The South West Coast of the North

Where is Forrest Now?

I left Wellington after a week of relaxing and waiting to hear about jobs.  Had one little talk with Beca, a large engineering consulting firm, but they just did a massive intake of entry level engineers.  Summer is just starting here and it seems as if I've missed all the big hires of graduate engineers.  There's still hope though, as vacancies are coming up frequently.

   

My plate of chicken, sprouted beans and roti.  Yummy!

Joshna's fruit store.  Yummy!

In Wellington I stayed with my Mom's friend Joshna who runs a small fruit shop in the central business district (CBD) of Wellington.  It's a super cool store and their selection of fresh fruit and veggies was great.  Plus, Joshna would bring home tons of fruit that wouldn't sell... delicious kiwi fruit and navel oranges and even some mangoes.  MMMmmmmmmmm.

Whats more, we would go over to Joshna's parents' house, some of the most welcoming people I've ever met.  Joshna's Mum would cook delicious indian food most nights and taught me to eat with my fingers.  I went fishing with her dad for herring, but had no luck.  Seems like the Wellington harbour has been quite fished over.  Wellington sure was a cool city with tons of little bays to explore and massive expanses of forested hills.  The national museum is in Wellington - Te Papa - which is free and was a good refresher on NZ history.  The Carter Observatory was particularly interesting as well, as I learned about the southern night sky and especially the remarkable navigational feats of the Polynesians.  Star constellations were particularly important for them, and expert navigators knew where in the Pacific they were, based on the location of constellations rising in the sky.  Thus, they could sail north or south and know when to stop and turn directly east or west to hit land.  They knew how to spot the land from far off by how certain sea birds were acting and the way the clouds looked in the sky - hence, New Zealand's name - Aotearoa - Land of the Long White Cloud.

View of downtown Wellington from Oriental Bay

Upon leaving Wellington, I quickly found out that the wind was not in my favour.  For 4 days I battled the headwind until I rounded Cape Egmont, the western cape of the North Island.  The first night, after battling not just a headwind but Friday afternoon Wellington traffic, I made it to a small town, Paekakariki, and camped in a little reserve in the town.  Beautiful spot overlooking the sea with waves crashing below me.  I didn't spend much time at the site, however, as I found out the village hall that night was bursting with music and fun.  There were 3 bands playing; a great guitarist playing harmonica and singing the blues accompanied by a drum set, a Cuban-Kiwi reggaeton singer, and a local ska band.  Folks of all ages - kids and grandparents - were there dancing the night away and drinking locally brewed beer and sangria.

Mt Taranaki and grazing sheep.  Around the volcano, dairy cows are the more common sight.

New Plymouth, with its power plant and shipping port on the left, Mt Taranaki in the distance, and great surfing beaches around the cape to the right.

I pushed off again, reasonably early, and battled the headwind through fields of sheep, veggies, but mostly dairy cows.  The busy road took me far from the beach, and it wasn't until I passed through the town of Whanganui that the volcanoes became clear.  At one point, I could see both Mt. Ruapehu and Mt. Taranaki through the haze on the horizon, but as I neared Taranaki, it became clearer and clearer.  The land was flat, with the only real hills being large decents into river gullys followed by long uphill pushes, usually into the wind.  Ouch.

Calving is over and these inquisitive guys are growing up quick!

The wind blowing off the Tasman Sea was a solid 35km/hr, with gusts up to 45 or so.  It was hard going.  Passing trucks were welcomed by their momentary wind relief, the closer they passed by me, the bigger the relief!  But by the time I got to the Surf Highway-the road that goes around Taranaki next to the sea-I quickly forgot about the wind and thought about the beaches I was passing (and the Packer game I was gonna get to see that night in New Plymouth).  Apparently, the beaches around here - some of them black sand beaches - have some of the best surfing in New Zealand.  Mountain and surf-sounds like a great life to me!  I found a bar with the Packers in New Plymouth, a nice irish bar.  Unfortunately the game was rather forgettable, but at least the Guinness was quite tasty!

