Brutal Times

(Strange - I posted this at the same time as the pictures, it looks like the post is there, but when I look at the blog, it's not there, anyway... sorry for the redundancy if this looks like a double post)

I have seen cold, wind, and rain, everyday since leaving Whitehorse all the way to the Meziadin junction, except for one.  Not only wind, but a headwind, everyday.  It didn't rain ALL day, but enough to get wet more than once in a day.  This makes for very miserable riding, and wears me out physically and mentally.  I remember stopping in Bell 2 and glancing at myself in the mirror in the bathroom - I looked exhausted.

The only good thing to come with the terrible weather was meeting two German cyclists, just outside of Whitehorse.  We ended up riding all the way to Dease Lake together, and shared in the misery.  It was definitely nice to be with them on some stretches and laugh, or talk, and just distract myself.

The day I was leaving Whitehorse, I was in "the real Canadian superstore" (actual name), a gigantic grocery store that seems like everyone in the Yukon is shopping at.  I was in the bulk coffee aisle when a nice fellow Darryl struck up a conversation with me, noticing my bike attire.  He had an interesting cycling shirt on, and seemed to be an avid cyclist himself.  He offered his home for the evening and invited me for dinner.  I was hesitant after already having spent two days in Whitehorse, and told him I would think about it (I was still thinking about which coffee to get and other groceries too).  He walked away, and I thought about it only for a few seconds, and realized that when someone nice is inviting me like that, it's a no-brainer!  I ran down a few aisles and found him and his wife Karen, and said I would love to join them.  They gave me directions to their home, and I arrived a couple hours later.  We had a great lasagna/salad dinner, and Darryl and I enjoyed some wine and shared bike touring stories, later looking at his bike trip to Haines.  (Thanks again for dinner, breakfast, the energy bars, and instant meals!)

In the morning, Darryl rode with me out of town where we met Felix and Karl.  Two German cyclists my age that were going the same route as me (for a while).  The four of us rode together for a while, and it was great having a small caravan of cyclists for once, making a presence on the road.  At some point, Darryl knew it was time to turn around, and yelled something like "you guys are living the dream".  I would think about this phrase he said in the next couple weeks while riding in the cold, unforgiving-wind, and rain, haha. I rode with Felix and Karl from that point all the way to Dease Lake.

Riding with Karl and Felix was great.  They are both very amusing people.  Felix is the funny, blunt, and moody guy.  Karl is the quiet, kind, and helpful one.  They make quite the duo.  The three of us quickly became good friends, and shared many laughs.  Felix was amazed at my lack of expensive gear, and was very impressed that I'm able to do what we're doing. They have expensive bikes, and all the bells and whistles, even shoe covers to keep their feet dry.  They have the gear, but I have the experience. At the end of the day (or even in the morning for that matter). When we got together to cook a meal, they learned quickly that I meant business. Felix calls me the 'outdoor food king', or something like that. They would sit there in envy most times as they watched me saute garlic, onion, mushrooms then add tomato sauce to top off some pasta or quinoa. They always had the dehydrated meals that you add boiling water to and wait for them to cook and absorb water. This waiting time is when I'd feel their attention turn towards me to see me cooking eggs over-medium, with sautéed onion & sausages, bread, drip coffee with cream and brown sugar.

At some point towards the beginning, a habit started for me when we would start riding up a hill, I would start laughing hysterically because of something Felix said or did.  He told me once, "I cannot understand how you go up hills so quickly".  I would often think of this going up a hill and just start laughing.  Once I started laughing, there was usually no end in sight, and I would struggle to maintain my balance and continue riding up the hill.  I would try to stop laughing, but that would only make it worse, especially seeing both of them start smiling and laughing looking at me.  There were several hills that I was laughing so hard, I almost fell over, and even had to turn downhill for a moment to regain my balance.

We had many questions about each other's country, and I did my best to try to give them accurate, logical answers.  Felix told me about Germany, and how much I would like it there.  He told me how the electronic music scene is very big, they abolished nuclear power, Germany is cheaper than many of the other European countries, lots of people cycle, the country is so close to all the others in Europe... gets the gears turning.

