Part 1: Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands - Day 6.

Awoke feeling slightly blue, and with no more recollection of the day before than when I hit the bed. Slightly blue because this was my last day with this lovely group - I needed to cut short my tour in order to link up with the second planned Glacier, Banff, Jasper trip.

After a final breakfast, we again packed bags and rode off from Poet's Cove to Mortimer Spit, launching site for a hike up Mt Norman and after, our spot for lunch. Skipped stones for a while with Meagan (she killed me with an eight counter) and then decided rather than do the hike I would saunter up the rocky foreshore some way.

At this point I was feeling quite sad, and had decided that a little time to myself to reflect would be good. I wandered up the beach for quite a while, taking note of the cliff top houses and the general beauty of the place. The air was still and, although overcast, the sky was full of light with it's grey clouds reflected in the still waters off the beach. The rocky beach stretched for kms along the shore of South Pender and I stepped here and there amongst the stones, boulders and driftwood, lost in thought. Came across a single brightly coloured purple starfish in the inter-tidal zone which I photographed endlessly, as the amazing colour didn't seem to come out at all on my digital cam's viewscreen (Of course, when I got back I checked, and found all 5,000 photos of the creature were indeed vivid purple). Here's a random single pic from the 5,000:



Further on, I came across an entire universe of purple starfish clustered in and around rocks - I didn't bother to take many pics!

A large cargo ship lumbered by in the channel heading toward Mortimer Spit from where I'd come - I turned and followed it at the same slovenly pace, not eager for time to advance and the last ferry ride to creep closer.

After a final lunch, there was a lot of time to kill prior to our catching the ferry for my final trip with the group - whilst they would be disembarking from the ferry at Mayne Island, I would be heading all the way back to the B.C mainland for the trip to Vancouver airport and an overnight stay prior to my flight to Whitefish, Montana via Seattle to link up with my second tour.

Imitating Forrest Gump, I decided to 'go for a little ride'. I marked out a spot on the route guide I was carrying and off I went. When I got there I 'just kept going'. Kilometer after km went under my wheels as I slipped into the groove and lost myself in riding. The Gulf islands are good for that - if you don't have anywhere particular to go you can just follow the road and you'll always get somewhere: a metaphor for this trip in a way.

Dropped into a delighful little bay named Hope Bay - very picturesque and typical of the places to be encountered on the CGI's. Wandered out onto the jetty and took the following pics:




As I cruised around North Pender, I kept running across members of our group traversing the roads - I felt happy to see them as they passed and it gave me a nice feeling and pause for thought: cycling at times is a bit like life as you pass ppl who you feel a connection with, wave and go on your way. You are the better for meeting such people. People like Norm and Judy, who I wouldn't normally have met as they were somewhat older than myself, but so dynamic, young-at-heart and having a real romance-on-wheels.

Ended up on a superb stretch called Pirate's Road which ran to the Southern end of North Pender - thrashed it to the end to relieve myself of all the blues and then just sat for a long while on a wooden bench overlooking the straight between North and South Pender, musing about the trip, it's end, and the new beginning facing me for trip number two. My view is captured below:



Getting twitchy again, a final cruise back to the ferry terminal the long way 'round the island settled me down. Passed Tom, Meagan's dad on the way and wondered, given the time left, whether he'd get to the ferry on time. As it turned out, he appeared a few minutes after my arrival as if teleported! Tom apparently hadn't ridden for quite a while prior to the trip, but like all those on tour, he did suberbly!

Aboard the ferry for the last time, I soaked in the CGI experience: the sights, the rides, the experiences, and above all, the people. As the ferry pulled into Mayne, there was time for a final group farewell, a wave, and they were off.

Back up top the ferry I watched them walk off, mount their bikes and ride away. I felt a tinge of sadness, but also a great sense of joy and happiness that I'd been part of such a great group and such a wonderful tour!

Thanks to Bicycle Adventures for running the trip so superbly

Bicycle Adventures

and many thanks to all of the group (especially guides Marty and Ric, and fellow tour members Harvey and Tina for being so generous, warm hearted and friendly.)

The ferry pulled out and headed off across the waters to the mainland, a cab ride to the airport hotel, an overnight stay, and on to more epic adventures...mountain passes and descents, lakes, glaciers, more spectacular scenery, and wide open roads! Part 2: Cycling Glacier, Banff, Jasper coming up!

Part 1: Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands - Day 5.

