August 13, 2018. Lily Lake to motel in Anacortes
I did leave early, but somehow I managed to wake up Not Guilty. I said good-bye and we thought we’d meet in the next town (7 miles) for breakfast.
There was a timber harvest going on so there were some temporary trail closures that got me confused at times. Still, I made good time while the sun rose through the smoke filled air.
I got my first glimpse of Puget Sound, but a glimpse was all given the haze. This would be a spectacular trail on a clear day. At the bottom of the trail, there was a carved stone marker related to the PNT. All the words were spelled correctly. However, the math did catch my eye, not adding up to even 1,100 miles when the trail today is over 1,200 miles. Must be reroutes and other changes.
I finished walking down the mountain on Highway 11. A bizarre event happened when a shiny new black pickup pulled up next to me and asked me oif I had camped up on the mountain. The driver looked like a cop. I said yes. He asked if I had seen anybody else. I explained Not Guilty was on his way down, but otherwise no. He revealed he was with the railroad police and was looking in to somebody shining a green laser into a train engine last night.
Once the road flattened on the coastal plain, I started seeing a lot of bicyclists. It was flat, open farm country that backed up to the Chuckanut range. When I reached the small town of Edison, there were two cafes right there. Both, unfortunately, were closed. I went up to see the hours, but was disheartened to see they were both closed on Monday and Tuesday. Yup, I was in a tourist area.
While I was on the porch, a lady in a Subaru rolled down her window and asked “Can I help you?” which I interpreted as “what the hell are you doing peering in the window, bum?” When I explained I was looking to see when it would open, she said everything was pretty much closed, but down the road about a mile there was a bakery open. She then offered a ride, which I declined. I clearly had misinterpreted her.
When I got to the bakery, the same lady was out front, caring for the decorative flowers in front. I said hi and thanked her again for her help. We chatted for a bit. Under the heading “Small World” she was from Wayzata, Minnesota which is the town adjacent to where I live.
I ordered some delicious looking baked goods at the bakery (called ‘Breadfarm”). She came in, gave me a bunch of organic carrots she grew herself and paid for my food. I thanked her profusely and then decided to pay it forward.
I told the lady at the counter that a backpacker named Not Guilty would probably come in. Last night he had told me how much he loved good focaccia bread. So I prepaid for a small loaf and described him. I hope it worked out.
The rest of the day was a long but pleasant roadwalk near the coast. That is, until I reached Highway 20. I pulled the ultimate bonehead hiker move. There was a gas station where the trail put me on Highway 20. I got water and a coffee and put my feet up. Then, I started walking along Highway 20. About a mile later I saw some road signs that did not make sense. I then checked my phone app and discovered I had walked a mile the wrong direction. Fortunately, I was near an intersection and able to safely cross the highway.
Just as a I was heading back, a Mercedes van pulled over in front of me. The driver popped out heading towards me. He didn’t look like a nut job so I wasn’t too nervous. Turns out he was a PCT veteran heading to PCT days and thought I looked like a PNT hiker. I confessed I was, declined hi generous offer of a ride and learned his trail name was “Meander”. Neither he nor I mentioned I was about a mile off course. There is honor among backapckers.
The next few miles were simultaneously boring and life threatening as I followed Highway 20 in the right direction. Along the way I was amazed to see how many birds are killed by cars. I also found some dude’s paycheck. I took it into town and would mail it to his employer. Lastly, I went over this huge bridge that thankfully had a separate passenger path.
Rather than take in the whole scenic walk around an entire oil refinery, I took a minor short cut. Then the trail goes over Fidalgo Bay for almost a half mile on a hike/bike trail. The tide was coming in and there were harbor seals and an otter feeding just off the bridge. It was fun to watch.
My last unusual human interaction happened when I finally made it to Anacortes proper. A bicyclist pulled up and asked me if I had been much further up the coast earlier in the day. I said yes. He said he had seem me walk by his office and recognized me just as he was getting home. Nice guy and he gave me a solid restaurant recommendation.
The restaurant was great (Naung Mai Thai Kitchen). Stuffed, I tried to go to sleep early, with some success.
backpacking over the hill 