Dino's blog for mini adventures and endurance challenges
Header

Frazzled nerves

August 17th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (0 Comments)

Day 58: Causapscal to Cambellton (81km)

Uh-oh. That doesn’t look good. I was doing my morning check on Monty. Brakes fines, rims fine, tyre beading bulging out of rim. Uh-oh.

The bulge!

The bulge!

I had treated myself to double coffee this morning. The large dose of caffeine coursing through my veins fuelled my anxiety as I Googled my options. I’ve had a tyre explode on me before. It had looked like this, I had nonchalantly ignored it and carried on cycling to work, until one day – BANG!

How far would this bulge survive? I was hoping 80km. I cycled as fast and carefully as possible. Long sections of construction did not help my nerves as Monty bounced on the dust and rubble. I tried to enjoy the scenic views, pushing to the back of my mind the constant worry that my front tyre was going to EXPLODE ANY SECOND.

The scenery was very beautiful as the 132 followed alongside the Matapedia River. The river is renowned for its salmon fishing. Men in beige waded in the shallow, rocky water. The sun came out, illuminating the edges of the angular hills. Forest stretched in all directions. The road was quiet. It reminded me of being in BC.

And then…

ARGGGG!!

A black bear is running in the road right in front of me. I screech on the brakes as the bears jumps past. The bear!? The bear?! I swivel round to look, but the bear has already disappeared into the overgrowth.

My heart rate had rocketed. I had chucked out my bear spray yesterday because I thought – thought! – I am no longer in bear country. My nerves, worn by the worry of an exploding tyre, were now frazzled.

Soon enough I reached the bridge that would lead me to a new province: New Brunswick. I was closing in on the bike shop and (fingers crossed) the tyre had not yet exploded. I was counting down the distance to Campbellton not in kilometres, not in jelly beans consumed but in the number of hours it would take me to walk from here to Campbellton if my tyre exploded. 5 hours, 4 hours… I felt happier once I realised that Monty and I could walk to town before nightfall.

The river separating Quebec from New Brunswick

The river separating Quebec from New Brunswick

Thankfully we reached town without any loud bangs. I wheeled into bike shop #1. Alas no suitable tyre. I wheeled into bike shop #2. They had a tyre that was the right size. The mechanic grinned at me in a camp yet gormless way (an odd combo, I know).

“It’s a good tyre,” he said, emitting an aura of cluelessness.

It costs $20. That is about £12. Call me a bike snob but I do not trust a tyre that costs less than the socks I am wearing (yes, I do happen to be wearing very nice socks). It costs less than the pizza I ate in Rimouski.

This man had apparently never seen a touring bike. My concern piqued when he asked “did [Roberts, Monty’s frame builder] create that handlebar?”

The tyre is awful. Bits of different length rubber poke out the edge. “It’s a good tyre,” the mechanic enthused again.

It is a shit* tyre, my instinct said. Lo and behold, the online review later confirmed that it is indeed a shit tyre. On the plus it need only last until I get to Charlottetown where a better bike shop can sell me a better tyre.

If all else fails I shall buy a pizza and strap that on the rim.

*pardon my use of language but there are few adjectives suitable for this tyre.

Notes:
Why is the tyre about to explode?
Most tyres don’t explode if they are pumped up properly and aren’t really old and worn out. My Schwalbe marathon plus tyre appeared to have a manufacturing defect that has made it bulge. The tyre has however travelled 10,000km with a touring load so I would still recommend these tyres.

Bear in area

July 31st, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (0 Comments)

Day 45: Huntsville to Mew Lake (75 km)

“Bear in area”

The a-frame sign was propped up outside the campsite office entrance.

image

This wasn’t the species of mammal I saw hoping to encounter today. I’ve spent all day peering in the bushes, scanning the trees, and peaking under the rocks in the hope of seeing a moose.

But alas, no moose.

O where art thou moose?

O where art thou moose?

There was one exciting spectacle to liven up my otherwise usual day’s jaunt cycling past the forest, rocks, lakes etc etc of northern Ontario. There was I merrily swooping around the corner of a nice descent when what should fly across the road in front of me but…

A plane.

Wow!

