Traveler’s Journal
When: 7 p.m., Thursday, March 17
Where: Sequim High School library, 601 N. Sequim Ave.
Cost: Suggested $5 donation (adults); 18 and younger, free
Presenter: Chris Duff
Presentation: “Two Months in Low Gear: Bicycle Touring in Ireland and Scotland”
Note: This is the final 2016 presentation
Twenty-four hours before flying to Dublin for a two-month bicycle adventure, we loaded our bikes for the first time with four bright red panniers each and wobbled down our crushed stone driveway.
It had been 20 years since I had toured New Zealand by bicycle; I had forgotten how cumbersome a gear-laden bike felt and Lisa never had experienced the weight of fully loaded panniers.
We must have looked like two 5-year-olds heading off for the first time without training wheels: nervous laughter, swerving side-to-side, white knuckles on the handlebars. We survived the driveway, gained momentum on the short downhill run from our community road and squeezed the brakes as we careened toward the county road.
“Go right … watch that gravel on the side … no one’s coming … let’s go!”
We had been doing a lot of training rides (without any gear) several times a week to get into biking shape for the trip. Between 12 and 40 miles, these rides had flown by with dreams of distant green lands, single-track roads bordered by hedgerows of holly and hawthorn, pubs up ahead and the friendly folks of Ireland and Scotland waving from roadside cottages. It all sounded so idyllic.
By the time we walked rubber-legged back up our driveway after our “shake down” ride, I was envisioning pot holes, blind curves, flat tires and camping in the rain for weeks on end. I was right about the rain. I was wrong about everything else.
When I am asked about the best part of our 1,600-mile trip, I am quick to recall rolling into tiny Irish villages with charming whitewashed stone shops or peddling for miles along a single-track road slowly climbing into the Scottish Highlands; free range sheep sleeping in the middle of the road and only bolting away at the very last minute. I remember walking around ancient burial mounds older than the Pyramids and exploring later Pictish forts that were a mere thousand years old. Of course, there were the people we met; most were kind, welcoming and genuinely interested in who we were. Typically, drivers would follow patiently in their cars as we slowly worked our way up steep hills heading for the next passing place in the narrow roads with grass growing in the middle.
We would pull over, out of breath, and wave as they eased past with a toot on the horn, a smile and a friendly wave. We would later meet them in a village where they would want to know where we started, where we were heading and how long we had been on the road. We were as curious about them as they were about us and over a cup of tea and a warm buttered scone, we would share our story, learn about something special “just a wee bit down the road” and then bid each other a good day.
I remember the camps in farmers’ fields, the half dozen hot showers we had in two months, the revisiting with friends from my previous Celtic wanderings and the making of new friends with the hope that we would someday greet them in our home with big smiles and welcoming hugs.
For me, the best part of the journey was sharing all of this with Lisa. On the long steep hills that had us pedaling in the very lowest gear and wishing we had three more, I would see her in my round, rearview mirror with the biggest smile on her rain-soaked face.
Together, we out-pedaled a million midges on some days, pedaled in three layers of fleece and rain gear on other days, and when we couldn’t find a farmer’s field to camp in, we set up our tent in old and abandoned cemeteries and enjoyed the peace and silence of our neighbors. We stopped to pet the horses and donkeys who seemed to be waiting for us along the roads upon which we traveled, and in the villages, we’d cross the road to pet a dog that reminded us of our springer spaniel Rex, who we missed more than we could have imagined.
For two months we traveled with little intention other than whatever might be within the next 30-40 miles. We had talked about a trip like this when we had married almost 10 years earlier but somehow the rest of life had steered us in other directions.
Upon arriving back home, tired, fit and refocused, we’ve made a promise to not put off something that was so rewarding and fun as wandering down the unknown roads of life.
About the presenters
Chris Duff and Lisa Markli have been Port Angeles residents for 27 years.
While Lisa has chalked up many miles of solo alpine backpacking, Chris has done most of his traveling via sea kayak. Backcountry telemark skiing in the winter and biking the back roads and trails when the mountains are bare of snow keeps the two of them engaged year-round with the wonder of the North Olympic Peninsula.
While carpentry satisfies Chris’ creative needs, Lisa works as a registered nurse and spends her home time engaged in extreme gardening. For the most part they have remained gainfully employed but suffer an apparent untreatable case of wanderlust.
A bit on the independent side, they tend to avoid tandem kayaks or bicycles which have gone a long way in maintaining a happy marriage.
About the presentations
Duff’s presentation is the final of the 2016 Traveler’s Journal series.
The events were presented by the Peninsula Trails Coalition and all money raised is used to buy project supplies and food for volunteers working on Olympic Discovery Trail projects.
For more information, call Dave Shreffler at 683-1734.
