More to Come…

The BP Protest ride is complete. However, I am still dedicated to living green. I am also writing my final graduate school paper and so my time is limited.

This post is a promise to you (and myself) to return to this investigation and to this blog as soon as my work for college is complete.

Thank you.

Ride Home, Day 4: Longview to Portland

It was raining when I woke up in Longview, Washington.

I left late and ate breakfast at a local health food cafe to kill some time while hoping that the rain would let up. It didn’t. I hit the street at 11:30 AM.

My camera stayed safe and dry in a plastic bag inside my backpack. My backpack stayed dry inside a plastic bag of its own.

I crossed the Lewis and Clark Bridge into Oregon by riding my bike on the shoulder, which was covered in rich smelling cedar wood chips. Perhaps a truck spilled them. The cars drive pretty slow on the bridge because the passage is so narrow. I wondered why the people who designed the bridge never thought to include a bicycle lane or pedestrian walkway.

On the Oregon side, a hiker walking with two walking sticks and a large backpack stopped me to ask about crossing the bridge on foot. I told him he could make it if he was careful. We parted ways.

Route 30 from Mt. Rainier to Portland consists mostly of a constant upward incline or else it’s flat. Mostly however, it’s uphill.

It rained relentlessly during the first three hours. The cold wind, misty spray from passing trucks and strong headwinds really tested my resolve. When my left arm grew weak and my fingers started going numb, I began to question if I’d make it the whole way home. It was hard to tell if the rain had soaked through my raincoat or if I had sweat through to the rain.

I sang songs in my head and took it moment by moment. Each time I turned the pedals it brought me that much closer to home. Eventually I began singing songs out loud.

When I’d get to the top of a hill and round the bend only to find another hill to climb, I’d laugh at the sky. Ha! Hills from Portland to Port Townsend now know my name and they tremble when they see me coming.

At some point the rain let up and the temperature warmed slightly. Good thing. I had begun to grow cold. Knowing that I’d be able to sleep in my own bed kept me moving.

I took out my camera after it hadn’t rained in a while. I was covered in grit and wet but my camera was dry.

My legs certainly were tired. I rode 75 miles the day before, 50 the day before that and 40 the day before that.

Still, the hills couldn’t stop me!

Finally, I saw the sign for Portland. About an hour to go.

Ten miles of slow incline.

Every time it looked like I was able to coast I’d stop pedaling and the bike would stop. The wind was pushing me back. The rain had soaked me to the bone. The hills were trying to get me. It was as if BP was controlling the weather.

I knew where I was and it wasn’t far from home.

It had warmed up and I was on familiar streets. I was nearly there, limp arm and all.

Portland began to welcome me.

I saw things anew and noticed things never before seen.

The bridge to Front Street was the last hill I’d have to climb.

I slid into the Pearl District by way of 17th street and was home at 4 PM.

It was so good to see Gwenn! She took some pictures before we went inside.

I did it! I rode 450+ miles round-trip to protest the BP oil disaster.

I didn’t spend a cent on gasoline or car insurance.

It took five days to get to Port Townsend and four days to get back to Portland. Going home is always faster.

I learned a lot and have many more questions and ideas. My legs are tired and my resolve is strong. 

The road is long, life is short.

I’ll be writing a summary of this experience (including a more detailed budget analysis) and more about cars, bicycles, oil, and living green in the comings days.

Ride Home, Day 3: Olympia to Longview

I rolled today! 75 miles of rolling to be exact.

Yesterday was such a windy, slow day. Today I was determined to make the best of it.

Even though the shower was a trickle, the water was hot. It wasn’t going to stop me from being in a good mood.

I left the hotel at about 9 AM. The sun was out and the temperature mild. I got a bagel and started peddling.

Due to the nice weather, I rode with my camera strapped to my body so to be able to take photos along the way.

Having the camera inspires me to notice things.

Samantha (the voice in my GPS) took me on a ‘shortest ride’ route and it worked out well. I passed some pretty scenery.

Old Highway 99 was a decent road with few steep inclines and a good amount of shoulder. Cruising at 15 mph wasn’t hard. Yesterday, because of the wind and hills, I was lucky to ride at 6 mph on average.

Passing through towns is like sampling flavors at the ice cream parlor. You can get a taste but you really don’t know the place.

