Across States, Provinces, Countries, and Time Zones

 I've been bagging peaks and passes like they were fields of raspberries. 

Hard work pays off.  It looks like I'll be able to see Yellowstone and continue South on my original, planned, route.  I made it just in time it looks like.  I'm supposed to have great weather for the next week, and have had some fantastic days this past week - lots of sun and heat, actually getting some sunburn.  I didn't think I would be getting sunburned until down in Baja... a welcome change from being freezing cold and wet.  I've consumed more water while riding, then I ever have, in the past couple weeks, a few days drinking more than 4 liters.  Along with the sun, however, I have had some terrible winds.  One day leaving Radium Hot Springs, I had my worst day of headwinds.

Leaving Prince George, I started climbing up some hills, but more gradually, and had a fantastic shoulder, with less traffic than entering the town.  I had some great campsites on my way to Jasper, and some continued great weather.  One day it was so hot as I started climbing up to Jasper, and after lunch, I took a quick dip in my bike shorts in the glacier river next to the road, it felt great.

At a couple camps, I met some fellow travelers, who were generous and kind.  One night camping near Moose Lake, I met a young German couple driving around the world in their off-road, European bus...thing.  I camped next to their vehicle, and they offered me a shower.  They put their water nozzle/hose out the window, and as I showered in the cold, but very refreshing, water, I laughed most of the time at how amazing this trip is and all the spontaneous stuff that happens (there was a great sunset I was looking at while showering, quite a great moment).  Thomas and Sabine were a lot of fun to hang out, they shared some wine, and I shared some chocolate.  We sat in their awesome truck, talking and laughing late into the night.

Crossing the continental divide again, and into the Alberta province was exciting.  I had never been to Alberta before, and dropping into the valley towards Jasper, I was excited about what beauty lies ahead.  I found Jasper to be too touristy, and didn't like the town very much.  I entered the park just south of town, and a woman stopped me at the toll booth, asking me how many days I anticipated to be in the park (to find out how many days I had to pay for).  I told her one, and paid ten dollars.  I was disappointed and surprised that they charge cyclists.  It's like they are punishing us, forcing us to bike harder and try to get through the park faster.  I was nervous in the beginning, about being checked, but quickly realized that I probably wouldn't be (I wasn't visible while camping, and went back to my 'stealth-camp' routine.  My nervousness subsided, and I was struck with the profound beauty of the Jasper/Banff area riding along the 'icefields parkway'.  It almost has this manufactured appearance to some of the natural features.  The area just seems to perfect: gorgeous turquoise river, flowing next to the road most of the way, vertical, massive mountains standing tall, and even jagged chunks of earth, torn from the crust. 

Riding through Jasper and Banff was brilliant, but a little bad at the same time.  For one, there were many stretches of the road with cracks.  It was tough to take in all the beauty, then every few seconds hit cracks, that are basically unavoidable - they run across the road.  The road was also heavily traveled by tourists.  The area has some incredible beauty, I can't imagine being an early explorer on some expedition and coming across the area, that maybe nobody had been to before... would be such a profound experience I imagine. 

I had my first serious climbs riding through the parks.  The eve before riding up Sunwapta pass, was probably my coldest night in the tent.  I woke up early in the morning, to a chilling layer of air seeping through my sleeping bag, and even my exposed face felt bitter cold.  Climbing out of the tent when the sun came out, I had ice/frost on everything, and my tent was frozen crisp.  Riding that morning, and like other times, was so cold.  My eyes water, nose runs with snot, and the wind bites and stings my face, hands, and feet.  Good thing it was sunny that day and not raining.

After leaving Banff, I had a couple more large passes to cross, and enjoyed the Kootenay mountains.  Finally reaching Radium Hot Springs, after a long climb, I enjoyed my reward soaking in the hot, radioactive water (the water has small traces of Radium - a radioactive isotope).  I noticed there was a young woman with what I believe to be down syndrome.  I was disgusted watching people stare at the mom helping her daughter into the wheel chair to leave the pool, especially this one older, asian man with glasses.  The man began slowing moving over to the two women, wading in the water.  I was astonished when the man asked the woman if she needed help, and the woman gratefully accepted, and the man pushed the daughter up the ramp and out of the pool.  I realized how much of a fool I am, and that I didn't offer to help the woman with her daughter; I was a lot closer than the man.  I ended up talking to the asian man and his wife.  They are a very nice Taiwanese couple that live in Vancouver and are on vacation themselves.  We talked for a while, and I told them about my trip.  The man later found me at my bike as I packed to leave, and gave me a map of all the campgrounds in B.C.

