Gone But Not Forgotten
A Promise Mostly Kept - Beverly, Washington
Returning home to find Captain’s ashes was simultaneously a wonderful feeling of being reunited with her but also absolutely soul crushing as the last time I’d seen her, she still had been tangible, but now her physical being had been reduced to a plastic bag of ashes in a wooden box and a small baggie of hair. The finality of knowing I’d never get to touch her again really hit home at that moment and it hurt. She was gone.
Captain might be gone, but she would not be forgotten.
The following day, I was really dragging. The emotions of being at the Beverly Bridge opening and then the unexpected return of Captain’s ashes, coupled with all the extra driving involved in the unplanned trip home to get them were really taking a toll on me and I had no motivation whatsoever to get back on the trail and riding without her. But at the same time, I still had my promise to Zilla to keep, and remembering Cholo, I knew that I needed to get back on the bike and keep going with the mission to help animals in need. Captain would have wanted it that way, she would always mother smaller animals (regardless of species) so I knew she would approve of our continuing on. We wouldn’t be travelling entirely without her though, as I had decided that I would carry her ashes with us on our journey so that she could still be with us as much as possible. I also decided that we would go back to the Beverly Bridge now that the festivities were over, so that we could hopefully cross in relative peace, bringing Captain’s ashes along so that she didn’t miss part of the trail. It might sound foolish, and probably is, but I made a promise to her and I would do everything in my power to get as close to fulfilling it as possible.
We made the long ride back to the Beverly Bridge and, as expected, it was much less crowded than it had been on opening day. Thankfully, it was also much less windy which meant it should be an overall pleasant ride. We coasted back down to the bridge and only saw a handful of people. Two of them were seated on a bench and it looked like they had ridden Brompton’s (folding bikes) to the bridge. They took an interest in Zilla so we stopped for a brief chat. Their names were Michelle and Joe and they were a married couple that had met while they were riding a different rail trail in Idaho (The Route of the Hiawatha). I then shared the story of Pedals4Paws with them. They were so easy to talk to that I just let loose and probably shared way more than I should have, but it felt so good to have some complete strangers to talk to and just dump all my emotional baggage in the process. By the end, I was in tears and Michelle was giving me a much needed hug. I’m pretty sure she was the first stranger I had touched in over 2 years thanks to Covid, so the hug was extra powerful.
We then parted ways and I set about the task of bringing Captain’s ashes across the Columbia as promised. I rode slowly and took my time, making sure to try and appreciate the moment for what it was as it would be one of the last things I would ever be able to do for my sweet girl. Near the middle of the bridge, we stopped for a few minutes and I took the opportunity to pull out the pieces of Captain’s hair that I’d been carrying from the previous day and then said a few words before letting them go to be swept away by the winds of the Columbia Gorge. I watched her hair slowly drift down towards the water before disappearing from my sight. It was sad to part with some of the few remaining pieces of Captain that I had left, but it also felt good to know that her hair would slowly make its way to the Pacific Ocean and from there, who know where it might wind up, meaning that she was now free to explore the world at her own pace.
Zilla had been adapting fairly well to his new life as an only dog. At home, he seemed a lot more calm, though he got extremely picky with what foods he would and wouldn’t eat. On the trail though, things weren’t too different for him. He had a lot more room in the trailer and now got all the attention whenever we stopped to talk to people, but by and large not much changed in his trail life. Nevertheless, I made sure to make extra stops while we were riding so that he wouldn’t feel as alone in the trailer and we took one such stop on the bridge so that we could both adjust a little to how things would be moving forward. We then headed back to the car, knowing full well that the most difficult part of the day was yet to come.
Quiet Moment - Near Beverly, Washington