I've spent the past 2 days in New Plymouth checking out the city and getting to know the area a little bit.  Unfortunately didn't make it to hike up Taranaki as the top is still quite covered with snow and ice.  But the town is beautiful (~50,000ppl) with large parks, an award winning coastal path (the signs are the most descriptive I've ever seen - like science posters in their description of the area and how the ecology works), a kite surfing beach, great bakeries and indian food... I think I'll have to stop there.  I've given too much away.

I'm headed off now to the Forgotten Worlds Highway and on to Lake Taupo.  Enjoy my pictures on the new album, and if you ever want to see where I am on the road, check out my map of NZ - Where's Forrest? and follow my travels day-by-day with pictures and commentary.

First few weeks in New Zealand

I guess its been awhile since I last updated this blog... High time for a new entry.  Might try adding pictures now, try and spice things up a bit.

I spent about 2 weeks in Christchurch, where I was born and grew up, trying to get to know my old city a little bit and applying for as many jobs as I could.  I went for quite a few bike rides around the city and was made well aware of the earthquake that ripped the city apart in February 2011.  The aftershocks that have been terrorizing the city (imagine being in an earthquake that destroys your city, then feeling little shakes on a near daily basis... if you're in the counseling services it's a good time to be in Christchurch!) have quietened down quite significantly, and I only felt 1 while I was there.  It was a little 3.6 magnitude, 8km deep - which is just as important a measurement - that was enough to make me start up and think about what I would do if the shaking were to continue.

Houses on the flat where the ground was poor and 'liquified' were destroyed, as were houses on the hills where rock slides and land slips took their toll.  Here, the fancy houses up top must be red stickered - uninhabitable- and a row of containers block rocks from entering the road.  It used to be a nice park that I would play in!  Since the containers will be there for quite some time, artwork is being put on them.

Life in Christchurch still continues, however, and some people will admit that's the most powerful thing they learned from the quake.  Although their city can be absolutely ripped apart, life still continues and people find ways to cope - even if it means living with no electricity or running water.  (I mean no offense to any cantabrians, just trying to write what I observed from my time in the city...)  It is a beautiful place to live, getting the best of all outdoor aspects of life.  There's plenty of ocean windsports (kitesurfing, sailing, windsurfing) with the onshore easterly wind picking up almost every afternoon.  Diving in the bay for shellfish and lobster.  Mountain biking around the port hills where sheep graze and the old volcanic slopes are terribly steep.  The mountains are a 2 hour drive away.

Beach at Sumner looking toward Godley Head - popular for surfers (left) and a view of the Southern Alps across the Canterbury plains from the Port Hills (right).

I got on my bike finally and headed north towards Wellington.  My chosen route took me inland away from the busy road along the coast and into the Southern Alps along a rough 4x4 road.  Although the grades were absolutely ridiculous and the washboarded road was sometimes quite teeth-chattering, the route was absolutely well worth it.  Cars weren't a worry at all I was virtually on my own.  The rivers ran so clear I could see every rock (and sometimes fish) at the bottom.  I did purchase a 4 piece breakdown rod and a licence and got some fishing in, but no bites yet :(  Clean drinking water was not a problem, even if I felt wary about drinking from the main river, there were plenty of streams careening down the steep slopes beside me.

View of the road and my campsite at the base of the peaks straight ahead.

After 2 days in the mountains, I traveled all the way down the Wairau river, seeing open cattle range change into sheep and dairy paddocks, which eventually turned into the heartland of the Marlborough area of New Zealand wine.  I passed vineyard after vineyard, some of them powered by wind turbines to pump water from the great river and the ground.  I made it to Blenheim after fighting a stiff onshore headwind and 4 magpie attacks.

