I knew this going in, let’s be fair. There’s a site dedicated to the topic, in fact. The problem, simply put, is that bainbridge is apparently well known for it’s sudden, drastic elevation changes. Not to be discouraged by gossip and shortsighted speculation, however, I thought it worthwhile to investigate for myself.
It was warm, but not overly so – a soft chill in the wind kept things bearable. Jess & I got up a little later than planned, but got ourselves together in time for the 10:40 ferry. They have these little ‘bicycle parking’ ties on the ferry now you can attach to, simple yet effective. This was probably news generations ago, but having never been through this process with a bike before, it seemed noteworthy. On a side note, they don’t appear to be idiot proof. Some guy’s gear got loose and slid down the deck. Poor schmuck.
We stopped at the island post office in search of binding tape. My handlebar wrap had gotten loose and was coming unraveled. I ended up using 6 or 8 “Priority Mail” stickers instead. Almost as good (actually, not even close) but a whole lot cheaper. We stopped again to grab sandwiches at the grocery store. Each stop means undoing my cleated biking shoes, taking off my socks, and throwing on some sandals. unpack the bag, repack the bag, shop, unpack, repack, ride. I’m glad they’re made with velcro. Also I’m not complaining or anything. Really.
The plan was to hook up with the 305 and see where it took us. I had glanced at a topo map of the island before we left, but… those things are so hard to read. Fair to say I was hoping for the best, but pretty well in the dark about what to expect. The backup plan was to keep an eye on the downhills that might be uphills on the way back. We sneaked through town and made it to the 305 with little incident, then across to Manitou beach avoiding any steep inclines. The scenery was enjoyable, but there was a stink of very fresh cow crap we never quite found the source of.
Island communities have this funny habit of putting dinky little 1/2 lane one-ways in the strangest places. To avoid breaking the law and maybe getting, at worst, a look of disapproval from someone’s dog, we followed the overly descriptive (and barricaded) “Do not enter! Do not enter! no cars, no horses, no bikes, no pedestrians, don’t even LOOK the wrong way down this road” signs and made our way through a wooded area, and eventually into a little crossroads with an auto shop, a corner store, and one of those traditional Pacific Northwest outdoor sporting goods stores. In every direction except the way we came was either long, steep inclines, or dead ends. Consulting a map, I found a side street that would take us back to the 305. It turned out to be a long dirt road very much resembling someone’s driveway, and not reassuring me in the least. As advertised, however, it pulled through for us. One short, steep loose-gravel decline, and one last big incline and we made it back to the highway.
Content with our effort, we made our way back to the terminal, and placed our fate once again in the hands of the maniacal WSDOT ferry operators (see later post). Worth mentioning at this point, once we were away from the dock and securely held hostage, the announcer made a point of letting us know he had crashed more ferries than any state operator. “Lucky for us”, he continued, “I’m not driving”. Very funny.