This plane was literally flying across the road. If you’d been driving a truck or wearing stilts when it passed you’d have been knocked over. It swooped gloriously by, all buzzing blades and shiny yellow paintwork. As I approached the bottom of the hill, I squealed on Monty’s brakes and swivelled around to see the lake. On the dock stood the outline of two figures and a stack of crates and bags. The plane was now floating on the lake and skirting around to meet the dock. Like any good tourist I jumped over the “no trespassing” sign in order to take a better photo without the limb of a tree in the way (regret: I took the photos on my actual camera not my iPad so cannot share it with you).

I then continued to cycle past more forest, rocks, lakes etc etc. Until at a pleasantly mid-afternoonish I pulled off the highway towards the campground. To welcome me was the warning sign: Bear in Area.

Inside the office, the staff informed me that there was a Zero Tolerance policy in operation. Perhaps more scary than the the threat of seeing a bear was the fact that if a park ranger found you had left out a crumb of food or a smudge of toothpaste you would be fined $150 on the spot. Eek!

I decided to try my luck hanging up my food using my rope. After a few throws, I successfully had my rope hanging over a high branch. With a bit of fiddling I attached one food-laden pannier. And heaved. And heaved. The friction of branch to rope wasn’t helping me. I finally succeeded in heaving my pannier up by poking it up with a stick with one hand while simultaneously pulling down with the other. Despite the tallness of the branch, my bag was now only up at the height of me + arm + stick. I stood back. Hmm.. What to do? There were no tall people strolling past.

I wanted to leave at dawn tomorrow so that I could get on the road during the wildlife window of the day (ie between dawn and human breakfast). The office staff had informed me I could get a bear locker but in order to get my deposit back in the morning I’d have to wait until the office was open and thus miss the wildlife window. I looked up again at my pannier dangling only a metre from my head. I estimated the height of a bear on tip toes.

Off I wandered to get the keys to my bear locker.

This is a bear locker.

This is a bear locker.

On reflection, this was probably the sensible choice as when I went to retrieve my pannier from its tree the branch broke as I yanked the string down. Oops.

Having stashed my food away I went to gather firewood. I was happily gathering from a cache of dried bark when a man’s voice boomed through the trees.

“If a warden catches you doing that you’ll be fined!” The man yelled.

Eh?

“Warden. The police. Banned. Illegal.” He shot words at me in an angry tone.

Yikes. I put down the firewood. And, in my clearest English accent, explained
I haven’t seen a sign, didn’t know it was banned, and thank you very much for telling me.

I’m sure there is some sort of explanation for the ban on collecting firewood (eg leave the wood to rot so it can provide a home to numerous varieties of fungi etc) but I would like to know what it is and not just be yelled at. At least the guy did save me from a potential fine. But having spent the day entirely alone a small bit of human contact can really swing your mood. His angry tone had put me on edge and made me feel quite alone.

And because bad stuff comes in 3s I then encountered the water tap. The first water tap had a sign up indicating in pictorial form that one is not allowed to wash dishes under the tap. Fair enough. But then the sink in the washroom had the same sign. And then the industrial looking sink in the laundry room had the same sign. Hmmf. And where is one supposed to wash the residue of one’s tomato gnocchi off one’s folding bowl? There was no indication.

Are bears not going to be attracted to the smell of my unwashed hot chocolate cup and a sticky bowl? I was not impressed and decided, warden or no warden, to wash my dishes.

So yes, the evening was quite frustrating. I can’t collect my own firewood, I can’t wash my dishes in the sink and now I have to stomp up the road for 5 minutes to retrieve any smelly item from my bear lock. Now – yes, now – I understand why so many of you good people choose to stay in hotels. You don’t have to put up with this nonsense.

I now have only 3 more days of cycling until I reach Ottawa and civilisation. I will be pleased to be out of the woods and in a place without so many rules on dishes, firewood, bears etc. But not before I have seen a moose.

Marathon through Marathon

July 15th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (0 Comments)

Day 34: Schreiber to White Lake (154 km)

“I think I’ll enjoy it, but I’ll be in pain,” Katie Wanderer responded when I asked her this morning what she was expecting from today’s ride.

Pain unfortunately seems to have become a feature of this trip. Mostly it is knee pain or back pain. But there is a plethora of pain that I am experiencing that is quite distracting from the joy of cycling through Ontario.

