Serena and Steve's Summer Adventure 2009

The end of April has always been a time of change for me. Spring has sprung from the icy grip of winter, the whole Earth is changing. I am changing in this time too, my birthday being the 25th of April, signifying that I have survived yet another winter on this Earth. It is a time for joy and celebration...and transition. Almost every year at this time, in the last 10 days of April, I am preparing to go again. My whole life has been a movement, and Spring 2009 was no different.

For the winter season I was living in Sylvan Lake, AB, working at the Best Body Fitness Climbing Gym. It was an amazing winter or rock climbing and learning new skills on the vertical reality. I am very grateful to Scott at the gym for giving me the opportunity to be there. On my last day of work, we had a going away potluck/climbing session. Good people, good times, and good food waved me off. The next morning was to be the beginning of yet another transition. It weighed on me in a calm, yet frenetic and excited way. I was stoked! I was ready. All winter was an accumulation of planning and preparation. Now was the time to put it into action.

I woke up to a crisp spring morning, there were still little patches of snow here and there, but the sun was shining. I spent the morning preparing my hand sewn bags, packing them onto the bicycle, dubbed "The Green Machine". The bike was a Norco Scorcher, with front suspension and knobby tires. I anticipated traveling some back roads, and the solid bike would do well for this task. I was very satisfied with the panniers that I spent 30$ making. They were dark green denim, simple in design and quite large. They were waterproofed by adding a layer of black plastic in between the layers of denim, then sprayed with a waterproofing agent. Every stitch was sewn by hand. They were quite the project, spanning 6 months.

Goodbyes were said to my family and roommate and I mounted the Green Machine, who was heavily loaded with food for the days to come away from stores. I had on the bike the softer of the 2 seats i had available, and when I grabbed the bike under the seat to turn it around to leave, it ripped right off! Oops. I quickly removed the pieces of broken seat and replaced them with the other one, a much more solid option.

Finally on the road around 11AM, I was elated. Riding out of town the excitement grew as I knew I was on the Road once again, no holds barred, I was FREE! I stopped down the road to look back shortly, apply sunscreen and say goodbye once and for all. Woohoo, FREEDOM!

Right out of the chute, I realized the dirtbag challenges of traveling with an old bike which was clearly not a touring bicycle. First the chain got stuck several times. I had done a lot of work with the bike that winter, but I do ride bikes hard, and the bikes 8 years of life had been a contrast of sedentary storage, to riding hard on slippery roads and loaded touring all of a sudden. It groaned slightly, but the poor ass agreed to carry my weight for now.

Regardless, all went well. Forward movement was had, and my muscles delighted in the flow. I cruised through Rocky Mountain House on my way West on highway 11 and stopped about 10KM out of town near a lake. Tent...Food...Bear Hang...Sleep.

6 AM, wake up cold. It is still only early spring, and as I come closer to the mountains, it is like stepping back into winter. A little way down the road I met with some road workers. They told me snow was in the forecast and that I was crazy. Haha, I know.

The day was uneventful and I strove to reach the mountains as soon as I could. As I pushed towards Nordegg, the mountains began to loom up and engulf my journey. I recall this day was full of little hills and sunshine. I relished in the road and where it was taking me. I was on my way in the next months to meet with Serena Turner in Vancouver. We had been planning in the winter to meet up and bicycle away together into something new. I was on the road to her.

Nordegg: The name conjures images of a northern muskeg in my mind; a place virtually uninhabitable, and only those crazy enough to live there do. I liked the quiet. I scoped out the town that evening and as the sun set, I made my way to the edge of town to camp. I ended up in an open space between the golf course and the rec center. Tent...Food...Bear Hang...Sleep.

The mountain welcome committee greeted me the next morning with 6 inches of snow on my tent. Wet, cold, and with great difficulty I went back into Nordegg and hid in the Hotel restaurant, sipping a warm coffee, watching, waiting for the snow to stop. As I watched it from the window, it piled up. An SUV with massive tires spun out on the road in front of the hotel and eventually slid farther into the ditch at an odd angle and got stuck in what was now over a foot of snow; and it continued to fall. Eventually around noon, I resigned to not pedaling farther down the road that day. I tried for the work exchange option at the hotel, but they were not interested. I phoned the Shunda Creek Hostel, and was greeted cheerfully and told, "Yes", I could work exchange. Now to get there. The hostel was 2 km or so down a back road, near the end of the road, and there was a lot of snow on the ground. Nothing else to do but do it...

I was on the slush covered highway for but one hundred meters when a semi truck came hurtling towards me casting a wave of brown, wet snow 2 meters high. All I could do was watch as the wave washed over my head covering me completely in slush. It was in my mouth, my eyes, my coat, my boots. The Green Machine was coated in a thick layer of dirt and ice, and my bags grew heavy. Once I arrived at the turn off the the hostel, the challenge began. It seemed that only 1 vehicle had been down the road since the snow started falling, so I had a thin tire track to follow at first. My bags sagged and pushed snow with every pedal stroke.

After one challenging kilometer I came to a branch in the road. The tire tracks went one way, my untouched road to the hostel went the other. The snow was almost 2 feet deep. Slipping, sliding and pedaling hard to push through the snow, I managed to gain some distance down a short hill, but had to walk up the other side. Finally I arrived at the Hostel, soaking wet with slush and sweat, shivering and caked in ice, but elated.