The Australian Magpie, I must mention now, is the most evil bird I've ever encountered.  The birds are black and white, about the size of a crow, have a pointy sharp beaks, and beady red, devil eyes.  Some say they have a highly developed song.  I think it sounds more like a squawk from a bird that's been a smoker its whole life.  The male is highly territorial and I remember, as a child, seeing one going after, and getting a peck at, my 4 year old little sister.  They were introduced to New Zealand to control insect pests on farms and were actually protected through the 1950's!  Since then, they've been accused of driving out native bird species here and can be legally killed.  Common territorial behavior is to drive out any threat to their nest.  Apparently bicycles traveling along roads where all humans travel is a threat to the nest.  In one hour traveling down the Wairau valley, I fended off THREE attacks.  Fortunately, I glimpsed their initial dives out of the corner of my eye and, with a wave of my arm in their direction (they come from above and behind...) they back off for a moment before beginning their next attack.

My first experience with the magpies wasn't so successful and has led to an irrational fear of birds that I'm developing.  I was on a day ride around Christchurch and pedaling down the road, minding my own business, all of a sudden was surrounded by a big object flapping and pecking at my helmet.  "WTF" I repeatedly called out in utter shock and surprise and started pedaling faster when I turned to see the bird backed off and beginning its next attack.  I waved my arm around at it, but to no avail, eventually losing my sunglasses in the middle of the road.  I warded off one more pecking, flapping attack before the bird flew away and I circled around to pick up my sunglasses - fortunately undamaged...  Any magpie I now see immediately generates a flood of adrenaline as I increase my cycling speed and prepare for battle.  In fact, any flap of wings or sudden 'squawk' makes me jump as more adrenaline surges through my system.  I dream of ways to destroy the birds from my bike, rather than just fend off the attacks.  I still don't have any good ideas - it's hard to fight them when both hands are important to steer and they come from behind.  I hate these birds with a passion - so if you have any extermination ideas I'd be overjoyed to hear them...

Through Blenheim I traveled, and I took the long way to get to the ferry to Wellington from Picton.  The road, once again, was loose gravel and had horribly steep grades but the views and scenery made it completely worth it.  It took my 4.5hrs to travel the 60km scenic route up and down some MASSIVE hills, and made it to the ferry with 15 minutes to spare!  Now in Wellington, getting a bit of rest and hopefully some job interviews!

The loose gravel road and a view of the Marlborough Sound on the way to Picton.

To see more about my route and more frequent updates, see my MAP which can also be found at the top right under "Additional Stuff."  An app on my new space phone allows me to record GPS locations of where I am and attach a photo and a comment - check it out, it's pretty neat.  Keep in mind, the waypoints I leave are connected by straight lines, so you'll have to investigate the map to view the road and the exact route I took.  Also more pictures can be found HERE, which is the same link that's accessible under "additional stuff."

The Ocean of Oregon

After watching the All Black victory in the kiwi-aussie bar in Seattle, I didn't begin my trip south in the best of conditions.  On that Saturday, pitcher after pitcher followed the Badger football game as we mourned the loss and 'prepared' for a house/dance party we'd been invited to.  At 12:30am, after more drinks at the party and dancing in the crowded basement, I dipped out and rode over to the bar for the start of the rugby world cup final between France and New Zealand.  The bar had reached its capacity, so I found a spot in the crowd outside with a decent view of the game through the word 'Aussie' on the window.  The game was relatively uneventful, but painful to watch with the All Blacks barely scraping by to claim the world title 8-7.  Getting back to Kaytlyn's with a pint of chocolate ice cream and lying down on the couch at 3:30am would prove to be a poor decision as I woke up a few hours later to find myself still on the couch, hungover, with the pint of now melted ice cream still in my hand which I immediately dumped all over myself.  Against all odds, however, I was on the 1:30pm ferry that day, leaving Seattle on my way across the Puget Sound and with nothing in my way to get to San Diego!!!  I managed to pedal 50 miles that afternoon before the sun set at 6pm.

The rain that I expected of the Pacific Northwest held off for me and gave me sunny skies.  I had a goal set to ride long and hard and get down the coast to where warm weather awaited me.  Three 100 mile days was my target; I've done many 'century' rides on the trip, but something has always come up and I've never been able to do two in a row.  The Pacific coast proved to be no exception...  The high mileage days are difficult, especially now that the sun sets around 6pm every night.  It comes down to time spent on the bicycle - the more little rests that I take, the more bakeries and ice cream shops I stop at, the more miles I lose for the day.  But I wanted to see as much of the coast as I could while the weather remained good, so I pushed my legs onward.  The next day I made it 110 miles to Long Beach, WA, where I finally arrived at a coast with real ocean waves crashing into the sand and I pitched my tent near the water.  It was a beautiful night, one of the first nights it wasn't cloudy and the stars were finally visible.  Nothing compared to the stars of Montana, but one can't complain about nights spent under the stars on a beach...