I felt apprehensive about the day ahead. And not entirely convinced that I would make it to White Lake, especially given my wonky pain and yesterday’s pitiful run. As I set off this morning I tried to focus outwardly on the beautiful scenery. The north shore of Lake Superior has a quiet majesty about it. Early morning the road was almost empty of traffic save for a heron flying over head. The frequent steep ascents allow you to steal glances of the lakes over the top of the forest. The side of the road was decorated with wild flowers, buzzing with life. Yellow and black striped butterflies flapped across the road. I noticed a very beautiful bee collecting pollen at lunchtime. It was orangeish and looked a bit like a hummingbird.

There’s a distinctive bird call which I often hear as I cycle along. It’s made of four sharp, long whistles. I think it’s a white throated sparrow although the melody of its call reminds me of lazy afternoons lying in the grass in England listening to the cooing of a wood pigeon.

The wildlife highlight of the day was seeing a black bear. It was happily munching at the roadside when I zoomed past. First my heart skipped a beat as it turned round but then it sort of shrugged and just carried on munching. I guess I should have stopped to take a photo but I am still quite scared so was happy to use the downhill as an excuse not to stop.

I needed all the nature I could get to distract me from today’s epic ride: 154km on tired, old legs. I had to stop every 30km or so to pull out my half yoga mat and do an entire stretching routine to loosen my knotted muscles. I would respray Deep Freeze on whatever body part was complaining the most. Then pop another painkiller (I need to give up painkillers tomorrow as I now have indigestion.)

After about 90km I reached the town of Marathon (an apt name for today’s ordeal). Pulling in at a gas station I met a hipster duo of cyclists who were headed east. I was chatting to Hipster 1 when Hipster 2 arrived. He immediately chucked his bike on the ground and kicked at the trailer he was pulling. “It’s a piece of junk,” he complained, “I was just given it for free a couple of days ago but I want to get rid of it.” He then opened the lid of his trailer to reveal a guitar and what looked to be a pair of old cowboy boots. He pulled out a pack of tobacco and started rolling a cigarette. I later discovered (when i went down it) that he had just cycled up a ridiculously steep 3km long hill. And he was celebrating with a smoke.

These guys sleep in hammocks. They haven’t paid for a single night at a campsite yet. They seemed to be carrying very minimal gear (guitar and cowboy boots excepted) but I’m sure this is because they didn’t have stuff rather than because they had the super-compact ultra-lightweight technical gear (see Mr Triathlon from yesterday.)

Later on today I saw two other cyclists coming the opposite way. We waved cheerful to each other. They looked retro: he bare chested in small, blue shorts, her in a neon top and buggy sunglasses.

The bike and gear are undetachable from the cyclists. I don’t mean this in a materialistic way. Rather I mean what stuff they pack, how much they carry and how’s it’s loaded onto their choice of bike inextricably reflects their personality. I figure that by seeing a cyclist on the road with all their gear you can instantly get a feel for what they are like. I guess it’s the same as having a snoop round someone’s house. After all, our bikes are our homes for the summer.

After lunch at Marathon and the enjoyable, swooping 3km descent, the hills began to flatten out. The wind had been blowing against or across me off the lake all morning, but as a headed inland towards White Lake it seemed to swing round to my back and push me along for the last 50km. My speed gradually picked up as I started to believe that, yes, I would actually make it to White River.

I swung into my forest clearing of a campsite after a memorable 8 hours and 1 minute of cycling. It was 7pm. This was the longest day of cycling I have done in my life. I called my Dad from the only available pay phone to inform him that I was still alive. Relief swept over me: I’ve made another day.

Day 28: Nestor Falls to Fort Frances (98.5km)

“How quickly can you pitch a tent?”

Erm… Don’t know. Why? “There’s a storm coming,” the man said, turning his head from his cup of coffee to nod up at the looming clouds out the window. At this point we probably should have hopped on our bikes and cycled as fast as possible to the local campground. Instead we shrugged our shoulders, munched a bagel and watched as the threatening clouds released bucketfuls of water onto the ground. Oh.

