To Victoria and Back

A plane, a taxi, a bus, a bike, a moped... a ferry.

I remember standing by Pearl (my moped) in the front of the line of Harley's and other bikers, looking back at the tall city buildings of Seattle, and then looking forward to an unknown ocean, while waiting for the ferry to take us to Bainbridge Island. Blake was standing by his bicycle with other tourists. We were seperated for our way of travel, and this wouldn't be the last time. Looking back, I can only image how many judging looks we got for those entire two months. But in my mind, while in it, everything and everyone was blurry, except for my love and I. It didn't matter what other people thought, obviously, or I would have ran all the way back to Colorado at that moment.

I recall having the conversation of whether we liked Seattle enough to just stay there. And we did fall in love with it. Even to this day I'd consider going back. But what kind of adventure would that truly be?

So we boarded the ferry, locked up the bikes, and took our seats above. It was exhilerating. I was calling places in the area in search of shelter for the night. I had no luck. We got off the ferry and headed to Poulsbo, Washington. It was our first ride, 21 miles. We were tired when we got there. It was a cute, Aspen-by-the-ocean type town. We found a place to eat at JJ's Fishhouse. Of course we had our first bowl of clam chowder and steaming bowl of every kind of shelled seafood soup. During the meal I called around looking for a place to stay for the night; motel, hostel, couch, camping...no luck. We rested for a while and then decided to keep going, looking for some shelter. The night came and we were still riding. There was a park on the right, I have no idea where, and we quietly turned off the moped and snuck our way around the trail to a hidden area and set up camp. It was a rough night, but we were so tired we passed out right away. When we woke up, we realized we set up camp in a pond. Everything was wet and the sun was just coming up. We tried to dry everything out and pack up quickly before early runners found us. Heading back out, hungry and in need of some coffee, we stumbled into an old viking town. Nothing was open, it was early. We finally found an Irish pub with the best black coffee and breakfast I think I ever had up till that moment (of course everything seems like the best after camping in water.)

After fueling up and preparing, we rode 61.3 miles to Port Angeles. On this trip, we finally hit the 101! It was exciting to get onto the highway we would be on for a majority of this journey. Once we got to Port Angeles we found a cheap motel and headed out for dinner. Blake knows how to find the good places to eat. His idea was that we wouldn't be travelling that way again, and with his passion for food, it'd be an educational experience to try out some of the good places. We ate like royalty during this trip. Kokopelli's was incredible. I remember when we were eating there Blake got a text that he would be getting a new baby niece later in the year. It was a celebratory dinner (Marley Mae was born on December 20th, we can't wait to meet her!)

The next day we had round 2 at Kokopelli's and then headed onto another ferry to take us from Port Angeles to Victoria, BC. Again we were seperated getting on and off the ferry. We were both pulled aside by the border patrol of Canada. After being thoroughly questioned because of our funky way of travel we were finally released to see some Canada! We rode about seven miles to an amazing RV/camping site. It was warm and beautiful there. Blake and I both hopped on the moped and rode about 14 miles to Butchart Gardens that night. On our way we stopped at a winery and did a small wine tasting, then got back on Pearl and headed to the gardens. It was such a fairytale night; the wine, the flowers, the greens, the fireworks show... It was like another world. It was another world to us. It was Rivendale from Lord of the Rings to me. So magical.

The next day we headed back into Victoria to do some sight-seeing and shopping. We ate at an old English place for breakfast, James Bay Tea Room. It was fun to be in the sun and walking around. We shopped at a great recreational place for warmer clothes, pillows, bike gear, etc. We sat by the water and napped in the sun. We ate (again!) at Cafe Mexico. Blake and I headed back to the tent early because we knew that the next day would be long. We had to wake up at 5am in order to pack everything and ride into town to catch the early ferry back to Port Angeles. At this point we were still figuring out good and quick ways to pack up all of our things, it was taking up to an hour to get everything situated. We grabbed breakfast and fruit at a gas station and slept and brushed our teeth on the ferry. After landing in Port Angeles we rode through it (after a mini-melt down on my tired behalf) and took off towards Forks, Washington. Over-all the trip from Seattle to Victoria and back to Port Angeles was 159 miles of traveling.

Sunny Seattle

What? Sunny? Seattle? You must be dreaming... Yeah, I think we were.
It was sunny! For all the days we were in Seattle (excluding the first night, but that was to be expected.)

A mere two hours after leaving Colorado Springs we were landing in a different world. We didn't have a plan for how we would leave the airport let alone food and sleeping for the night. But that's how this trip was going to be. We would just figure it out as we went along.

We grabbed a taxi who promised us a fix rate to the nearest campsite. Two miles later and $50 for the ride (what? lame!) we ended at our first and only KOA Campground with two huge cardboard boxes, a backback, a sick dready, and an unsure girl.

