Day 4: Port Townsend - Bremerton - Seattle, 65 miles

After our much needed day of rest yesterday, we left Port Townsend before 9am and were practically flying along for the first couple of hours. The hills were gentle for our rejuvenated legs and the wind seemed negligible... We cycled through Port Hadlock, Port Ludlow and onto Paradise Bay where a young guy on a Trek Madone pulled out in front of us. To our amusement/glee, unloaded he managed to slow us down from around 25-30 km/h to a mere 20 m.p.h. If only there had been wood to touch when we thought to ourselves how we had finally cracked this cycling malarkey!

With 6 miles to go until we hit a bridge and a state park a few miles further, we decided to head on and stop for lunch later. As we approached Hood Canal, we were anxious (although in hindsight I would say blarsey - sorry i can't work out how to spell this) about the bridge that would take us across. To quote our lonely planets guide:

'Between the parks, Floating Hood Canal Bridge has a narrow, debris-strewn shoulder, busy traffic and a slippery metal rail angled across cyclists' path near its center. Signs advise walking this section but there is nowhere safer to walk. It would be more sensible to continue riding, carefully cross the rail, and get off the bridge as soon as possible'

I am not sure how to put into words quite how true that paragraph was. Reading it the evening before I laughed to myself. Reading it again this evening I wanted to cry ;-) Onto the bridge we went and I almost got blown sideways onto the grating (which apparently is lethal in rain). We were offered a small respite as the bridge was raised to allow a boat through. I am not sure gale force winds in the middle of an open straight really do constitute respite, however. As you can imagine waiting 10 minutes again for the bridge to be lowered meant there was now a huge line of traffic (read: noisy huge vehicles - passenger and cargo) sitting behind us. Finally we moved on, cars flying past. I felt like Mary Poppins waiting to happen - one extra large gust of wind and I was going to be carried away. Following the lonely planets suggestion we cycled on until we entered a single lane strictly telling cyclists to get off and walk.... The shoulder was not much wider than my bike! If I had the energy to cry maybe I would have done but I was concentrating so hard on getting off the bridge that there was no time for such luxuries... Once through the walking section Tim wanted to wait til there was a gap - by gap I mean more than 2 seconds in which to get your leg over the bike and both feet securely clipped in. It took a while, and then I sprinted for the line.

A few miles along S.R. 3 we pulled off the road and into Kitsap Memorial State Park - shells of our former selves. With a big woolly jumper on I huddled in the wind and tucked into a sandwich. At least the worst was over and done with...

Of course that wasn't possible. Once back on route to Bremerton the wind reared it's ugly head again right into our faces for the next 20 miles! Passing another U.S. Naval Reservation I felt like all my pedalling was in vain - I say that even enjoying the prerogative of being a woman tucked in nicely behind Tim ;-) I may as well have been pedalling backwards. An hour later we reached the edge of Bremerton where we went off route in search of the Seattle ferry. If we can't follow a route with a map I am not sure how we thought we would follow a route without one ;-)

We made it onto highway 303 after asking a couple of local kids for directions. As we pedalled further into Bremerton the wind was howling and joy of joys there was yet another bridge. As we entered I saw the sidewalk and bailed onto it. Tim the fearless warrior however battled on. Needless to say when he got to the other side he had no idea where I was and panicked (bless) started walking back over the bridge. As we cycled on, the hard shoulder disappeared and we had no idea where the ferry was. With dwindling spirits suddenly a sign came into view and we knew we were on the right tracks. After a lot of faffing we made it onto the ferry and settled down for the hour journey.

The story of today doesn't end here. Last night we had booked a room for three nights in a bed and breakfast. It taken us about 30 minutes to work out how to use our phone card on the hotel phone - yet again any resemblance of intelligence seemed to have escaped us. Eventually I put Tim through to the equivalent of 118 118, and a rather bemused lady on the end told us which number to use.... Having booked the room the guys told Tim it was on 18th street - cool - apart from when we cycled to 18th street (having taken a wrong turn up what felt like a vertical hill) we realised that I had written an address on Belmont Avenue...

So here started yet another saga. We went to the number I had written down, but on 18th street - there was no guest house here. I sent Tim into an old peoples home to beg them for the use of their phone. We couldn't get through though so we cycled to Belmont Avenue - the house was derelict! We cycled to Broadway in the hunt for coffee, cakes and yet more phones. I sat outside Peet's coffee, watching the local methadone users looking for somewhere to shoot up, as Tim went in to ask for help. The girls took him under their wings, hunting the Internet for our guest house and then ringing numerous places. Eventually they found an address for somewhere that matched the name we had. They even rang the place for us (on a different number to what we had) and checked this was the right place.

Two hours after we had landed in Seattle we finally found our bed for the next three nights, and a lovely place it was too.

Mentally and physically shattered we wolfed down pasta and wine and crawled into bed.