I’d enjoyed the day’s ride. It was just under the 100km mark and felt must easier. Why 99km is practically a rest day. I saw a baby black bear (bringing bear count up to 3) and the first wild pelican of my life.

Most notable today was the kindness of strangers. Today our free log cabin was surpassed in friendliness when we stopped at a store to buy groceries. They didn’t have a huge selection of foodstuffs but the lady there informed us there was a better grocery store a few kilometres up the road- back the way we came. Our faces must have drooped. “Do any of you have a driving license?” she asked before handing Sofi the keys to her car. Wow.

Clouds were looming all day but we had all but forgotten the threat of thunder as we merrily counted down the kilometres to Fort Frances. We knew the town had a Tim Hortons and thus Boston cream donuts were on the horizon. We arrived happy and victorious.

Oh. Until the thunderstorm. And the last 4km cycling in a deluge to a motel. The road had turned into a river. My feet were instantly sodden by the water. Huge puddles turned into lakes on the tarmac as we eddied down the road. Have you ever been annoyed when the light is red but there’s nothing coming the other way? Imagine it is 9pm and you are cycling in a thunderstorm. I cursed every single red stop. Lightning strobed in terrific awe over the bay as we pulled up at the motel.

Photo taken after the thunder and lightning had ceased

Photo taken after the thunder and lightning had ceased

I’m still not sure how long exactly it takes me to pitch my tent. Probably less time than it takes to Google a motel and cycle 4km in a deluge…

Bugs and bears

July 4th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (0 Comments)

Day 25: Winnipeg to Rennie (131km)

“I feel like a celebrity being swarmed by the paparazzi,” Katie Wanderer remarked.

Word has clearly got out that three famous cyclists were on the road as we were chased along the highway by a swirling mass of black flies. I’ve never known flies like this before. There must have been more than twenty frenetically whirling around my bike and body, distracting my vision like floaters in my eyes.

Today we encountered horse flies, black flies, mosquitoes, heat, pain and a black bear. Yep, you know we’re nearly in Ontario.

We started the day waking up in a luxury Fairmont hotel, courtesy of Sofi Wanderer’s Dad’s connection. Unlike Chateau Lake Louise, I slept very well in the pressed white sheets. I could get used to this. The disadvantage of a luxury hotel is that extra services cost extra – the cheapest breakfast was $18 for a slice of melon and it cost $7 to have a pair of socks washed. Oh, unless you wash them yourself in the bath tub. So while Katie Wanderer nipped to Tim Hortons (translation: Canadians biggest coffee chain) to pick up breakfast, Sofi Wanderer dried out her clothing with the hair dryer.

Katie and I have matching knee pain. The solution is apparently ice, ice, ice. So we nipped to the drug store to spend a small fortune on lotions and potions to keep our bodies in order. There’s something to be said for my increasingly ability to feel comfortable and at home wherever I am standing. Hanging out with the Wanderers it has become normal to wheel a muddy touring bike along the smooth marble floors of a hotel lobby. We stood in the lobby spraying ourselves with deep freeze and popping arthritic painkillers. I would highly recommend staying at a hotel like this: the front staff always open the door for you. Makes wheeling a bike in and out the lobby an awful lot easier.

Today it was hot. It was approaching 30 degrees when we left the cool interior of the hotel and set off down the muggy, humming streets of Winnipeg searching for a route out into the wilderness.

Today we saw the scenery change as we headed east of Manitoba towards the Ontario border. Manitoba was agricultural, flat and there were few trees. Today the trees popped up quite suddenly. The woods closed in around us, the road steepened and fell… And the bugs appeared.

We cycled past 10 acre wood, the home of Winnie the Pooh (Did you know he’s Canadian? He was named after Winnipeg). Later in the day we startled a real black bear that was feeding by the roadside. It ran off as we noisily cycled past.

We stopped to eat lunch at 6pm (sic). The heat of the sun had melted the cheese in my pannier so we had pre-grilled cheese for lunch. Finally, after a long break the heat of the day had abated. We enjoyed the final two hour cycle to the campground as the embers of the day glowed behind us. The road was quiet, there was almost no traffic. The sun set slowly behind the forest as we pulled into a wonderful campground off a dusty track.

We spent the evening massaging our legs with ice and tiger balm before going to sleep.

