Chilling in and around Vancouver

After cycling across a continent I thought I needed a rest and there was no better place for it than Vancouver, especially with Xav & Sarah as my kind hosts. I even got a sofa to sleep on - luxury after the tent - and Sarah did her best to help me put on at least some of the weight I lost with her gorgeous home baking, her cookies amazing and have to be kept locked away to stop Xav (and me) eating them all.

Stressful times at White Cove Beach

White Cove

Ryan showing the kids how it's done

"Don't ever even think of beating up those hills again"

 

One of too many beers in Vancouver

My friend Ed joined us from London and another Water Polo friend Spencer was on hand to join us for some drinks and beach time - the pacific was fresh but certainly bearable. We used the bikes to get around to White Cove, Kayaking with seals in Deep Cove, swimming in Kitts Pool and the university pool for some Water Polo scrimmaging. 7 and a half weeks on the bike may have made me fitter, but it hadn't done my arms many favours - my shot that had never been that strong had almost disappeared and swimming was very tiring on my arm muscles. Anyhow it was a good bunch of guys and girls, and playing in an outdoor pool under sunny skies was pretty awesome.

No idea what's going on here, but it looks like fun

As Vancouver went back to work on Monday morning Ed and I jumped on our bikes (me fully loaded and Ed with a bulging backpack) and headed out to Vancouver Island via a short, lumpy ride around the waterfront to Horseshoe Bay. Onboaard the ferry, routes were hastily replanned when we found out that half the roads we intended to ride were nothing more than dirt logging tracks (Never blindly trust Google Maps!). So we decided to head for the west coast, which brought in some new logistical challenges as distances were too gfreat to cover all the miles and get back by bike alone we needed to trust buses to get both body and bike along certain sections.

Cameron Lake - watch out for Cougar

Leaving Nanaimo for Port Alberni we unfortnately couldn't help the optimistic hitchhikers heading north but instead managed to wind along the coast via a combination of scary flat highway and lumpy scenic coastal roads before cutting inland on one of the few roads across the island. A "big long hill" took us through the dense forest to a summit at XXXm (not quite the Rockies) - Ed's ironman training had clearly done him well, when the gradient increased he quickly sped away from me. I reassurred myself that this was all due to his lighter rucksac, skinny race wheels, super light bike and the 30kg he was still giving away to me; plus of course I was taking it easy, it's not a race after all... We stopped in the enchanting Douglas fir forest (Cathedral Grove) around Cameron Lake - 800 year old trees but no wildlife to be seen; later  we were told that the next day a 2 year old kid was snatched by a cougar on the banks of the lake, fortunately the child will recover and even Ed is too big for a hungry Cougar (of the cat type) to target.

Ed makes friends in Port Alberni

Port Alberni lies at the foot of a long fjord where the river feeds in, it felt like a bit of a rough town on the edge of the wilderness, which was confirmed when we saw a black bear scavenging across the river a mere 20m from us. Here I had my first issues with relying on others for transport - our bus had broken down, been replaced by another and was going to be at least a couple of hours late but at least our bikes would be fine - we were shown where the bike rack was stored. The delay meant we arrived into Tofino at 10:30pm without anywhere to stay, a quick ask around found us a bottle shop and advice to wing it by camping by the beach. This of course was not allowed but nobody noticed my small (and cramped) green tent pitched just behind the beach. Cold beers on the beach under a clear star-filled sky was a nice close to the day and we even got the bonus of dazzling shooting stars and bio-luninescent algae tracking our footsteps across the wet sand.

Waking up to Tofino Bay after a night's illegal camping on the beach

Morning came at 6am and after quickly packing up the tent it was time for a was / swim in the ocean - Ed opted out of this one and instead acted as photographer, probably a wise idea as not even I could stretch the word "fresh" to describe the cold exposed pacific waters. Back on the bike with some breakfast in the belly we headed along the west coast road through temperate rain forest and alongside sweeping long surfing beachs where clearly others had had the clever idea of camping out too.

Heading out for a 6am swim in the Pacific

Look, it's not cold at all - it's bloody freezing

Tofino in the early morning

Local dangers...

