Monday, 11 August 2014

Day 74: Sandy Hook to Westport 445km

The cabin at Sandy Hook has been in Mark's family since the 1950's when his grandparents bought the land and built a holiday place.

We can feel the strong family connection.

These succulents in various shoes at the front door convey that sense of continuity.

We have very much enjoyed being here.

But, it is time to leave this haven.

We set off in the sunshine.

Soon Mark disappears into the sea mist which envelopes Whidbey Island.
We wait at the Coupville ferry dock for the 8.45am ferry.
While Dick and Ken are the watchmen...

I meet big hearted Chuck.
He is on a fishing mission with Casey. They are crossing on the ferry and heading for Neah Bay where they expect to catch king salmon. They have caught 30lb salmon there in the past. They have freezer on board the truck and will bring it home filled with fish.
Casey gives me his favourite alder-smoked salmon technique. The results are guaranteed to bring all the family round for a meal.
The ferry arrives.
We ride in board.
Motorcyclists board first and get a front row position for disembarking.
Very soon Mark is surrounded by an interested group of motorcyclists.
His bike(s) always generate a lot of interest. The stickered panniers tell stories of an adventurer.
At the bow a crewman is giving hand signals to the bridge.
In this thick fog he is on Lookout and sighting other vessels in this busy sea lane and signalling the direction to the helmsman.
LeAnn is the traffic deck manager... And proud mother of a son who has recently graduated in electrical engineering.
David is a friendly trucker. He is going across to pick up a of lumber - fir and hemlock mostly- and will return to Bellingham where the logs will be milled into 4x2.

Gary is from Milwaukee and has been at the Sturgis motorcycle rally early this week. He said it was a bit overrated and overcrowded. Some people were riding bikes who were very inexperienced.
He seemed to cope better with our accents than a lot of people we have met in Washington state. He said that he had no trouble with our accents because we was a first-generation US born son of German migrants and was well-used to other accents.
LeAnn signalling the dock. She turned and gave a thumbs up to the bridge immediately after this pic.

The half hour journey took us about an hour in the thick foggy conditions.

We ride up the hill at Port Townsend for coffee...

Then with a hug from each of us we say our last good byes for now.

God bless you, our dear friend, Mark.

You have been a blessing to us and to many others along life's road.

"See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared". Exodus 23:20

It seems strange to ride away without our Pacific Northwest guide.

Soon we are distracted by the emerald and blue Crescent Lake as we ride west along the Olympic Peninsula.

We stop for a break at Beaver.
This scene alerted us that servings are large in this cafe. We had a chat with a delightful British family. They have visited New Zealand when their children were smaller.
We keep up our unofficial NZ tourism roles whenever we meet people. Now it's time for these teenagers to think about visiting NZ during their gap years.
We wend our way around highway 101 west until...

This sign appears.

We have turned the corner and are now riding South - destination Los Angeles via. San Fancisco.

Our first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean.
Rain forests surround us for much of our ride.

We meet Brian who has a catering business in Southern California.

We have begun to look for somewhere to stay tonight. Several places in amongst the forested lakes are shuttered up.

We continue through Aberdeen - a sad looking town- to Westport on the coast.

We have dinner at the Half Moon Bay restuarant at Westport.

We decide this is the westernmost restaurant we are likely to eat at. The most easterly was at Eastport in Maine.








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