American Camp on San Juan Island

When I visited San Juan Island back in March to check out the bike shop job, the weather was cold and rainy on Wednesday and Friday, the days I was biking and riding the ferry to and from the island. I spent a few hours those days visiting the bike shop, and some local coffee shops, and walking and window-shopping the business area close to the ferry landing. Luckily Thursday turned sunny and pleasant enough to take off for an afternoon bike ride to explore a bit more of the island. Bundled up in UnderArmour, fleece and wind-resistant pants, I took off on Cattle Point Road out to American Camp, about a six mile ride from town. It's a fairly easy ride with pretty good bike lanes most of the way, though there is one steep hill about a mile out of town, not far past the small airport, and rolling hills the rest of the way. Along the way you pass some small farms and woodlands, and quick glimpses of the bay through the trees.

The tourist information center at American Camp closes for the winter between Labor Day and Memorial Day. I rode past it through the parking lot to a dirt trail beyond, which led to the historic buildings left by General Pickett's army outpost. If you stay on the island for long there is no way to avoid learning about the Pig War and General Pickett, who is presently being discredited for fighting in the Civil War on the Confederate side. I'll skip the history lesson, except to say that Gen. Pickett was stationed in Bellingham before being sent to defend San Juan Island from the British. Some of the buildings at American Camp were built with material from dismantled Fort Bellingham buildings.

Past the camp buildings the dirt road leads to a hill-top prairie with views of San Juan Strait to the left and Haro Strait to the right. By the roadside I noticed a cluster of blooming yellow daffodils at the foot of a straggly lilac bush just showing its first spring leaves in the bright sun and raw wind. I saw quail, foxes and rabbits in the grass, and bald eagles skimming above the hillsides. The fresh wind, beautiful views and solitude of the place told me that this was where I wanted to spend my summer.

Cattle Point Road also leads to some of the few public beach access points on the island, at South Beach and Fourth of July Beach. (In my commitment to customer service, I rode out this way many times over the summer to make sure I was giving tourists accurate information and a realistic idea of the difficulty of the ride.)

Jakle's Lagoon and San Juan Strait - to the east (more or less)

Haro Strait to the southwest

I believe this may be a sheep-dip.
Or some sort of military emplacement.

Later in the summer I discovered a turn-off from Cattle Point Road to False Bay Road, a shady, winding downhill run through the woods. The road flattens out at False Bay, a shallow and sometimes pungent-smelling but pretty tide-flat; then it twists around a bit past some small farms, and connects to Beiler Hill Road. I was told that there had been some alpaca-raising enterprises here, until about ten years ago when the real estate market crashed and the ranchers couldn't support the operations any more. False Bay is about two miles from the house where I was staying and this loop became a favorite evening ride (or walk) for me over the summer, one that I often recommended to customers at the bike shop looking for a shorter, not too strenuous scenic ride.

Once I began work my days off were Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday so I had plenty of time to explore and get to know my way around a little. During my first week I rode beyond American Camp on Cattle Point Road to the Cattle Point Lighthouse. This area is part of the San Juan Island National Historical Park, which was in danger of being de-listed as a scenic and historic preserve over the summer. Roadside views are stunning on the bluff above the lighthouse, but the climb back up is probably the steepest stretch of road on the island. I rode my bike down to the lighthouse that first time, but it was fenced off because of construction so on later rides I just stopped to admire the views (and count the foxes) from the hilltop.

Work, Work, Work, Work, Work

Even after passing UBI's professional mechanic certification course I still felt like a beginner mechanic, and working just a few weeks at Island Bicycles convinced me that there's no substitute for real-world, hands-on experience. I am confident about performing basic repair and maintenance - fixing flat tires, cleaning and tuning the drive train, replacing brake pads and adjusting brakes, but for much beyond that I like to have some direction and supervision.

