It rained half of the day on the ride from Port Townsend to Port Angeles. Murray and I rode;  Jenny visited friends in Port Townsend and they drove her the 40 minutes back to Kingston to retrieve the car.

Earlier in the day, Dale dropped us at a bike shop in Port Townsend to ask about the best route to ride from Port Townsend to Port Angeles.  Scott, the owner of the bike shop, had created metal and wood sculptures, some with bicycle parts. It was a lively shop.

He directed us away from highway 20 because of the lack of shoulder, and routed us to Highway 19 to West Valley Rd. and finally to 101.  The roads were good, West Valley Rd. quiet and lovely, but we didn’t realize it was about eight miles longer to go that way. It was fine, and certainly a good choice to stay off Highway 20, but it made us think about the questions we need to ask about directions we receive.

When we reached 101 it was raining hard, we were soaked and slightly cold.  Murray bought us coffee and potato chips at a little store along the road and we warmed up for 20 minutes before going after the remaining 30 plus miles. I was anticipating being cold and wet for a couple of hours.

To our delight, Gardiner Road appeared in less than a half mile and we got off the heavily traveled 101, with  little shoulder,  and rode on a quiet road that evolved into the Discovery Trail. The trail came and went as we pedaled toward Port Angeles, much of it in moss-covered woods, with the Strait of Juan de Fuca occassionally visible.  The rain stopped. We warmed up.  We were in a mindset to “get there”, rather than appreciate the sights, so we stayed on 101, which we were told was eight miles shorter than the trail.

I was feeling strong as I approached Port Angeles, Siri offering directions, and the last I saw Murray he was ahead of me. Then my phone died, with less than four miles to go- but I didn’t remember Dave and Libby’s address, and I lost Murray and his phone, too.

Hmmmm….I leaned my bike against a telephone pole, where it was visible,  and went into Little Ceasar’s and a patron let me use her phone to call Jenny. No answer. Hmmmm…I returned to my bike and…there was Murray! He had stopped to pee and I hadn’t noticed that I passed him five miles back.  He had a phone charger; I had been carrying until today.  🙂 I plugged in my phone  in Little Ceasar’s and in five minutes I was back on Google maps and Dave and Libby’s address.

West to Race St. and a left toward Park…and a hill! A big hill for the last 1/4 mile to Dave and Libby Christian’s home.

“Murray, we need to find some friends who don’t live at the top of a hill,” I said, and heard Libby chuckle as she walked out the front door.

Ahhhh…such a wonderful feeling to arrive. And have paella for dinner!

Thank you, Dave and Libby.