We are now on Vancouver Island, at a place about half way up the east shore called Campbell River. We left Orem on Tuesday @5pm and went to Ontario, Oregon that night. In the morning we went on to Seattle and spent a delightful afternoon there with a personal tour guide. Oma Lamothe grew up in Ridgecrest and now lives in Seattle. Kristi really wanted to see things in Seattle so we planned the time to see lots. We also learned a whole mess about the sordid history of Seattle. Thieves and prostitutes basically ran the place for it's first 100 years. Thursday AM we went on to Vancouver, British Columbia and took a ferry across to Vancouver Island, where we planned to begin this epic adventure. We said goodbye to our friends Derek and Trevor Jones, and watched with anxiety as our safety net (the Suburban) disappeared, everyone mentally rushing through their private necessities list to vainly try to think of anything we may have forgotten. A lot of the adventure, and consequent anxiety, of a big trip with no support is that there are multiple things, which can potentially sink you. One lost Allen wrench, sickness or injury, an unfixable mechanical problem--there are dozens of things, which can ground you. Part of the appeal is to see if you can improvise when these inevitable problems occur and get to your next destination. However, it is still somewhat unnerving.
The riders on this trip are Kristi, Matt, and myself, Richard. Kristi is 19, and will turn 20 during this trip, on May 12. She is the reason we are here, as she hatched the idea about 3 months with a (naïve) request for her own big trip. She did do an 850-mile trip when she was only 11, but she claims she was too naïve to know any different then. This will be her first really big one. Her biggest fear is having to spend a month with just Matt and I as company. Already we have proven ourselves to be unsuitable riding companions, when we stared blankly during her "sunglass crisis" while packing. We really did not understand why choosing the right color sunglasses for the trip was so crucial. We still don't, which in Kristi's mind proves her point.
Next is Matt, with Alaska and two other 1000 milers on his resume. We have tried a strategic move by giving him all the group gear to carry, but I suspect he will still be pedaling with one foot and urging us to hurry.
Then there is me, at 55 years old and going to the well one more time. I really thought I was done, but when Kristi proffered her request, it took me about 5 seconds to decide. Maybe I can steal one more. I do love an adventure.
Tomorrow we begin. Bye.
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