The shop owner often complained about problem employees he'd had in the past, starting out, "He was a good mechanic but . . . " the guy had a lousy, rude attitude, foul mouth, anger management problems, whatever. The owner's favorites seemed to be local teenagers he had hired as summer help, who had little work experience or training as mechanics, but he said they were "really good kids with a great attitude," who were friendly, pleasant and helpful with customers, and he could give them the training they needed with mechanical work and shop procedures.

I'm confident I would compare favorably with the bad workers, but I'm not so sure about the teenage boys. As girls, we generally get less teaching about simple things like using tools, knowing the difference between a flat-head and Phillips screwdrivers - I do know that much, but I'm a bit slow and clumsy using tools. And the shop was, um, idiosyncratically organized and not spotlessly clean, so it was often hard to find the right tool.

Bike shops, and bicycling in general, are pretty much an adolescent male domain, and I knew coming in as a middle-aged woman that I would just have to figure out ways of coping, responding or defending myself - that's part of the experience I was hoping to gain when I applied for the job. There were a few experiences I hadn't expected, and I tried out some new ways of responding to people-problems.

After being away from work for so long, and isolated in Ferndale over the winter, at first it was hard for me to get used to just being around people so much. My first several days were a period of retraining myself to chat with others, starting with making eye contact and speaking clearly. Even with that, as the summer went on I found it could be hard to keep patience with difficult customers, like the people who came in asking for free maps and tourist info, wanting to know how to get around the island without riding up any big hills, or the rental customers who expected a lot of time and attention in getting fitted for helmets and bikes, or tried to bargain on rental rates or repair pricing, or didn't pay attention when I tried to demonstrate shifting or braking.

In general, I think in customer service jobs, women are still expected to be deferential, helpful and eager to please, while men are expected to be knowledgeable and authoritative. In the bike shop I found it was hard to get customers to accept any answer or advice I could give them, and I needed to have back-up from someone with a deep voice, a beard, and hairy, muscular forearms. Then again, for customers with more complex questions - anything to do with gear ratios or compatibility of different components, etc. - I would call one of the experienced mechanics anyway. And I admit after my first couple of weeks, my self-confidence was a bit shaken so I didn't try to deal with anything but basic, beginner issues.

Probably the most difficult situation I faced came near the end of the summer, when I was working with the owner and a younger male co-worker. Often there were only two people working in the store, but this day was quite busy even with three of us, and at one point we had a couple of groups of two to four people at the front desk, a group out back waiting to be set up on rental bikes, and another group of three or four people returning from a ride with rental bikes. I had been out back checking in the returning riders, but came back to the front desk to ring up their rental charges, then help out another group of new renters.

Then the telephone began to ring persistently, past the point when the voicemail system should have picked up the call. My younger co-worker, who was standing less than two feet away, hit his over-load limit. He yelled not quite in my ear, "Hey can somebody answer the phone!"

Here my years of waitress and retail experience kicked in. I smiled pleasantly, speaking quietly and calmly to the customers in front of me, directing them to follow me out back to get their bikes. I walked past my red-faced co-worker, acting utterly oblivious to him, ignoring the phone, leaving him, my boss, and the groups of (male) customers looking mildly stunned.

I was also sometimes frustrated by the way some women customers behaved. One woman who came in a couple of times made a point of calling me "honey" in every sentence she spoke. It was tempting to reply with "Hey chickie babe, how's tricks?" but I held to the rule for dealing with road-ragers: just don't get into it with them. On several occasions customers, usually women, assumed I must be married to one of my male co-workers. It was confusing and embarrassing to deny this in the man's presence, especially if it was my boss. On the phone, some women callers would say "I spoke to your husband earlier this week, and he said . . . " as if I should accept this second-hand instruction from male authority. I vaguely recall hearing about attitudes like this back in the 1970's, but I thought we'd put all that behind us by now.

