Port Townsend Bay

Caleb gets up at 5am because he hears Ed moving around. We had agreed last night to take an early ferry and bypass Seattle and start south on Hwy 101. Caleb comes back in fifteen minutes later, turns on the light, and then leaves me in the dark. When he comes back and grabs everything, but my shirt, I figure it’s time to get up and partake in the guys’ excitement by standing around sleepily. Ed hands me a pair of chaps, thinking they’re Lorraine’s (that I’m buying), and we both have a laugh when we realize they’re his.

The guys have the bags strapped (so nothing flies out or off), we’re wearing all the safety gear, and the windshield towels are put near the handlebars for wiping bugs or a wet seat. We leave the house, after saying bye to Lorraine, and get to the first light where we get separated. Caleb stopped because he said his glasses were fogging up. The guys can talk through their headsets, but all I see are the missed calls on both phones, and I try to connect my speaker three times with no luck. I turn it off until we can deal with it later, and so that we have less to charge tonight.

While we’re waiting at Keystone Ferry Landing, I’ll have a granola bar, which improves my demeanor. Being on the water always helps, too. I take the warming liner out of the heavy pants as the day starts to warm. We park the bikes in front of the Chimacum (a Native American tribe) Cafe, and put the jackets in the booth next to me. I’ll order the meal that comes with cottage cheese and tomato, as it reminds me of breakfast with Dad and Caroline at the Wagon Wheel in Cave Creek, AZ.

Astoria-Megler Bridge

We stop in Montesano for gas and candy, and my pants liner is lost out of an open saddle bag about ten miles from the Oregon border. We sit in traffic in Astoria, and our planned stops, still over one and a half hours away, might be taken off the itinerary (that I can’t find). Caleb gets to pump gas in Tillamook (because of Covid) and drops his bike. Caleb realizes how tired he is and how exhausting it can be to keep a 700+ pound bike upright for a full day’s driving, and we’re not done yet. He’ll drop it again when we get to the Air Museum.

Ed will stay outside the hangar and keep an eye on the bikes since he’s already been inside, which held more than I was expecting. We saw the familiar patches, war paraphernalia (postcards, base passes, and shower shoes turned into a letter), and cockpits you can sit in. There is an exhibit of model boats and small planes, a wall of full-size tractors, and a room of single and two-seater planes. As with any WWII history, there are stories of the Holocaust, these from children who changed their names, religions, and addresses in an attempt to avoid the extermination camps. Well, that’s depressing.

The museum continues outside with an aircraft that was modified from a Boeing 377 Stratocruiser that was given to Pan-Am Airways and renamed the Mini-Guppy. The airlines went under in 1991 after a bombing over Scotland in 1988 took 270 lives, and then the Persian Gulf War forced them into bankruptcy. There’s a photo of pieces of a blimp being loaded inside the Mini-Guppy in 1972. It’s large enough to haul wrecked aircraft and was used to transport helicopters for firefighting efforts, and was retired in 1995. It was featured in the film “Universal Soldier!” and had the Dandy Warhols use it as a concert stage.

Ed helps a guy put air in his motorcycle tire so he can continue towards Santa Monica. Our destination for the evening will be Lincoln City. We lug all the bags to the room because they seem heavier after a long day in the saddle. We walk to Figaro’s Pizza to pick up food and to Safeway for drinks. I’m starving, of course, so I’ll eat what I can while they shower. I’m ready for bed before the guys, which isn’t usually the case, but they are wired from their first ride across state lines.

My ass is sore from being stuck in a single position for ninety percent of the day. My brain case is aching from having an extra-small helmet shoved on my large noggin, but I’m not going to buy a new helmet just yet. I close my eyes and think about the noise, brightness, and warmth keeping me from sleep. I debate napping on the bike or attempting to go to bed earlier tomorrow, but I can be tired for a few days as I’m not driving.