I’m sorry, but that Kate haircut (the reverse mullet) is just wrong.  WRONG!  And don’t EVEN get me started about the lack of manners represented by both parents and kids.  More than once I had an armful of luggage and an adult in front of me going through a door, letting it slam right in front of my face.  There were no “excuse me’s” or “Hey, can I get the door for you’s” to be found.  Am I just living in a bubble or are we as a society really this rude?  Are we not teaching our kids, as well as ourselves, to be kind to one another?  And not even kind, just respectful.  Terry and I were appalled.  It was here that Terry and I stressed to Jack the importance of holding the door open for others and always saying “excuse me”.  I’m not trying to say that we are “better than”, but I will say that we’re doing our best to make sure that Jack knows at least the basics when it comes to manners.  There.  I’m done…for now.

We were fortunate enough to park the bikes in front of the lobby instead of the sea of minivans.  Valerie, I know that they are convenient, but they’re just not for me!  Terry was approached by many people wanting to talk about our travels, handing out our cards one after another.  Like I said before, if we can help change one person, our work here is done.

So off to Seattle we go!  Our trip will take only a little over an hour.  Golden.  Stay cool, stay weird and hold the door open for others in need.

Cheers.

Now is the time to prove everyone wrong.  It IS possible to carry everything you need to survive in the dirt on a motorcycle.  This is how the experience went down.

We rolled into South Beach State Park, just south of downtown Newport, after about 4 hours in the saddle.  Not sure what the weather was going to bring, we took a gamble and decided against another night in a hotel.  Aside from room service, the whole hotel experience tends to be quite overrated.  We’d been checking in with weather.com for days now, knowing that there was a storm that brought showers to the region, but knew better than to succumb to another Best Western.   Every time we rolled past a puddle, we kept trying to determine if it was a “fresh” puddle or standing water from days past.

We literally got the last space in the entire park!  Timing is everything.  To bewildered stares, we rolled in and I immediately began setting up camp.  While pulling the tents out of their sausage casings, I was met by a family on bicycles.  The mom was completely astonished and said, “You really rode here on motorcycles?  From where?  Sacramento?  That’s SO AWESOME!”  We try.  And thanks for the kudos – helps us realize we’re not completely out of our minds.   Terry, list in hand, set off for town in search of dinner fixin’s.  It took 3 stores, but he was successful.  Good on ya.  It always seems so much easier when I have full control of the set-up, but you all know there’s a very eager 7 year old waiting in the wings to help as much as possible.  Fortunately, no blood was shed and no tantrums were thrown as Borden Tent City rose among the trailers and motorhomes.  With some nice dry wood and the local newspaper, I was able to get the fire going (thankfully since that was going to cook the gourmet hot dogs purchased at the local grocery store).  And what kid doesn’t like charring his own speared hot dog over an open fire?  I know I still dig it.

While setting things up, I chatted with Frank, one of the camp host’s.  He used to ride for many years until he struck and killed a deer.  He was able to continue riding his Gold Wing, but admits he was never the same after that.  He and his wife would ride all over the U.S.  And they really enjoyed it!  I always feel bad for those who just can’t recover from a bad experience.  Not to worry, though, as I think he enjoys riding around in his camp cart, selling firewood and chatting with all the travelers.

Here’s a nice little diddy about the storm we had been just missing.  I had just finished setting up the tents when a mom and her young daughter strode up along the restroom path (last spot in park means you camp near the shitter) talking about the previous nights storm.  “Mommy, the rain woke me up last night, it was so loud.”  To which the mom replied, “No, honey.  It was the thunder and lightening that woke you up.”  I froze, stared at the tents, and began to mentally prepare myself for a long night of huddling under the eaves of the restroom.  But when traveling by motorcycle, you know there’s always a chance of getting wet.  You just have to roll with it.

After our healthy meal and a few nips off the Jack Daniel’s, we set off on a walk to the playground.  Mr. Jack needed some kid time and a chance to get his ya-ya’s out.  On the walk over, we spotted a 1200GS nestled into the back of a pickup.  That poor thing needs to be released back into the wild so it can play!  We scratched our heads and looked around for the owner.  No where to be found.  Maybe later.

Remember camping as a kid and hanging out at the playground, trying to make friends with those who had been their longer than you?  Jack’s fortunate in that he can jump right into any game of tag or sword fighting and make a friend.  He ran and played, just squeeling with glee, while Terry and I caught up on travel plans, aches and pains and the need for a good nights sleep.  At o’dark hundred, we pried little man from the game area and headed back to camp.  We were all wiped, some of us in need of one last nip before hittin’ the sack.  On our way back, we ran into the bicycling family.  Stella, the mom, was more than enthusiastic about our travels.  We commiserated about families that lose themselves after having kids, finding life to be too hard to live and choosing only to exist.  It was a fabulous conversation with a like-minded individual.  With promises to check our site for travel updates, we bid the family adieu and trudged back to camp.  Sleepy time.  Honestly, I don’t even remember climbing into my sleeping bag.

The morning brought a painful awakening to the sounds of those f*@#ing early morning speed walkers chatting about their, oh, I don’t even know what!  Time – 5:57AM.  Ew.  I was so tired I didn’t even have it in me to shush them.  Couldn’t even purse my lips.  Now I was awake.  Fine.  I slowly crawled out of my cocoon and rolled outside to find a nice layer of dew spread across our tents and motorcycles.  Did it rain?  Nope.  I just forgot how much moisture comes with a night of heavy fog.  I miss it.

With each Borden that awoke, I began packing up their stuff.  But Terry and I had to stop and chat with Wally, a Coast Guard chief who was being transferred to Monterey from Newport.  Nice guy!  And remember that 1200GS in the back of the truck?  It was Wally’s!  Trust me, he would’ve rather been riding but he and his wife were hauling all their belongings down to California to report for duty.  It was a long, great conversation with promises to check the site and visit him whenever we were in Monterey.  “Just come to the post and ask for Wally – there’s only about 45 of us.  We’ll grab a cup of free coffee.”  Dig that guy.  Totally genuine.

We continued on our “drying everything and repacking the loot” to the amazement of our next door neighbor.  I heard him say to his wife, “They have more stuff on those bikes than I have in my PT Cruiser!”  He eventually shuffled on over to check out the scene and compliment us on our “abilities”.  He totally understood our desire to travel and bring Jack along for the ride.  “You guys are out doing it.   You’re experiencing it.  You’re not just sitting around.  Wow.  That’s great.”  Again, always makes you feel good when someone shakes your hand, gives you a genuine smile and wishes you safe travels.  Golden.

So north we head along the 101 to 5, heading into Washington.  Why 5?  Didn’t we say we wouldn’t ride that stretch?  Well, we need to make up some time and that’s the only route.  Besides, someone was kind enough to recommend Great Wolf Lodge, a hotel and indoor water park.  Thanks, Steve!  This outta be good!

To all our readers, many thanks for the positive feedback and kind words.  Share it with those you feel could benefit from what we’re doing and what we have to say.  Even if only one person a day decides to throw in the usual in exchange for the unexpected, we’ve done our job.

Cheers.