What a change in a day. I woke up in a luxury hotel. I fall asleep on the thermarest inside the common room of a campsite, the midgies swamping around my ipad. But I am equally happy in both.

Slumbering bear

June 16th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (1 Comments)

Day 13 Lake Louise to Canmore (89 km)

Chateau Lake Louise is pretty impressive. Seriously if you’ve not heard of it you should look it up. The wanderers had a spare bed in their €750 a night room so had invited me (and Monty) to stay with them. I’ve not been sleeping much in Canada and was looking forward to a decent night’s kip.

There was a moment wandering around the sixth floor hunting for room 6923 and still (after about an hour) unable to find the wanderers when I was beginning to wonder if it was just a big wind up. There weren’t any rooms with four digit numbers. I’d been told to find the East elevator and was hopelessly trying to take a bearing from the sun in order to work out which way was East. To no avail. Eventually Sofi Wanderer found me sitting in the lobby. I was trying my best to look inconspicuous in a five star hotel whilst wearing trail running shoes, shorts and a bright red waterproof. We picked up Monty and whisked him inside on the elevator without anyone noticing.

The view from the view was impressive.

Room with a view

Room with a view

Oddly I had the worst night’s sleep. The bed was so soft and squidgy that I constantly felt like I was sinking. I woke up again and again. At 3am I couldn’t get back to sleep. I was very tempted to blow up my thermarest and sleep on that but worried that noise of inflating it would wake up the Wanderers. Eventually I did get to sleep by lying upside down on the bed with a pillow between my legs.

6.30am – time to go swimming.
There is only going to be one morning in our lives when we have the opportunity to swim in the crystal glacier-fed waters of Lake Louise and then sink into a hot tub: this was that morning. The water was so cold that “if you threw an ice cube in the water it would stay there”. We crawled in like Golum over the wet rocks, swam about 10m and then Golumed out again. We padded down the carpeted corridors wrapped in towels trying to find our way through the labyrinth to the hot tub.

I'm going to start a list of lakes in the world I've swum in. Lake Louise joins Lake Baikal.

I’m going to start a list of lakes in the world I’ve swum in. Lake Louise joins Lake Baikal.

8:15am – breakfast
The cheapest breakfast on the hotel menu was €18. But we are but humble cycle tourists. The girls had only beef jerky and one protein bar in stock so I shared out all that I had. We were limited to 3 crackers, one third of a spoon on peanut butter scrapped as thinly as possible, two thirds of a banana each and a mug of coffee. We ate like peasants in a palace.

11am – actually doing some biking.
Our cycling route to Canmore was supposed to be ‘all downhill’. Katie Wanderer was looking forward to an entire day of coasting. She had absolutely no intention of pedalling if it could be helped. It was disappointing then for us to find hills en route. The route had been described as downhill and mostly flat.
Indeed, encouraging people had on multiple occasions described the approaching terrain as “Oh, mostly downhill and flat compared to what you guys have biked already.”
As Katie pointed out, what we’ve biked already are several Rocky Mountain passes. “I want you to compare flat with flat, not flat with Allison’s Pass.”
Fair point.

Cycling along highway 1a to Banff we saw three peletons of cyclist, an elk and a black bear. I’m particularly pleased about seeing the bear as we were almost out of bear country.

Photo credit: Katie Wanderer. Yes, we were that close.

Photo credit: Katie Wanderer. Yes, we were that close.

Talking of bears, it turns out that I’ve nearly seen a bear twice. Firstly Nic and I cycled straight past a bear on our way up Allisons Pass and didn’t realise. But the Wanderers (who stayed an extra day at the campsite in Canyon Hot Springs) found out that the next morning that a bear had been wandering around our campsite, indeed was right outside our tents in the night. We (wanderers and I) had stashed all our food in the laundry room, far from our tents. Bryan (being arrogant/ stupid?) had left all of it outside his tent, neatly packed in a bag just a few yards from our canvas abodes. The wanderers discovered all this when the saw the wardens setting up traps the next morning. Needless to say, I’m glad I found out about this a safe 200+km away.

We cycled to Banff and stopped for a prolonged break, trying to wait for the rain to stop (it didn’t).

