Tour de Lopez

Despite hearing over and over again about how Lopez is "the flat island," I was greeted at the ferry terminal by the usual monstrous hill. The terrain, however, did level out, and there was hardly any traffic on the backroads. Adam and Sarah had passed along a great local map called the "Tour de Lopez," which showed the best route to cycle around the island. As it was already mid-afternoon, I figured I'd make camp early and catch up on my laundry, then head out on the tour the following day.

On my way out to the campground, I rolled past a beautiful beach lined with figures made out of driftwood. Some were shaped like animals with carved out eyes, while others seemed more open to interpretation. The figures were decorated with baseball caps and buoys. I rode on through open farmlands into the forested park for a quiety, if mosquito-filled, evening.

I bought a summer squash at this farm stand

The next morning I set out to tour the island, and soon discovered why Lopez is haled as a cyclist's paradise. The gently rolling hills, uber-friendly residents and lack of cars made for a really pleasant ride - a nice break after nervewracking Orcas.

My lunch destination was Iceberg Point, a must-see according to travelers and locals alike. It's a little off the beaten path in what looks like private land, but the point is public and well worth the trek, they told me.  With their encouragement I brushed brazenly down the trail past a dozen "private property" and "no trespassing" until I spotted the  rusty saw with the words "Iceberg Point" etched in tiny yellow letters above a closed gate with a "no parking" warning.  Lopez Islanders know how to keep a place special. The path soon branched into trails of tall matted grass leading up to several rock cliffs. The view was, as usual, astounding. I made myself a sandwhich, cracked a bottle of Washington microbrew and took in the massive expanse of ocean, while a group of seals sunbathed on a rock below.

Iceberg Point

Lopez is a pretty small island, and before long I was back in town, blogging away.  Time was a little short, but I managed to pack up my campsite, wet clothes and all (the sun apparently missed the memo about my laundry), and catch the ferry over to Fidalgo Island.  One mile downhill on the other side and I was in Washington Park, home for the night.