We were so tired and stressed that no pictures were taken of our crazy luggage and Blake putting his bike back together in the parking lot. We over payed for the tent camping spot and Blake ventured for food while I set up our tent and gear for the night. I knew it was a truly rough night when Blake came back with Wendy's. If you know Blake you know that is past a last resort option. I was totally ok with the cheeseburger and fries.

I remember calling my dad and letting him know we landed and were setting up camp. It was so nice to hear his voice and know that he was always a phone call away. We were doing this. We weren't talking about it any more. We weren't planning. We weren't even saying goodbye anymore. We were in it.

It rained that night. We were so close to the airport that I thought the planes were going to land on us every five minutes during the night. Blake was still sick and never had time to recover from his bike accident. I had my first melt-down. He was so good with me when I was worried about what we were doing. I was more concerned that we were camping near Canada! And in Canada. I knew it was the summer, but I had never been that far north before. What were we getting into?! We will freeze to death in our sleeping bags. I didn't sleep.

The next morning was the first official day on this journey. A new start to the trip. That day we walked through the market and looked around a little, then took the longest bus ride I have been on, checked into a motel, took a cab to the Honda dealership, jumped on that thing, and rode back to the motel together. That ride back was the moment I knew we were crazy. But the only kind of crazy that was good.

The next day we packed up the way we would for the next two months and headed back into downtown Seattle. It was the 4th of July. We checked into our hostel, The Green Tortoise, which was right on the corner of the Public Market. The hostel was incredible (I described it as something from Harry Potter in my blogpost while there.) After two months and 2,500 miles, that first hostel was by far the best one of any we stayed at. That night we went across the street to Victor Steinbrueck Park, which overlooked the water and watched several firework shows go off. It was the best 4th of July.

I'm pretty sure during our few days there we walked every block of the great city of Seattle. We went to the art museum, ate fresh fruits from the market, watched fish fly over people's heads with lots of yelling, grabbed a photo by the first Starbucks, went to the coolest REI for some gear, and on our way out of town we checked out the Troll Under the Bridge. We both loved Seattle. But I am convinced that's because we saw it on the only sunny days they had out of the whole year. It was beautiful.

The journey to get ourselves out of New Mexico and Colorado, and to make this travel dream reality wasn't always pretty and enjoyable. But when is life always pretty and enjoyable? Those rough times, and stressful situations only make the joyous ones THAT much more of a miracle and appreciated. Looking back, I would NEVER trade a second of what we went through and what we got to see and feel and experience. I could not have asked for a better partner on this journey. Blake is determined and sees everything in a way I don't, just as I see things in ways he doesn't. I had a travel buddy, my best friend, and my lover by my side every day, and to be able to have him know every feeling and know every sight of where we were is the best gift I could have asked for.

The next move was to get out of Seattle and on the ferry to Bainbridge Island.

From the Beginning

I'm horrible with goodbyes. Just aweful. I break down. I cry. I linger.

Blake knows this about me. So the night before our flight out of Colorado Springs to Seattle, while my girlfriends were helping me pack my life into what then seamed like the smallest backpack in the whole world, Blake came over to my parent's house and told me that then is when I would have to say goodbye. I am grateful to him for making me do that.

Saying goodbye to may family was a whirlwind. But I had really been saying goodbye that whole month of staying at my parent's house in Monument. They already knew all the details that I could give them about my trip and that we didn't know when we would see eachother again. I think I cried myself to sleep that night.

In Blake's world, he had gotten sick. Ugh. His "sick days" get pretty aweful. He's prepping to take his body on a tour down the west coast and he gets sick the week before we leave. In my mind this is crazy because we are going up north, to Canada, to Washington. Wet & cold. He better kick this cold fast. (The morning we left, Blake decided to have a personal relationship with the cement sidewalk on a last-minute bike ride as well... it was a good one.)

Also in our world, the week before take off, was the great fire burn-out in Colorado. It was kind of scary, and we had to think about post-poning the trip if the fires got close enough. Thankfully they never did. And we were already packed with the essentials...so we kicked back and played pool in the garage. We saw Micheal Franti at Red Rocks. Blake ran the Garden of the Gods 10 mile. My family brought home a new kitten. Blake got to spend time with his nephew, Cash. That last month was very much needed and utilizied. I miss every minute, but every minute of it solidified how excited we were to start this next journey.

Monday, the second of July came. We packed our things in cardboard boxes for the plane and headed to the airport with Shawn and Mary, Blake's parents. I was glad it was them to take us because they are strong enough to not make it too emotional, and they are supportive. They stayed in line with us as we encountered the first of MANY bumps to our trip (just having to unpack and leave behind some camping gear that we couldn't take on the plane.) Mary's tears and Shawn's big hugs helped us know we were loved and I knew they would come get us no matter what if anything happened. Ok, let's get on the plane.

Show at Red Rocks in Denver. 

Spending time waiting for news of the fires. 

My sister, Bella, and new kitty, Oliver.

Doing some reading, trying to prepare for what's ahead.

Hours before leaving.

Our life, packed away in cardboard.

Goodbye, Colorado! We will miss you.