Back in the US(S)A - Day 11 – 42 miles

Today was a big day. I would be entering the US on the Sidney to Anacortes ferry. A 2 hour ride from Vancouver Island to Washington State. It had rained on and off throughout the night so I hadn't had too much sleep. I was a bit grumpy. I rode the 3 miles to the ferry, following instructions given to me by the park warden. My ticket cost just $22 which seemed like a good deal to get to another country. The next step was the dreaded US immigration. It is my understanding that most US immigration officials got the job after being asked to leave their jobs at Gauntanamo Bay for stepping over the line when interrogating terrorism suspects.

I entered a large caravan which laughably acts as US immigration in Sidney. As I waited to be noticed I read a sign telling me that it was a US immigration official's duty to greet me politely. A large man barked, 'Passport.' at me. I had all my paperwork ready, including passport, ESTA visa waiver registration information, proof of return flight and bank statements. Everything seemed to be a problem for him. He seemed annoyed that I'd not arrived in Canada via the US. The problems started when he asked me where I'd be staying in the US. 'I'm camping', I told him. 'That's not good enough, the computer needs to know the address', he almost shouted. This was a problem I didn't actually know where I'd be camping that night. Luckily I had my guide book so I picked a realistic looking camp ground from the book and showed that to him. He was then annoyed because the book didn't contain the full address so he had to look it up on his computer. He couldn't find it, a very nervous few minutes followed. The problem was with his ability to listen and read, eventually we resolved this using slow repetition. He took my fingerprints and a photo which will no doubt be beamed over to CTU for careful analysis. In the end, despite his best efforts he could find no reason not to let me in. He warned me about deportation should I outstay my 90 day visa. It was very much a case of guilty until proven innocent. It seems that the US are expecting the next Al-Qaeda attack to be a bicycle led mission. Bearded cyclists with explosive-filled panniers will sneak in over the Canadian border.

Waiting for the ferry, as usual I fielded questions from various interested parties about my trip. I'm much more of an oddity than I though I would be. I was under the impression that there would be hordes of cyclists following the same route as me. So far I've met only one and that was Hannah the German way back in Vancouver airport.

Once off the ferry I still had to clear customs. This was no Swiss picnic either. On inspecting my passport photo I was asked to remove my helmet. My passport photo is a little misleading as it was taken a few years ago. Back then I had a gorgeous flowing mane of hair. Eventually he believed it was me and asked me if he could take a look in my panniers. I opened them up. He had a little dig around but I think he was rightly intimidated by the amount of stuff I have crammed in there. He gave me a bit of a grilling about why I didn't buy my bike in the US. The whole thing lasted around 10 minutes. During this time countless cars and motorhomes were waved through without question. Most of them no doubt filled with contraband maple syrup and illegal Canadian workers.

After the first couple of miles it became clear that it is not always necessary to drive on the other side of the road when entering a new country. I was soon at Deception Pass. A fairly impressive old bridge linking 2 islands. More impressive were the terrifying looking currents below. The green water under the bridge was a swirling mass of whirlpools, giving boats attempting to pass a very hard time.

The roads in Washington were surprisingly a lot quieter than those in Canada. There seemed to be fewer opportunities to find a decent vegetarian lunch. I ended up with just a jam doughnut and a few cereal bars. Before too long the familiar thick forest turned to vast open farmland, dotted with brightly coloured wooden houses, looking like something from Little House on the Prairie. A welcome change of scenery.

I pulled off the main road onto a quieter coastal scenic route. There were some roadworks in progress so I was diverted onto a less scenic road. I was stopped by a young lady holding a stop sign. Due to the incredible length of the road currently being resurfaced I was held there for at least 5 minutes. The stop sign lady was quite lovely and we had a very nice chat. We talked about what I was up to and she explained to me the hidden complexities of operating a stop sign. She told me I could rejoin the scenic route a little further along, by the time I reached the turn off point she'd obviously radioed ahead to her colleague who pointed me in the right direction. Because of the roadworks I had the road to myself. For about 5 miles I was free to weave about all over the place on what is certainly the best road I've ridden this trip.

At around 6pm I reached Fort Casey State Park where I intended to camp. On arriving, I cycled around and it became clear the place was completely full. No tents, only RVs. I didn't know what to do. I could either go back 10 miles to the nearest camp ground or catch a ferry then cycle another 15 to another camp ground. Neither option appealed. As I cycled out of the park a man flagged me down. He said I was welcome to camp on the grass behind his RV. This kind of thing wasn't really allowed so he told me if the park warden asked he would say I was his son. Not really sure if I'd be required to fake an American accent at that point. The spot was amazing too, just a couple of metres from the beach and water's edge. It was such a selfless act of kindness towards a complete stranger. He suggested I set up the tent in a spot where it couldn't be seen by the warden so I didn't have to pay. As I began setting up the tent his wife appeared from the RV with a plate of chicken for me. Being vegetarian I unfortunately had to refuse it - thanking her profusely. I was so touched by the kindness of the gesture.

I took my first shower in 100 miles. Something I discovered today is that if you really need a shower and then you spend the whole next day sweating. Eventually the new sweat washes off the old sweat. I actually started to feel cleaner towards the end of the day. Regardless of this fact it was great to have a shower. I don't want to become one of those people who claim the body is self-cleaning.

As I made dinner I chatted with my kind hosts as they sat on their patio chairs, enjoying the sunset. Their dog Daisy guarded my tent. I was really growing to like them both and began to take back all the negative thoughts I've had about RV owners these past 2 weeks. Their RV was quite incredible. It was the length of a coach and on the back there was a large 4 wheel drive pick-up truck in-tow. It's interesting to compare the variety in scale of our chosen forms of transport. As the evening went on I was invited to join them as they socialised with their neighbours. I was offered juice and dessert. By the end of the evening it was as if I'd been adopted by them. As it happens our journeys are quite similar. They will be driving down the Pacific Coast Highway to Oregon too. Perhaps I should just pop my bike on the back of the RV and hitch a ride.