Cold and damp as a Westcoast Clam (BC to Baja 2)

We woke before sunrise from our chilly slumber, a toe and finger-numbing 2 degrees. Much too cold to be sleeping in a tent. There we were, bundled up like little babies in a sleep sack, carrying that afflictive thought that we need to get out of this warm cocoon we’ve created for ourselves and brave the morning chill.

The campsite had showers so we thought we’d use the hot water to warm up. Unfortunately for us, hot meant ‘kinda’ warm. We huddled in and hugged each other until we were brave enough to step out of the shower, towel off and put the same not-so-clean clothing back on.

Packing our belongings didn’t take long, however, I’m learning very quickly that motorcycle packing is not as easy as packing a suitcase with all your shit scattered everywhere, and then moving on. Everything needs to be well thought out and packed in a certain order. If it rains, you want your rain gear easily accessible. If you’re camping, you want camping gear to be in the same general area, and preferably packed in the order you use it. It’s a skill, and I’m learning. 

We finished up our packing and were rolling before 9:00 am in search of breakfast. We stopped at a diner in Forks, the food was mediocre at best and overpriced for what you got. After filling our bellies and lightening our wallets, we headed south out of town.

The road was bitterly cold and long. My legs were frozen and our fingers and toes were numb. We pulled over briefly to try to relieve the chill by breaking the wind with rain gear. It helped a little.

The rain started at about 2:00 pm and it was on and off for a while. We were getting tired and miserable so I thought we’d stop in the next town and stay there for the night.

The next town was too small, the one after that was closed, literally the whole town, tired and cold we eventually rode into a little town called South Bend, Washington. The roadside sign for the ‘Seaquest Inn’ shone brightly out of the gloom, the place was motel-styled but with character, a series of little cabins and cul-de-sacs that looked clean, warm and inviting.

The friendly host asked us if we wanted a standard room, which in her opinion was small, the other choice was deluxe.

Our choice, the standard room, was beautiful, clean, had a full kitchen, living room, hot shower, everything we needed. It wasn’t standard, nor small, and far exceeded our expectations. 

After unpacking our things, we headed down the road to the infamous ‘Chesters Oyster Tavern’ to eat and have a drink. We ordered two pints of IPA, and our response was a weird look which translated to “What the fuck is a pint?” Umm, we continued “the biggest beer you have?” The pub had only a couple of people in it. We started chatting with the locals and that ‘eat and drink’ lasted about 4 hours. I started to drink wine which they pour to the rim, in case you’re ever in the area. It was getting late, we left and walked back to our pretty motel room, hit the sheets and then we were out for the evening.