Sarcastic signpost on the way to Canmore.

Sarcastic signpost on the way to Canmore.

The last 24km to Canmore were delightfully along bike path. The wanderers were staying with a family friend so just out of town they phoned them to get directions.
“Erm… We also have a third cyclists with us. Could she camp in your garden?”
Well, it turned out Betti and Ric live in a condo but were more than happy to let me unroll my thermarest in their living room. After a wonderful evening with them (featuring great food, private Irish folk music performance and lots of laughter) I lay down on my thermarest on the floor of their living room and had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in Canada.

Day 12: Golden to Lake Louise (85 km)

I’m so tired I could face plant into my couscous.

The only time in my life when I’ve been this tired was when my Mum and I went on a 24 mile walk. My mother, I should point out, is a hardcore walker. Whereas I am not. I think I did actually fall asleep into my dinner that night.

Today I cycled 85km up the infamous 10 Mile Hill and over Kicking Horse Pass. It was my fifth day in a row of cycling. As soon as I got back onto the highway and began the first steep ascent the leg burn kicked in. I began to wonder whether racing my own imaginary Giro d’Italia up a mountain pass, then only eating left overs and not stretching was perhaps a bit… Foolish.

I climbed. All day I climbed like a tortoise. I felt zapped of energy. The tank was empty (because some fool decided to only feed it two meals in 118km yesterday!) My muscles and joints ached.

And then I remembered how the tortoise won the race. Sometime last year I did a 100k women only bike challenge with my mother around the rolling (read: hilly) South Downs. I remember my mother overtaking pink gym bunnies half her age. Some had stopped and were pushing their bikes up, other pink bunnies were only pedalling just enough to save falling off backwards. And my mother pedalled past them…

The trick, I recall, was to slip into the lowest gear possible and then just keep pedalling. So somewhere in my exhaustion I remembered this. And thought “if my 58 year old mother can cycle up these hills then so can I.” And so I kept pedalling. I munched some more jelly beans. Thought about my mother and the pink gym bunnies. And somehow found the strength to tap away at about 7km up this Rocky Mountain pass.

I wanted to get to Field for lunch but by 2pm I had done 50km (7km short) and my tank needed desperate refilling. I stopped by the side of the road. There was nothing around except wilderness sliced in half by highway. I was apprehensive about lunching in the wild alone for fear of bears.

So as I hung out my tent to dry in the sun and spread my avocado I began to sing. I started with John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High” (obviously) but soon ran out of lyrics. So I started Aretha Franklin’s “I will survive” which seemed equally suitable. My avocado was finished but my tent was not yet dry. So I used some precious battery on the iPad to listen to some tunes (namely “what a beautiful day” by the Levellers and “C-A-N-A-D-A” by Raffi.) And I sung. And I danced. And felt very happy and not so scared of bears.

Drying out in the sun

Drying out in the sun

I pedalled off happily only for the leg burn to hit within 1 minute up the relentless hill. When I arrived at Field I was accosted by a lonely cyclist who gave me his card and clearly wanted to chat. I did not. I wanted to cycle up the infamous 10 Mile hill before I collapsed.

Straight out of Field it was horrendously steep. Horrendously. Alongside the road was a river – a gushing fast-paced whitewater river that was beautiful to see but was also a cruel reminder of the gradient.

The rest of the day basically continued in this way. I felt weak. The hill went up.

Somewhere near the top. Not sure if this is BC or Alberta as there was no sign.

Somewhere near the top. Not sure if this is BC or Alberta as there was no sign.

Finally the mountain relented and I was freewheeling. The end was near. The most beautiful thing I saw all day was the sign “Lake Louise next exit”. I let out a yell.

image

Finally, finally I had arrived. For weeks I’ve been telling myself that if I can cycle to Lake Louise then I can cycle across Canada.

And now I know I will.

Ps. I actually left BC and entered Alberta today but I didn’t see a sign which was most disappointing.

Day 11: Canyon Hot Springs to Golden
(118 km)

48, 49, 50…
The seconds ticked down as I lifted out the saddle, gave out a roar and sprinted towards the finish.
58, 59…
Bang on 2 hours, 15 minutes and 0 seconds I slammed on the brakes and jumped off Monty, diving off the road and onto the verge where the signpost stood.