Into Uculet at the end of the headland, we had plenty of time to sort out bus tickets back to near Crofton where we were due to catch a ferry across to Salt Spring Island. This is where more bus fun started - the first bus arrived and was too full to take us so they sent another and the driver didn't know how to use the bike rack - after a little improvisation we got the bikes on and were on our way - another bus change at Port Alberni got us into Nanaimo on time, now all we needed was a short lift from Greyhound to near our ferry terminal.

A surfer's paradise

Vancouver Island's Wild West Coast

Greyhound refused to take our bikes unless we paid an extra $30 each for a box that we'd have to break them down into. In addition, the guy at the desk was the most unhelpful person I have ever met - apparently the fact we'd been misold our tickets was nothing to do with greyhound and we should travel 4 hrs back to where we bought them to take up the issue. He even admitted that Greyhound was "not very bike friendly" - if you like cycling avoid Greyhound where you can. The one thing the driver did manage to do was get us angry, something I hadn't been for about 2 months, and anger can be turned into aggression that can in turned into pedal strokes - we packed up the bikes again then flew along the rolling coastal highways to Crofton, narrowly avoiding a costly wrong turn (thanks Ed), beating the bus along the way and making it in time to enjoy a celebratory beer waiting for the ferry.

On the ferry to Salt Spring Island

Quiet Salt Spring Island waits across the water, and a short but very hilly ride takes us to Bullock Lake farm where family friend Tom has just popped out to the shops, assuming that having "made it all the way from New York, Eric will have no problem finding the farm". Along the way I spot small dear slowly chewing away on the hedgrerows, my eyes must be more attuned to the surroundings as Ed once again misses the dear for the 3rd time in 3 days. We're treated to a homemade dinner of potatos, salad, cheese, chicken soup and an amazing blackberry crumble - Tom's little project for the day.

Me & family friend Tom at Bullock Lake Farm

Bullock Lake Farm has been part of the fabric of the island since it was first populated by Europeans. Owned by Henry Bullock, it's one of the most beauutiful spots on the island with open fields surrounding the large, freshwater Bullock Lake. The Bullock family used to own huge swathes of the island and gradually sold off or gave away portions so other families could start their own farms. Henry himself was the local celebrity; conjuring up images of toad of toad hall, he drove the first car on the island, threw huge formal parties on the farm where he gave the ladies white gloves and the men hats to ensure they could dress properly. Henry also ran an orphanage on the farm, which must have had Bullock's boys running wild all over. Children would pick up stones from the fields and bring them to Henry who would give them a nickel for each stone, as a result, Bullock Lake Farm has some of the best, stone free, fields on the island.

At some point Henry either got bored or fell on harder times and the farm was split up; there are now four or five properties butting onto the lake. The most obvious is a 40 shallet deserted luxury resort, abandoned after the builders built three quarters of the shallets without planning permission and were ordered to pull them down. There used to also be a the hotel & conference centre but they mysteriously burnt down, now the remaining shallets sit earlily empty but for the expensive furtiture and fittings in each of them. The only residents being a lone security guard and the local beaver population; several attempts to buy the property have each fallen through.

Ed & Tom thinking about dinner

Bullock Lake Farm recently came into the possession of Zac & Molly, a young couple trying to bring the farm back to it's former glory. Zac, originally from Tennesee, is passionate about using sustainable farming practices to reintroduce arable farming to the farm and is constantly experimenting with different crops alongside a small number of sheep, pigs and chickens. He and Molly are helped by a ragtag bunch of woofers, including Tom, that each bring something to the mix and make the farm a wonderful place to hang out. During our single day and night there we slept under the stars, swam in the lake, picked blackberries and I nearly had my toes eaten by the hungry pigs. The farm's a special place and I hope Zac & Molly can make it work.

Majestic view from Mount Maxwell

Ed & Tom at the top of Mt Maxwell

Salt Spring Island is like a little organic haven off the coast of Vancouver Island. A short ride on the bikes also reveled it was very lumpy with winding roads hitting a collossal 28% gradient, but only for a matter of metres before plunging back towards another stunning bay. Ed & I easily wasted away a day cycling, climbing Mount Maxwell for its stunning views, cheese tasting at Salt Spring Cheeses (recommended), wine tasting at Mistaken Identity and lounging around the farm. Sadly it was then time to return to Vancouver via 2 boats, a train and a bus which loaded our bikes onto bull bars on the front. I could have lost a lot of time on Salt Spring and can see why people sometimes turn up there for a couple of days and end up staying a few weeks, months or even years.