Layover day - yeah! I blatantly disregarded the specified breakfast time and slept in for a bit before wandering down to survey the carnage caused by the scavenging sub-pack of our group who had arrived early in prep for their morning sea-kayak (I was in the arvo time-slot). Picking over visible remnants, I contented myself with the thought that whilst they would be out there on the vicious morning sea freezing their arses (yes that's how we spell and say it in Australia) and vainly fighting off vast herds of voracious Orca with their feeble paddles, I would be ensconced in luxury doing my...WASHING???

Reality sunk in - yes, days of cycling had depleted my array of clothes to zilch: there was nothing for it except to acquire some coinage and hit the laundry.

Lounged around in the pool area whilst my wash did exactly that, listening to the fantastic new Tori Amos album "American Doll Posse". One of her best and a constant player on my iPod Nano. Tori Amos is a Goddess. My declaration makes it so.

Washing done and time to set the mind towards the next joy - my 10:30am appointment for a 1 hour massage! (Not free and not cheap, but paying makes it that much more enjoyable). Trundled off down to the Spa where I introduced myself and the cunningly employed (more later) cute girl gave me the run down on the procedure. Waltzed into the change rooms where I shed clothes, put on some strange sort of man skirt, covered this ridiculous garment with a robe and then more waltzing to the 'Steam Cave' to soften up prior to the massage session and waiting to be called for from within its recesses.

Disrobing, I entered the 'cave', which was empty, and sat down in my man skirt. The cave is situated under a waterfall and is lit internally via a roof skylight. Temperature was nice and hot, and a lovely little cold water fountain bubbled from a strategic fake rock stand in the middle of the 6 person sized circular cave. All seemed very pleasant. The waterfall under which the cave is situated can be seen in the pic below of part of Poet's Cove resort:



A young woman entered wearing a far more appropriate-for-her woman-dress, smiled and sat down. After a short while she remarked on something about it "not being that steamy" and proceeded outside the door, manipulated some switch and then re-entered. Within a short space of time thick steam started to billow and fall and envelope us and things became far less "pleasant".

I deduced from my pain and the scorched smell that this steam fell from an outlet which was directly connected to a water source piped straight from the heart of the sun! The fact that there was so much water around likely prevented me from instantaneously curling up and bursting into flame like a scrap of dry paper at a fireman's barbecue. Short story: it was hot! Stupidly I stayed in this chamber of hell for 15 minutes (the woman left about a nanosecond after she hit the switch), figuring I'd paid for it so...Other members of the group who commented later felt it was a typical sauna. My sheltered upbringing was patently obvious.

Having surprisingly survived the incinerator-of-death, I crisped back into the Spa and was deposited into a nice little room complete with massage table (phew!) and calming 'earth-worship' music. My masseuse entered, introduced herself, and proceeded to gently massage me to snooze land. Actually we chatted quite a lot - she was from a mid province of Canada, wanted to travel, settled here for a while etc. Very nice lady. At one point we spoke about the irony of her home province sometimes freezing at -30F whilst she directed ppl to fry in the steam cave crucible!

Suitably pliable, I wandered back to the showers, refreshed, and dressed. At the counter was the cute girl with a note from my masseuse re: a product that would assist with sore muscles, said product, and a charming smile. How lovely - a gift! Clearly my sparkling repartee had impressed. Settling the bill, the cute girl enquired how I would pay for the massage (my room charged please) and the product????? Bleh - man am I dumb! Still, it did work well!

So, then a bunch of us piled into the van to be driven to the take-off spot for the afternoon sea-kayaking. The skies had cleared, the temperature was balmy, and we felt sure the Orca pack had eaten its fill and gone off satiated.

Arriving at the spot, Otter bay, a delighful little sheltered bay and marina, the first task on hand was to have lunch, because obviously it makes sense to gorge as much as possible BEFORE going on the water! (You float when stuffed). Then, once suitably fattened (perhaps those Orca hadn't left the area?), we were fitted up and then entertained the various other non-kayaking shore dwellers with some crazy how-to-paddle (but we are on land?) demo.

Feeling slightly foolish, we piled into the kayaks (having previous experience I got the one that felt like its main purpose in life was to capsize) for a lovely, possibly lengthy, paddle around neighbouring bays. I say possibly lengthy because this is where things go a bit blank.

