Road to Mt. Baker

So I'm running from the bear, as a storm cloud explodes!

My heart races.

I push buttons on my cell phone.

No dial tone.

I'm running on a gravelly, windy road with no cars, no people, no nothing.

Mile after mile. One. Two. Six!

I pass Douglas fir trees.

Bushes blend into a relay course over bridges and streams as I run further into the wild.

The bear approaches, an eagle swoops down, and...

I'm kidding to create the effect of the fear I had when driving alone on the road to Mt. Baker with nothing and no one around but this black storm cloud, which lowered in the sky.

It felt like the cloud was coming to get me and no one would know except maybe the bear.

It rained as I drove east from Bellingham (inland) toward Mt. Baker, part of the Cascade Mountins, on Route 542 because Doreen and Bonnie,and every other person I met in Bellingham, told me that Mt. Baker was a "can't be missed" drive. So it might rain, no big deal.

So I'm driving alone in the rain, in an area I'll learn is the wildest terrain in Washington State and the highway narrows from two-lanes to one, under this very angry sky.

No big deal.

The menacing black cloud follows normally swimsuit, sundress-clad Southern California me, and gets bigger and meaner and uglier as it takes over the entire sky.

My nerves and imagination take off with it, and the cloud lowers more. My index finger reaches up to touch... and I think better of reaching my hand out that window.

There are still no cars on the road. I feel lonely.

But I do have my cell phone.

Ah, relief.

I will call Fernando.

I dial, and find I have no dial tone.

Not here.

I drive further.

Not there.

Further.

Only 5 markers left, which measure a mile, until I'm at the Bed and Breakfast called The Inn at Mt. Baker.

It's romantic.

That's what they say, but I don't care if it's a garbage dump. I can't wait for time to speed up and get me to the place of beauty and refuge, and get me there already!

I drive faster along windy roads.

No cars.

No people.

No big deal.

I call Fernando again.

No dial tone.

I see the 29 marker for the B & B, and turn left onto a gravelly road.

Rocks--sharp silver rocks line the narrow road that lead up a hill. Shrubs grow inward on both sides of the road, which make the road disappear.

My tires grind on the gravelly road, and I wonder if I'll make it.

In my imagination, my tires blow-out (it's happened five times before) only this time, I have no phone service.

In red letters NO SERVICE on my cell. Unmistakable.

I'm not even sure I'm on the right road to the romantic, who gives a crap--B & B.

The mean black cloud lowers, completely overtaking the road now. And once again I'm about to reach out the car's window to touch my nemesis the cloud, but I reach for my phone instead and hit speed dial.

My heart races.

Still...

No dial tone.

My hands shake as I back the car into branches and brush, blocking the tiny narrow road, and I pray I don't go down the side of an invisible hill, and I pray a bear doesn't pop his head out.

I just watched the documentary about the guy in Alaska who got eatten by a grizzly bear.

And I wonder if I can still get a flight out of Sea-Tac if I turn around now. It's only around seven hours away, I tell myself.

And my rented hybrid SUV is positioned to turn right up the hill to the romantic B & B, and it's positioned left to turn down the hill toward Seattle's airport.

I'm at a fork in the road, stuck between bravery and wimpdom.

Which road will I take?

I reflect: There are no people. There is no phone service. I could get a flat tire. There are bears.

I have my period.

A breeze rustles leaves. I look over my shoulder.

Bears were one of the B & B brochure's selling points. It read something like I might see wild animals like bears.

So I did what any sane Southern California gal would do.

No big deal.

I SUVed outta there, and two and a half hours after I left Bellingham, I arrived to Bellingham, and embarked on one of the most scenic roads in Washington State, ah relief, and, luckily, under blue skies I made my way to Seatac airport.

No big deal.

The Chuckanut Drive was once part of the scenic Pacific Coast Highway, starting in San Diego and going up to Vancouver. Stay tuned for more...

   

The Chuckanut Drive.

The long windy road was completed in 1896, and was once part of the Pacific Coast Highway, going from San Diego to Vancouver. At one time, it was the only road linking Bellingham and the north to regions in the south. Without this road there were only boats and trains to get people and goods to and fro.

The Chuckanut Parkway was fabulous.

The sun came out!

Made my day.

Check out spectacular views of the Puget Sound, San Juan Islands, and Olympic Mountains on the horizon. Talk about breathing fresh, clean air. The best!

Here's Brendan and Kyle, two W. Washington University students who LOVE living in Bellingham and going to this school. Brendan picked the school after vacationing at Larrabee State Park, and he fell in love.

Me too, this area is amazing. Clean. Green. Fresh. Gorgeous breathtaking views!

I followed the 5 South (they have a 5 and 405 Fwy here too) to Seattle and got off the freeway just to take this photo of the Space Needle.

The pinks and purples in the sky were beautiful, and I did my best to capture, Seattle's landmark.

You see, I'm a real photographer now. That's what we do. When we photographers are relaxed. After a week of driving 1000 miles.

No big deal.