The next day found me pedaling across the Colombia River on a 5 mile long bridge into Oregon.  I spent some time in a little coffee shop I found in Astoria, the Three Cups Coffee House which roasts its own coffee on premise as the Columbia River Coffee Roaster.  After a lengthy stay in the shop enjoying the atmosphere, warm drinks and baked goods, I was in the saddle again with a second century in mind.  Alas, as it was getting dark with only 4 miles to complete my century and I was outside of Tillamook (where I stopped for my second ice cream of the day at the famous creamery there).  There, a truck pulled up to me offering help and recommending a house to knock on for water.  I was soon welcomed into the house and before I knew it was in a hot shower and my exhausted body was falling asleep in one of the comfiest beds of my trip!

On my way to attempted century number three, the beauty of the coast and my worn out body started to slow me down.  As I approached 80 miles for the day it was sunset and I found myself biking down a side road out to the coast.  The only business with its lights on was "The Flying Dutchman Winery" - a small winery that advertised wine tasting and had its door open.  Just around the block from the winery was a small green spot, with a public restroom, and no "no camping" signs, so I figured I had my campsite pretty well figured out.  After some conversation inside and being in the right place at the right time, I walked out with a bottle of Pinot Noir to top off my 1.5pint bottle of strong, craft beer I purchased earlier in the day.  What evening can go bad when you have a whole bottle of good wine to finish yourself?  So I sat in the pretty little green spot and cooked up some shrimp I had from the store with veggies and spices and wine!

More fine weather awaited me the next day and by the end of the day, despite a slower morning, I had 85 miles behind me.  I was in Reedsport, OR, with nowhere to stay so decided to give the churches a try.  I had heard that if you're ever in need of a spot to crash, a church lawn is a good one to pick.  As I biked by the Methodist church, I saw people going inside so decided to see what they thought.  I was quickly ushered inside and shown to the kitchen where I could cook my dinner.  It was singing worship night and I was invited to join in.  I found myself in a position I never expected to be; singing 'Jesus' songs with elderly folks in a church.  I don't think of myself as a 'follower' of Jesus and hence, not a christian, so some of the lyrics were hard to sing out... but then again, I reasoned, I sing along to vulgar and trashy songs that offend me when I think about them, but with a little filter the songs become alright.  I was welcomed into my first church of the trip and had a great spot for my tent outside on the lawn, and was questioned by the church goers, 'where do you sleep when you don't sleep at churches???'

On the Road again...

...I just can't wait to get on the road again.  Since leaving Vancouver about 2 weeks ago, life on the road has resumed its event-filled pace.  Evan and I took the ferry to Vancouver Island, not arriving to Nanaimo until quite late because we missed our initial ferry.  Instead of hitting the road, we had to instead head out in search of a Nanaimo Bar - a chocolate cookie based with a vanilla custard filling and melted chocolate on top.  When we asked at the natural food store where the best place to find these coveted treats was,  we were directed to an ice cream store which sold the Nanaimo Bar Sundae - nanaimo bar ice cream with the chocolatey bars stuck in the top.  Our insides were reeling post-sundae experience and we quickly looked for a place to stay in town.

We found ourselves on the edge of a lake at a boat launch in a small park.  There was just enough shade from the trees, shrubs and nearby forest to convince us to pitch a tent there for the night and wake up early so as not to get 'caught.'  We were told, however, that a fenced in area about 1/2 mile away from us around the lake was the provincial penetentiary facility - a large jail/prison from which we could hear announcements over the loudspeakers on a sporadic basis.  The fence in front of the forest held a sign "no trespassing, motion detection system in place."  Throughout that long night, every stick that cracked from the forest between us and the prison, every rustle in the woods, was the sound of a recently escaped inmate, on the verge of running into our tent and taking advantage of the first sign of the outside that he ran into.

