Fastest speed: 68.57 kph
Money left: CA$160.12, US$55.00
Vancouver Island finished up quite pleasantly; a hot day's ride left me in isolated mountains on my last night, on the top of a cliff face overlooking the Nanaimo River. My oversight of refilling on water in the previous town had been solved by a couple of swimmers I ran across, who were emptying out a leaking cooler, and I filled up on gloriously refreshing ice, and was even gifted a couple of perfectly chilled beers for the road. ("Better take two, man," he said, with a knowing grin. "Cause beer is like women: two is always better than one.") The following morning I hiked the few kilometres down to the river, and then got back on my merry way, just a couple of hours' ride from the ferry terminal in Nanaimo. The ferry was a monstrous beast of six levels, with enough parking space for a large fleet of semis. The ride across the Strait of Georgia back to the mainland was peacefully idyllic (if a bit chilly), with sweeping vistas of mountains in every direction, and periodic pods of porpoises breaking the otherwise calm waters alongside us.
The ferry ride ended at Horseshoe Bay, still a fair distance away from Vancouver proper, and the day quickly turned into a sweaty battle over the pointlessly gruesome hills of affluent North Vancouver; after more than an hour of rollercoaster-like neighborhoods, I decided to ditch the proscribed TCT path, in lieu of a much more direct route into town.
Vancouver is a charming city, oozing with a sense of dignified confidence and cleanliness, perhaps the residuals of the massive cleanup efforts for the recent Winter Olympics. The population is far more international than anything I've ever seen in the states, with a multitude of languages being heard on every street corner and neighborhood. The fashion trend is overwhelmingly French, and everyone, French or not, is unfailingly kind. Vancouver also puts to shame the American notion of "bicycle-friendly" cities, no doubt helped by their bicycle-commuting mayor; a vast grid of bike paths and lanes, innumerable signs reminding cars of our existence, and frequent right of way makes city riding easy, safe and care-free.
Vancouver's awesome library.
Unfortunately, my housing plans in Vancouver ended up falling through, with my friend who lives here currently off to Burning Man. This left me in the position of being homeless, yet again, in a major metropolitan city as the sun is just starting to set. I'm generally comfortable with this scenario, but it'd been a hot few days, and good god, I just wanted a shower and a couch to sit on. As fortune would have it, though, my saviour came in the form of a fellow intrepid cyclist, Naomi, who offered me a last-minute place. We spent the evening watching Back To The Future at an outdoor screening in a nearby city park, and talking about travel possibilities across the province (she biked solo across the country a year or two before, and had much advice to offer).
Clean, content, well-stocked and well-fed, I prepared to set off on the road again, only to realize, quite disastrously, that I no longer have my bank card on me. I slowly cycled out of town, pondering the consequences of this development, with no good solution coming to mind. As fate would have it, the trail out of town turned instantly brutal once more, pushing me to my absolute limits of riding ability on the bike I have with me. I ended up a mere forty kilometres out of downtown, after hours of more bicycle push-ups, bruised palms, and cramped fingers from excessive brake use. As I unfurled my tent in a thick copse of trees that night, a roaring thunderstorm started to break overhead, and in that moment, I experienced a period of delirium, fueled by the utter ridiculousness of the situation: I've put myself in another country, alone, unfamiliar with the road ahead, with access only to the bit of money I have on hand, and there's fucking lightning crashing down all around me. I love it. This is the adventure, right here, and from here on out.
Indian Arm Fjord from the top of Burnaby Mountain, just outside Vancouver.
My enthusiasm was severely tempered the following morning, as I awoke to pouring rain, and the realization that I forgot to take the extremely important set of bike tools from Shannan's bag before she departed. Feeling about as heavily discouraged as possible (knocking on wood for flat tires), I trudged on. At some point, this has to start flying in the face of reason and into the realm of stupidity, but I'm not sure when that is. There seem to be a lot of things getting in my way of continuing, but I'm inclined to keep going until it's just not possible anymore. We'll see. I have a new set of tools (but not enough money for bear spray), and I'm all dry again, both of which help my spirits immensely. Bring on the mountains, and then we'll see how I feel...
Barn's burnt down --
now I can see the moon.
-Mizuta Masahide
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