I attached my gear-loaded trailer and front panniers to the bicycle last week and headed down the driveway for the Olympic Peninsula. As you can see from this first-night self-portrait at Chimacum about 10 hours later, it was going to be a good trip.
It had been quite a few years since the last time I loaded up the bike for a self-supported tour, and this trip reminded me about some things I had learned from earlier trips:
Good maps are indispensable
Most of my day was spent considering the day's route, food, and shelter. Should I take the main highway or local roads? Will there be a lot of climbing between here and there? How far to the next campground? Should I buy food now and lug it around all day or will there be a grocery closer to my destination.
It always helps to have good maps to help answer these questions. The Port Townsend Bicycle Association has published excellent route maps for East Jefferson and Clallam counties on the Olympic Peninsula. They mark traffic volume and shoulder widths of common routes, locations of steep climbs, camping and restroom facilities, bike stores and grocery stores. Rural bus stops are even marked. They're available online or at visitor centers.
Attend to those strange bike noises
While most of the day is spent considering route, food, and lodging, those thoughts are pushed to the back of your mind when a strange ping, creak, or clank emanates from your bike. Unless you're an expert mechanic, this is a good excuse to seek out the nearest bike shop.
In some places in the US, that could be hundreds of miles away. On the Olympic Peninsula, the towns of Port Angeles, Sequim and Port Townsend each had a bike wrench. A concern about the possibility of rain and the need for fenders brought me to Sound Bikes and Kayaks in Port Angeles. Not only did I find fenders that could be installed over my 28mm tires, but the owner took the time to give me some advice on bike routes in the area.
My cooking repertoire sucks
In four nights of camping, I completely exhausted the menu. Tuna casserole nights 1 and 3, something tomato sauce-based nights 2 and 4. If variety is the spice of life, figure out some more meals that can be cooked in one pot and use foods available in any country store. My four meals were built around elbow macaroni — “al dente perfection in 7-8 minutes.”
On the bright side, I was so hungry at night that I enjoyed every spoonful of the same old thing.
Organize your stuff
Packing in an organized fashion makes it easier to find your gear. I used clear plastic zipper storage bags for clothes, cooking utensils, food, maps, etc. The mistake I made before I left was obsessing too much over which item should go in which plastic bag. After packing and unpacking at a couple of campsites, everything kind of gravitated into the “right” bag.
And for heaven sake, don't take too much stuff.
The rule of “before”
You've heard drink before you're thirsty and eat before you're hungry. Let me add pee before you explode. After a couple of uncomfortable periods in the saddle, I learned to take advantage of good indoor and outdoor restroom facilities when they appeared, not always when they were needed. You'd think that wouldn't be a problem on the forested Olympic Peninsula; but there are places where you don't want to pull off because of roadside businesses or thickets of sticker bushes.
Attend to those strange bike noises II
If you hear something unusual from your bike, for heavens sake, check it out! I heard an usual grinding as I made that long climb from the ferry terminal in Edmonds. I was a couple of hours from home (turned out it was longer than that) and it could wait.
A few miles later my cleat and pedal slipped off the crank. That grinding had come from a lock nut that held the pedal to a spindle on the crank arm. Thirty seconds with an Allen wrench would have fixed it. Instead, it fell off. Now I faced hours of squeezing my left foot to the crank as I pedaled.
Attend to the areas that make contact
Parenthood helped me learn the importance of organized packing; the diapering aspect also showed me the wisdom of wipes. There's more than one kind of road rash. Roadside Port-a-potties don't always have what you need for cleanup and some campgrounds lack showers. I found a small package of moist towelettes kept me very comfortable and clean where it counts.
Taking pictures
I essentially took an out-and-back route to Lake Crescent in Olympic National Park, so there were a few places where I saw what might make a good picture, but thought I'd catch it on the way back.
Later, I realized I hadn't stopped on the return trip. Why? Because you see far more picturesque scenery riding uphill or pedaling into a headwind. There are fewer views worth stopping for when you're zipping downhill.
Speed is overrated
I'd forgotten the enjoyment that comes from just plodding along with a heavy load. While bicycling is slower than driving (except in many cases of urban commuting), bike touring is slower still. My daily average ranged between 9 and 11 mph, depending on terrain. I even spent many miles on the picturesque Olympic Discovery Trail between Sequim and Port Angeles. Generally, speed is not an issue with bike touring.
Take time to chat
You're cycling through a new place. Take time to stop and talk with people. I learned about the hazards of the Hood Canal Bridge from a lady at the Farmer's Market in Port Gamble, good places to camp and routes to take from a bike shop owner, how tides affect winds from a country store cashier. And always seek out other bike tourists, especially those coming from the other direction. They can always fill you in on what to expect.
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