I remember at one point our nice guide pointed out some floating green seaweed, called it "sea lettuce", and factually stated you could eat it. Which I did. Why not? Day 5 mostly then vanished from my mind, along with the photos on my camera of it (I have no idea what happened).

My memory resurfaces with me back in my room, in the bath. I believe I went to a group party with others in Harvey and Tina's room later. I believe I ate dinner. I think I recall talking a bit with tour member Jim, an excellent guy who from the jokes associated with him, I took to be a pastor of some kind? That notwithstanding, I don't think he performed any exorcisms on me as I have no recollection of most of this evening and my obvious possession!

Sea lettuce should NOT be consumed. Here's a photo of some sea lettuce, out of water and adorning a piece of driftwood, taken the next day whilst I walked a rocky beach. I show this for your education - STAY AWAY FROM SEA LETTUCE - IT CAN STEAL YOUR MIND!



Next up, Day 5 stays gone, I skip a hike and wander along a beach post-lettuce feeling blue coz I must leave this trip to start another, some nice final day cycling for me, and trip on a ferry back to Vancouver.

Part 1: Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands - Day 4.

This time the Lavender room played no part in my early waking - a planned hike up Mt Galliano caused the setting of an alarm that blasted me from sweet sleep at some ungodly hour (6:00am I think).

So, pre-breakfast (in retrospect I should've eaten something) a bunch of us piled into the van to be carted to the foot of a peak that wouldn't be out of place in the ranges of Nepal, forced out of the van at gunpoint and whipped up, growling and cursing, the sheer side of this monster. Actually, we clambered out and followed Marty up the reasonable slope for 50 minutes to a magnificent view on a rather cold peaktop. (Hint to self - don't wear cotton when you sweat and then stand in sub-arctic winds!) On the way up I had a chat with Barry, a real up guy with a big personality and a zest for life. His optimistic attitude really got me thinking about how one makes one's own choices in life.

Lovely view, group pics and a brisk walk down later (my 92kgs felt like a tonne being sucked down by gravity and my quads bitched about it silently all the way) we arrived back at the Inn for brekky - thank god, as my stomach was consuming itself! Here's a less-than-awesome pic of the view from Mt Galliano - it got quite grey overhead. My pics didn't do it justice:



Another lovely breakfast later, it was back to the packing of luggage for the preparation of removal to the van thereof. This was the one part of touring that I'm not crazy about - the fact that we stayed two days at Woodstone Inn on Galliano meant we received a one day reprieve from this boring task. Mind you, here's me complaining when it's up to our guides Marty and Ric to actually cart to and stuff all these bags into the van!

Bag packing meant our two overnights and stay at Woodstone Country Inn was over. I enjoyed this place immensely (ignominy of the 'Lavender' room notwithstanding!) - great atmosphere, nice big room, quiet, superbly clean, great grounds, and with excellent staff and superb meals. Highly recommended! Below is a pic of the front (or back?) of this lovely Inn:



Our initial plans for today were a short ride (4km) to the ferry terminal for a trip to our new island North Pender. I recalled this short bike trip well from the previous day - it's the one all downhill on which I wasn't meant to continue past the Inn! Still all the more kms logged.

After the usual hang-around at the terminal, we piled on board the ferry for the (two hour?) trip to our new habitat. On the way had a nice chat with Michael, Steve and Nancy. Michael is a very interesting chap - lives on an island community, is very community and civic minded and active, and appears to have done tons of things in life including wood-carving. Steve and Nancy are a couple, both very intelligent and with a great deal of life experience. Steve looks like an early 50's Paul Newman which I pointed out - from his less than surprised reaction I surmised he'd likely heard this about a million times! It was during this lively conversation (in which as per my usual M.O. I said little and listened lots for fear of making a chump of myself) that it became clear that, on this tour, I was surrounded by interesting, life-experienced and altogether smart people. It made me realise that my own slightly insular personality may deprive me of more such experiences in my life. I reflected on one of my motivations for doing this tour - meeting people via gentle persuasion: it was working and I wasn't looking like a total dick!

Arriving at Pender North, we were given complex instructions about the route to the lunchtime meeting location, pointed toward the road, and told to go! Well, this being a recipe for disaster for me, I resolved to stick closely with people who had route guides! And so off we went.

Some hours later the group arrived at the designated spot by some unknown slice of luck - I swear that the use of route guides mixed in with half a dozen ppl all reading what appeared to be entirely different instructions was far worse than just blundering off in any direction! Amazingly enough, even I, the only person without a guide, managed to be implicated as a cause of the confusion! Bah - route notes, who needs 'em! It's an island - go too far and you hit water!

