Unlisted blog

We managed to get to sleep Friday night around 9:30. It was easy enough to do after riding like we had. After the previous night's dinner, I didn't know if I'd even be hungry the next morning. Come 6:00 AM Saturday, those doubts were a distant memory. Lynden is a gorgeous little town in northwest Washington (see the pretty picture?), and it's one of the best places to be hungry early in the morning.



Going back eight years, Dutch Mothers restaurant has served an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet to cyclists on the second morning of RSVP. Well, non-cyclists can eat there, too. They just have to do it at their own risk. The food is all very American, in spite of the town's Dutch heritage. Well, they do have pancakes. Not that Dutch people usually eat those for breakfast. Seriously, they don't.

After eating all we could eat, in accordance with the restaurant's edicts, we began the lonnnng trek to the border crossing. Twenty minutes later, we were looking at our neighbor to the north alongside some of our cycling friends: Pat, his daughter Tera, and visiting Chicagoan Steve. We've known Pat and Tera for a few years now. Steve is an avid cyclist with an extremely observant mind. The man's brain is positively brimming with random factoids.

Naturally he and I talked a lot.

Unlike the preceding day, the weather was pleasant, we were among the front riders, and nobody felt like spewing their breakfast on the side of the road. Keeping tune with the dichotomy, everything went swimmingly on Saturday. That means everything from the ferry ride across the river, to riding along the Burnet Highway, from the near-miss of a crash in Chinatown, to the beers at the finish line party.

The finish line party, as always, featured a hallmark meal:

"Best. Burgers. Ever." --Jeff Albertson

I don't know if they're so good because we're so hungry, or if they're just that tasty. It might be because they're grilled over an open flame by a bona fide French chef. He's not French-Canadian either!

Unlike past years, the finish really was where we ended up. For the first time ever, we had a room at the host hotel. As grad students, we had to be more creative. One year, for example, our friend David drove up from Seattle with Ashley. He, another friend Loren, Steph, and I split a room at a hostel. Not that the hostel allows dogs, but the Little Badger Pup fits easily in a duffel bag.

A couple more beers and few hours later, we had a group of six heading out for dinner. Seattle's Cycling Sextet hit the nearby all-you-can-eat sushi bar. Yes, all the sushi you can eat for just $24 (that's about 5 euros with Bush in the White House). Our poor waiter had no idea what was in store. He had to clear our table completely off four times because we just kept ordering more food.

Dessert wasn't bad either.

The next morning, we headed out early for breakfast (yes, we ate alot) before getting on the bus home. The ride went pretty quickly, but one tiny task was left: unloading bikes. A ride with thousands of cyclists doesn't go smoothly unless all the bikes have a way home, too.

That's why the Cascade Bicycle Club hires a couple of trucks to haul bikes back to Seattle. True to form, Steph and I each took on one of the trucks. I have no idea what prompted us to do that. Oh, wait, I do remember. Our bikes were the first ones on each truck, i.e., the last ones off. Taking charge was the fastest way to get our bikes back. What can I say? We're resourceful people.

In spite of the setbacks, I'm glad we did it again. And we'll be back next year with Ashley's blessings. Whenever we're gone, she stays with our friends Jenny, Shannon, and their three dogs. Everybody wins!