Sunday, June 12, 2011

Chuckanut Drive has yet to disappoint me. We had no one in front of us the entire time.....and the only damper on the moment was the cop at the very end pulling us over for a ticket. I have no idea how he could have gauged that we were doing 60 in a 40 zone. He was hidden from view and not pointing anything at us. We chew on this fact later in the day of course....after the request for $195 has already been issued.

Trying to be as optimistic as possible I note that many times we have escaped detection...and with the thousands and thousands of kilometres we ride...we truly have been fortunate. Ken concedes..though I know his attitude borders on insolence.

We amble through the farms to Mosquito Lake Road....but not before i spot another cop coming toward us. "Pull over," I urge, just to see if he is possibly going to follow us. In true form he pulls onto the deserted farm road....and letting him lead but losing sight of him means that my head is twisting and turning to spot him anywhere while the speedometer is kept within the legal limits. The stress is almost too much for the man. He admits this at one point and I think he is about to turn around. A deep sigh and some resolve and we continue on the road...with a little more thought and not quite as carefree as usual. Mosquito Lake Road ambles and bends around pristine farms, meadows hugging hills and as far as I can tell, not a lake in sight.

American flags and We the People signs are prevalent everywhere. Mentions of troops and guns are plastered on signs as well, reminding us that we are far from our home and native land...even if we are within an hour.

We head toward Mount Baker and the back and forth...left to right following bendy snakes as we climb. The vista is breathtaking. 10 and 20 foot drifts line the sides of the roads, though the air has no hint of cold. At the apex the valley is verdant and distant.

Our descent takes us back through the esses and a view of waterfalls from melting snow. The moment is great, although I can feel myself in the mode to clutch, brake and throttle. I am not entirely bored as a passenger....but I crave the thrill as you dip from side of side.

The valley is peaceful, cows lowing, a deer hopping through grass...bison huddled together at a fence. The dale seems frozen in time....time of yesteryear with cars strewn through the acres...washtubs....trailers. There is no hint of this century. It could be the 80's...

Heading back toward home there is the comfortable meandering through the backroads. Our adventure is done before two and we are brought back to reality of the now....dishes neglected, laundry and a game to fret over.

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