Oct 17, 2013

I am afraid it has been too long, but I really still like this thing.

Angry, that is to say somewhat disappointed, in Victoria.
So we leave in a holy-baptism shower,
Up and down hills through Tacoma...

for two hours.

40 miles pedaled. Its dark. We're tired. Scanning every roadside ditch and lane for a place to cook the food and lay out the bivy-sack stretch the tarp dry our feet eat eat sleep.
Come the morning I ride beneath the watchful eye of my father I ride beside my mother Oh, paternal mountains! Oh, maternal sea!
One night in a true campsite,
one bottle of ginger-cider,
one park ranger telling us, "don't burn the twigs"
one greasy bacon.egg.flapjack meal
two sleeping cyclists... under one blue tarp one true-blue tarp.
The next day finds a trail. A true trail, a you and me and anybody trail.
Port Angeles! (we only want you for your ferry)
such a long ferry ride...from home to strange but less strange than it is a little different.
Oh Canada! (you're pretty much the U.S... but you have lots of pretty girls)

No comments:

Post a Comment