The next stop was 914 First Avenue in downtown Seattle, to visit the site of the original departure.
There was only one last detail. The prospect of this trip had actually prompted me to have a will drawn up, so we scoured our office for a notary, and two witnesses who would sign a document stating I was of sound mind (not a trivial task considering the circumstance).
That done, there was nothing left but the open road. It did not take long until we decided we were hungry, and after lunch we rode through the Arboretum, across the bike path paralleling I-90, and on eastward. Nothing untoward happened all day, except I left my credit card at the pharmacy before leaving home, but I am being rescued by a friend tomorrow. All in all, a very fine day.
58 miles, no flats.
Now I promised you a great story, so here is the first installment, from the pen of Will Babcock.
The start, with twenty-eight pound wheels and sixteen pounds of luggage in a rain and head-wind for a 4000 mile trip is not very encouraging, and after we had exchanged goodbyes with the dozen or so wheelmen who had escorted us to the city limits of Seattle, found a sheltered spot and exchanged opinions. What they were I will not record here, but the weather men and road supervisors got their share of attention. We had struck the county road and where the hills were not too steep for wheeling the mud made it impossible. From South Seattle to Renton we pushed our wheels through the mud, counseling ourselves with the thought that beyond the Cascades we would find different weather, and we have. Sometimes we wish we hadn't.
But to continue the record. From Renton on the Columbia and Puget Sound railway, we found wheeling very rough as far as Maple valley, where the way had recently been ballasted. Just at the middle of the long trestle west of Maple valley, we were surprised by the passenger train, and not having time to reach the end or get down, did the next best thing -- we crawled down on the cross braces, held our wheels, and wished that particular train a pleasant trip across the bridge. Of course it was jolly, but I didn't care for so much fun on our first day out.
We took supper at Maple Valley and slept at Black Diamond. At both these places, as at most others where we have stopped during the week, our arrival had been expected, and our machines were the objects of acute inspection and much comment. It is impossible to give an idea of the absurd questions which are asked us, but the people never forget to ask us how long we expect to be on the road, and whether we get tired. Mr. Turner, who is sometimes funny, told one inquisitive section man that as long as we could keep our wheels thoroughly tired, we could probably escape that complaint. The man didn't smile, and probably never will again.
On the road to Boston, in North Bend, WA...
Dennis