They are both very logical people.  It was hilarious when Felix pointed out my over-use of the word "tons" to describe so many different things.  He was saying how tons is a measurement of weight, and that I should use words like "many" or "lots" to describe other things.  I have since become paranoid about using the word, and sometimes hesitate when speaking to other people when I'm about to say "tons".

Riding with them was good and bad.  Not really bad.  Just some annoying things.  For example, riding along, sometimes we would take turns drafting.  One of them in front would sometimes fart, and not even really pull out into the middle of the road and to do  it.  Let me tell you, riding hard, out of breath, then taking a big whiff of a fresh fart - not pleasant at all (they saw the look on my face after they farted, and would later make more of an effort to pull out into the road).  Other times they would bump into me, or draft behind me and hit my guitar with their tire... so different than riding alone, haha.

The one big thing that I noticed riding with other people, is that I think a lot less.  When I'm alone on the road, (especially with no cars) I think a lot about all sorts of things (thus the "some thoughts while riding" at the end of each post).

One day, after camping under a gazebo to get out of the rain (nice spot with tables we cooked on), we started out for a day that would be the worst for them on their trip so far, and close to being mine.  In the middle of the day, Felix got a flat (and took forever to change it!).  Just after putting the tire back on the bike, the tire fizzed and went flat again.  After he took it apart, we realized the patch had failed, and he had to change it again.  Back on the road, and much time lost.  We had a stiff headwind and intermittent rain for the rest of the day (we did enjoy some good conversations at least later in the day as the traffic died).  Near the end, it started raining very hard, and the temp was already down to 9 - 10 (Celsius).  I knew that if I stopped, I would get very cold very quickly.  We rode for only a few more kilometers before finding a field in a pull-out on the right.  As it continued to rain, we walked our bikes looking for a suitable location to pitch our tents, and I rolled my bike over something sharp and heard my front tire start hissing.  We pitched our tents on the only spot that really didn't have any puddles. We climbed into our respective tents, and waited for the rain to soften before cooking dinner. We all ended up just falling asleep, and all of us slept straight through to the morning (probably went to bed around 6-7 and got up around 8... We needed it). We were talking about the previous day in the morning and it was good to hear them talk of how it can bring you to your breaking point - makes me feel like I'm not the only lol.

We only had one great day together (weather wise) with sunshine and a tailwind, actually the day after the day I described above. We took some great photos and basked in the sun. It was also the day we reached the Cassiar and we were all excited for a new section of the trip. When we stopped at a gas station for a quick break, an older woman working inside the run-down shop came out and told us, "you need to move your station elsewhere". She was so incredibly rude about how she asked, that I immediately told her so. I think she expected us to be only Europeans (by far majority are) and probably just apologize. I explained that she could have only asked as once and we'd move out of the way. The guys had even bought a bag of chips inside. I think this was the only time I encountered such hostility towards cyclists, but I'm sure it won't be the last.

Karl and Felix were going to Telegraph Creek (a remote, gorgeous area close to the bush/woods) off the Cassiar to visit Karl's friend from Germany. They invited me along, but didn't have enough room in their friend's vehicle for the ride out, so I would have to try and find a ride (I was on the fence about even going because I only planned on staying a day or two at most, and they were going to stay a week). While we waited for their ride to come, I flagged some cars and tried to get a ride, but it wasn't looking good. A small, black dog from a house nearby had joined us, and was looking for attention and some food. The dog ran out once, barking at a car, dangerously close. There was very little traffic on this side road, several minutes between cars. Another vehicle came towards town, and at the last instant, the dog ran out from behind our bikes, barking at the car. This time the dog ran to close, and was immediately caught underneath the front tire, and killed instantly. The woman driving the truck stopped and was horrified about what had just happened. I told her I'd take care of it, so she left. I picked up the dog off the road, and put her on the side. With no owner in sight, I wrote a note explaining what happened, and could relate to how tragic it is to lose your dog.

We continued to wait. After just a few minutes, I could hear a woman calling for her dog, and my heart sank. I knew right away what I had to do, and walked a short distance and around a corner to explain to her what happened to her dog. She seemed somewhat calm when I first told her, but when she came out with her car a short time later, she was in tears, and picked up her lifeless companion in a blanket, and softly spoke to the dog walking back to her car.