Actually, whilst there were a few minor dramas we pretty much arrived on schedule in a relatively short space of time. The ride itself around most of North Pinder was great: acceptably undulating terrain, twisty bits including a doozy of a downhill switchback, lovely semi-rural scenery, the lively banter of a cohesive travel group squabbling over where the hell we were and where the hell we were heading etc etc. What cycling's all about! cycling these islands was becoming addictive.

Our lunchtime destination was the charmingly named Thieves Bay. Chief amongst its charms, and a possible reason behind its naming, was the sign declaring that any 'violater' (chilling in itself) parked beyond a certain point was threatened with immediate impound and tow: perhaps a bunch of pirate ghosts emerged dripping from the water and dragged said violater back in with them? See threatening pic below:



The real reason for its name soon became apparent to me: I sauntered with my newly acquired sandwich down to the water's edge to take a pic of some geese bobbing contentedly. Several of these creatures emerged from the water and approached in a friendly manner. The subsequent offering of a small portion of my sandwich to one was gratefully accepted by the beast, upon which its peers decided they wanted to get in on the act. Given that I was quite hungry and felt I had done my bit at solidifying the bond between man and goose I refused further advances. One of the things then advanced at me and proceeded to attempt to re-arrange parts of my groin! Letting out a short squeal (dare I say it) like a girl, I flung the sandwich into the water, upon which the entire flock turned tail after the prize. SO! The bastard creatures had put the sting on me! Freakin' Thieves Bay indeed! I sauntered casually back to the lunch table giving away nothing - no-one had seen my ultimate shame! Nor did they hear of it - until now! Here's a pic of the marauding pack of shyster geese - vicious looking bastards who are far larger than they appear in this pic!:



After regaining my dignity and filling my stomach, I wandered around the Bay and accompanying marina taking what are likely some of the most uninspired and crappy photos extant: not only had the Bay stole my dignity, it had pissed off with my creativity as well! These photos shall not sully this blog - they can however been seen, along with all the other crappy photos of the tour I took, at:

Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands

Subsequent to lunch, instructions indicated that we proceed to our new accommodation at Poet's Cove via a simple set of directions. Remembering the total chaos of the morning ride, I resolved to head off on my own, committed the simple guide notes to memory and promptly proceeded in an entirely wrong direction! There was a lake where none should be - a lake solid with more bastard geese eyeing me off no less - and some signs naming roads that had no basis in reality for being there. Surely this map was wrong? Of course not! - my innate sense of direction was working and I was completely off course!

So, I made my way back from whence I'd come (luckily I have great visual recognition skills) and soon found a small group of my brethren apparently correctly reading their maps, and tagged on for a lovely rolling-terrain ride (including the crossing of a one-lane bridge linking the North and South Islands and a final great twisty descent) into Poet's Cove.

Wow! - Poet's Cove is a compact five star resort tucked into a superb little bay named Bedwell Harbour, beautifully presented and maintained, with spectacular views across the water. I was loving it. Upon entering my top-floor room I was loving it even more - lovely room with shower and bath, and a huge balcony which surveyed the entire vista! I felt like a King! Here's a pic of my view from my balcony - eat your hearts out!:



Also a pic of a portion of the resort:



Settled into my salts-invigorated bath and proceeded to turn into a prune - man, this was the life! As time advanced and my skin retreated, my phone buzzed, so I extricated myself from this nirvana, had a shower (huh? - I've got no clue either, but I think it's because it was there!) and checked the message. An invitation to dine (this was a feed yourself night) from Harvey and Tina - how lovely! I was really touched - they are such nice people! Man I owed them bigtime - Harvey snagged the bill and payed for me! We were joined by a number of our group and had a wonderful time!

Post meal, of the typical excellent quality for both food and companionship of this tour and having consumed a few excellent beers, I drifted back to my room, parked myself on the balcony and soaked in the view with a cold beer in hand. Well actually, that was the plan but the beer didn't eventuate as I fell asleep on the chair! Obviously my body required some rest, so I piled into bed and it was lights out within seconds.

Tomorrow was our layover day, complete with morning 1 hour massage and afternoon sea-kayaking! Read about what I recall of it, including the onset of domesticity as I do my laundry, the "it-burns-like-the-sun" pre-massage steam cave sauna, the attack of the memory-sapping sea-lettuce consumed mid-kayak trip, the disappearing photos, and oblivion, all in the next installment.

