-the motto of my trip. Or, as it has been in Canada, "I just at a cinnamon roll with a coffee and now I'm ready for the cold again." The cold and impending winter freeze became a part of the tour in the north. Upon leaving Jasper, I crossed the continental divide with relative ease and sunny forecasts for the ride through eastern BC. At the pass, I started talking to a guy taking a cigarette break from his drive.
"Not much of a pass, eh?"
"This is the second lowest pass in the Canadian Rockies."
The pass was a mere bump in the road, un-identifiable from the mountain valleys and snow crested peaks; a small rise in the road compared to the routes I was imagining through the jutted, rocky pinnacles that surrounded me. But a small amount of work going up a pass usually means a small amount of coasting going downhill. So instead of the high speed euphoria that I usually experience after a summit, I was presented with relatively flat terrain and a need to pedal to make any progress for the day. Slowly, I made my way down from the pass and into British Colombia.
At Moose Lake I saw hundreds of little splashes along the shore. Equipped with a small spinning fishing rod - an old rod that Ben Rosemeyer broke in half and, still being usable, was passed on to me for my trip - I found a spot right next to the road and fished for an hour, hoping to catch some free dinner. My plan was to catch a fish, find a small pullout on the side of the road to pitch my tent, cook dinner, and have an early night. Instead, I didn't catch anything and got back on my bicycle. When I arrived at the pullout for Overlander Falls - a short 20 minute hike to see a historic waterfall - a familiar looking SUV vehicle pulled up next to me and a guy stepped out.
"I don't believe in fate, and I don't believe in coincidence either," he said, "but you seemed like a cool guy back at the pass, do you want to go camp with me tonight?"
Still grasping to figure out that this was the same guy I spoke to at the top of Yellowhead Pass, about 50 miles back, I accepted his offer. It took a little bit to find an acceptable campsite; it's much easier to camp in the woods for free when the only thing you need to hide is a tent and a bicycle - hiding a car is much more work. Fortunately, Rich knew some people with property on the Fraser river and we camped on a sandbar in the middle of the river underneath an unclouded and picturesque Mt. Robson - the highest mountain in the Canadian Rockies. Rich proceeded in unpacking his car camping equipment which consisted of a gigantic tent, a full queen size blow up mattress, a camping stove powered by a tank of propane, and full kitchen equipment. After having a brief conversation with me on top of Yellowhead Pass, he had driven the 60 miles back from Jasper to find me because he felt like camping with "the crazy biking tourist he had just met." We had a fire and drank beer as we watched the stars and the trains pass by us until late in the evening. I couldn't understand why he made such a big drive back to find me but was happy for the unexpected good cheer and company
The next morning, the sunny forecast that I was expecting turned a complete 180 and clouded over. After a late start I made it about 20 miles before getting to a bakery I'd heard a lot about. "The Swiss Bakery" was young in age, but its reputation was already reaching far distances. After a coffee, a small callah loaf, a sausage pastry roll, and a little chocolate pastry (remember, it's easy to eat a lot when you're biking, ahem, 80+ miles, aheeeem, a day... cough cough cough), the sky was really darkening with clouds and I was reconsidering biking any further for the day.
Although I had stayed under a roof a mere two nights ago and had promised myself to cover some serious miles before taking advantage of other rainproof refuges, the feeling of humidity in the air and the dark, overcast skies made me think twice. I biked by the only house in Valemount, that was on warmshowers.org - a hospitality site similar to couchsurfing.org except exclusively for bicycle tourists. Fortunately for my body and unfortunately for my milage promise, the owner of the house was outside. After a brief conversation of bicycle touring stories, I quickly realized that it would be a better to stay under a warm roof with a warm meal than to forge onwards in the quickly dimming daylight and darkening skies.
It turned out into a wonderful evening conversing with my host, Thomas, a woodworker and ex-monk-turned-bike tourist/backcountry skier. We talked about life as a monk and the transition to starting a new life - a 50 year old ex-monk living the dream life of a 20 year old. We discussed the mountains and land ownership. Snowmobiles are taking over, he told me, and there is a continuous fight between the sledders and heli-ski companies in the area for usable terrain. Unfortunately, the self propelled folks-the alpine ski tourists who hike everywhere-don't get their say very much and they're left with difficult-to-access slopes. In many cases, it's a long trek into the mountains to access the heli-ski slopes where snowmobilers aren't allowed to play. I guess it would be pretty cool to wake up early though, tour up to the top of a mountain and get there before a heli-ski operation - giving the helicopter a wave as it passes by before you shred the coveted line of the day.
New pictures from Jasper to Vancouver are HERE!
