Lions of the Sea

I have had a welcome reprieve of my lonely last few days today in the form of numerous little social exchanges. I chatted with the other bike tourist camped near me at Beachside this morning. He's from Portland, headed for Phoenix of all places. I said I wasn't sure if I have the guts to do desert. He looked me over once and said that of course I do. He then asked if I wanted to smoke a joint with him, and I politely declined, and we went our separate ways. I sometimes feel that I miss out on one of the standard cultural interactions here in the Pacific Northwest because I'm not that into marijuana. But I can live with that. To each their own and all. At the top of a big climb I chatted with a British fellow who bore a strong resemblance to Stephen Fry. At Sea Lion Cave I was stopped by a nice older fellow who told me I must be either in great shape or exhausting myself, and I told him it was some of both. I talked to a flagger while I was waiting for all the other cars to pass so I could take my place last and she said she'd seen three bike tourists come through this week and asked what in the world possessed us. I laughed and said that it was great fun. And best of all, outside a Fred Meyer after I bought a few groceries I talked to a 70-something gentleman locking up his bike who said that he had been a bike hobo back in the 70s well before bike touring had become popular, traveling 10s of thousands of miles, mostly stealth camping, and picking up work where he needed it. He told me I was doing a great thing, that while other people my age were married and settled down in the humdrum, I was making the stories to tell my grandkids one day. I don't quite know how I feel on that, for one thing the part where I ever have grandkids, but I liked hearing him talk about it.

It was a good day, and an eventful one, full of delays of all kinds. I had a lot to stop and take in and photograph. And I ran into a lot of road work along the way for which there were substantial wait times, followed by pedaling like hell as not to unduly increase the wait of others. I made sure to thank all the flaggers I passed. I hope other people take the time to do that. I know, they're the folks stopping you and making you wait around, and that wait is even more significant to you when on a bike. But think about it, in rain or shine (and there were definitely some showers today in the morning) they have to stand there all day doing their important but generally thankless work. Coming from someone who biked 60 miles hauling a trailer, up and down 3000 feet, today, I think that sounds like a very hard job. If you never take a moment to tell your appreciation to a flagger as you go by, you might want to consider it.

Though of all the gorgeous sights and delays I took today, by far, the highlight was Sea Lion Cave. I'd never heard of it, had no clue it was a place until I was right there. I love that about not doing research into tourist sites ahead of time, it allows me to receive such splendid surprises. I came up to a viewing area and could hear some sea lions, and could just barely make them out on the beach far below. I snapped some photos, while commenting to a lady that it had been so beautiful on the way up, I hadn't realized until seeing the sea lions down there that I'd actually climbed that high. She said she knew what I meant, and I muttered inwardly she likely didn't. And I thought that was it for seeing sea lions.

Then I reach Sea Lion Cave. At first, the gaudy gift shop and concessions had me deceived into thinking it was just a silly tourist trap. Then I actually read about what was awaiting down the stairs and the 200 foot elevator and I gladly paid the $14. It's North America's largest sea cave, and through a caged opening you can see down into the vast hollow where hundreds of sea lions play, chatter, rest, dwell. It's awing, truly, unlike anything I've ever seen. This is real, not some Seaworld or Aquarium artficial environment filled with animals for my entertainment as I've grown far too accustomed to seeing... No, the cage between me and them didn't make me feel like I was looking into an exhibit, but that I was the one trapped somewhere artificial, looking at a whole society of marine animals who might observe me as I would them in the zoo. I wanted to stay and watch for hours. It was so hard to have to leave and return to the reality of the surface, where it was gray and drizzly and I had thirty miles yet to go before the day's end. But the sky gradually cleared after that, and I seemed to progress with the sense that whatever else I saw or faced today, or even this whole trip, my time in that cave made it all worth it in itself.

There were some long, tough climbs after that, into some rather dull forested areas of little note at that, but I made my way on in mostly good cheer. I camp again tonight, in an area irritatingly infested with mosquitoes. Once again I'm sitting in the bathroom to use its electricity. But tomorrow, oh tomorrow, after just 40something miles, I finally get to be inside, with laundry and a warm shower and the whole nine yards. I'm excited. If I'm lucky, it might even not rain tonight, and I can get on the road at a good hour.

No WIFI, so all the awesome pictures from today are sadly going to have to wait to be posted tomorrow. I can't be burning through all my data.