The Canadian customs officer eyed me suspiciously, “You're riding your bike to Mexico”
Yes.
And you're from Seattle?
Yes.
So why do you need to come up here? Why not just start in Bellingham?
Because I want to go border to border.
He grunted in acceptance and finally sent me on my way, but not before interrogating me about what kind of job I have that lets me take so much time off.
I think he's worried I'm going to overstay my permit and become an undocumented immigrant. That's fair. I am pretty shifty looking. I blame the lack of sleep.
Today's adventures in transportation started at 4:30. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your view, I didn't sleep well the night before. My mind kept waking me, shouting, “What the hell are you doing?” So I was already awake when my alarm went off.
Threw my panniers on my bike, pumped up my tires one last timr, and rode the couple miles to UW. They finished the light rail station at UW last spring, making my early morning trips to the Bolt Bus infinitely quicker and easier. (Riding through downtown Seattle isn't fun in any circumstance, let alone on a fully loaded touring bike at 5am.)
10 minutes of nearly empty public transportation later, and I'm taking my bike off the train and onto a bus bound for the Great White North.
Next stop Canada and attempting to navigate when you can't use your phone!
This is epic!
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