Did you see the Giro d’Italia stage this year where Visconti climbed up the Galibier in the snow? He impressively clung on and won the stage in epic style. That was me today

Here I am at the top of Roger’s Pass. I’d ascended the pass non-stop since the campsite, a solid 34km of steep climbing. I was desperate to reach the top in the fastest time possible- I’d been busting a gut trying to keep my average speed above 16km per hour.

No Wanderers to cycle with today hence awful selfie pic

No Wanderers to cycle with today hence awful selfie pic

At the top I was greeted by a tour guide and a horde of English tourists. They were trying to ask questions about my trip, where I was from, oh yes I know Oxford etc. but now I know why tour riders go straight for the team truck before they talk to the media. “Sorry, I don’t wish to be rude but I need to go now before my legs seize up,” I said jumped back on Monty.

Despite my epic ascent I still had 80km to ride.

To begin with there was a fast descent slowed only by tunnels and construction works. One tunnel was so dark that you couldn’t see the ground which was fun. The downhill felt short lived for then I began climbing again.

At 60km I stopped for lunch. I was so pumped with energy that I could only eat a few forkfuls of my pasta. I wanted to get back on the road. I stood up and looked at the road climbing up the hill ahead. And there I saw it…

The black outline hovering on the hard shoulder. Was it moving? Yes, it was moving. The bear was wandering up along the road, exactly on the hard shoulder where I wanted to cycle. My heart started pounding. I looked at an RV that was parked nearby, the woman inside looked completely unaware of the danger.

I took the monoscope out my pannier to get a better look.

Oh. It was Bryan. The guy whose recumbent bike I had tried out for size the previous evening. You will be amazed how much a recumbent bicycle looks like a bear.

This is Bryan

This is Bryan

I jumped back on my bike and continued up the hill. I cycled across a time zone. My legs were bursting with energy, pumping like pistons as I charged up the hill getting faster and faster. Now I was no longer in the Giro d’Italia but doing the bike leg of an Ironman. I ripped open an energy gel with my teeth and leapt out the saddle, pushing up my speed.

You know you've cycled far when you cross a time zone

You know you’ve cycled far when you cross a time zone

My legs were spinning out the kilometres faster and faster. As if I was in some sort of trance. I couldn’t stop, I didn’t stop. I just kept on racing to the finishing line.

At 100km out of nowhere three cyclists appeared on the road coming towards me. Three men. They all had thick beards and heavily loaded panniers. They cheerer, waving their arms in the arm, roaring me on. I have no idea if they were a hallucination. By this point I couldn’t tell what was uphill, what was downhill. There were only legs. Energy. Water. And scenery so sublime that I forgot at every stroke about the lactic acid in legs. I was going to win.

As I approached Golden I counted down the kilometres one by one. At each rise of the road I got out the saddle and fiercely hunted down the hills. I was getting faster and faster. I saw Bryan the bear in the distance again. I chased him down and sped past. Less than 10km to go.

Finally I skidded into the Tim Hortons at Golden to wait for Bryan. I didn’t matter that I’d beaten him (although nice that I had beaten a 34 year old man on a recumbent). I had beaten myself. My average speed we 19.3km per hour- that is faster than I usually cycle to work – and today I had cycled 118km over two mountain passes.

Sir Edmund Hillary once said “It’s not the mountain that we conquer but ourselves.”

Today I conquered both.

Crossing cycle paths

June 6th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (2 Comments)

Day 6: Princeton to Penticton (105 km)

Crossing bike pathsYou would have thought that there aren’t all that many folks cycling across Canada right?

Back in Victoria John and Kumiko (who cycled across Canada in 2007) told me that one day in Ontario they stopped for breakfast with not one, not two but a gathering of eight trans-Canada cyclists. It seems pretty incredulous that so many cyclists would congregate at the very same spot at the very same time. Not so.

Today my cycle path crossed with another 7 cyclists all headed for the East coast.

Firstly, Nic, the guy from Quebec who I have cycled with since Mission, is headed to Nova Scotia. We parted ways this morning as he is following highway 3 to the crows nest pass whereas I am headed for the northern route towards Lake Louise, Banff and other tourist traps.

