feeling_spooky (feeling_spooky) wrote in bikewriters,
feeling_spooky
feeling_spooky
bikewriters

Tacoma

This was a mighty fine weekend after being sick in bed for 2 days straight.
Met a new friend at Point Defiance, ate lunch on a picnic table in the cold shade as a chain restrained us from moving it to the sun.
Cycled the loop around the park, caught touristy views of commencement bay...I will forever be a tourist here
The park was bumpin', it was a warm Saturday in May in a place known for its drizzle
Took the Scott Pierson trail over The Narrows bridge and at the pinnacle spent one of my favorite 30 random minutes in the sun staring at the water sparkling below, chatting, while boats pass below...next to the Help Hotline phone because people have committed suicide here...at least I hope it was on an equally beautiful day. Learned about bridge construction and destruction and developed a little rosy pink on the cheeks, and a little secret crush behind the eyes.
[Youtube Tacoma Narrows Bridge Collapse, and while you're at it go to singingbridges.net]
On to Gig Harbor after pedling the bridge, my hand touching the hand rail as I sailed along on my Schwinn, took another undeserving break lying on warm beach rocks. Found no good rocks to skip but wore his hat to block the sun from my glowing cheeks.
Up and down hills, pedaling up and down hills, made it back to the park and on to wait for the ferry, another short break on a grassy knol, felt good but too short lived. My confidence was high on this grassy knol...it must have been the lighting and the water being so close.
Short ferry ride to Vashon Island, always heard of it, a queer sounding name but interesting enough, never thought I would go but here I was. The situation was unassuming enough as it was, why not go to Vashon today?
Robot-served coffee, plush ferry seats, I was sunken low in my seat so I barely stared out the window.
Once on the island we pushed up the hill per the directions of old ladies and it was immediately calm and quiet and quaint and forested, we were alone on the road with optimism and a little portable "music pouch" speaker system..we listened to Explosions in the Sky.
We wanted to find the tree that ate the bike [roadsideattractions.com] but we never did find it. Road down a long hill and encircled the bay through a waterside village of homes where we agreed would be a nice place to settle down.
Peddaled through Burton, sailboats, back into the sun, found secret docks with old boats and rope swings, until we finally found our beach access slice-of-heaven like we were a-hunting for. I took photos of a clam full of flowers and we listened to indie rock bands of his choice. Now what would a trip to a little west coast island be without the proverbial Creepy?  He told us not to fear him nor his dog, wanting us to throw our bikes in the back so he could give us a lift to the ferry, or to know which way we were headed for fear he would hit us while he was driving...yammer yammer  yammer and we were back on our way from whence we came, put the pedal to the concrete, pressed hard up the largest hill ever only to miss the ferry by a hair as it was pulling away. He laughed hard and so did I.
We entertained ourselves with stretching and talking and Pedro the Lion and dreaming of joining one of the bayside bonfires at one of the private homes or climbing on the dock we realized had a broken joint.
The ferry came and we went, back into town, the sun was set and I could feel that the day was nearing its end. My energy was gone but we went out for a burger and beer and said our goodbyes quickly and I was stunned and knew not how to act towards this new friend whom I felt a bond and attraction to, except with a hug too short and a goodbye too shallow and promises of doing this again. But I didn't pay attention to the inquiries of a next time, I was too sad that the day was over, and couldn't believe that it would ever happen again. I can only hope that it will.
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