And so it begins

After handing in our rental car, there was everything we now owned laid out in the Campbell River Airport carpark. We gradually worked to repack some items, sparking one final, final, absolutely final cull of anything that resembled weight, and we got dressed in our bike gear for the road ahead.

Putting on the tight Lycra padded bike shorts meant the ride was on. Contrary to what some of you may be thinking, this entire venture wasn't just a feeble smokescreen to (legitimately) wear body hugging Lycra for the first time. No, honestly. But it does feel good. Is that wrong?

Daphne and Ran had very considerately packed us a heap of delicious snacks, most of which were consumed in the carpark. It was to become a trend - eating (well, gorging) on food purely on the pretense that if we didn't eat it, we would simply have to carry it. A Parker's dream.

I was a tad vague of where we would get to on our first leg. Probably not the best approach to your first-ever cyclo-tour but, well, what can you do when you're not exactly sure how far you'll get in around 6-7 hours. I had a preferred destination but that receded somewhat after I discovered the airport was 11km south of Campbell River, meaning the roughly 45km jaunt I had in mind would have to become a 55km ride. Alas, we made good time into Campbell River, travelling along a straight and generously-shouldered highway. The next 10km after that saw the shoulder largely disappear, which made for tougher riding when you consider heavily stacked logging trucks barrel along this stretch of road with monotonous regularity.

The toughest part of day one came around the 25km mark, when we started a gradual but unyielding ascent. After a break, we cycled on, but we ended up walking 3km or so near the top. Good to stretch the legs anyway, we said. And the views back towards Strathcona Provincial Park, home of a few 2200m snow-capped peaks, were worth the amble. Of course, what goes up must come down, and so we did, at around 40km/hr...brisk yet exhilarating, past dense forest and pristine lakes.

It was this fairly long descent that made me realize we could reach my preferred destination, and so we pushed on to the 52km mark; at this point, we headed right, down a logging road (Rock Bay Road) for 3km until we found our camp site. Situated on the western end of a long lake, we had our own beach and secluded campsite for the night.

This campsite, along with the next two we stayed at, were compliments of the B.C. Forestry Service, or at least the companies they have licenced to log the respective areas we were in. Generally they included a location adjacent to fresh water, a toilet, and a few fire pits. Everything you could need. As most of our evening meals were of the freeze-dried pack variety, all we needed was water to boil.

Not long after we had arrived in Toronto (almost 2.5 years before this point now), Alia had (wisely) purchased an ultra violet-based water purifier - simply insert the long node into a bottle of water, wave it around for a minute or so (for a litre), and presto, 99.9% of harmful bacteria are (presumably) eradicated. The only slight downside is carrying spare batteries, although this is more than compensated by the lack of extra gas canisters you would otherwise need to boil water (you could of course start a fire to boil water but you need to factor in the extra time required to get one started. Plus the weather. Moreover, when you boil water for drinking, you end up waiting an hour or so for it to cool down enough to drink).

I digress. Our first campsite was wonderful, and a big thanks (again) to Ran and Daphne for photocopying detailed maps of northern Vancouver Island. It was only because of these maps that we knew these sites existed. The next morning we packed up, had a bathe in the pristine lake, and off we went to our next campsite. Today's ride would involve another 56km of riding, taking us past the turnoff to Sayward and up again through to a campsite that took a little finding. Well, it was actually fairly straight forward in the end; it was on Eve River Rd, although on the map not only was the site marked 'Private' (we weren't sure what that meant), but it was on East River Rd - yet East River Rd appeared to be at the same spot where Eve River Rd was! Confused? Yep, so were we. But we knew there was a river adjacent to the road, so we followed it down a few kilometres until we found the camping site in question. This site was situated on a fast-flowing river, and again had everything we needed.

Our next day was an epic, for more than one reason. Early on, as we were riding gently up another gradual rise, we were startled to a stop upon hearing a blast of furious flapping in the adjacent undergrowth. A flash of white. More intense flapping. Another burst of white through the deep green. Yet more flapping. And then out it groped, a majestic bald eagle gingerly making its way out of the undergrowth, building momentum, edging higher. We were transfixed, just metres away. A steely glare from the big bird had me frozen to the spot. Its eyes were angry. Big-time pissed, actually. Whatever we had disturbed him doing, he wasn't happy about. For a fleeting second I wondered whether it would aim its talens and beak in my direction. A second or two later, the eagle's eyes fixed on a spot on the horizon, and it arched skyward. Gone. A smile enveloped my face, and I could breathe again.

Next on our day of epics was a long descent, probably around 14km or so, down into a cavernous valley not far from the town of Woss (not to be confused with the town of Wuss, of which I'm often thought of as the Mayor). The temperature was likely around 13 or so degrees, so the air was brisk as we glided down at around 35km/hr. How much fun is it to go downhill...