Karl's friend had come with the truck during all of this, and I had a difficult time talking to him about the logistics of getting out there (the woman was there with the dog, and her mother, and I was still very distracted). The woman left, and I knew it wasn't realistic for me to get out to Telegraph creek, so I said my goodbyes to F/K and rode back to Dease Lake, troubled with what I had witnessed.

Back on the road, I adjusted to cycling solo again, and laughed at all the highlights. I rode through some VERY cold sections, including Gnat Pass, and through some more terrible headwinds. The roads significantly improved, and even got back onto some black top ooooooo! Hitting the 16, and off the 37, the weather improved, but the traffic worsened. I still had some headwinds and rain, but more of a mix of sun. I had one crazy day with isolated thunderstorms near Topley. One cell passed right over my head, poured rain, hailed, I looked at the ground and saw the reflection of lightning in the sky, and heard the crack a few seconds later. I was riding in my shirt and didn't bother putting my rain jacket on because I could look behind the cell and see sun, sure enough, a few minutes later, I was drenched but back in the sun (had few more cells pass over that day but just some rain).

I continue to meet so many wonderful people, and so many help me along the way, it becomes a bit overwhelming at times trying to keep track of everything that people do for me! The day I left Stewart, it was crazy how much people did stuff. (The night before I met Jonvier & Tegan, they live in Smithers and offered me to stay at their place on the way down)  It started at the coffee shop and the woman giving me extra bread, then a nice Austrian family giving me a ride back to the cassiar, then a woman at Hannah creek gives me some fresh smoked salmon, later Paul pulls over ahead of me and gives me a bunch of snacks, then end of the day at the mushroom camp, Phellipe gives me a pile of "garbage" matsutaki mushrooms.

I'm in Prince George now, back on the road after a couple days off in town, getting groceries, bike maintenance, etc. I realized earlier tonight that this is the fifth consecutive evening, that I have stayed at someone's home, and a different place each night, haha (almost 6th). After leaving Tegan and Jonvier's lovely cabin in the woods, I free-camped that night. The following evening I stopped at a home to inquire how much further it was to the rest stop (it was getting late and cold). They offered for me to stay (Dan & Darlene) and cooked me dinner, breakfast, gave me a shower.  Next night was Deirdre at her splendid log cabin by the river and cooked me a homemade stew and homemade bread.  It continued with Theo, next Ray, finally David & Megumi (I had a great time talking with David about various things in life, and he's a fantastic musician). Funny to think of how many different homes I have been to, in such a short amount of time, but after I've done this so many times, it starts to feel kind of normal, haha.

There are many strange, unusual, or even just jaw-dropping moments that have happened on this trip, that keep it far from being boring...

I left my huge zip bag of toiletries on the picnic table one evening, thinking "why would an animal eat toothpaste and/or deodorant?". Not to mention the bag was heavy with drugs, soap, and other stuff. Sure enough, shortly after going to bed, I hear a scuffle outside, and when I emerge from my tent with my headlamp, heart pounding, and expecting to see a bear... there's nothing out there, but I see my bag of quartered onion on the ground with a tooth mark in it. I didn't realize my toiletries were gone until the morning, and I mean gone - not even a trace of anything in the bag.

Riding into Moricetown, I was chased by three dogs for a bit, but didn't even realize it until I looked back to see them slowing down.  I kept riding, but not long after, I was motioned by some people sitting on their patio at their house, to come by.  I couldn't hear them because I happened to be listening to music that day, and pulled off to see what they had to say. I soon saw that they were (not all) drunk, and inviting me for a beer and a break. They were sure assertive, but a cold beer always hits the spot after riding.  I figured I could use it as a food break too. Two beers later, and some food, I had to get rolling and away from the nice man constantly handing me the Crown Royal bottle, who was also convinced I was some famous actor from California, and might even be Kevin Costner's brother.