I stopped into a small town and coffee shop in Jaffray to find out about directions, and use the last of my Canadian money.  I met a very nice guy Sean, that owns the coffee shop.  He has a thick Canadian accent, and it was great to hear it one last time before crossing the border the following day.  He directed me to a map, and I could tell that the map gets a lot of use - there was even a black smudge mark.  He's a fellow cyclist, and gave me a good route to avoid part of the main road, and even a nice idea for a camp spot that evening along the Elk River.  He said it's usually windy, and I liked his expression describing riding in the wind: "bucking the wind".

Riding down towards Swan Lake, I got my fourth flat.  This flat was different than all my other flats; the first I've had actually on the road.  In no time, I had people there to see if I need help.  Kay was running, and asked if I needed anything.  Then Mel pulled up in his truck and helped me hold my bike as I put everything back onto it.  Kay had kept on running, but returned in her car with a bag of some food.  Amazing how helpful some people are, it blows me away sometimes.

I was drenched with rain riding down "the swan" or 83 towards Missoula.  I had my coldest moment of the trip so far when my feet and hands were so cold, and so numb, I didn't know if I was going to collapse when I got off the bike.  I stopped at some DNR building and asked for something hot to drink.  Fortunately the sun came out later... I could feel my core temp just plummeting. 

My right pedal had started seizing/sticking up on the Cassiar, but freed up enough to move freely, but then right around Radium, another problem started with the pedal.  I've had those pedals and shoes for probably around 6-7 years, used them frequently for mountain biking back home, the entire pacific coast trip, and the whole trip so far.  I think the metal cleat on the shoe, had worn into the pedal so much, it made a indentation so that my shoe would start sliding out away from the bike.  It was bad from Radium, all the way into Missoula.  I had to constantly pull my foot in, towards the bike, and this made my hip start hurting and was extremely uncomfortable.  My new shoes and new pedals I got in Missoula, are so much more comfortable, and make life better.  I bought the combo flat and clip pedals, so now on rest days in town, I can use my sandals with the flat pedals.

Arriving in Missoula, I headed right for the ACA, and the free ice cream I had heard about, roughly a month ago.  I pictured a massive soft-serve machine, a huge bowl of chocolate goodness.  It was a hot day riding to town, and sounded like the perfect treat.  I was disappointed to find that they offered a single cone, but was glad I went there anyway.  I got to meet Greg Siple, he was part of a group, that were the first cyclists to bike from Alaska to Argentina, about 30 years ago.  They did the trip on 10 speeds - incredible (I have a 24 speed bike), and had to cross sections of road that weren't even paved (see pictures).  I stayed in town with a couple cool guys Connor and Aden, cyclists that had biked from Missoula, down the pacific coast, a few years ago.  I went to nearly every bike shop in town, 5-6, and finally the day I was leaving, and the very last bike shop I checked, they had the style shoes I wanted, and were even 20% off.  With a day off (first one since Prince George, ~2 weeks), new shoes and pedals, I was ready for the ride east.

I finally had some tailwinds leaving Missoula, and was kicked out of town.  I left late in the day, but still managed to cover a lot of ground before it started getting dark (so early these days, noticed this after leaving Prince George).  It took me a couple days to get to Helena.  I met Todd and Amy, who drove up from Bozeman, at their friend Chuck's.  There was a great group that evening, and we had such a marvelous dinner, and brew from the local brewery.  Todd, Amy, Greg, Chuck, and Annie were all great company and I enjoyed conversation with them.


The following day, I had forgotten my kick-stand-stick at Chuck's in Helena, that I've been carrying since finding it at the mushroom camp near the Cranberry Junction on the Cassiar.  I realized this about 10 miles out of town, and contemplated turning around to go get it, but remembered that Todd and Amy were driving back to Bozeman, and that they might be able to get it before leaving.  I borrowed a nice fellow's phone and left a message.  They later caught up with me, and didn't get the phone message until after they had left.  After they had pulled away, I felt a bit like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, losing Wilson.  I thought this was so funny, because it was just a stick, and it soon passed because after all... it's just a stick, I knew I'd find another.

Another couple days of riding, and I arrived in Bozeman.  I was looking forward to getting some time off of the bike, and getting other stuff done.  I've been in Bozeman taking a few days off, getting necessary errands done, and staying with Todd and Amy Hoitsma.  They are an awesomely fun couple of people to spend time with.  I even got to do some mountain biking with them, two different times.  Todd had a solar-water business, a veggy vehicle (how we met each other in the first place), and both are avid bikers and skiers.  I knew I had a lot in common with Todd, and had such a wonderful time staying with them.

