So now I’m back in Redmond, learning to live with someone for the first time, and trying to scrap together a part-time living so that I can write, do some game design, and teach ESL.

For consistency’s sake I thought I had better finish out the day-by-day mileage log for my trip:

Wednesday, September 30th, 2009 (89.2 miles)

Mattawa
Deux Rivieres
Bissett Creek
Stonecliffe
Mackey
Rolphton
Point Alexander
Deep River
Chalk River
Petawawa (Pine Grove RV Park)

Thursday, October 1st, 2009 (93.3 miles)

Petawawa
Pembroke
Renfrew
Stewartville
Panmure
(field a few miles south of Ottawa 10 on Ottawa 3)

Friday, October 2nd, 2009 (45.0 miles)

Kemptville
Spencerville
Prescott (Bridgewater Inn)

Saturday, October 3rd, 2009 (43.9 miles)

Prescott, Ontario
ENTER NEW YORK STATE, ENTER UNITED STATES (Prescott-Johnston Bridge closed to bikes and peds, boo!)
Ogdensburg, NY
Flackville
Canton
Pierrepont
Colton
South Colton
(Higley Flow State Park, Closed)

Sunday, October 4th, 2009 (78.2 miles)

Higley Flow State Park
South Colton
Tupper Lake
Sararac Lake
Lake Placid
(Wilmington Gap State Park)

Free Breakfast at Tupper Lake-Main Street Restaurant!

Monday, October 5th, 2009 (37.3 miles)

Wilmington Notch
Wilmington
Jay
Au Sable Forks
Clintonville
Keeseville
Ausable Chasm
Port Kent
cross Lake Champlain via ferry
ENTER VERMONT
Burlington, VT (Ho-Hum Motel on Route 7)

Tuesday, October 6, 2009 (76.8)

Burlington
Williston
Richmond
Waterbury
Montpelier
Plainfield
Marshfield
Danville
(grassy highway interchange west of St. Johnsbury, I-91 & I-93 & US-2)

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009 (31.1 miles)

outside St. Johnsbury
St. Johnsbury
ENTER NEW HAMPSHIRE
Lancaster, NH (Motor Inn)

Thursday, October 8th, 2009 (52.3 miles)

Lancaster
Gorham
ENTER MAINE
Gilead, ME
Bethel
Neary
(Stonybrook Campground)

Friday, October 9th, 2009 (44.6 miles)

Stonybrook Campground
Hanover
Rumford
Mexico
Dixfield
Wilton
Dryden
Farmington (Colonial Motor Inn)

Saturday, October 10, 2009 (74.6 miles)

Farmington
New Sharon
Mercer
Norridgewock
Skowhegan
Canaan
Palmyra
Newport
Carmel
Hermon (Wheeler Stream Campground)

Sunday, October 11, 2009 (60.7 miles)

Hermon
Bangor
Holden
Ellsworth
Bar Harbor
Acadia National Park (Blackwoods Campground)

Monday, October 12, 2009 (62.9 miles)

Acadia National Park
Bar Harbor
Ellsworth
Orland
Bucksport
Verona Island
Searsport
Belfast (Gull Motel)

Tuesday, October 13, 2009 (59.9 miles)

Belfast
Camden
Rockport
Rockland
Thomaston
Warren
Waldoboro
Nobleboro
Newcastle
(Pioneer Motel)

Wednesday, October 14, 2009 (52.8 miles)

Pioneer Motel
Woolwich
Bath
Brunswick
Freeport
Falmouth
Portland
Scarborough (Downeaster Motel)

Thursday, October 15, 2009 (65.3 miles)

Scarborough
Saco
Biddeford
Alfred
Sawford
ENTER NEW HAMPSHIRE
Rochester, NH
Northwoods
(Northwood Meadow State Park)

Friday, October 16, 2009 (72.6 miles)

Northwood Meadow State Park
Epsom
Concord
Henniker
Hillsborough
Keene (Best Western during Pumpkin Festival….crazy)

Saturday, October 17, 2009 (44.4 miles)

Keene
ENTER VERMONT
Brattleboro, VT
Jacksonville
West Halifax (Aunt Laura and Uncle Barry’s)

• Total Mileage:  4,453 minimum (calculation of all daily mileage minus one I forgot to record), 4,709 maximum (this includes “about town mileage”),  the real mileage directly toward the trip was probably in the 4,550 range.
• Total Days:  60

To Ahna “Kreegs” MacDonald and Roberta “Squeaky” Maize, Okanagon Level contributors to this trek.  They have kept me in bananas and carrots.  They have sustained me with their goodwill, light-hearts, and generosity.  The Okanagon  does not begin to describe the valleys through which Squeaks and Kreegs have carried me.  They are vast canyons of erosion beneath my wings.  They are the fruit orchards of my tented dreams.  They are the undocumented workers who keep my legs churning at 8 to 12 mph over any terrain.

