Dept. of Transportation

I'm still feeling a bit foolish and ambivalent about a trip I took this Memorial Day weekend, when I volunteered to help out with the 2024 Ski to Sea relay race. Usually I just stay in Ferndale to watch the canoes passing under the bridges over the Nooksack River, or walk to Hovander Park to see the paddlers staggering out of their canoes to make the hand-off to their cross-country bike rider. This year I got to see an earlier phase of the race, from the Washington State DOT station on the Mount Baker Highway, which is the start of the fourth leg of the relay. Farther up the mountain the ski and snowboard legs take place, then the road running leg, then the runner hands off to a road biker for a 44-mile ride into Everson.

Early cyclists at check-in

On Saturday morning I joined a crew of a dozen or so volunteers to set up tables, tents, signage, barriers, traffic cones etc. Then on Sunday, for race day, I left Ferndale in the dark to arrive at 5am and get organized before the first runners started coming in after 7am. I was assigned to cover the First Aid Station, even though I only have very basic first aid training, plus personal experience self-treating my own injuries. Luckily the only aid required was for a few runners who came in with blisters and needed band-aids. After the last bicycles were on the road, we packed everything up and left the DOT station as it was before the race, finishing around 1pm.

I got pretty well chilled standing around in the cold and damp, despite wearing winter layers, while runners and bikers milled around with bare legs in thin shorts, t-shirts, and various styles of road-bike apparel.

I haven't heard much about specific results, but it must have been a hard year for racers. It was cold and rainy most of the day, especially on the mountain highway. Snow conditions weren't very good this year, but the folks at the ski area managed to pile up enough snow for the two events. However, due to lack of snow melt, water levels in the river were low, the current was slow and there was more debris in the river, which would make paddling harder and more dangerous.

Cars head up the highway toward the ski slopes

Probably the hardiest and most heroic are the zero-carbon teams. The day before the race, they load up bicycles and trailers with ski and camping gear, or tow canoes and kayaks to their starting points. They camp out over night in the rain and cold and wake early to get to their starting point on foot or by bike. Then they haul all their gear home on bicycles.

The hand-off area, just before the DOT gas pumps

One of the reasons I bought a car was so that I could load it with my bike and some camping gear and drive to trail starts or event rides farther away from home without wearing myself out just getting to the starting point. I have made a few trips each year, like the Willapa Hills ride, or an annual tulip tour. With gas prices close to $5/gallon, though, I still avoid long drives. 

The foolish part of the experience is that it was a 50+ mile drive to the DOT station. For this weekend I drove at least 220 miles in two days. It was interesting to see another leg of the race, and be a peripheral part of it. Besides, I can't remember the last time I've been so far up the Mount Baker Highway and I'd kind of like to come back and make some stops to view the falls and the river. Maybe even ride my bike up the highway ... I could make it a three or four day camping trip ...

They're Baaaaack

Ick

The summer of 2014, when I was training to ride the Red-Bell 100, was a bad year for tent caterpillars. These fuzzy critters hatch out from nests in alder, willow or fruit trees then swarm all over. In some places they were so thick on the pavement that I couldn't avoid running over them, which is nasty because they splattered all over the underside of my bike, and even worse, on my shins and knees.

Out of curiosity I did a little research on Google and Wikipedia, and learned that tent caterpillars have a roughly seven-year boom and bust life cycle, where their population builds up to a peak, then dies down. Lucky me: 2014 was a peak summer.

The buggers died back after that, and I never saw more than a few caterpillars here and there, and no nests near the roads or trails where I ride or walk. By 2021 I was waiting to see the population building again, but the awful swarms haven't come back yet. I suppose because of unusual weather patterns, and a few summers of wild fires farther back in the hills, which might have prevented nests from spreading. I can't exactly call it a bright side to climate change, but .... 

Any how, it looks like they're coming back now. At least we don't have cicadas in the Pacific Northwest.