More From Your Favorite Peninsula

Happy 21st birthday, Mikey!

That's right everyone, THE Mike Ferrario turned twenty-one last Thursday, and he is just as polite, handsome, and talented as ever. The world loves you, Michael, and your friends are proud to know you so.

I get the feeling this may not be the last time we say this, but a lot has happened since our last post.

And I mean a lot.

Remember that coffee shop you read about two posts ago? That was where we ran into this guy:

Meet Curt.

Curt first approached us inside Hurricane Coffee in Sequim to ask where we were planning to stay that rainy Thursday night. We told him we were headed out to the Dungeness Spit to camp near the beach, but it was immediately obvious he had a better idea. A few hours later we were settling down for the night, here:



Let me take this time to write to both of you directly, Curt and Mary Beth. Thank you so much for everything you so graciously shared with us. Seriously, everybody, you should meet these people. And not only did they give us heat, shelter, bedding, and hot showers, but they took us out to breakfast in the morning! The boundaries of human goodness indeed seem to have expanded their limitless capacity once again. Thank you Curt and Mary Beth, from the very bottom of our hearts. Experiencing your hospitality was like living in a dream, but the omelet and pancakes from Tarcissio's made it almost too much to handle.

From Sequim we travelled farther down Highway 101, until we got onto Highway 112, which we followed to Joyce, Washington. We stopped at the Joyce General Store to buy some Chef Boyardee Ravioli for later, and did some laundry in the self-service laundramat across the road. After three loads, it was dark and we were pretty tired. Dave, the local painting contractor we met just outside the 'mat, told us the route to Salt Creek State Park, adding that it was "a great place to just haul ass!"

So we hauled ass for a couple of miles on a dark windy road, and halfway up the hill that leads to the park entrance, my chain broke, again. So in the morning I removed a couple more links (bringing the total to six removed links), and we labored our way back up to the General Store for some breakfast.

I should also mention that Salt Creek has a racoon problem.

Another quick inspection of my worn-out (and now too-short) chain warned us not to proceed to Forks, which was our original plan, so I got out my Sharpie and spiral notebook and began making a sign that said "P.A.?" to show to passing cars in hopes of hitching a ride to the nearest bike shop.

Fortunately, a solution turned up before I was even done coloring in the question mark.

Dave the painter guy showed up, frantically searching for one of six $400 pure-bred puppies. We hadn't seen any puppies, but he still offered to bring us a spare bike chain he had at his house down the street. Before he was back, a serious cyclist showed up and strode into the store. I admired his mountain bike while we waited for Dave to return with a chain, and the cyclist guy, Andy, came back outside to see what was the matter with my bike. When Dave showed up with a new chain, Andy quickly told me it was the wrong size, but that he had a brand new one that was my size at his house, six miles west of where we were. Mike and Tyler followed him out there on their bikes, and Andy's wife Kris picked me and The Clever Girl up in their truck about fifteen minutes later.

To make a long story a little less long, they offered for us to stay in the apartment above their garage for the night and fed us squash, potatoes, broccoli, turkey and milk for dinner. Also, Andy put a brand new chain on my bike for a cost that was less than half the material value. What a guy! Seriously!

And so, Andy and Kris - thank you for sharing your food, your expertise and advice, your weekend, your living space, and your internet connection with us three hooligans. You've reminded us again what a good world we live in, and we cannot - cannot! - wait for that crockpot oatmeal in the morning.

It is now past 8:00, which now, incidentally, is just about our regular bedtime. I'll leave you with a couple more pictures.

Kris and Andy's house

Tyler, Kris, Andy, Mikey, and Stephen (me)