I spent 3 more nights on the island, trying to see as much as I can but with an overwhelming feeling about me of the need to get south to warm weather.  Evan left due to knee pains, so I was left to my own thoughts of warm San Diego beaches and a daily weather forecast of 70 and sunny, trying not to think of the rain and cold I would have to brave before then.  Fortunately, the weather treated me spectacularly on the island, and I managed to make it south to Seattle to stay with Kaytlyn and Ely just in time for the beginning of the rain.

I still made time for distractions, however, and found myself on Whidby Island, about 40 miles north of Seattle, at a farm in front of a sign that read "Community Potluck 19, Everyone Welcome 5pm."  I looked at my watch, and indeed it was the 19th, approaching 4pm.  I stopped at the little cafe to get a piece of pie and inquire about the potluck and was invited with welcoming arms.  What I discovered was an amazing community powered food system, wonderful people, and a table-full of homemade chili, quiches, curries, salads, pies, cookies, home-grown veggies and meats... too much for a room full of about 50 people to eat (even if there was a bike tourist there)!!!

Greenbank Farm is a community owned organic farm that supports an apprenticeship program - an intense 7 month course of study in all things related to starting, running, and managing a small organic farm - weekly CSA baskets to community members, and several small shops including a cafe, pie, cheese and wine shops.  I was stunned at the wealth of friendly people and incredible community that the community farm was able to create with its focus on fresh, local, organic food.  That night I was welcomed into the home of Ed and Carol who lived on a couple of acres with their chickens, cattle, dog and cat, and large vegetable garden.  Conversations ensued about my route down the pacific coast, global water problems and the future of water consumption around the nation, and the Occupy Wall Street movement which appears the historically recurrent struggle of the poor vs. the rich; the fight against greed.

Although the road was becoming more and more interesting, and the wealth of community that I had just discovered at the farm re-ignited my urge to continue my travels - to stay outdoors on my bicycle and see the world inspite of the cold, I was happy to finally arrive in Seattle.  I had decided to go straight to highway 101 and stay on the coast for my entire trip south - bypassing cities that I still want to see such as Eugene, Portland, and Corvalis.  It's the rural life, small towns, artisans and farmers that I have appreciated the most on my trip.  Although cities draw me in with their promises of food, site-seeing, and 'culture,' it's much easier to experience real life, real culture, and real food in the small towns.

Yet, Seattle drew me in for 3 days, and through my great hosts, showed me its beauty though the sun never really showed its face.  Although its hills were daunting for riding a bike, and rainy days were ominous, bicycle commuters were out and about and the city was enjoyable to get around in on two wheels - inspite of the charged politics against bicycles and the difficutly in promoting bicycles as a sensible form of transportation that Willie Weir talked about.  Ely and Kaytlyn treated me to a TGR premier, "One for the Road," with Ian McIntosh and Dana Flahr, as well as a salmon bake (so many different kinds of cooked salmon!), and the Badger's depressing hail mary loss to MI State (win or lose, we still b....).  At least the All Blacks won the rugby world cup.

Biking down the Oregon coast has had its own plethora of stories... currently in Bandon, OR almost to California.

Stagnation

I spent two weeks in Vancouver.  Fourteen full days in a house with carpeted floors, sleeping in the same plush bed every night, eating food I could store in a refrigerator and connecting to the internet several times a day.

On the road, waking up at the beginning of the day is full of excitement for the possibilities of the day - until I realize that I have to go to the bathroom.  This involves getting out of my sleeping bag and sheet, maybe putting some warm clothes on if I'm not feeling like braving the cold, unzipping tent and fly and stepping out onto the dew-soaked ground to find a tree or a bush... or a soft patch of ground I can pierce with my shovel if I really have to go...  Then begins the slow process of preparing for the day.  I get into my often still damp, sometimes a bit smelly biking clothes.  I pack up my clothes into one pannier, sleeping bag and pad into another and get everything out of my tent.  I take down my tent which is cold and wet with dew or rain, numbing my fingers throughout the process.  Next, I get out my stove, fire it up, and wait for my oatmeal to cook.  If I feel like I really need a warm, caffeinated drink (and I have some coffee grounds), I'll cook up a pot of cowboy coffee.  15 minutes later or so, I'm eating my hot porridge and possibly drinking a cup-o-jo.  Just when my fingers have finally warmed up, I've finished breakfast and need to wash dishes before beginning the journey for the day.  With dishes washed, my fingers numb again, I load my bike and am finally ready to start pedaling for the day...