Part 1: Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands - Day 3.

Offered the relative luxury of being able to plan to sleep in line with an 8:30am breakfast, my brain inexplicably decided to wake me at 3:30am after 5 hours sleep and stubbornly refuse to disengage and return to a more restful state. Different time zones, nervous energy, the ignominy of sleeping in the 'Lavender' room, who knows.

After 2 hours of fighting to get to sleep again (very counterintuitive) I decided to give up, get up and get out (side that is).

As I stepped through the back (or front?) door of the Inn into the outside chill, not a stone's lob from me a deer looked up from it's grazing and stared. Wow - a deer, a real live deer! Sneaking back thru' whence I'd come, I scurried back to my room, grabbed my camera and set out to stalk and photograph this mythological creature!

It was still pre-dawn dark outside, and whilst I could see well enough, my little digital cams flash couldn't throw enough light far enough to illuminate the critter. Frustratingly, all that showed up in the reviewed pics was a glowing set of eyes - try explaining that to people back home as a deer: they'd laugh me out of the place! 30 mins later and with nothing to show for it apart from some wet footwear courtesy of trailing thru' damp brush, I gave up on the deer (it huffed at me and ran off after attempting to graze without peace for that time).

Still, a deer: I'd seen one in the flesh! I proudly wandered down to the paddocks in front of the inn to check out the horses I could see - maybe I could entice them to the fence for a pat. They stared at me as I approached but had already decided as I wasn't carrying anything edible I was of no interest. So I stood looking at them for a while, peaceful in the morning light. A goose, honking mid-flight, commenced a landing run, sweeping across from my left and slowly descending toward a field to my right - a field filled with about 50 million deer! There was so many that if I had thrown my camera in the field it would have hit at least half of them.

Clearly, whilst I exaggerate, I quickly came to the realisation that deer (scientific name Canadus Rabbitus) are not that uncommon in the CGIs, indeed all of the Canada I saw. Nevertheless, I continued to photograph them whenever I saw them, as the following pic attests:



After the crushing realisation that deer are plentiful, I sucked it up, made my way inside for breakfast and told no-one of my stupidity!

Following the food, usual route trip stuff, etc etc, I decided that today I would tempt fate and again ride with no route guide. No problem - just follow. Of course, this tactic is only useful when there is someone to follow. If you pass them all then... So, naturally enough I missed the turn off to the rd which took us to our planned destination at the end of Galliano, and continued on another 13kms to another end of the island. I'd gotten carried away on the riding (which was nicely undulating) and only noticed when the sea, which should have been on my right, started appearing via glimpses thru' the trees on my left! Hmmm - time to turn around. Well it was anyway coz I ran out of road!

So, a frantic pedal back 13kms to the correct turnoff, which turned out to be a rather steep, long rise called, innocuously, Vineyard Way. It should have been called Vineyard bastard road-to-hell steep Way. Things got steep very quickly - it helps if you actually change to your lower front ring! OK, can't do that without stopping now so zig-zag up it. As soon as I started this, the only two cars I'd seen all day came down the curve around the hill! Bleh - for the first and last time on the tour I walked the sucker the rest of the way. Oh shame!

Back on course but running late, I arrived at the right side and end of the island just in time to take the briefest glimpse of a nice little beach etc before all else who remained (refreshed after their nice rest) climbed on their bikes and headed back to the lunch spot. So, rather then get lost again, I went along. The final 1km of the track to the beach and back was rough, and my rear derailleur was clunking, but a little handlebar adjustment action got it back on song. Off to lunch!

Redeeming myself (in my own eyes at least) I raced back to lunch and actually arrived at the correct locale - a lovely little spot called 'Lover's Leap': a sheer, high cliff face from which I'm assuming lovers plunged to show their mad infatuation for each other. Here's the view (minus lovers - they are piled up dead at the bottom):



After another delightful lunch with a killer view, it was back to cycling and exploring. Deciding not to repeat my earlier mistake I stuck with Harvey and Tina, of which I am very glad, as they were two of the nicest people you could hope to meet: Tina an absolute sweety, bubbly and up, and Harvey funny (dry Aussie humour funny) and down-to-earth, and both kind and so friendly.