Our original goal for the day was to cycle around 55km again,although during a brief stay at Woss - well, Woss Service Station, which was next to the Woss Motel and Pub, the two combined serving as the 'town' - I realized the map we were following had changed scale after we turned the page. So, where once 1cm equated with 1km, now it was 1cm equated with 2km. Whoops. I had realized as much when I looked at the map and noticed we hadn't travelled very far - our odometer and legs told us otherwise. By this stage we had ridden over 50km, so were facing another 20km or so (by my best calculations) to get to our campsite.

Well, we ended up doing a staggering 83km that day. Should have been 79km as it turned out, although a missed turn added 4km at the end. With no signposts to guide us though, we did pretty well finding the campsite in question, which was situated at the southern end of Nimpkish Lake. It was worth the ordeal - the lake, which is around 25-30km in length, is surrounded by steep snow-capped mountains. Clouds danced across the peaks as the sun set, violets and reds streaming overhead from the west. Our pain, which I must admit wasn't really too bad considering, was largely eased by the knowledge that the next day of riding was just 40km or so, to the town or Port McNeil, a designated motel stop. Hot showers, beer, pizza, and World Cup football awaited me the next night. Heaven. Not sure what Alia had planned.

Our only challenge on the next day's ride was the continuing absence of a wide enough shoulder on the road. 1-2 feet at best, which didn't cut it on long and largely blind (for cars doing 100km/hr) corners. We often had to hit the gravel adjacent to the road, yet at times this was either too steep, or we going at a speed that made it too dangerous. A heavily laden bike can be tough to guide in loose stones.

Once we passed the turnoff to Telegraph Cove, a generous 1-2 metre shoulder returned. Why it ever disappeared is beyond me. We made excellent time, averaging around 13-14km/hr overall, well up on the 10km/hr we averaged on day one. Far from tiring us we found the longer and more consistently we cycled, the better we were endurance-wise. It's after you stop for more than a day that things become tougher, although once you get through the first 10km or so the body responds. Well, that's at this early stage. Just how we'll fair after 5000km is another thing altogether.

Our next day, Saturday June 19, was spent on an island named Alert Bay. Only 45 minutes by ferry from Port McNeil, it was an opportunity to experience some First Nations culture, courtesy of the U'mista Cultural Museum (http://www.umista.ca/), and to simply kick back in the sun reading the Saturday newspaper at the sparsely populated campsite we were staying at. Much of the museum focused on events in 1919, when federal authorities, in an effort to stop the practice of 'Potlatching' - essentially an event where First Nations people gathered around an open (indoor) fire to celebrate their culture through dance (amongst other things) - forcibly removed items linked with the ceremony. The museum was where, after years of requests, the items were returned in the 1970s.

The Sunday was spent riding 45km to Port Hardy, from where we were due to catch the 7.30am (Monday) ferry to Prince Rupert, a 15 hour-ride via the Inside Passage. The trip was largely uneventful. Our times were getting a bit better, so much so that we arrived a good hour ahead of schedule. We realize this isn't a race but it's good to gauge just how far you can travel in a day when planning your trip.

And, so here we sit, late Monday evening, now about an hour from Prince Rupert. Rain is forecast for the next 5 days or so, although no complaints can be had. We've enjoyed great weather to date; and who knows, maybe it will continue regardless of what the weather person's forefinger tells him...until next time!

The first test

As I write this, Alia and I are on a ferry travelling north through the Inside Passage, from Port Hardy to Prince Rupert. It's the perfect time to reflect on the previous two weeks, of kilometre after kilometre of bike travel, and of the generous hospitality of various Canadians we stayed with. The weather is moody but that fails to detract from our joy at what we've achieved so far.

We departed the Okanagan on June 8, flying from Kelowna to Vancouver. Our time at Camp Ellen was one that will live long in the memory. Ellen was wonderful to us, getting us into tip top shape. Much more than that though, she opened up her home and amazing group of friends to us. This included the 70-plus year-old tyros Norm and Carl, who kicked our butts over 41km of cycling the Kettle Valley Railway; the dynamic yet laid back Holly and Norm, who took us canoeing to view Native American pictographs and had us over for dinner; and Ellen's various neighbours, including Donna and Doug who gave us a BBQ fix and dessert to boot. One and all, they made our journey that much better.

But Ellen was and always will be a special friend, a person who epitomises the human spirit - free and determined, always seeking to grow and learn - the best.