I stopped outside a snack shop with 2 cyclists outside. Stan and Shirley had stopped to get the best beef jerky for miles around inside the store. They are both headed for the east coast. Amusing they describe their trip as “one woman’s dream, one man’s nightmare!” But on a sunny day with only rolling hills and beef jerky en route I doubt it was too hellish for Stan. They too are taking the southern route via highway 3.

At lunchtime I was happily munching through my fourth Ryvita and Gouda slice when Chase and Erica pulled up. Their trip is slightly different because they are cycling for a month, then have to return home to work for a month, but will they fly out to where they left to carry on their ride. If they don’t finish it in 2 months then they’ll complete their cycle ride next year. I love their dedication.

I also narrowly missed (by 10 minutes apparently) the 2 “wanderers on wheels”. The wanderers also have a very amusing blog which I greatly enjoy reading; certainly they make me feel like less of a nutter for making this trip. I did actually met these girls briefly at Manning Park. In fact, I met all the above guys at Manning park!

If you think about it… There are only so many months in the summer when Canada is fun to cycle through. And you need most if not all of them to cycle coast to coast at an enjoyable pace. I hope to bump into these guys again, and meet any other folks who are also making the trip.

Anyway, aside from meeting loads of friendly cyclists, today I cycled 105km with swoopy hills. One hill was so swoopy it swooped for about 10k (or so it felt) and I hit a max speed of 57.7km/h (that’s v fast for a fully loaded tourer like Monty)

My favourite moment of the day though was seeing a signpost that read: Similkameen Taxidermy. Emergency and out of hours call: 350-123-000

I will leave that for you to ponder.

The ascent of Allison Pass

June 5th, 2013 | Posted by Dino in Canada | Uncategorized - (1 Comments)

Day 4: Hope to Manning Park

“When I imagined cycling across Canada I imagined it would be like this,” Nic remarked as we enjoyed the hardest cycling of the trip.

Sunshine, a cool westerly breeze, jelly beans, forest, steep ascending, mountains and even a bear – all these things made for a memorable day’s cycling.

Today we tackled Allison Pass. A hefty climb from 56m to over 1,300m above sea level. I’d read online that it was the toughest day of cycling across Canada. Monty and I were mentally prepped and focused on the ride ahead, but we also knew that we could do it. It’s ‘only’ as high as Mont Aigoual which we cycled up last year with Ruth (a reasonably horredous ride as it was so windy we thought we might be blown off the top of the mountain!)

In comparison to Mont Aigoual, Allison pass was a complete joy and pleasure. Yes it was steep, very steep in fact (for reference many stretches were much, much steeper than Nuffield hill or the hill up to the Lodge) but my legs felt strong.

Today was a day of firsts. First time I cycled past a bear, first time I cycled up a Canadian mountain pass, first time I cycled past patches of snow wearing just a tshirt and shorts (the exertion was enough to keep me warm.)

I should explain that I didn’t actually see the bear although it was only the other side of the road. How did I miss it? A car had managed to drive off the road so it was hanging precariously on the edge of the steep gravel slope that descended many feet into the Skagit river. It didn’t look like a great place to be. The driver was hanging out the window, as if trying to balance the car so it wouldn’t roll down the slope into the cold gusting river.

“I feel like a complete dumb ass right now,” he remarked, appreciating the stupidity if not the danger of dangling over a steep drop.

A couple of other cars had pulled up around, seemingly to help with a rescue although there was a distinct lack of a tow rope.

Oh well. We can’t tow up a car on bicycles. So we merrily cycled past. Now on the other side of the road from all this is a young black bear. It’s sort of like one of those physiology studies in distraction. Nic and I only found out about the bear when Rob caught up with us and told us about it (he even had time to take some photos).

I’m slightly disappointed that I missed my first bear. Yet also very pleased as it wouldn’t have done my nerves much good.

As you can see... Sunshine, forest, mountain and lots of pedalling uphill...

As you can see… Sunshine, forest, mountain and lots of pedalling uphill…

That's higher than snowdon

That’s higher than snowdon

Sunshine, a cool westerly breeze, jelly beans, forest, mountains and even a bear.

Today was exactly like cycling across Canada should be: awesome.