I tried to treat women (and men, too) as individuals, but it could be hard to second-guess how physically fit and experienced people were. I know one time I pleased two women of about my age when I set them up on racy-looking road bikes rather than townies or beach cruisers: I checked out their ropy arm muscles, toned legs and strong, straight backs and knew they could ride. Other times I had the feeling that a customer was actually hoping I would help them talk their friends or spouses out of renting bikes because they really didn't want to ride in the heat, or up hills, or in traffic on the road. I never wanted to send people out to have a bad experience, so I would be frank about how difficult a ride might be.

I'm airing some gripes here, writing about conflicts and challenges, but the job was fun and interesting, too. And I was impressed by the owner's ability to fix up bikes I would have thought were trashed, improvising and patching together components, looking at an old, classic or a brand new road bike and saying, "I have the part you need," then going to a back room and actually finding the exact right brake set, derailleur, whatever, or something he could make work just as well.

Island Life

During my first month in Friday Harbor the weather was still cold and rainy. At first I worked only seven-hour days, Friday through Monday, but since I wasn't used to biking to and from work in the stormy weather and punching the time clock anymore, my new schedule was very tiring. I slept a lot that month, taking afternoon naps on my days off and getting to sleep before 10pm every night. On my days off, I would pick up mail at the post office, visit the library to free-load on their wifi, and stock up on groceries. In between naps I did a lot of reading - besides the public library, Friday Harbor has two good bookstores, Griffin Bay and Serendipity Used Books.

Food is expensive on San Juan Island. At restaurants you pay tourist prices, and there are no cheap fast-food places. No Starbucks even! At the few gas station mini-marts prices are shockingly high. The small King's Market grocery store on Spring Street, a block up from the ferry landing, is pricey and not too well stocked, except for liquor, beer and wine.

Farther up the hill on Mullis Street is the larger Marketplace store, where local people shop and prices and selection are better. The first time I stopped in, as I was locking up my bike out front, I heard Merle Haggard, the BeeGees, Foghat and Sheryl Crow over the store's "muzak" system. It's fun to play "Name That Tune" while shopping, though it's a little unnerving to be hearing Jethro Tull in the produce section:  "Sitting on a park bench, eyeing little girls with bad intent. Snot is running down his nose, greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes . . . "

The Spring Street grocery is open long hours daily, but the Marketplace closes at 6pm and on Sundays before Memorial Day and after Labor Day. At home I mostly ate rice and vegetables seasoned in various ways, and granola and fruit for breakfast. For lunch I would either brown bag or buy a sandwich at the Spring Street store. Most mornings I stopped at a cafe before work to have coffee and pastry while (again) free-loading on their wifi. In spite of this almost-daily pastry habit, I lost almost twenty pounds over the summer due to the combination of more bike-riding, being active at work, and eating two sensible meals a day.

Meaning to take a break from digital-itis, and from semi-compulsively recording and documenting all the events, scenes and impressions of my days, I brought only my cell phone and Kindle, leaving my digital camera, laptop, and even my hand-written journal back home. This turned out to be inconvenient for keeping up with bills and banking, since poor wifi reception meant I had to go to the library on my days off to conduct business. Also, using my cell phone for internet access and as a hotspot eventually overheated the battery, so by the end of the summer it wouldn't charge and wasn't much use except for checking the time and date. I regret now that I don't have more photos of some of the scenic rides I took around San Juan and Lopez Islands on my days off, and especially of Victoria BC and the trails on Vancouver Island, where I rode on the way home at the end of the summer (more about that later). Some of the most beautiful views on San Juan Island are along West Side Road at Limekiln Park and English Camp, but I didn't take many photos there, just cruised along soaking it all in. So I just have to remember on my own, and everyone else will have to go there to see for themselves.

But here are a few souvenir shots:

Please Drive Slowly Lane

On False Bay Road

Evening light

Morning Light

What will they automate next? (on Schoolhouse Road 2)

Getting There (and Back)

Island Bicycles, on Argyle Street in Friday Harbor

It was March when the owners of Island Bicycles came to meet me in Ferndale, after I replied to their job posting on United Bicycle Institute's website. They were very friendly, positive and encouraging, but I had a hard time visualizing what the shop and job would be like just from discussing things at Wood's Coffee Shop. So I made a couple of trips to San Juan Island to check things out, and in April I decided that I would never get a better offer, and I'd regret it forever if I didn't take the chance.