And so we arrived in Vancouver, where we were met by Graeme, the husband of Ellen's sister Becky. He picked us up from the airport in a wonderfully large pick-up truck, essentially a ute on steroids. Into the cavernous tray went our bikes and bags, swallowed whole. Much of our time in Vancouver was spent buying final supplies and getting the bikes setup for our first real tests on Vancouver Island. It surprised me just how much time went into getting everything as 'right' as we could get it, with our key focus centred on weight. Each item, no matter how insignificant in size, was carefully considered from a grams versus use perspective. Out went the carton of beer, I'm crestfallen to report - even the light stuff.

Becky did get us out to see Steveston, a once-thriving Japanese fishing community in south-west Richmond. Most were sent to incarceration camps during WWII, much like the Japanese and Italians (amongst others) in Australia when these same ethnic groups were sent to Cowra (in NSW). Part of the Japanese village has been recreated, although the majority of the area is now new (tasteful) condos circling a small town. A large fish cannery also dominates, and while it's no longer in operation, its presence helps the area retain its maritime roots. As with Ellen, Graeme and Becky were only too happy to help us wherever they could, and we had a great time with them. That Becky LOVES her sport only endeared her to me even more...particularly when you consider the NBA and NHL finals were being played.

After leaving (ie. dumping - sorry!) more gear at Becky and Graeme's (Alia's dislocate look as she offloaded yet more clothes almost broke my heart) we were ready for our first test - 35km of bike trail that runs from Swartz Bay, where the ferry from Vancouver (Tsawwassen) drops you off, to the B.C. capital of Victoria, on Vancouver Island.

After checking our final weight, the judge had us coming in at around 15kg each of baggage. I had planned to end up around 12kg each, although this was a totally arbitrary figure. It just seemed right, which I'm sure will confirm to you that I really had no idea about what I was doing (Alia will confirm this with you). Alas, the 15kg weight was as streamlined as we could seemingly go, and so nervously, we headed off from the ferry terminal along the Lochhead trail. The bike seemed SO heavy; I could barely lift the back-end (not mine, the bike's). Doom clouded my outlook; would we flounder so early in the piece? Would our bikes really bare this weight? Would our gears crumble under the pressure of a steep incline? And would my beloved Wests Tigers continue their recent climb up the NRL ladder (sorry, sport is rarely far from my mind, and my mind rarely focuses on one issue for long)?

Yet, much like the Kettle Valley trail, much of the Lochside followed a former railway line, which meant gradual inclines and declines - perfect for our first fledgling ride. As it turned out, it was a wonderful leg of our journey, taking us through cosy coves and flower-laden fields, all the way into Victoria proper. A few turns and a bit of traffic later, and we were at another friend's place, that of Daphne and Ran. This first leg had taken us a leisurely four hours, which included a few generous stops along the way. So far, so good.

The Captain has just come on the loudspeaker; a pod of Killer Whales on the starboard side, a Humpback Whale breaching on our port side. BC at its best. That Alia didn't see the whales, while I did, doesn't sit too well with her...she's now munching on dried apricots while peering into the distance, hoping to catch another glimpse.

Our time with Daphne and Ran was dominated by time spent at their 'cottage' on Cowichan Lake, around 1.5hrs by car northwest by car from Victoria. And when I say on the lake, it is literally so...the water almost laps under the front patio. The lake is ringed by heavily forested mountains, some of which still have snow smeared across their peaks. Daphne is spoiling me senseless - it's my 38th birthday, and she's laid on a feast fit for a (Matthew) Parker. Even down to the lemon meringue pie, my favourite. Any thoughts of our upcoming (gruelling) trek rapidly fall to the wayside as we down a fabulous red from the Okanagan well into the evening. Only Australia's horrendous loss to the Germans the next day, in their opening game of the 2010 World Cup, partly upsets what was an incredibly relaxing time spent in Lake Cowichan. (Really, a RED CARD for Cahill's non-challenge? SERIOUSLY? I discuss this with the TV as Alia and Daphne look on - forlornly it would appear - at me).

We spent another day in quaint and charming Victoria, continuing to enjoy the amazing hospitality given us by Ran and Daphne. Ran, a well-known local GP and university lecturer, has spent years hiking the Vancouver Island wilderness, and he (partly) assuages my fears about bears and cougars. Nightclubs aside (yes, I know of 'that' type of cougar), cougars can kill, and have done so in BC. According to Ellen, some managed to attack and kill a woman on horseback. But nothing of that nature has happened of late on the Island, Ran assures me. I nod in that nervous way; for sure. But I'm not sure. Ran is much taller than me. And he never hiked without bear spray and a gun, he mentions almost casually, neither of which we'll be carrying on this leg (there are no Grizzly bears on Vancouver Island, the much bigger variety, hence the lack of bear spray)...so I leave the questions at that, daring not ask about the chance of meeting a moody 600-pound black bear. Let's hope the bear isn't a Gemini, I pray...

