One Year Begins and Another One Ends
Lake Crescent, WA
2021 found us on the western end of Port Angeles about to leave sea level behind and begin our climb, quite literally. Our starting point for the year was at the intersection of Marine Drive and Hill Street and it was named Hill Street for a reason. Within two hundred yards of starting for the year, I had to swallow my pride and begin pushing the bike and trailer up the hill. This was not how I had wanted things to start….
With my ego bruised, we crested the hill and were treated to one last view of the Salish Sea and Canada’s Vancouver Island on the distant horizon. After using this brief vista as an excuse to catch my breath, we turned southwest and continued our slow ascent towards the high point of the entire trail roughly 1,300 feet above us. Thankfully, it would be an overall gradual climb as we were still roughly following an old railroad line, so the elevation changes had to be slow in order to allow for the heavy trains of the day to have made the climbs.
(click photos to enlarge and see descriptions)
The trail soon wound up and over the Elwha River, a historically embattled river that was home to 11 different species of salmon and trout before a hydroelectric dam was installed in the early 1900’s, decimating the fish populations. Thankfully, the dam was finally removed in 2012, allowing for the slow healing process to begin. The bridge over the Elwha is unlike any I had previously seen. It has two distinct decks: the top one for motor vehicles and the bottom for bicycles and pedestrians. It was definitely an odd feeling hearing traffic and knowing that the cars were driving directly over us, but we still took a few minutes to enjoy the views of the river before moving on to a much less enjoyable ride along the highway.
The highway from the Elwha to the village of Joyce was less than desirable. The road was fairly busy, had small to non-existent shoulders, and the shoulders it did have were covered with debris. One thing going in our favor though was that a recent storm had caused a massive landslide further down the road, preventing cars from using the highway as a thoroughfare to get across the peninsula thus keeping traffic to just the local population. Even so, the road ride was less than ideal.
The highway riding lasted approximately 10 miles or so before taking a turn down a dead end road and then another turn onto a dedicated bike path through a forest. It’s tough to beat riding on a paved bike path through a peaceful forest with your two best friends but we found a way. When the bike path ended, it joined a very well maintained, gravel road through an old growth forest. The ancient trees towered above us, fog drifting through the ferns giving a prehistoric feeling while occasionally the Lyre River could be spied through the trees, running far below us. This day was easily one of the top 2 days I’ve ever had on a bike.
But like all good things, our ride had to come to an end. The previously mentioned storms had also caused a landslide to knock out a 200 yard section of trail, burying it under between 5-10 feet of downed trees, rocks, and mud. The area was closed off to the public and would not open for several months. Our choices were to skip ahead and come back to finish the last couple hundred yards at a later date or to do a detour that would add another 40 miles to our journey along the most dangerous section of Highway 101 through a area without shoulders. Playing it safe, I decided we would just have to come back in a few months to do those 200 yards and keep our continuous line going.
Our next ride started on the opposite end of the landslide which was still months away from being cleared. There had been more recent heavy winter storms in the area that had knocked down a number of trees across our path. Thankfully, I was able to find ways to get by all of them. Some were small enough that I could drag them out of the way myself, others required me to get the dogs out of the trailer, unhook it from the bicycle, and then carry the bike and trailer over the tree and reassemble them on the other side, and one had fallen in a way that required us to slide under it. It was a very slow moving day and very tiring as I wasn’t used to having to use my arms to carry the bike and trailer. The dogs had a great time though as they got to spend a lot of time out of the trailer, running loose and exploring while I was busy taking care of the logistics.
Soon, the trail hit a series of sharp, steep switchbacks that brought our pace to a crawl. As I struggled to keep the pedals spinning, we were treated to an owl swooping down in front of us just a few feet away. Apparently our ridiculously slow progress of 1 mile an hour was not very threatening to the owl as she landed on a nearby branch to watch our slow progress for a while. It was awesome!
Just a few minutes after seeing the owl, the trail started to go back downhill. There had been no signs or markers, but the top of that hill had been the highpoint of the Olympic Discovery Trail. It had been pretty anticlimactic to have to ask myself, “Was that really the top?”, but it was, we had made it to the top! There were still about 40 miles to go to get to the Pacific Ocean (80 round trip), but it felt great to know that half of the ride would be all downhill from here. I conveniently overlooked the fact that we still had to climb back up from sea level to this high point again.
On the eastern side of the Sol Duc River, we came across graffiti on the trail. Normally, I ignore this kind of thing, but not this time. The words “Fuck Cancer” had been sprayed on the trail itself. 2020 had been a particularly terrible year for my family when it came to cancer. Captain had been diagnosed with 3 different cancers in 2020, both of my parents had their own run-ins with cancer, and a great uncle died from it. Thankfully, with the exception of my great uncle, everyone was doing well that day. Coming across these words in the middle of nowhere almost exactly 1 year after Captain’s diagnosis hit me pretty hard. I took a few moments to reflect on my loved ones, everything they had been through, and how horrible cancer was.
We continued on. I was still reflecting on the cancer situations and not paying attention as no more than 100 yards from “Fuck Cancer”, we crashed.
As far as crashes go, this was a good one. The bike and I fell to the left, landing on the ice. The bike trailer hit the ice, but because of how it is shaped, it dug into the thin ice and stopped almost immediately, thus stopping the bike as well. The dogs are always tethered inside the trailer so that they can’t fall out, so they were fine too. I however, got to go for a nearly 20 foot slide on the ice. Luckily, I stayed on ice and didn’t hit asphalt, so I didn’t get bloody, just bruised. The impact had also caused my handlebar bag to pop open and my camera fell out. It didn’t get broken either but instead slid along the same 20 feet that I did, stopping next to me. Since everyone seemed ok, I picked up the camera and took a photo of the crash while still lying on the ground where I’d stopped. The first photo wasn’t to document the crash, it was to see if the camera still worked. Since it turned out pretty decent, I’ve shared it here. The second photo is to document the icy trail that caused the crash.
Minus some generalized soreness, the rest of the ride was uneventful.
Just 2 days later, we closed the doors on a different kind of year. We celebrated Captain’s 1 year Canceriversary!
Dogs with nasal carcinoma live an average of 242 days. This changes to 88 days if there is bleeding associated with it and unfortunately, Captain is a bleeder.
Incredibly, she had defied the odds and made it 365 days (and counting!)