I have seen so many bears (all black except two grizz at Kluane Lake) that I lost the motivation to even take pictures of them. There were so many for a few days there near Bell 2. I lost count one day, maybe 10? They are like cows, eating grass on the side of the road. It seems like most of them will look at me first, then half will run and half will continue to stand there and just look. When I first had the few that just wanted to stand there and look, it was a bit exciting wondering what they would do. I can usually spot them easily; they look like a big truck tire next to the road from a distance. As I approach them, I start calling out to them and talking to them (most of the time there are no cars around so they can hear me quite well). For the ones that stand there, I make sure to bike slowly passed them on the other side of the road, and sound confident as I speak/call out to them so they know I'm both a presence, but not a threat. I've never had any bears chase me, and only stop to take pictures of the ones that appear to be timid (the ones that just stand there and loom, definitely give me vibes like I should just keep biking past). There have been a couple bears that have surprised me. One bear was sitting in the grass, on the right side of the road. It was breathing deeply out of it's mouth, and foaming a bit. Another bear on the left side of the road stood up suddenly to look at me, fortunately I learned previously that bears often do this because their eyesight is so poor, and they are trying to get a better vantage point.

Towards the end of a normal day of intermittent rain, the headwind had softened, and it began to drizzle lightly. I pedaled up a gradual hill, and since the traffic started to die down, my mind started to come alive. I was lost in my thoughts when I heard the familiar sound of some motorcyclist on an enduro type bike, come zooming up the hill. I heard him start slowing down as he approached me though. With no other cars around, he slowed to my speed, turned, and looked at me with his visor up, in his open-face helmet. He said nothing, but looked at me for a moment, then sped off, glancing in his mirror. I started laughing out loud at how bizarre it was and wondered what it was all about. Did he think he would know me? Would he be waiting at the top of the hill with a warm drink? Was he just trying to get me to laugh? Whatever the case, I got a good laugh out of it and even later on at camp.

Another time, again later in the day, and again during rain (haha), I had another memorable thing happen. I was going up another hill and noticed a black bear mother and her two cubs munching on grass next to the road. It was fairly windy because I was getting through a mountainous pass. They didn't even notice me as I passed them and I stopped beyond them a little bit up the hill to watch them. She saw me then in no time, and barked at her cubs with a mouth full of grass, and all three receded into the bush. The mother paused to look back at me and survey the threat. Just a few clicks down the road, I was riding at the base of steep, massive, mountains, and paralleling a full, and rapidly moving river. I was hooting and hollering amidst the rain and wind, just wishing it was sunny to try and capture the beauty.

My bike is holding up great for the most part (besides what follows, and the three flats I've had so far). The front part of my fender broke off and had to re-fabricate another bracket (this ones a LOT stronger now). The one sunny day I had with the Germans, I was at the top of a hill when I noticed a strange sensation in my right foot. I noticed my pedal had begun sticking and was almost seized. I put some oil on the edge and helped a little bit. Since then, I've taken the pedal off a couple times and sat it vertical over night to let oil settle in. One rainy morning, flying down a hill, my bottle cage holding my fuel can fell off and went bouncing along the road. Surprisingly, it didn't bust, and a few zip-ties later, is back on the bike. The handlebar bag I have has a poorly designed mounting system and one of the clips broke. I got a hose clamp when I was in Stewart for just over a buck and got rid of the mess of zip ties and duct tape struggling to keep it on there (much better).

Really looking forward to riding down the stretch from Jasper to Banff.  One experienced cyclist told me it's his favorite stretch in all the places he's ridden in the world (a lot).  I'll be on the "ice field parkway" - just sounds exciting eh?  I figure a couple weeks tops, and I'll be in Montana.  Hoping to get some new shoes and new pedals in Missoula (both are worn out after 6-8 years of mountain biking back home).  I still want to try and see Yellowstone... might get snowed on, and probably going to be pretty cold, we'll see.

Some thoughts while riding:
It's rare but every once in a while, I just won't feel right mentally. Sometimes I'll just feel down for no particular reason it seems (maybe just road and conditions wearing on me - it can be hard life sometimes as you can see). If it's sunny out, I'll crank the tunes on the iPod and almost instantly feel better. It's so amazing how profound an effect music can have like that, like a drug from a needle.  When I pull the guitar out and jam on it every once in a while, same effect (but my tuner broke - bummer!).

