This is from my camp above South Beach, with the deserted campsite just to the right of the beach.The next morning I continued along the coast, checking out a few more beaches
and a very cool cedar tree. As I left the coast it started to rain. It ended up raining the rest of the day. I bike about 50 miles in the rain, trying to get to Fairholme campground at Crescent lake. With about 20 miles to go I bought an energy drink because I was feeling a little poopy with all the rain. It helped with my physical energy, but the most noticeable effect was that I became a very animated talker, commenting out loud on every comment that I made. I would yell out invitations to my next party involving excitement such as peeing on a tree, refilling my waterbottle, stretching and wringing out my gloves (not waterproof). I also decided that I was bikeman bonkers, terrestrial ally to spaceman spiff (for those who read Calvin and Hobbes). When I finally arrived at the campsite it was dark out (6:30 pm) and there was another bike tourer taking advantage of the bathroom roof to prepare and eat his dinner. I joined him and found out that he had been on his bike since June, having already biked from Montreal to Alaska and was headed for Argentina. He had been biking for most of the past 6 years, mostly in Europe. I was blown away and felt rather insignificant saying it was my 5th day on a bike. He was very open and we had a great evening of conversation and dinner ( a party!).Day 6: It rained through the night and in the morning until I got on my bike. As soon as I pulled out of camp it became a beautiful day.
I started with a 10 mile ride around Lake crescent, which is sunken in between steep forested mountains and ridges. After that I biked on into Port Angeles, a nice town in a stunning location. The streets roll down to the harbor and one can see across the straights of Juan de Fucca. South of town the northernmost peaks of the Olympic mountains are visible, capped with snow. 
I ran into a bike tourer that was heavily laden and we grabbed lunch together as he told me of his biking adventures and bear run-ins in Alaska. I then found a bike path the ranged from lovely to frustrating and dangerous. It started right along the coast, so I was sold on it immediately. Then I had to carry my bike over a mudslide that had covered the trail, then a tree that had fallen. The path meandered into the woods, where dead leaves covered the trail so thickly I didn't see the asphalt for a few miles. At times it plummeted into steep river valleys, forcing most cyclists to get off and push their bikes. Overall, though, it was nice not to be on the highway for a change. My left knee was nagging me, in the same place that my right knee had hurt a few days before. Since my right knee got stronger, I was hoping my left would follow suit, but it didn't.By this morning it was quite unpleasant and after 20 miles it became problematic. I should have just hitchhiked or taken a bus, but my pride held me back. The pain put me in a horrible mood. I biked up to Port Townsend, took a ferry to Whidbey Island, and then another from Anacortes to Lopez. It's another 10 miles or so from the ferry landing to Brook's house. While riding up to Anacortes, I kept thinking that I would ask for a ride on the ferry and save myself at least part of the final stretch. Unfortunately, by the time I got to the ferry I was in such a bad mood that I lacked the gumption to go around asking people for a ride. I made it slowly, but now my knee hurts to bend.
That's all for now. I would love to hear from people. Feel free to send me an email or just write a comment.
Here are some extra pictures that I just like:
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