Leaving Vancouver Island behind

Kayaking in Deep Cove

Back in Vancouver I enjoyed another weekend with good friends, swimming in the cold Pacific, exploring Vancouver's Coves, BBQs at friends houses and of course a little water polo. After 12 days away from solo touring it's time to get back on the road or I'll get too used to this luxury lifestyle. Next destination, my friend Nicole's wedding in Novato just North of San Francisco, I've about 9 days to get there...

Sunset in Vancouver

Vancouver beach life

Thanks to all those who have already sponsored me and contributed to the North Staffs Adventure Playground - I'm hoping to hit 1000 pounds so please donate using the following link:

http://www.justgiving.com/BigRedOnABike

Climbing Through Green Washington To Meet Friends In Vancouver

Into the Washington Wild

Heading over the dammed Pen d'Oreille river and into Newport, Washington late in the afternoon, I was told there would be plenty of places to stay in and around Cusick & Usk just 15 miles up the WA20 - the road that would take me almost all the way to the Pacific.

Countdown to the Coast

Arriving on the outskirts of Cusick I used a tactic that had been a favourite for some time - hit the first bar, grab a cold beer and enquire as to local accommodation. Whilst this always worked before - this time I was facedwith blank stares! Apparently there were no hotels or campgrounds for at least 30 miles, but one of the guys took it upon himself to find me something. Sat next to his girlfriend, chewing tobacco and periodically spitting into a cup, he phoned around and found that I could still camp at the county fairground 3 miles down the road - again I'd missed the county fair by mere hours... Arriving at the campground I found the fair rolling out but two Danish guys camped up after a similar story to me. They were on a bike trio too, only theirs was motorised and would take them from Alaska to Tierra Del Fuego! No sooner had I pitched the tent than my mind turned to food - apparently the only place to get dinner was the bar I just left - so I got to ride Pillion with the Danish guys back to the bar where they failed to recognise me in civilian clothes.

North Washington is to the west of the high Rocky mountains and everything was now below 6,000 feet, however I was faced with a series of lower mountain ranges - each with a low lying river in between. This meant 3 days of climbing 2 mountain passes a day with long descents on the other side. Day one was possibly the toughest, starting with a 20 mile cruise along the river bank through deep forests and glass-like still water. The first climb to Tiger Pass was only about 5 miles but it was steep and climbed about 2,000 ft before rolling through the forest and sown into Colville. Extra motivation was provided by the Danish motorcyclists when they finally caught me up after a late start and cheered me on for 5 minutes or so. Before lunch I felt good, but waiting in line for a massive Safeway Sandwich I almost fainted and everything went dizzy for a time, the the heat and surprising humidity had got to me - given I was only halfway through the day I took about an hour out to eat and drink my way though a mountain of calories. I also met Noah, another coast-to-coaster riding with his girlfriend. However they seemed to have a much better way of doing it then me - they'd crossed the continental divide after climbing a total of 200ft from the train station and now they were getting a lift off parents through to the Cascades National Park - I assume they made it over the final mountains as I never saw them again.

Big Sky Country on the road to Sherman Pass

Heading off again after taking on 3+ litres of fluid I rolled down over the Columbia river and, after 80 miles in the saddle faced the 22 mile, 4,000 ft climb to Sherman's Pass. To make matters worse the road had just been resurfaced with heavy gravel - the going was excruciatingly slow with the only bonus being that the heat had gone out of the day in the late afternoon. In total the climb took 3h10min of grinding away, searching for anything the slightest bit smoother than the gravel. Reaching the top was awesome - dusk was closing in and if you'd have driven by you'd have seen a deranged, bearded Englishman wildly pumping his fist and shouting to himself as he cycled up the last few metres... The wind at the top almost blew you off your feet and significantly slowed the descent, but I was still flying round hairpins (downhill had been properly resurfaced and was smooth) and made the 14 miles down in a mere 40 mins, arriving in Republic at dusk. After 119 miles and over 9hrs in the saddle, I was pretty beat up and had developed heat rash around my midriff - but the hardest day since the Appalations was behind me and surely it would be easier from here.