On the other hand, when I stay indoors it's a the dream life of luxury!  In Vancouver in the morning I would stumble upstairs and make myself a latte from the espresso machine.  I would use a real bathroom without ever having to leave the warmth of the dwelling, the only discomfort coming from having to cross the cold tile floor with my bare feet.  Breakfast came from the fridge and a frying pan, hot water from a tea kettle, and maybe even bacon from the freezer.  Dishes were put into the dishwasher and forgotten about.  Nothing was packed away, and my fingers would never become numb.

This is a lifestyle that I can only dream about while on the road biking.  And the first several days of it are absolute bliss.  The mere comfort of a roof above my head and insulated walls protecting me from the cold wind and rain outside being a royal luxury.  My metabolism runs at its high biking-accelerated levels, converting everything I eat to chemical fuel my body thinks it will need.  My thoughts are on food and of the different ways I can nap, sit, and relax the day away.  Beers get opened once noon hits and afternoon cocktails and glasses of wine are consumed as I wonder what I'll eat for dinner (okay, maybe I'm exaggerating just a little bit, especially since liquor prices in Canada were suuuuper high).  While in Vancouver, I expanded my culinary abilities making my first pie crust, my first chicken pot pie, quiche, cinnamon rolls, and seared halibut with broccoli.

But after a couple of days, my metabolism regained is usual sedentary levels and I was forced to consider if I was getting enough 'exercise' each day...  Doing the mixing of a batch of cookie dough by hand doesn't really seem to count as the necessary exercise to justify eating the quantity of cookies that would result.

My metabolism wasn't the only thing that dropped, but my general mood became more stagnant.  No longer were my days filled with unknown adventures.  I knew everyday when I woke up where I would sleep that night.  Although there's a lot to see in Vancouver, I lacked the motivation to continuously venture out into a city I'd been in and explored already for a few days.  All parts of cities seem the same to me-the same shops, the same style buildings, and the same hills to go up and down.  I yearned for mountains to hike and hills to climb.  Fortunately, there was a popular hiking mountain very close to the house.  Upon trying to climb the mountain, however, I was infuriated by the fact that the trail closed at 4pm, AND that, while it was free to hike up, it was mandatory to take the gondola back down to the bottom-a mandatory $10 gondola ride.

So my days fell into stagnation and while I was happy to have the luxury and comforts of a house, I grew tired of experiencing the same thing day in and day out and yearned for the adventure and unknown that only the road could give me.  The road is upon me once again and, while it has taken a bit to get used to, new experiences hit me everyday, and I have one month to get to San Diego before Thanksgiving.  Cheers to all!

"I just ate a big ice cream sundae and now I'm ready for the road"

-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!

Canadian Impressions

Canada.  That country to the north.  It may seem like there's nothing further north in the United States save the endless barren steppe of North Dakota, or the mosquito filled lakes and wetlands of Minnesota; where areas that boast even a meager population density are rare.  But cross this little line painted on maps - some places you may cross it without even knowing while in others large control buildings and gates have been constructed to control access - and you enter a completely different country, encounter huge population centers, and find some of the most vast and wild areas of North America.

