Evie's Big Adventure

I believe there comes a time in everyone's life when they find themselves suddenly caught up in an epic adventure so compelling that they leave home - perhaps not fully packed - to sojourn across unfamiliar lands in search of that thing. . .that ONE thing that they KNOW will bring fulfillment, redemption, and a homecoming away from home.

The names and stories are now a part of our lives: Moses and the promised land, Frodo and the Ring's end, Nemo and his dad, Pee Wee and his bike . . .

And then there are the OTHER adventures we get caught up in because mom and dad throw us in the bike trailer and put a gargantuan (yet very cute) helmet on our head. This story is one of those.


A few weekends ago Jen and I took Evie on her first bicycle/camping trip to Orcas Island in the San Juan Islands. First we loaded up the truck and drove to within a mile from the Ferry terminal and biked onto the boat. Muuuuch cheaper.


Evie loved the sea breeze and wide open (fenced in) spaces. Apparantly the other ferry riders loved watching Evie loving the ride because one foreign woman actually wanted to get her picture taken with "the cutest baby!" Evie obliged.



Once our ship landed, we were greeted by this ominous looking sign.


There were friendlier signs along the way.


It wasn't as bad as we thought, though the hills reminded us we hadn't been biking in a while. I think the traffic was lighter than my load...


Evie was decked out in, as her Poppy calls it, her "rickshaw" complete with water bottle, books, a ball, George the monkey, and her blanket. Even with the top heavy bash cap on, she managed to catch some zzzs. Good thing too as we put her to work straight away when we arrived at camp.


Put up the tent.


Inflate the air mattress. How about a little R and R?


That's better. Evie enjoyed her new shovel and pail on the small beach of Orcas Island along with the call of the sea gulls, the soothing splash of the tide, the . . .


. . . gritty taste of a handful of sand in her mouth. . .


After some beach combing and munching, we headed back to camp for a real dinner. Here I'm sharing with Evie the age old Boy Scout prophecy, ". . . remember, if you play with fire, you'll wet the bed." Apparently she wasn't deterred as evidenced by next morning's diaper.


Thanks to Jen, Evie and I had something much tastier than sand after dinner - SMORES! Evie is a natural camper as she thoroughly enjoyed a stand-up sink bath, picking up sticks for the fire, dropping chips through the picnic table cracks for nocturnal friends, and stage diving onto the sleeping bags and pads for the 100th time. After a few good stories (no ghost stories though) and getting rocked by her mom, Evie crashed in the tent for her first ever camp out.


Though she missed the sunset, Evie must have had some adventurous dreams as that girl twisted, kicked, wallowed, and cooed all through the night oblivious of her parental bumper guards.


The next morning, we headed into town for breakfast at an all-organic vegetarian cafe where Evie grooved to the reggae music and found some new toys and hippies to play with.


Once we got fueled up, checked out the touristy shops, and ran 4 dozen laps around the children's book shelf in a local book store, we hit the road again. And then Evie's flag hit the road at about 20 miles per hour. When Jen went back to retrieve it, she found herself momentarily directing traffic.


By the end of the trip, Evie was reaching for her helmet to put it on and trying to climb in the trailer to get us motivated to ride.


Having been on a few bicycle trips already, we were accustomed to how easily it is to strike up conversations with strangers because we had a couple of loaded down bicycles that seemed to beg to be asked about. Meeting fellow travelers is one of the finest joys of bike touring. But now we have an even more inquisitive feature along for the ride - our 16 month daughter. Evie June was as curious and engaged in the people we met as they were in her. A bike may open a conversation, but a baby seems to open hearts.

I spoke with two other men who were also bike touring. One by himself (his wife at home and uninterested in it) and one with his 12 year old daughter. As I reflected on our conversations, I couldn't help but be thankful that I have a wife with an incredibly adventurous spirit whom with I get to explore and hopeful that my daughter might also relish the well-earned discoveries that the road affords. If she enjoys a swig from a travel worn water bottle as much as she does here, then I think I'm the luckiest dad in the world.



Jimmy