Each town has its own character.

Smaller towns have remnants of a time gone past as compared with the bigger towns which have given way to large streets and drive-through fast food joints that don’t warrant a photo.

In the image above you can see the smooth edge of the street in the middle with the rough road to the left and the gravel to the right. I rode on the smooth spot as long as possible. In a car, rough asphalt usually means a bit more road noise. On a bike it means more friction and that slows you down.

Traveling like this reminds me of road trips I took in a car.

Everything is somehow less vital in a car.

On a bike everything is right there, in your face.

The mention of Portland on this map got me thinking I could make it home by midnight.

I imagined surprising Gwenn and decided to not stop riding until I got home.

When the rough road came to an end I was so happy I pulled over to get a photo. While shooting the picture below, a couple of kids came speeding down the street and rounded the curve nearly uncontrollably. Thank goodness I was off to the side as they passed.

It would have been nice to take a little more time to stop in places but there are only so many hours in a day (and only so much energy in one body).

The guy riding in the passenger seat of the gray pickup truck in the picture below barked loudly at me like a dog (ough, ough!) as they passed very close. Then he looked at the woman who was driving as if to get her approval. You can kinda see him doing it in the photo.

In Centralia there was an interesting trailer parked in town. It had a bunch of wanted criminals on it.

It looked like some kind of art installation!

In Subway there was a sign by the register advertising reusable sandwich bags that you could buy for yourself or your kids. Why doesn’t Subway give them away? This is a company that gives you a plastic bag to carry your sandwich ten feet and then discard. They also call their employees “sandwich artists.” Now that I think of it, why do I go there at all? Oh yeah, $5 vegetarian ‘Veggie Delight’ sandwiches in the middle of meat country, that’s why.

What if the sky turned yellow. Would that make people care about the environment?

By the time I reached Longview it became very clear that there was no way my body would be able to continue another 5 or 6 hours to Portland.

I checked into a motel and set out to get some food.

The first thing I do, however, is get out of my wet clothes. I dry my over-shirt using the fan so it’s ready for the next day.

I’m in the middle of town, surrounded by chain stores, fast food and big roads to cross.

There’s a health food cafe just down the way that opens in the morning. Guess where I’m getting breakfast!

One more day to go…

Ride Home, Day 2: Brinnon to Olympia

The time was 9:06 AM when I left the hotel room in Brinnon. I rode 60 slow miles today.

It was cold and windy. Riding by the water was challenging. At some points the headwinds were so strong that my bike would have stopped (and moved backwards it seemed) if I ceased pedaling.

It was cold. Highway 101 was long and hilly. I’m glad I didn’t ride up it to get to Port Townsend. It’s kind of a boring road. Maybe I’m just tired.

For some reason I kept singing a silly song over and over in my head this afternoon. For the life of me I can’t recall it now. It’s a nonsense song for kids. Being alone on the ride makes me withdraw into my thoughts. It’s a five or six hour meditation. I was really in the zone today until, on a very narrow stretch of road, someone yelled at me out of their Jeep window as they passed 18 inches to my left. It’s kind of like someone sneaking up on you and yelling in your ear. 

Abstinence

While in school this past week, my classmate Stephanie mentioned something that stuck with me. She told of a young man who went to another country to work with poor people. When he returned to the states he swore off using hot water because some people in the world don’t even have running water. She said it lasted about a week and then he reconsidered. He now takes hot showers again.

You or Me

In 1997 I performed at a storytelling festival as one of three featured performers. The show was on a Friday night. Just before we went on stage the organizers told us (performers) to cut our act to just 20 minutes because they wanted the audience to have time to attend an outdoor community event that was coinciding with our show.

I did as they asked and performed for 20 minutes. The next performer did his entire act (30-40 minutes) and the following performer did his entire act as well. When the whole show was done the organizer said to me, “I don’t remember your show being so short.” He had seen me perform a year prior and was comparing. I felt tricked, as if everyone somehow knew not to cut their set short.

After a very long ride, I made it to Olympia. This city is becoming familiar to me now. The sun came out.

During my walk around town, several well dressed teens approached me and asked for money so they could take the bus home. One man in his twenties asked for fifty cents and then asked for weed. I passed a crowded soup kitchen near the post office and then took a walk through the downtown area. Two cops were marching down the street as if they were responding to a call. I expected to see some action until they stormed through the doors at Starbucks.

