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!