I leave today for Yellowstone, and am amped for another great section of the trip.  Yellowstone was one of the key features of my trip through the states, that I've really been looking forward to.  I heard about mud pots: boiling mud in natural vats, that animals fall into and die... kind of like tar pits.  The geysers, and brilliant, bright ponds sound amazing.  It looks like I've got sunshine on the forecast, and hopefully get south of Jackson before it snows.


Some Thoughts While Riding:

Montana is such an interesting state.  There must be a bit of a problem with Meth - I've seen quite a few billboards condemning the drug.  I've also noticed lots of billboards about religion. 

I went to Blackfoot brewery in Helena when I first arrived, trying to find somewhere open after 5pm that had wifi, and hadn't been to a brewery in a long time, maybe since Whitehorse.  I noticed some different laws in effect in the state.  When one goes to a bar, the number of drinks consumed are recorded on a piece of paper, that you carry around, and show to the bartender.  It's a bit of an honor system, since the piece of paper is also your tab, and you pay only when you've finished, or when you've had enough to drink (which is limited on the paper to three drinks I believe).

There's no tax in Montana.  This really worked out for me waiting to get my shoes and pedals in Missoula.  It was a better deal than I thought it would be, and hopefully they last a long time.

When I was in a bike shop in Missoula, on my quest for good bike shoes, I was talking with a worker (maybe owner) about how cold I've had some days on my trip.  He responded by simply saying, "The coldest I've ever been was either on a bike, or on a boat."

Back in the states, I have noticed quite a few things that are different than in Canada.  There are a lot of people in Canada that hunt and fish in the bush.  In Montana, it seems a lot of people do the same, but have gun fever - I've already passed 2-3 shooting ranges, and have even seen a few spent rounds on the road.

If only I was given a dollar for every time I heard the word 'crazy' when I tell people about my trip.  I could have the rest of the trip funded, maybe even continue around the world.

I have seen so much roadkill since hitting the valley near Radium, mainly skunks and deer.  I remember one day riding that I'm like the cycling Dexter, the blood spatter analyst from a popular show.  I analyze some of the spray patterns:  "hmm, this must have been a high speed collision; the blood seems to have been atomized and laid a fine mist", or "This animal was larger, and hit in the road, then sat for a bit, then the smeare marks indicate it was dragged off the road..."  Some blood stains are fresher than others, but usually accompany the pungent stench of rotting carcass.

Every once in a while, I talk to my legs.  I tell them how great they are doing.  On some more difficult days, or stretches that I haven't had a break in a while, I tell them how I'll pamper them with hot showers, stretching, relaxing in chairs, as long as they get me there.

I'm really looking forward to Latin America.  I knew from the beginning of this trip, that that was going to be the exciting part for me.  Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying the trip immensely so far, all the great places I've seen and the fantastic people I've come across.  I recently started thinking about being down there, and it's getting close after all.

I know I should be practicing my spanish, but I kind of want to be inundated when I arrive in Baja, and just see how long it takes to pick up the language.

Seeing Todd's veggy truck got me thinking about things again.  I don't understand why they make hybrids with a gas motor.  If they had made a diesel hybrid, they would get at least double the mileage.  Since one part of the car is diesel, it could be converted with a 2-tank veggy oil system as well.

My bicycle is like the 'frankenstein' bike now.  I started the trip with two different wheels, but the same tires.  Now I have two different tires, and two different wheels (I think I even have two different schader valve tubes in the tires).

I haven't met or heard from anyone on this trip, but I have on my last trip, about living for a dollar per day.  This is such bullshit.  There is no way anyone, let alone a starving cyclist, could survive only spending $1/day.  Replacing anything on the bike, like a tire, would set you back like a month without eating?  I guess if you mooch food off of everybody all the time, you could get away with it.

The whole way down so far, I have noticed that each area I've gone to doesn't seem very diverse.  There are no blacks, hispanics, asians... only whites, and natives.  There are, of course, the tourists, which still isn't a very diverse crowd.

My existence now as a cyclist usually means I have a great appetite.  I suddenly remembered one day of the musical or movie, (I think it's called) "little shop of horrors", where the main charactaer has a man-eating plant with an insatiable appetite.  My stomach feels like the plant, bellowing, "Feed me Devin!"  I respond, "I just fed you!".  Even after a large meal, within maybe an hour or two tops, I'm already hungry again.  This can be a problem when I get into towns and have to go to the grocery store, I end up getting too much food... always.