When it comes to the outdoors, Canada has it all.  The Canadian Rockies jut for miles and miles from the American Glacier National Park to the north.  Just outside of Calgary, the Rockies are home to 5 Canadian National Parks, all but one of them sharing a border with eachother.  Together, they make up one of the largest wilderness reserves on the planet.  Within 2 days of crossing the border, we had seen 3 black bears - one that burst from its berry bushes between the bike trail we were on and the main road, almost taking Brint along with him.  As I biked through Jasper National Park, a lone cayote meandered along a floodplain.  I stopped to watch and in doing so, attracted cars passing by to stop and check out the scene, scaring the animal into the bushes.  In Jasper, late in the evening as I biked back into town from a hike, I heard elk bugling from the trees on either side of the road.  I rode to what I deemed to be a safe distance from the calls of the bull elk in rut before I began to look for him in the trees.  Cars whizzed by me; people encased in a sound resistant metal shell oblivious of the things going on in the forest around them.  All of a sudden, a cow popped out of the forest and crossed the road.  She was closely followed by a huge bull with fully developed antlers.  The magic of having first heard the elk, then seen them appear into view as they crossed the road made me very glad I was on a bicycle and not in a car.

It seems that when Canadians aren't enjoying the wealth of natural beauty, they are playing hockey.  Upon leaving Calgary, we made it to Canmore - a small town located 30km south of Banff and just outside the park gate.  The town, surrounded by a plethora of mountains, is a haven for outdoorsy folks who participate in activities like hiking, mountain biking, backcountry and resort skiing, cross-country skiing, hangliding and parasailing, and anything else imaginable in the mountains.  Of course, the town would not be complete without a hockey rink.  I stumbled upon the rink at the end of the day just as two teams in uniform were beginning a game of street hockey - no skates and no pads, just shoes, sticks and a ball.  Apparently, the summer streetball season was coming to a close and this was the first game of the playoffs.  Upon learning this, I gave up hope of joining in on the game, until one of the team captains burst out, "You wanna play?  You shoot left?  Here, you can use this stick."  He got me a shirt and just like that, I was running around the seasonally flooded outdoor hockey rink after a ball in a playoff game.  I ended up with one goal in my team's first playoff victory.  "Come back again tomorrow night!"  I was told.  If I would have returned, however, I knew Canmore would have marked the end of my journey.  Game after game I would have stayed for and probably ended up with a job in the small mountain town with "Help Wanted" signs posted on nearly every shop window.

As the NHL regular season comes to a start and hockey is becoming a topic of conversation, the weather has taken a drastic turn.  As we biked through Banff and Jasper along the 200+km Icefields Parkway, we would constantly wake up to frigid mornings.  My fingers would be numb every morning by the time my gear was packed and I was ready to leave.  The temperature sunk to below freezing in the early morning hours, and it wouldn't be until 11 or noon when things finally warmed up.  On some occasions, the day never warmed up; we found ourselves in the middle of a snow storm on the last mountain pass before Jasper.

By the time I hit Jasper, I was cold and ready for the comforts of a house.  After an hour or so walking the streets of the small mountain town, I began a short conversation with a middle aged man, Roy, and was promptly invited to put my tent in his yard and eat dinner with him.  I gladly agreed, and after a visit to one of the local coffee shop/bakeries, I was seated inside Roy's warm house drinking tea and talking about the mountains.  In total, I spent 3 nights and four days with Roy and Jacinta and their son David.  I would wake up early in the morning, go to the bakery for a coffee and cinnamon roll (The Bear's Paw if you're ever in Jasper), and read the paper for an hour or so, before taking off to climb one of the many peaks that surround the town.  In the afternoon I drank tea and enjoyed the warmth and community that only roof and insulated building can provide.

You could say I became a little soft during my stay in Jasper.  I began to yearn for a roof of my own.  A warm bed I could crawl into everynight.  Cups of warm tea all day.  A kitchen full of spices and veggies and meat and baking supplies.  A comfy couch to read stories of adventure and travel, geology and nature.  As David left for school every morning, I realized how happy I was to be done; the daily chore of waking up to go to class and study a completed phase in my life.  I even thought of work and jobs and my warm house at the end of the day.  The cold weather was driving me inside and I knew I had to leave and get south!


So to the south I embarked and currently am in Lillooet, BC, a couple days ride through rain and headwinds to Vancouver.  Comments are well appreciated if you are reading, and you can see pictures from Banff and Jasper here.  Thanks for reading!