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.
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