Visited various spots along Galliano's shores, including a lovely little bay named Retreat Cove, which had it's own cute island and quirky little sandstone caves shaped by wave action. Here's me standing in said cave looking like a moron (it's obligatory on hols) - I forced Tina to take this photo:



The days cycling was about 66 km, although I did a bit more (92km in fact) due to my inadvertent tours-on-the-side, the last of which occurred on the way back to our lodgings when I kept going down a lovely long decline, past the Inn, and back to the ferry terminal!

A well deserved hot shower followed by another excellent meal and great interaction (sat with Ric again although etiquette sort of dictates you move about, and had another great chat, and Scott showed himself to be a comedy genius with his tales and general anecdotes) was at the end of another eventful day. In all honesty I missed a lot of what Galliano offered that day as I cycled a bit more than required, but no regrets: the roads were good and the feeling wonderful, which is what cycling is all about.

Day 4 coming: an early morning hike, a view, a new island, a great ride and a fabulous Resort!

Part 1: Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands - Day 2.

Breakfast at 7am! - this was meant to be a holiday!

OK, day two didn't start well (I am a notoriously late sleeper - not recommended for a cycling tour), but I'd have to get used to it. After a lovely breakfast at the Laurel Point Inn - I was sorry to see the back of that place, what a bathroom! - we gathered for the day two prep talk, gear check and prep, and route description.

Ahead was a 42km ride to Buchart Gardens along the scenic East coast of Vancouver Island. It guaranteed to be a lovely ride with a perfect clear blue sky and crisp but warming temp. Once again, I blatantly refused the use of my route guide and determined to follow anyone who looked like they knew what they were doing. This was a sound strategy.

Well at least it was until within 2 kms I'd flatted a front tire and was left stranded! Bleh! Happily, my backpack revealed tubes aplenty and the kindly Bob stopped and offered me the use of his pump (I wasn't carrying mine - it was the thrill of danger I was chasing!) With a top-up from the van's pump, which had pulled up (the van, not it's pump!) and with guide Marty now in tow - man I towed that guy everywhere :P - the road along rolling, smooth and gloriously scenic suburban roads continued.

Millionaires are like locusts around here; if the house isn't worth a million the view is, as per below:



Forgive the slight detour into degradation, but Marty and I vowed to take up running along here - the sheer number of spectacular ladies jogging this route was mind-numbing. I do believe our average bike speed dropped below about 5km/h!

I will say that on tour we also had a gorgeous and lovely young lady - Meagan, who was completing the tour with her dad Tom. Meagan, a yoga teacher, seemed to be enjoying the ride and I rode along with her for a while, but didn't say much as I'm not well versed on what old farts like myself say to lovely young ladies. I mostly just rode in front, in the process very likely making her wonder "what the hell is this old fart doing riding in front of me"?

After a gorgeous ride, we arrived for lunch at the world famous Buchart Gardens. All I can say is google it, coz I'm not into gardens, gardening or dirt! What I saw from the lunch area as I ate a hearty meal looked nice tho'! Some group members lined up but the lines were long and time was short.

This lunch was like all others on the tours - well organised, delicious, and with a great mix of foods comprising all the groups: vegetables and salad, meats, breads and carbos and the obligatory stuff-that-is-normally-bad for you: chips, m@ms, chocolate covered raisins and nuts, fat cooked into food-like shapes, mercury (well, maybe not the last one, but you get the picture). I soon learned that a balance of the former 'good' foods and the latter 'bad' foods was essential, both for peak operating performance, and to dissuade my body of the notion that it was was going to have any chance of losing weight on tour!

After lunch, an optional ride of 19km to the ferry terminal at Swartz Bay for our transport to the next island and our digs for the night. I wanted to ride - my bike didn't. Another flat, this time under cover of the bike rack! A pinched tube was the immediate suspicion but nope - a failure on the tube seam.

Post-repair and feeling decidedly less confident about the tube situation, Marty, Bob and myself nevertheless decided to hammer out the 19kms optional ride and got a nice train going at 30km/h+ along the 'undulating' terrain. This term would later come to be viewed with deserved suspicion, as the guides' use of it described just about every type of hill, mountain and valley terrain imaginable. Undulating is code for "don't tell them it's steep!" and under this broad classification, Mt Everest would be 'slightly more undulating'.

Just a side note here - I'm from a particularly flattish piece of earth, so any combination of hill plus my mass of 92kgs conspires to severely decrease my forward motion. I pretty quickly acclimated to climbing on the tour, but at first, these islands were quite 'undulating'!