22 miles of gravel to the top of Sherman Pass

If only the sign at the top of Sherman Pass was right, in fact I had 2 more days of mountain climbing to go

Only 3 mountain passes to go

2 more to go...

The next day I took 2 hours out in the morning to wash my clothes - an attempt to deal with the heat rash - this of course then turned a relatively easy 105 mile day into another race to get over 2 big mountain passes. Over Wauconda Pass - an old Gold Rush town, now turned to cattle grazing - the switch backs down into Tonasket were a lot of fun, but turning south after a 2nd breakfast I was hit by a horrible dry headwind - a puncture at the top of a long false flat reveals that my tyre is about to fall apart so I'm forced to change it on the exposed shoulder with trucks racing past. My bike it seams it showing the same wear & tear as my body - the bottom bracket is crunching with every pedal stroke, and with 3 big mountain passes to go I had to stop and a bike shop to check it out - fortunately a quick tightening of it seems to solve the problem and I'm off again to tackle the lovely named Loop Loop pass - 18 miles and 3,300ft of climbing. I also finally retired my mitts that had served me over 2,500 miles since Milwaukee - they were completely falling apart! 2h40 minutes later I was racing downhill past wild deer into the Methow valley.

The beautiful Methow Valley

Again at Twisp I had nowhere orgainised to stay and after a failed 3 mile search for the promised camp ground I was getting more than a little frustrated - I flagged down a local out walking his dog, who in turn flagged down the Police Chief - his suggested the fishing ponds on the edge of town and "if anybody asks, they can come and speak to me about it"

Accommodation sorted I head to the pub for dinner - more steak, I love my diet right now. Get chatting to Mike, a teacher from Seattle, he loves driving through the area and is staying in a cabin down the road.. Instead of the fishing ponds, he suggests I camp on the lawn behind his rented cabin - as I'll be up and out before the owners it's not like anybody will notice. The trade for the camping site was to stay up to 2am drinking beer, wine and chatting away - something that seemed a great idea at the time, recovery will have to wait for Vancouver! The bonus was for the 1st time on the trip, my camping gear was supplemented by a pillow, meaning deep sleep through to 7:00am despite the sprinkler soaking my tent in the early morning.


Day 3 was the time to hit the Northern Cascades and my final 2 mountain passes! It also meant 70+ miles without any services so my bike was loaded up heavy with water and snacks to get me over the top. Of all the roads I rode in America - Hwy 20 through the Cascades was by far the most beautiful, maybe it was just the excitement I was feeling but it was truly stunning. 5 miles of gravelly road works slowed me down but also bunched the traffic up behind a pilot car giving me 10 minute chucks of perfect peace as I climbed into the national park with steep, fir forested, snowy peaks enclosing the road on both sides. At about 4,000ft I hit snow on the side of the road, probably dumped there through the winter as this is the highest pass in Washington that is kept open all year round.

Snow by the road just below Washington Pass

The last Switchback on the way up to Washington Pass

The last pass

Only 1 more to go...

On upwards to Washington Pass the road takes a huge sweeping switchback up the mountain giving you tremendous views back down the road and into the national park. At the top of Washington Pass, I find a large group of cycle tourers taking a break and heading the other way. Now there's only one pass to go - a fast 900ft drop and 400ft climb gets me to Rainy Pass, which could be renamed "Mosquito" Pass as my lunchtime sandwich is interrupted by tens of the buggers biting the hell out of my legs. arms, neck, anything exposed... A couple headed to a wedding in Spokane by bike help me take a few photos but the mosquitos mean I don't take too long savouring the achievement and instead head down the hill.