Early spring at American Camp

An excursion to the San Juan Islands has been on my "places-to-go" list for years, though I would have chosen better weather for the trip - this year April and May were cold and rainy. Besides, I had always been a bit daunted by the logistics. To get to San Juan Island you take a Washington State ferry from Anacortes, which is fifty or sixty miles from Ferndale; I had always considered this a day's ride, plus the ferry trip. Instead, I planned to ride my bike to the Bellingham Transit Center (ten miles), then catch a WTA bus to the Chuckanut Park & Ride lot near Mount Vernon; from there I could take two Skagit Transit buses to Anacortes, then ride five miles to the ferry landing. This way, I left home at about 8am and arrived in Anacortes a bit after 11am, leaving plenty of time for a nice lunch before the ferry sailed at around 2pm. The ferry trip to Friday Harbor takes a little more than an hour, so I would arrive mid-to-late afternoon.

Walk-on passengers arriving in Friday Harbor

The timing of the connections is a little tricky - both the bus and the ferry are scheduled to run mainly in the morning and afternoon, with gaps in service at mid-day. But after a few trips back and forth I got the route and routine down pretty well, and when the weather got better I discovered that it was not too difficult to ride my bike between Anacortes and Mount Vernon (twenty miles or so), riding the WTA bus between Bellingham and Mount Vernon. Over the summer I returned home to Ferndale about once a month, and it was basically a three-day trip - a day of travel home, a day at home, and a day returning to the island. By late summer I was even riding the whole distance between Ferndale and Anacortes, which made for a long, tiring day but gave me a chance to do some scenic touring on Chuckanut Drive and through Skagit County farmlands.

The worst obstacle along the way is the bridge over the Swinomish Channel on Highway 20 near the Swinomish Casino. This high arching bridge has a separated bike and pedestrian walkway on the westbound side, and bike lanes going east or west, but the traffic is heavy and fast-moving, there are often gusty cross-winds, and a lot of sharp metal, glass and gravel on the road. Bicyclists can use the bike lanes, or use the separate sidewalk, going the "wrong" way on the "wrong" side to cross the bridge going east, but it is difficult to get across Highway 20 at the ends of the bridge, whichever way you choose. I rode this route several times over the summer and finally decided the best eastbound route is to ride the wrong way on the separated sidewalk. There is a highway crossing not far from the end of the bridge and the highway is divided with a wide, grassy median, so it is fairly safe to cross the westbound lanes, wait at the median for traffic to clear, then cross the eastbound lanes. After that I would ride about two miles in the wide bike lane on the highway, then take the first exit to LaConner, turn off to Young Road, then to Highway 536, a two-lane road that goes all the way in to Mount Vernon.

The route is survivable, but the bridge section is ugly and dangerous and needs to be improved. Otherwise, having made five or six trips this summer, the ride is much less daunting and I hope to make more pleasure-trips to the islands in the future.

A tribute to my Cannondale Synapse: I bought this bike untested from the REI online catalog thinking it would be a moderately-priced, light, quick, well-fitting recreational road bike. The bike is designed to dampen road vibration, with specially shaped aluminum tubing on the rear triangle and very flexy wheels. It is smooth and comfortable to ride, but not meant to carry luggage. It doesn't even have rack mounts, but I attached a rear rack to the fender mounts and seat post anyway. I rode it loaded with twenty or thirty pounds of baggage in my panniers, and used it for weekly trips to the grocery store, and took it on 50-mile gravel trail rides, and the bike hummed along happily all summer with no trouble at all. It came home looking pretty dinged up and battered, and now I feel bad for treating it so roughly when it served me so well.