Dirt Good, Pizza Sad.
Aug. 20th, 2006 01:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfsYesterday, Omaha and I had the pleasure of being without both children; Kouryou-chan was spending an overnight with a friend of hers. She was very cute, taking her toy tent and sleeping bag (not meant for outdoor use and small enough to occupy a living room without interference. After she had left, Omaha and I put our mountain bikes onto the back of our car and headed out for the Pope & Talbot Lumber Trails, which is a large parcel of land in Kitsap County owned by a lumber consortia these days; lots of hikers, mountain bikers, and horse riders use them.
The instructions provided by DirtWorld were terrible in locating the trailhead, but fortunately we ran into some horseback riders who pointed the way and gave good advice. We took to the trail after some fiddling with Omaha's brakes, and then off we went. The trails were very hot, rather high, and lots of sun. They criss-crossed throughout the backcountry; getting lost was a real possibility. The next time we go on a trail like that, I have to remember a GPS unit, just a cheap one, but something that can point the way back to the car. It was funny; we did a lot of downhill, but I don't recall feeling much of the uphill battles.
By the time we were done rolling around inside the backcountry, Omaha and I drove across the Hood Canal to Gibb's Lake, where we decided to do the Jack Loop Trail. By the time we started, it was already 6:00pm, but the trail was only two miles and generally a blue square trail, moderate difficulty. Uh-huh. Whoever rates these things is a better man than I, I guess, 'cuz that had to be one of the more brutal trails I've ridden, especially on the west side of the lake. It was odd, though, because the eastern half was very familiar. In fact, I think Omaha and I have done that trail before, about five years ago as part of a trip to the peninsula. We had left Kouryou-chan with a friend who had a daughter the same age on the peninsula, gone riding, and then attended a handfasting that afternoon. It's odd how vague my memories are of who was getting wedded (Torin & Cindy? Might have been...).
It took us two hours to do 2.5 miles. That trail was freaking nasty. We got back to the car, changed into nicer clothes and dealt with my injuries. A cut above my ankle had soaked my sock in blood, and I'd been ignoring it for the past hour; there was another cut on my thigh, and blackberry scratches, a few bleeding, on my shin. Omaha and I had both dumped our bikes quite a few times, although I seem to have the cuts and she got the bruises. We left the park around 8:40.
We drove to the Kingston Ferry, driving along the oddly name "Egg & I Road" and through a valley that must have been inhabited by Hobbits, it was so pastoral looking. We took the 9:20 boat. On the other side, we stopped at what was once a Cucina Cucina's and was now a Pagliacci's chain store. It was not Pagliacci's. Pagliacci's is characterized by a richness of sauce, a perfection of crust, and a willingness to use spices and flavors long after wimpier pizzas have folded up and gone home. Pagliacci's is good and honest pizza with the courage needed for decent flavor. This crust was thin and overly crisp, the sauce was ordinary, the sausage unremarkable. We were both very disappointed.
By the time we were done it was 11:00, and we put aside our plans to stop at Tubs on the way home. We were way too tired. We got home, fed and medicated the cat (she recently had a tooth pulled, so needs twice-daily antibiotics, so Omaha and I decided not to camp overnight and drive home the next day). We showered briefly and slept soundly.
The instructions provided by DirtWorld were terrible in locating the trailhead, but fortunately we ran into some horseback riders who pointed the way and gave good advice. We took to the trail after some fiddling with Omaha's brakes, and then off we went. The trails were very hot, rather high, and lots of sun. They criss-crossed throughout the backcountry; getting lost was a real possibility. The next time we go on a trail like that, I have to remember a GPS unit, just a cheap one, but something that can point the way back to the car. It was funny; we did a lot of downhill, but I don't recall feeling much of the uphill battles.
By the time we were done rolling around inside the backcountry, Omaha and I drove across the Hood Canal to Gibb's Lake, where we decided to do the Jack Loop Trail. By the time we started, it was already 6:00pm, but the trail was only two miles and generally a blue square trail, moderate difficulty. Uh-huh. Whoever rates these things is a better man than I, I guess, 'cuz that had to be one of the more brutal trails I've ridden, especially on the west side of the lake. It was odd, though, because the eastern half was very familiar. In fact, I think Omaha and I have done that trail before, about five years ago as part of a trip to the peninsula. We had left Kouryou-chan with a friend who had a daughter the same age on the peninsula, gone riding, and then attended a handfasting that afternoon. It's odd how vague my memories are of who was getting wedded (Torin & Cindy? Might have been...).
It took us two hours to do 2.5 miles. That trail was freaking nasty. We got back to the car, changed into nicer clothes and dealt with my injuries. A cut above my ankle had soaked my sock in blood, and I'd been ignoring it for the past hour; there was another cut on my thigh, and blackberry scratches, a few bleeding, on my shin. Omaha and I had both dumped our bikes quite a few times, although I seem to have the cuts and she got the bruises. We left the park around 8:40.
We drove to the Kingston Ferry, driving along the oddly name "Egg & I Road" and through a valley that must have been inhabited by Hobbits, it was so pastoral looking. We took the 9:20 boat. On the other side, we stopped at what was once a Cucina Cucina's and was now a Pagliacci's chain store. It was not Pagliacci's. Pagliacci's is characterized by a richness of sauce, a perfection of crust, and a willingness to use spices and flavors long after wimpier pizzas have folded up and gone home. Pagliacci's is good and honest pizza with the courage needed for decent flavor. This crust was thin and overly crisp, the sauce was ordinary, the sausage unremarkable. We were both very disappointed.
By the time we were done it was 11:00, and we put aside our plans to stop at Tubs on the way home. We were way too tired. We got home, fed and medicated the cat (she recently had a tooth pulled, so needs twice-daily antibiotics, so Omaha and I decided not to camp overnight and drive home the next day). We showered briefly and slept soundly.
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Date: 2006-08-20 10:39 pm (UTC)"When Betty MacDonald married and moved to a small farm on the Olympic Peninsula in the State of Washington, she was largely unprepared for the rigors of life in the wild. No running water, no electricity, a house in need of constant repair, and days that ran from four in the morning to nine at night, with barely a moment to put one's feet up. And this was before the children arrived. But the MacDonalds managed to keep their sense of humor, and this account of their adventures with the house and with neighbors is an endearing frontier classic."