This is a college town. Kids hang out playing guitars on the corner. There was a music festival on the waterfront. There’s a bit of energy here. It’s hard to explain. It reminds me of being a kid again. I went into the funky shops, the music store and a cool used book store that sold stickers and patches.

While flipping through the stickers, I spotted the message in the photo above. It made me feel like there are no solutions. Maybe I just need some sleep.

Ride Home, Day 1: Port Townsend to Brinnon

After a long week of college residency, I was more than ready to hit the road. I have been eating restaurant style food all week and it finally caught up with me. My stomach got to feeling really odd the night before I had to begin my trek home. I went to bed early to get enough rest and to get an early start.

It was about 9:30 AM when I hit the road. Riding earlier in the day tends to mean cooler weather and less traffic. Navigating unfamiliar roads after dark is not fun or safe. Since I didn’t want to ride too far on the first day for fear of overdoing it, I only went about 38 miles to Brinnon, WA. 

I passed a sleeping deer along the way. (Why he chose to lay so close to the road I’ll never know.)

The camera stayed in its bag for most of the day. All I wanted to do was ride, ride, ride. For a little while I imagined that I could make it home by nightfall.

The road was long and boring. Visual markers make any ride more interesting. It’s good to see things come and go.

Some people expressed worry that traveling such a long distance by bike is unsafe. There have been very few times where I’ve felt that my safety was compromised. Usually there’s plenty of shoulder to ride on.

Taking a different route home made things a little more interesting but for the most part I’ve found myself hypnotized by the passing street and ending up deep in thought.

For 25 miles I pondered about why that deer would lay so close to the road and why he pretended to stay asleep when I offered him a banana.

Once at the hotel, it felt like I had another hour or so in me. Still, it was a good start and a satisfyingly uneventful ride for the first day. The only thing that stuck out for me was what happened at dinner.

After checking into my room, I walked a block to the local restaurant and ordered some food. I had my camera with me and took a few photos.

When I snapped a shot of my plate after finishing my meal, the waitress turned around and said, “What was that?”

I told her it was my camera and added that I just got it and am in the process of learning how to use it.

“I’ve been taking pictures of everything!” I said.

“Oh. I thought you found something in your food are were gonna sue us or something!” she replied.

When did we become so afraid? Why do we think cameras mean money lost? Why do people think that bike riding is any more dangerous than speeding around in a metal box at 80 mph?

Solar Panels in PT

Six months ago this house was completely gutted and being renovated. It’s cool to see the completion of the structure with solar panels across the roof. Perhaps solar power will one day become the norm in the same way that indoor plumbing and central heating have become part of standard home construction.

Frequently Asked Questions

I’ve gone from Portland to Port Townsend and am half way through the complete protest ride. So far, people are asking these questions in person and so I am writing them up here in case you have the same questions.

How long did it take?

It took five days to get from Portland to Port Townsend.

How much stuff did you bring?

I didn’t bring much and even that was too much. You can see my backpack in this post.

Was the ride fun?

It was an adventure but I wouldn’t say it was fun. Parts of it could be seen as fun but it’s a lot of hard work and at times it’s outright grueling.

What kind of bike did you ride?

A Gary Fisher Cronus.

Did you buy special bike gear?

I got a few things but not too much.

How do you know where you’re going? Did you use a map?

Every night I study a google map to see where I’ll be riding the next day. While on the road I use a Garmin Nuvi 225 GPS. It has really helped.

How far do you go each day?

I rode about 50 miles per day. Some days I rode less, some days more.

How many hours is that?

5-8 hours per day.

Did you ride alone or is someone following you in a car?

I rode alone but stay in touch with a support system.

Have you ridden on trips like this before?

No. I have ridden a bicycle all my life, but not long distances.

Did you wear special clothes?

No, but I did wear a bicycle raincoat.

Where did you sleep? Did you camp?

To camp I’d have needed to buy camping gear. By the time I arrive at a hotel/motel I’m usually drenched in sweat, tired and sometimes hungry.

Why did you do this?

I’m bicycling instead of riding in a car to protest the BP Oil Disaster.

Day 5: Belfair to Port Townsend

It’s Friday.

