Like grinding gears
The cry of the heron.
The morning was foggy and cold, but it was obvious that once the clouds burned off it would be pure blue skies. Walking back from washing my dishes I saw a great blue heron perched, huge and gargoyle like in the trees. It hunched up and flew down into the fog covered river, releasing that mechanical sounding cry as it flew.
Impressions from the road:
On highway 20 halfway to Concrete I saw three empty Bud longnecks and a black Cowboy hat. What’s the story there?
The short order cook at the Hi-Lo Country Bar & Grill in Concrete where I had the best short stack I’ve had in ages has a tattoo of a busty naked woman all stitched up like Frankenstein’s monster proudly, and prominently, displayed on his arm.
It’s Lady Luck, he says, she takes all the bad shots for you.
A white cloud in a blue sky,
Floats over green hills
— a summer breeze
There’s a gravel rail trail from Concrete to Sedro-Wooley, tired of gravel but it’s good to be off the highway. Sunny and warm now, the shade of the trail is another point in it’s favor. When country roads would parallel the trail, I’d switch to riding them as a break, even though their chipseal surface was almost as rough.
At the Skagit River Brewery in Mount Vernon, my first pub this tour, a cold ESB washed down some if that trail dust. An IPA followed then I set off on the the final stretch across the Skagit Flats with their everpresent headwind as the sun was low in the sky.
Camp setup I watched the sunset over my old hometown of Anacortes as the full moon rose in the east. Shortly thereafter I was chased off the beach as the rangers “locked it up.” Can’t say that’s ever happened before.
Miles ridden today: 55.4
Miles ridden to date: 167.5