We re-entered and then re-exited Canada via Vancouver Island. Ed continues to answer questions from border patrol literally:
Q: are you bringing any food into the country?
A: yes, skittles.
Q: any weapons?
A: well, just a leatherman.
It's a good thing we're done with international travel.
Once we arrived in Port Angeles, WA, we traveled along the top of the state, through Olympic Park. The park was stunning and, at least this time of year, sparsely populated. Forests, snow-capped mountains and lakes abound.
We camped along Lake Sutherland and continued along the lake this morning. A few miles in, the road gave way to a mountain bike trail that hugged the lake about twenty feet above. The road was muddy and at one point, on a turn, my tire slid and I fell off the side, tumbling downward. My head french-kissed a tree and then I landed, with all my gear, in Lake Sunderland. While I was splayed about, three tween-age girls ran by on the trail above. One looked down and yelled: "are you good?"
At biking? Apparently not.
It took me about a half-hour to drag my bike and water-logged saddle-bags back up to the trail. At the same time, Ed, who was waiting for me at a scenic bridge, was apparently jesting to a couple that I'd probably fallen into the lake.
Back on the bike through the park and down into a little town called Forks, claim to fame: the setting for Twilight. OMG!
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