It rained on and off yesterday so my camera was out only intermittently.

Signs, signs, everywhere are signs. (I wonder if someone cleans up the candidate’s signs after the election.)

Nobody yelled at me or mistook me for a criminal yeterday.

In fact, despite a small road with no shoulder and a lot of pot holes, the ride was problem free for the most part.

Route 3 became a full highway and I was on it. It was actually quite nice because the land was flat and the wind was behind me. However, when the exits came up it was pretty nerve racking. I didn’t stay on there too long.

When Route 3 curved to the left I opted to exit only to find myself on another highway with large walls on either side. I now understand roadkill from a different perspective. Cars and trucks do not stop for anything. It’s their highway, get off!

From where I was, it seemed possible to go back to Route 3. After running across the east bound lanes to the west bound side, it became apparent that I was standing at the very end of the shoulder before it became the onramp to Route 3. I’d certainly be hit if I tried to go that way. My sense of security disappeared and it was time to bail.

I climbed a 4.5 ft high concrete wall to find myself on the cul de sac in a very blue collar neighborhood. The people there really looked at me as I rode through town. Still, no police interaction.

Houses all start to look the same but once in a while something unique catches my eye. I like modern homes so I photographed the one above. It was on the waterfront in a nice area. What a show place. A large house on a fairly small lot.

One residence (which I did not photograph) had a boat, a large SUV and several cars out front. A small house had two Hummers parked in the driveway. I also passed a very modest (actually, small and dirty) roadside trailer with a very nice, new Ford Mustang parked outside. What does it say about people when their car is nicer or better kept than their home? Perhaps I should ask myself. My bicycle is a real head turner, after all.

For every hill you glide down, there’s another one to climb up. No, wait, other way around.

My motto for the past two days has been, “I kill hills.”

In fact, I got to the top of one hill to find a line of cars, with their engines shut off, backed up due to road construction (they were installing bike lanes). I rode all the way to the front and they let me through! After passing the construction, I paused to take a picture. 

Why do people spray weed killer on Dandelions? What’s wrong with lots of yellow flowers?

The first Port Townsend sign was a happy moment. Then came the Hood Canal Bridge. What a mile marker!

Thank goodness they added bike lanes in 2009.

The sun finally started to peek out.

12 more miles. About an hour to go.

Finally!

I arrived in Port Townsend yesterday at about 6 PM. I left Belfair at 11 AM. 

The other day I complained about being old. Today I felt… not young, but strong.

By the time I reached town I was drenched in sweat, needed to do laundry and was hungry for dinner.

There was one last hill to climb. It had three and a half parts. To demonstrate how I kill hills, I took its picture while peddling up the first part ‘cuz that’s how I roll now. 

After finally reaching the hostel, I did my laundry and went to bed. One of the guys in the room was snoring. Hopefully tonight will be a better night for sleep.

School starts tonight and Fort Worden will be my home for the next week. This is my last college residency so I’m going to do my best to soak up all the discussions about art, social justice, appropriation and all that jazz.

The BP Protest Ride home begins next Saturday!

I’ll do my best to update this blog during the week. There’s a bunch of things I’d like to show and tell you. If you have anything you want to know about, please comment. I’m not checking email while away. Thanks for reading.

BP Oil Spill News for Friday, August 20, 2010

• Most BP Oil Still Pollutes the Gulf, Scientists Conclude

• BP Oil Spill Settlements Likely to Shield Top Defendants

• BP accused of withholding ‘critical’ spill data

• BP oil spill: Final Gulf of Mexico well seal delayed

• New Orleans mayor tells media group BP is ‘poised to cut and run’

• BP Oil Spill: Dealing with Uncertainty, Human Health and a Manhattan-Sized Toxic Soup

Categories

• Details & Bike Stuff
• News & Information
• Thoughts & Observations
• To Port Townsend
• To Portland

The BP Protest Ride is complete.

Follow on Twitter: @vanadia

Key Posts

• About the Ride
• Cars vs. Bikes
• Inside the Bins
• What Is Green?

Related Links

→ Bike Across America
→ Bike Portland
→ BTA
→ Car Free
→ Electric Cars Are Coming
→ Greener Postures
→ Transportation Almanac
→ Upcycling Inspiration

64p/26c/27v