Progress the American Way

Make my way out of Bellingham on Wednesday along the beautiful, rolling, Chuckanut Drive. Beautiful if you are an experienced cyclist. Greuling if you are still working yourself into touring shape and carrying entirely too much weight. I am riding a bicycle from Vancouver, BC to Tiajuana, Mezico. Sorry I did not mention this earlier. This stretch of beautiful, densely wooded hillside with myriad picturesque views of Puget Sound and the San Juan Islands just so happens to be threatened by the developer's bulldozer. Better take lots of pictures. Cycling through the cool forests I am struck with the haunting sensation that I am often faced with while traveling - this is quite possibly the last time I will see this beautiful place in the state which it now exists. As they say in Ohio as they put up another Applebees along the new highway - that's progress. Progress the American way.

Crossing the bridge from Chuckanut Ridge into the Skagit River Valley the landscape changes dramatically from the thick forests of fir and cedar covered in moss to flat expanses of golden wheat and barley sprinkled with small farms and vegetable stands. The Cascade Mountains frame the Snohomish River where dozens of men rhythmically wave fly rods as if they are conducting an underwater orchestra. I stop to sample the wild blackberries that will set the standard for all other blackberries from this day forth. In Edison I stop next door to a bar that brandishes a sign reading: Bikers Welcome. No time for Bourbon now, just fresh bread and cheese to fill my belly for the long ride to the ferry landing on Widby Island. If this town only had a damn Wal Mart it would be perfect.