Ladies, I apologize whole-heartedly that this here blog has not been filled with the kind of salacious debauchery which I know you wantonly desire.  The craven depravity which lurks in your dimly illuminated (but one tepid shaft of sunlight) office/den/lair knows no bounds.  Alas, the risque truths of the road are too hard for the timid ears of your peers.  And too, we must keep it clean for the kiddos.

To Warren Gilles, an Erie Canal Level contributor.  I don’t know if I ever crossed the Erie Canal, but I did pass some sort of canals or canal-like geographical features.  I thank you for your generous gift.  I immediately blew most of the dough on new tires in Saskatoon.  (This is why people *shouldn’t* give me money.  I spend it.)  Although harried on all sides by the demands of his job, his wife, and his teenager, Warren is a great boss, a gentle human being, and an excellent poker player.  I hope he is able to use the last of these traits to extract his contribution from Joe Jones (assuming Joe has enough foolish courage to invite Warren to another poker game).  Warren, it was a pleasure working for and with you, and one way or another I’ll see you again soon.  And, hey, be assured, the secret of your and Sean’s embezzling is safe with me.








Speaking of secrets, to my secret girlfriend, Megan Sykes, a two time West Quody Head Level donor.  This is a crazy amount of generosity and it has completely tainted our relationship.  With some remorse, I opted not to head to West Quody Head.  My legs, more akin to the ivory prosthetic of the captain of the Pequod; my heart, unwilling to chase that white whale, especially with the white winter squalls threatening.  I turned back and down the coast of Maine at Acadia National Park.  And I would be thoroughly satisified with this decision had it not been for the influence of the next, and last, group of donors.  Wherever the vestiges of our relationship lead, it has been fun and I appreciate your support.

To my parents, Roger and Joan Gerdes, six time West Quody Head Level donors. It is my suspicion that you mean well. You supplied me with money when I didn’t need it; you supplied me with second-guessing when I didn’t want it. The former kept me in the warm comfort of motels on many of the cold nights at the end of the trip when I realized I would come in under my budget. The latter kept me inspired to continue when I probably shouldn’t or wouldn’t have, for no better reason than to establish that it is my life to live and my decisions and conclusions alone which give it meaning. To you both, I will undoubtedly forever be obliged.

Dad, Megan, and William at Mercer Island

Originally uploaded by monkeychart

Dad, Megan, and I set out early on Sunday. Megan was intending to ride as far as the Coleman ferry dock. Dad was intending to accompany me for a couple days….out to the coast and back.

We were inspired by the good feeling of starting out on this adventure. While we also wanted to avoid the difficulty of having to say good-bye. Megan decided to just ride the ferry across with us. On the other side, why not ride a little farther? Megan would go just ten or twelve miles down the road with us and then turn around. But after ten or twelve miles, Megan was still feeling good. We encouraged her to continue. And she valiantly took up the challenge. Megan would join us overnight in Sequim or Port Angeles.

But at the forty mile mark, after a difficult (wind-y, traffic-y) crossing of the Hood Canal Bridge, Megan was completely out of gas. It was apparent that she couldn’t continue. And, at the same time, she couldn’t go back.

The Kingston-Edmonds ferry was only about ten miles away. If Megan could get to that ferry, then my mom could pick her up on the other side. But I needed to keep going to make Port Angeles by a reasonable hour. And it would have been irresponsible to send a spent Megan back on her own. So we decided that my dad would accompany her back to Kingston.

On that hill above the Hood Canal Bridge, as traffic streamed by, each of us emotionally frayed by our physical exertion, dad, Megan, and I said goodbye.

Decided I needed to cut my hair for the trip. It’s been difficult keeping it untangled and debris-free even with access to regular supplies of conditioner and hair engines. I cannot imagine the sort of Ent-like dreads I’d end up with after a few weeks of black camping in forest land. Tried to get in touch with my friend and hair-dresser Nicole, who did my last haircut back in October of 2005. My ref-do. But she was out-and-about or otherwise ignoring me. Possibly in Neah Bay. So I resorted to the gracious kindness and generously well-priced hair-stylings of Megan Sykes.

First we tied the pony-tail up in the back, per the instructions of Locks of Love. Megan cut in a hemispherical pattern, so as to preserve as much actual-hair-style-someone-would-wear as possible.

In the end, she landed this impressive hair whale. A little bit of trimming all around. Took about 20 minutes in tota. I like it. Hair gets in my eyes and nothing to hold it back. Sometimes look like a poor man’s Shemp Howard. Sometimes look like a pre-roids Carot Top. But sometimes also cute. So. Good.