Bob didn't seem to think so - closer to the ferry where it got a little more undulating he took off like a greyhound: I presume nature was calling! Great bloke and rode the pants off his S @ S equipped (couplings allowing one to separate a frame into two parts for tighter packing) steel frame. Marty hung with me as he wanted to watch me suffer as I dragged him up hills!

After a short wait for all of us to gather and the arrival of the ferry, it was all aboard and onto the next island: Galliano, and our accommodation for the next two nights, lovely Woodstone Country Inn (I have the pic to prove it!).



A short blat (4km) up a steepish rise and we were there! More on the Inn later. We were all allocated rooms: the rooms were all identified via names of flowers/floral bushes - I got Lavender! My nationality again was causing me pain - it was a plot!

One magnificent dinner and a lot of great conversation later, lots of laughs and I personally having a great chat with Ric - the second of our guides and a friendly, smart and altogether champ of a guy who I clicked with straight up - it was off to the sack with dreams of flat tyres, flower-named rooms and good company in my head. And bonus - breakfast not until 8:30 the next morning! The holiday had begun!

Part 1: Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands - Day 1.

So starts my chronicles of my Canadian Adventure! The first part covers my tour of the Canadian Gulf Islands from August 4th-9th inclusive, run by Bicycle Adventures (link to tour web site below).

Bicycle Adventures

Whilst I'll include a few photos in the blog, the main album for this Tour can be found online at:

Gulf Islands Photo Album

After the hectic travel to Seattle and the shock of seeing affluent homeless with bikes, I landed in my digs for the night: the Renaissance Seattle Hotel. A nice little place for an evening, situated on Madison St, this was to be the site of pickup the next morning by the tour crew.

My room was fine, although the view out my window of the freeway was less than stirring, but with a bit of neck-craning I managed to glimpse something that looked like water? After the obligatory room service order, I set about organising for the next days pick-up and tour start; readying clothes, getting out required gear and most importantly, resurrecting my bike from it's packaged hell (actually a soft case). The bike had stood up well to the flight and intermittent tossing of baggage handlers (I later glimpsed how they loaded my bike bag onto a cart - tossing is the kind description!) and with no damage to speak of was soon together and looking resplendent. For those interested, she is a Masi 3VC full carbon frame with Dura Ace group. More later.

Next morning after a fitful sleep, I was up bright and early for a quick walk around the block, some brekky, and then the carting of my gear and luggage downstairs for the 8:30 am rendezvous with the Tour van. Well knock me over with a fencepost - it seems the large majority of the group were also staying at the same hotel as the pavement outside the hotel was awash with bikers and bikes! After some quick intros, the Bicycle Adventures van pulled up and we were intro'd to the guides Marty and Ric, given a short run down of the days planned events, and then everything was packed onboard post-haste for the ride to the Cap Sante Marina where the riding would officially start.

Upon arrival, more meeting and greeting, organising of gear, guide announcements re: the general set-up of the tour, riding instructions, and specifics about the short ride (16km) to the Washington State Ferry Terminal at Anacortes which would serve as our jumping off point to Vancouver Island and then the Canadian Gulf Islands (hereafter referred to as the CGI's).

Then we were off! Determined to be unencumbered by handle-bar bags I eschewed the use of both those and therefore the explicit and detailed ride notes and simply determined to follow someone else! This course of action held me in good stead the entire trip (except for the many times I went anywhere on my own - I acquired a reputation for riding first and checking directions later!)

After a brisk trip to the Terminal, most everyone decided to do the extra 10km ride around the Washington State Park Loop, a lovely little ride around the high point of a small mount 'peninsula' I guess you'd call it. Some great views, one way traffic, and some well hidden road humps just to spice it up! Here's a piccie from a vantage point on route:



After being introduced to the what would become familiar routine of ferry ingress and egress and the relative smoothness of the ride - the ferries are very large vehicle and people transporters, a good think given my very poor water travel temperament!, we disembarked at Sidney, BC and drove to our first night's accommodation of the tour, the Laurel Point Inn, Victoria.