I love downhills - I seem to be made for them and the bike handles like a dream even fully loaded. The Pacific side of the mountains is so Green - it must rain here a lot! Little of the rain is wasted as the valley is filled with a succession of scenic dams surrounded by snow capped peaked and deep blue sky. I spot 3 "Jersey Riders" (riders with no luggage entirely clad in lycra) almost passed out on the side of the road; stopping to say hello I find that they are part of a group of 32 riders riding Coast-too-Coast for Affordable housing. With 32 riders camping for the night there must be space for a little one to sneak in on the side - there's never any shame in blagging a free camping spot. Riding on down the road we agree to meet up to camp down the road at Rockport, they're bringing up the rear today ensuring nobody gets left behind. Now all the mountain passes have been climbed I'm flying and quickly catch a bunch of riders from their group - for the final 5 miles into Rockport 2 of the stronger guys fire off up the road at 25+ miles an hours - a couple  of miles later they're surprised to see me, fully laden, sitting 3rd wheel in a chaingang of 4, seems a little adrenaline can do a lot after 7 weeks of training. It was great exchanging stories and hearing all the different motivations for their ride, from "I always wanted to" - to the girl from Iowa riding for her late Grandfather who'd previously ridden coast-to-coast. It was also clear that in a group of 30, sharing 6 to a tent, things had not always gone smoothly - crashes, arguments and riding bans for being drunk the night before - all made me sure I'd made the right choice to go my own way. They'd clearly made friends for life though and I was envious of the camaraderie.
You can find out more about Bike & Build here: http://www.bikeandbuild.org/cms/

Descending the North Cascades

Beautiful dammed valleys descending to the Pacific

At long last the Pacific is in sight!

After a long 3 days, Vancouver was now in sight and after 30 miles I decided to make a dash for it in 8 rather than 9 days from Missoula. A quick call to my friend Xavier and it was arranged for Xav, Ed and Spencer to meet me at the USA/Canada border for the ride into Vancouver. I rode out from rockport on my own - the Bike2Build team may have got up at 5am but by 7:15 they were still pottering around so I took off in search of breakfast. The green landscape was all shrouded in mist - a taster of what was to come on the west coast, but the green landscape was stunning. Coming over Bow Hill I get my first sight of the Pacific and am soon riding Parallel to it amongst fields of cattle. Finally I hit bridge over an inlet and allow myself to stop and think how I've reached the pacific - cue more fist pumping, shouting and cheesy grins - must have seemed strange to anybody just passing by on a normal day. At Bellingham I finally manage to get my feet wet - jumping into the Pacific from the waterside park, nobody else is in the water, maybe because it's seriously cold! Stopping at the Chukanut brewery for lunch, the beautiful barmaid buys me a beer to mark my coast-to-coast ride, and strange enough after 4,100 miles I find that the brewer has a daughter living in Herne Hill, less than a mile from my house in London!

The ride along the cliffs into Bellingham on the Pacific Coast

My arrival at Canadian Customs, fully laden on the bike draws curious looks from the border patrol which means I get to proudly explain how I last entered Canada by Niagara Falls and have cycled all the way from there!

Using the footpath, I'm able to keep Ed behind me as  we climb over the bridge into Vancouver

Over the bridge into Vancouver

After 4,100 miles on the road the beard got BIG, apparently I was beginning to
 look a lot like the mythical mountain man Paul Gunyon

It's great to see old friends at the border, including Ed who'd flown the whole way out from London to see us all. I get to unload my panniers at the border but foolishly opt to leave a couple of bags on the bike - as the 3 guys race off on their skinny bikes, fresh from a day in the office rather than 90 miles on the the road it becomes clear I made a mistake. We appear to get lost a couple of times, but I'm told this is normal - Bob, our guide, always finds his way in the end... Riding over the bridge into downtown Vancouver is incredible with the sun falling in the late afternoon sky and I get a little snap happy with the camera. We celebrate with photos in front of Vancouver bay then Pizza & Beers - any bigger celebrations will have to wait as I'm knackered!

I made it

Me & Xav in Vancouver

Me & Ed in Vancouver

Coast-to-Coast Statistics:
- 4,100 miles
- 6 punctures
- 2 chains
- 3 rear tyres
- 50+ beefburgers
... more to follow



Thanks to all those who have already sponsored me and contributed to the North Staffs Adventure Playground - I'm hoping to hit 1000 pounds so please donate using the following link:
http://www.justgiving.com/BigRedOnABike