I get so tired of people giving me strange looks and asking me "aren't you worried about biking through Mexico?" after I tell them about my trip.  Some people are so ignorant, they think I'm going to get shot by a 'drug-lord'.  Leaving Radium Hot Springs, I remember one guy saying something about it and I said something like "aren't you worried about getting mauled by a bear living in Canada? I mean everybody back home thought I'd be attacked by a bear biking through."  It's so annoying how many people tell me things about south of the border, when they haven't even been there before.  There's lots of good, and bad, people everywhere.

There is so much debris on the road, it's amazing I don't have more flats.  I spend so much time staring at the road trying to avoid glass, nails/screws, chunks of tires, or even wood bits sometimes.

RV's and campers are the bane of my existence.  They frequently blow past me, providing little to no room.  When I see or meet someone that has a behemoth, I silently think to myself, "oh, you're one of those people..."  However, I can't complain about them too much.  RV's and camper people have helped me out a few times, from water, to even ride back to the Cassiar from Stewart in B.C.

It's difficult going into cafes or restaurants to get water, and having the lure of delicious scones or muffins, and the smell of something tasty cooking.  Rarely, I will give in, and indulge, in a hot cinnamon roll, or blueberry scone.

In a lot of the towns there are skateparks.  Being a former skater in middle school and the early years of high school, I'm drawn to them.  On my days off, or rest days, which really aren't rest days (I'll get to that).  I'll swing by a skatepark and watch the kids.  I think they aren't used to having somebody watch, or maybe some strange-looking, beared, man on a different looking bike watching, because they'll glance at me frequently and take off trying to do their best tricks on the ramps.

Rest days aren't really rest days.  There is always so much stuff to do, and running around whenever I get a day off in towns: getting groceries, bike maintenance, blog to update, pictures to upload...  It'd be nice at some point to have an entire day off, an actual rest day, where I can go to a jacuzzi, go for a hike, or go play some frisbee, but I know it will be a while before I can have this in order to get through the mountains before they're hit with snow.

Ted Kaczynski is the most notorious american terrorist, the "Unabomber".  I remembered that he lived in Montana for around 25 years, where he did most of his bomb making, and distribution of them, while living in the bush in some gulch.  I was talking with everyone at Chuck's house in Helena, and they remembered when he was arrested.  Amy told me she had hiked up a hill when they brought him into Helena.  She could see him in the orange jump suit, and a crowd of people surrounding him.  I frequently remind people about Ted Kaczynski and Timothy Mcveigh, that terrorism is nothing new in America.  Like these two Americans, terrorists are in any race, besides Muslim, middle-eastern, and can't predict who would do something.  Kaczynski was a 'math genius', and a professor of math, Mcveigh an 'honorably discharged' military veteran.

I never know what to expect when I show up at someone's home that I'm going to stay with.  Maybe  I'll click with them, or maybe I won't.  I might want to stay longer, or leave right away.  I've had both happen on this trip, but usually get along quite well with everyone I stay with.  There are already a handful of towns that I really want to return to, and hope I do so, but the list will continue to grow, as the trip does.

It seems like a lot of the bike shops really don't like REI.  I really noticed this in Missoula, the bike shops were reluctant to direct me to the REI, instead, pointing me to another bike shop.

I'm sure I have mentioned a lot of this stuff already.  I hate feeling like a tourist attraction, and it reached it's pinnacle at the 'icefields center' at Sunwapta pass.  It's a massive building that the tourists stop at to get a ride to the glacier, or just take a break.  I was very annoying to feel so many eyes as I walked to the bathroom.  Returning to my bike, I stopped briefly to stop to a nice couple that I met the day before, while pausing to speak to them, people were taking pictures of me and my bike.  Later, I realized that I understood how out-of-place it must be to suddenly see a cyclist with all the gear, at the top of the mountains, but I wish they could somehow be more courteous about it (like a woman a couple days later that apologized for interrupting me drinking water and taking a break, and I immediately felt at ease and was willing to speak to her).

I know there are so many cyclists on my route, mainly from speaking to the locals, that it feels a bit unoriginal to be doing what I'm doing.  I try to remind myself that my trip will be different, and that my route must be not exactly the same as everyone else.  (I think a lot of people are riding some of the same stretches, but different trips, like trans-Canada).

I am a homeless cyclist.  It's fascinating how much more attention, and admiration I garner that a stationary homeless person. 

I made it all the way from Prince George to Missoula, and the amount of groceries I carried the entire way, stopping once in Jaffray to get bread and cream, pretty impressive if I must say, and obviously I carry far too much food.

Tally: 4 flats, 1 tire, 1 chain, 1 cassette

Miles ridden so far: 3,114.2





{Ryan Mcknight, please email me, I don't have yours!}