Upon walking into my room, I was blown away by both the view of my bathroom (palatial) and the view out my window (breathtaking Victoria!) Both are below:




The bathroom had more rock than you could poke a stick at and a lovely bath and shower which I promptly made use of. Hmmm - bubble bath! Incidentally, I lucked out on this tour and ended up having rooms all to myself :)

After a leisurely soak and casual unpack and dress for the evening meal, I sauntered out onto my balcony for a long eyeball at the view to Victoria. After several minutes I noticed a party heading away from the hotel and down towards the waterfront. They all looked happy and eager to eat. They were - I recognised Marty the guide: it was my tour group leaving without me! Aarrgghh!

I scurried down to where I'd last spied them and took off down the street in pursuit: no luck. Somewhat difficult given that they were all still new faces to me. After a frantic few minute search I ran back to the hotel and checked with the hotel staff to see if they knew where they had gone specifically. One lass did, but she was away from the desk. 10 minutes later I'd found out the restaurant and detailed directions to it - it was about a 20 minute walk. Oh well! One 20 minute walk along the lovely waterfront later, I arrived at the place to find the group ensconced and drinking, and Marty the guide wondering where the hell I was! I then found out that it had taken them about half the time to get to the place - they had taken a water-taxi across the harbour! So, this was how it was to be: ditch the Australian!

After a lovely meal, a few drinks and a nice chat we all did the 20 min walk back to the Inn. I settled down for a drink on the balcony catching the night view to the city whilst plotting my revenge... I know, I'd leave them all behind on a ride. Genius!

Cycling Holidays and blogging don't mix

Hmmm-what with all the tearing around during the day and sleeping at night, my intent on real-time blogging not only hit the ground, it melted thru' to China!

So, in the post-holiday euphoria, I will attempt to gradually flesh out my journeys around Western Canada as best I can, starting with:

• Part 1: Cycling the Canadian Gulf Islands (the foreshortened trip).

Stay tuned!

Flight and Premonition

Arrived in Vancouver minus sanity and sense of smell after 25 hours of flight and airport layovers; it's amazing how one's sense of smell shuts down to avoid offense! God I hate flying.

And yet the seemingly unending flight offered a jewel at its end: cloud cover parted to reveal the Northern Rockies in all their glory. Coming from the endless plains of Perth, W.A, an appreciation for verticality is not native. Here in the vista presented to me I saw the principle at close hand.

Vast stretches of craggy peaks lightly dusted with snow stretched outwards and upwards, seemingly close enough to brush our plane. Valleys, some mere scratches and others huge gouges, crisscrossed the scene; land-locked lakes, some covered with ice and snow and others open, dotted the landscape, their colors ranging from darkest black to startling torquoise: some of the frozen surfaces painted with black plumes on their edges where rock avalanches had abruptly ended.

Further on as we approached Vancouver the deep valleys multiplied and in turn filled with water - these lakes and rivers joined in waterways providing home and shelter. Houses and buildings scattered on their edges and water craft slow-motioned across their surfaces. Here and there huge log drifts checkered their surface, mostly ordered but some looking as if they had executed an escape plan and scattered in all directions. Several massive cargo ships left white trails kilometres long, and here and there a small plane appeared below, seemingly stuck to the sky like a pinned insect.

No stay in Vancouver: layover for a fight to Seattle for the first leg of the tour. Vancouver is a lovely airport - clean, neat and with some interesting architecture and fixtures which even I noticed in my brain dead state. Customs in was as I remember from International flights many years ago: fairly simple and litte fuss (apart from my bike, which I've learned has a serious ability to be deposited in 'special' areas where I and the airport staff wouldn't dream of looking - baggage handlers wield power and a mystical ability to hide stuff in full view!) Customs Out - to Seattle and hence US soil - was entirely different: a highly routinised and scrutinised military-like operation. Note to travellers: follow instructions explicitely, be polite and attentive, and endure stoically the process and you will be fine. Question, argue and look aggrieved and you will get your arse handed to you on a plate! Treat it like a test and try and get a smile out of one of them - I haven't yet but will struggle on!

Arrived in Seattle very early with the prospect of a 6 hour wait for check-in at the hotel but inate charm secured me a spectacularly early room! (Actually I just wept unashamedly at the counter and they threw me a bone).

So, the first leg of the cycle tour commences very soon - my slightly screwed up body clock sees me fully awake and ready at 3 a.m., but that will soon synch. Bike was fine once re-assembled - it and I are straining at the bit to go!

Back soon with more.

Oh, my premonition? Saw quite a few homeless under the freeway ramps on the way in on the bus to my hotel - weird thing is, several of them seem to have bikes!