And we’re off!
Strapping everything on The Bruiser is no small feat. Even after minimizing my collection of everything I think I really need, I am piled high. The only thing that is missing is Granny Clampet in her rocking chair tied to the top.
My daughter, Sandra, waved me off into the rain storm and so down the road we go.
After explaining to the border guard my intention for this trip, I heard him ask his partner as I began to drive away, “Did you believe that story?”
Is it that weird?
There was rain in my face and cold in my bones as I rolled down I-5. I have a little thermometer on my “dashboard” that helped me to understand why I was shivering, but as I rolled south I noted how the temperature rose gradually until I could finally feel my feet and move my fingers. Extrapolating the temperature gradient versus distance traveled, I calculated that it should reach the boiling point of water by the time I reach Oregon and the melting point of lead near the Gulf Coast.
My only mishap so far was indicated to me by a wide eyed teenager in a passing car who pointed at my luggage and, bereft of words, mouthed “your thing!”
That can’t be good, I thought.
My MEC raincover had blown off, exposing my luggage to the same rain splatter that was streaming off my body. Originally designed to cover backpacks, it clearly was not engineered for the high velocity hiker.
Greeted by my old friend in Seattle at my first port in the storm, I was treated to good vittles and libations, and took the opportunity to repack and reorganize. Granny has been resituated to a more comfortable viewing platform, and I am now ready to see what is down the road.