Our initial plan had been to catch a train from Victoria north to Courtney, its terminus, and from there cycle around 290km to Port Hardy. It was only at the last minute though that I discover the train doesn't take bikes. Strange. Greyhound does, but that would entail having our bikes re boxed, and the additional fees that would lead to, both from a bike shop and Greyhound. It's at that point I think of a one-way car rental, and while my initial attempts to secure such a car prove futile, Alia manages to secure a car with Budget that will take us to Campbell River, approximately 260km north of Victoria (and 60km north of Courtney). Our thinking is we reduce this leg of our trip by the 60km, just to ensure we aren't taking on too much, too early.

And so it goes; we collect the car, and after a sad farewell from the warmth provided by Daphne and Ran (and their wonderful canines, Fergus and Halle - well, Fergus was a tad non-plussed...!), we set off on Tuesday, June 14 for Campbell River. We arrived at Campbell River at 10.30am, and after some grocery shopping we drop the car off at the local airport. Ahead of us lay around 300km of road, and the answers to those deep-seated concerns, the type that set you bolt-upright mid-sleep, about the voracity of our planning. We feel good; the sun is bursting forth, the air is warm, and our hearts and minds are eager for the challenge that confronts us. Cometh the moment, cometh the...maneth? Whatever. You know what I mean. The time had arrived.

Alia gets to see a couple of whales breaching. She's happy as our ferry pulls into Prince Rupert.

The training begins

Greetings from Summerland, BC, Canada!

Alia and I arrived here a week ago, after farewelling our former home in Toronto. It was a sad farewell, and we will miss all our friends there. We were there since November 9, 2007, which seems so long ago now. In some ways it was a tough decision to leave, not just our 'home' but also the security of our jobs. But a few things have happened since then that only reaffirm to me at least that we've made the right choice. One is a severe illness that is affecting one of our close friends here in Canada; another was a visit to a local retirement home. Both things only serve to remind me that life is very, very short and transient, and whilst we all have responsibilities (many of you have families to support, for example), there are times it may be right to opt out of 'normal' life to partake in what this wonderful planet has to offer. As always, each to their own.

We certainly left plenty behind in Toronto, including kilograms of clothes. It's amazing how much I've accrued over the past few years.

Anyway, on to the mission at hand, should we choose to accept it.

We're staying a dear friend of the Parker family, Ellen. It's essentially the perfect person with whom to begin our adventure with. Just as a reminder, our 'adventure' will see us ride our mountain bikes from Jasper, Alberta to the US/Mexico border (in the US state of New Mexico) along the Great Divide bike trail. At that point (in New Mexico) we may ship our bikes to somewhere south of the drug zone, which is essentially northern Mexico, and then continue on in Mexico. Not sure I want to dabble in running the drug zone gauntlet...unless funds get tight of course.

The Great Diviode trail is 90% off-road, mainly on fire trail-type roads. We have detailed maps of the trail, which highlight everything from what turns to take at what mileage, through to nearby motels, campgrounds and bike stores. It lacks a complete list of nearby liquor stores, but rest assured I will have that completed once we're done. And you know I will, don't you...It will take us through Alberta (Canada), Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado and New Mexico. Around 3000 miles of pain along the world's longest off-pavement bike trail. You can learn more about our trip at http://www.adventurecycling.org/

So, back to Ellen - this is an amazing woman who has climbed Everest, amongst many other amazingly challenging climbs, treks and hikes. Seriously. So, as a very active person, she's kindly organized plenty of bike rides for us whilst we've been here, gradually increasing the distance each day (the photo is one such ride).

Our most recent ride, which we undertook yesterday, was 45km from just west of Summerland (Faulder) to Osprey Lake, along the bed of a former railway line that once ran from Vancouver (the Kettle Valley Railway, or KVR). The benefit of riding along former railway beds is the (vertical) grade - just 1-2%. The negative is these grades are continuous and (seemingly) neverending. Alas, into a solid headwind, it canbe tougher than it appears, but we managed 10km/hr, which is a solid (early) effort. We'll need to do that carrying around 10kg each, so we still have plenty of work to do.

Still, a much better effort than our very first ride. Thinking I would start riding hard nice and early, I challenged myself to a rapid ascent up one of the local hills; suffice to say I ended up walking up half of it, with my tail between my legs. Lesson learned.

Our schedule has us here in Summerland until next Tuesday, at which point we fly to Vancouver for three days or so. After that, it's to Victoria, on Vancouver Island. Our first serious bike ride will begin Tuesday week, at which point we'll ride 280km from Courtney to Port Hardy (both on Vancouver Island), over a 6-day period. A challenging start but one I'm confident we can accomplish. I'll update you all again then.