Other times I know why I get sad:
Late in the afternoon sun with a gentle wind blowing variably, I thought of my friend Miles who recently died and suddenly burst into tears. I don't think I had thought of him much the few days previous, and it must have caught up with me. I thought of one of our last nights together, a year ago almost. We had just finished dinner at a friend's ranch, and rode ATVs down to our creek-side campsite. We had some beers next to the fire and just talked for hours. There was no guitar playing, no music, nobody else, no bullshit. Him and I talked about so many things in life, and seemed like we had worked through some stuff.

It makes sense why people often correlate sunlight with a divine being; harsh and brutal cold affords little room to survive, but the sun allows things to survive. People knew early on that without the sun, they would not survive.

It's cool within the past couple weeks, I've had more than one person not know where Seward is, and even a few people not know where San Diego is - rad feeling knowing I'm so far away.

I frequently think of food while riding. I look forward to getting down to the states and trying to put some buffets out of business. I miss good craft beers (but recently, even getting a generic lager from someone is very satisfying). 

There is SO MUCH untouched forest. Riding along, for hours, and hours, I have seen so many trees and forests that I'm sure people have never even set foot in...

I love how Canada uses the metric system. I always used it and became familiar with it in school but couldn't apply it to my daily life with no bearing or reference. Now, I pick up a kilo of sugar and think about how much it weighs, or seeing a sign that says town is 2km away, and getting an idea of how long that takes to bike.

Since there are a lot of towns with some distance between them, I can start to predict what I will see as I enter one. First, there's the local radio sign, then the refuse (landfill) area, usually some industrial area next like a paper mill or maintenance yard, there may or may not be an unincorporated part (as well as a distance to town sign). When you see a welcome sign for the cities, it can often be misleading, like in Whitehorse and Prince George, where there are still a few miles to go.

It's always tough to leave a city or town after taking a break and enjoying the finer things. Sometimes it's literally just a matter of biking a short distance just to get out of there, like a half day. Once I'm out, I can shake the grasp and get back to the grind.

I have to really concentrate to resist looking at my bike computer a lot of times. If I'm trying to get somewhere in a day, it's usually disappointing to look and see that I still have quite a ways to go.

A lot of the semi trucks in both the Yukon and in BC are very courteous when passing, and make a lot of effort to get into the other lane - this is always appreciated with any vehicle doing it. The worst people seem to be the RVs/campers. Most times the RV people blast right past, moving over little. I think it's happened twice or three times now that a camper passed and had left their stairs down - almost taking me out.

It's an intimidating thought going through some of the desolate sections, knowing that I'm far away from the nearest city, hell even the nearest town (sometimes just a gas station). I had a moment a few times, like with my stuck pedal, what would I do? (can always hitch a ride).

Sometimes I think of the most off the wall or random things. One day riding I was thinking about how vast and great an expanse the universe is. Distances are so great, they are measured in how long it takes light to travel in one year...3X10^8 M/S (300,000,000 M/S). I think it's very difficult to rule out the possibility that other lifeform(s) exist in some other galaxy. If there is another species out there, that is as intelligent as humans, or more, they probably have no desire to make contact. Humans have been so conditioned to killing aliens (movies), it may be impossible to keep peace.

Side note: Spanish Apartment is a great French film I watched at jonvier/tegan's home and loved it.

Arriving in Prince George means I have finished using one of my maps and am onto another one. Also passing through Vanderhoof, marked the geographic halfway point in BC.

I learned rather quickly that I shouldn't listen to anyone trying to tell me about roads, unless they have cycled them i.e. Hills (mainly), road conditions, shoulder size, etc

It must be so funny for some drivers passing me at times. I've had moments where I'm laughing, singing, crying, or just grinning... People tell me all the time that I'm crazy (when I tell them about the trip) then seeing me on the bike must confirm it lol.

Miles ridden so far: 2,016.7

I forgot to put this in the last few times, and glad I finally remembered.  A friend I made in Anchorage emailed this to me, and I definitely could relate to the short poem, enjoy:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening


BY ROBERT FROST



Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.



My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.



He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.



The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.