The view from the cockpit

Day 3: A special guest star

We got an early start from Arlington, determined to make some real miles today. Rockport or bust! Our bodies were the only obstacles. I was on day three of my headache. I've always suffered from headaches and this happened on my last trip too, so I knew I had it to look forward to. There was a scary moment during the night when I woke up when a stabbing pain in my right temple - the kind of pain that moves in and takes a name for itself - and I imagined spending the next day lying on the ground - but fortunately it faded back to a manageable ache after a few Tylenol and more sleep. For Mary's part, she was still feeling a few remnants of the Bad Burrito episode, as well as fielding some inconveniently timed issues of feminine hygiene (how do< you handle this on a bicycle trip?).

And so, we made slow but steady miles through the morning. After a lot of debate, we'd chosen SR 530 to Darrington, over route 9 to Sedro-Wooley with a possible detour over (gasp) I-5. There was some concern about traffic on 530 due to a Bluegrass Festival at the Darrington Amphitheater - but in the end we shared the road mostly with day tripping motorcyclists en route to the scenic North Cascades Highway. The road itself was fine - decent shoulders, fairly level with a few gentle climbs - and stunning views of mist capped mountains, still peaked with snow.

Speaking of motorcyclists, we had a special visit from my friend Larry, who caught up with us along the trail. Larry came bearing fruit and soft drinks, and I had to laugh when he hauled the watermelon out of his sidebag... Larry accompanied us on and off over the remaining miles to Darrington, and treated us to lunch at what was possibly Darrington's only restaurant.

Arlington to Darrington, 30 miles, with 20 more to go 'til Rockport. Incredibly, the road from Darrington to Rockport is 20 miles downhill along the Sauk River. It's a phenomenal piece of road with gorgeous views and nary a car in sight. But since we haven't climbed much since leaving Seattle, I'm not sure how the math works out, and I'm a little nervous about tomorrow. There's a piper to be paid somewhere.

And indeed, we have three mountain passes in our near future. I'm confident though. We're still struggling, but I can see our rhythm falling into place already. Another couple days and we'll be old hands.

For tonight, we're holed up at the Howard Miller Steelhead Park, a lovely little state park along the Skagit river.

Mary, in the radiant glow of the Sauk

Day 2: Arlington, spare thy sting

If day 1 was the vicious sting of reality, then day 2 was the soothing balm of mercy. We didn't make many miles, but our faith in our quest and the good nature of humanity were both reaffirmed.

Setting out after breakfast at the Buzz Inn, we rode only a short distance into downtown Snohomish, where our eyes were attracted by the shiny baubles of an internet cafe. We were so busy before leaving that I'd been unable to configure the dueling blogs laid out before you. We took up residence for several hours while I learned the quirks of our traveling laptop, a tiny 7" Asus EEE with Linux OS. It's not exciting and I won't dwell on it, except to say, "eee! so cute!"

By then it was lunchtime, so we hopped over to alternafood cafe Grilla Bites, for sammiches to go. We'd blown off the morning, but I felt better equipped to document the trip - because after all, existence without documentation is futile.

We left Snohomish along the Centennial Trail, 17 placid, tree-lined miles connecting Snohomish to Arlington. I'd like to take this moment to point out the odd mental block that I have around the word Arlington. For no reason I can imagine, it's a word that I simply cannot recall. I can work around it - for instance, I know there's an Arlington National Cemetery, and that I can remember - but I can't get there directly.

We did arrive at Arlington, of course, where the trail comes to an unpleasant end at a gravel parking lot, and no sooner had I thought, "Where do we go from here?" then fate blessed us with Lauria Garka. (Forgive me if I've misspelled your name, Lauria.) Lauria (sounds like Marie) and her two friends had also just finished the trail, and were loading their bikes onto car trailers as we arrived (we later learned that they were training for the Seattle Danskin triathalon). Lauria asked us the leading question, "Are you packed for long ride?"

With shocking speed, the conversation turned into a generous invitation. When Lauria heard that we hoped to spend the night in Arlington, this big, bold, brassy, blond, generous firecracker of a woman, impulsively invited us, two complete strangers, to her home (all the while assuring us that she wasn't crazy, nor did we look crazy). She gave us directions, and then drove ahead to let husband Mike know what she'd done.

The wealth of Lauria's hospitality was almost embarrassing. She and her amiable husband Mike fed us dinner, let us shower, gave us a spare bedroom, and even boiled eggs for our breakfast, only asking for our company in return. We enjoyed an evening of good chat and a night in a soft bed. And, as Lauria is a postal carrier, she was well versed in the local roads, and replete with good advice for the next leg of our trip. She saw us off in the morning with coffee, and our sincere gratitude.

The unrequited love of Molly Garka

The Garka's dog Molly, a Cairn Terrier / Poodle mix ("A Carnoodle!"), has a hilarious fascination with the backyard water sprinkler. She spent the entire evening biting it, rolling it, digging at it, until Lauria turned off the water, at which point, Molly took up mournfully staring at the hose valve, hoping for the return of the spray.

Technological superiority

Readers may find me posting more frequently than Mary. It should be remarked that I have the technological upper hand in our husband v. wife blogging competition, as I wield the only iPhone in the family. Shhh - please don't tell her.

One of these days, Alice!

I like it when people ask us where we're going. Presumably, they expect something like "oh, just down the trail a ways'. My stock answer is simply "Virginia", said with a straight face. Questioners invariably respond with a long, blank stare. The sheer magnitude of the answer breaks their expectations and leaves a momentary comprehension gap, as big as if I had said "to the moon!"