So the snow continued to fall, and no grater came to plow the road. I stayed at the hostel for 3 days, working and relaxing. On the 25th I celebrated my birthday with the other hostelers, one of whom was also celebrating their birthday on that day. We enjoyed the hot tub and the quiet of the land. On the 26th I left the hostel. Some snow remained, but it was far easier to get out then it was to get in. Not long after leaving, the snow flew some more, and the rain. This kind of weather adds great difficulty to living outside for those of us who grew up inside. The physical exertion makes one sweat, and the cold makes one need to work harder to stop from freezing, which in turn makes more sweat and moisture, making one work harder to stay warm. Difficult to say the least. And then one must drink half frozen slush water to stay hydrated from all the sweating. That night was spent outside of Cline River in a quarry with some hikers who had a nice fire roaring when I arrived.

As I pedaled along the next day, entering the Kootenay Plains and enjoying the lightly rolling hills and tail winds, I met up with Anna, who was on her way east on an unloaded bicycle. I was interested because as far as I could tell, we were kind of in the middle of nowhere..."What is someone doing on their bicycle out here", I thought...

I met her again later that day as she passed me on her way back home, which turned out the be the Saskatchewan river crossing warden station. She told me that if I made it that far to stop in and say hi to the people there. She lived there with the other toll booth operators in the staff accommodation. I took her up on the offer and stayed there in Banff National Park at the station.

The art of Hill Climbing: How to toil and sweat at 10 km/h and gain elevation on a bicycle...this can be a difficult task, not only physically, but mentally. It is a great way to learn impermanence and realize that all situations are impermanent, coming to an end in some way, and leading to an exhilarating descent into Bliss. The Bow summit is such a hill. It begins as soon as you cross the Saskatchewan river bridge and goes up, up, up to 2069 Meters. All morning of climbing took me to the summit. There was over a foot at the top and the wind was ripping through the mountains from the south, head on. I didn't spend long up there, just enough time to take in the view and eat some peanut butter sandwiches. The sky was darkening with black clouds as I headed into the wind. On the ride up, staying cool was an issue. On the way down, fighting the head wind, it was a great challenge to stay warm. One can only pedal so fast. Regardless of the cold, I pushed on and arrived in Lake Louise, twice the distance as the climb in half the time. Thank you, Gravity.

Turned away from the Hostel in town and at Castle junction, I decided to wild camp in the park that night and had to head a long way off the road in an effort to not be found. I camped 300 meters from my bike and bear hang that night, by the bow river off the old Bow valley parkway. This is a lovely section to cycle, by the way. The road is winding and scenic with lots of flat sections, and is almost traffic free. There is lots of wildlife and the traffic that is present is traveling at about 60km/h.

I headed to Banff the next night and met with some friends from the year before, and stayed at their house once again. I back tracked to Castle junction the next morning along Highway 1A, then headed west on Highway 93 and over the Vermillion pass at 1651 meters. This was a nice little hill followed by a long and exhilarating descent from the continental divide. Near the end hours of the day, I arrived at Settlers Road. It left the highway to the south just before I was to climb over the Sinclair Pass. In a spur of the moment decision, with no map, no plan, no fear and only the knowledge that there might be some hot springs at the end of the road, I left the highway and hit the dirt road. The Green Machine was at home on these roads and bounced along happily. I camped 15 km down the road, in a clearing that was guarded by a massive, weather whitened tree. I made my fire and enjoyed the evening. As the sun was setting, I heard the noise of a vehicle approaching, so I ran to the road and flagged down an RV. The driver told me that I was indeed on the right road and wished me luck. He, too, thought I was kinda nuts to be out there. "Make sure you get on Palliser Road", he said before leaving.

When one comes to a cross roads in the middle of nowhere, the logical choice is to take the road less traveled. Standing at the crossroads at Kootenay Bridge, I saw one road to the left that looked well used, but it didn't feel right. To the right, which did feel right, was a steep, muddy and lightly used forest service road. As I sat contemplating, a second vehicle arrived and told me to take the road to the right. Not far down the road was the sign that said "Kootenay-Palliser FSR", a good sign. The sign was spattered with a huge amount of mud and the road was sticky. At one point where the road got incredibly narrow, I met with a guy on a quad with 2 Asian tourists on the back, he said briefly that he was rescuing them. I wondered why they needed rescuing and down the road found out. I came to a vast section of mud. The road itself was entirely made of mud and huge puddles that enveloped the road completely. I had to skirt the edges of the mud pit to get around it, and there, right in the middle, covered in mud was a mired beast of a rental car, slightly tilted and high centered, and up the door handles in the sludge. Lovely.

Side roads, old and new forked off in all directions all the time. I had no map with me, just my internal compass and intuition to guide me along. That night I camped down by the White river at another important branch in the road. I knew this time to take the left down the poor quality road. This took me over a small pass, then down to Whiteswan Lake and Provincial Park. That part was easy, yet bumpy and sometimes really sketchy to handle the bike on the rough roads. Rough roads lead to smooth people, as they say.

Whiteswan Park was gorgeous when I arrived, with a thin layer of ice on the lake. I saw more cars here, and there were some cabins near the lake. As I passed the lake the terrain changed from flat on the shoreline to a gateway in the rocks that lead to a steep hill. 10 minutes later I was stopping at the Lussier hot springs parking lot. Success! I wheeled my bike down a treacherous trail to the springs and enjoyed myself there for the whole day. Being a Saturday, I was warned that there would probably be a party there that night, and I was tired, so I took off down the hill just before dark, pitching my tent on the side of the logging road in an open field.

At this point I had planned to stick to the back roads, but when I arrived in Kimberley the next day, I was told that the road I planned to take would be covered in snow. I had planned to take St. Mary's road to the Grey Creek pass, a difficult drive for cars without 4x4. I only have 1 wheel drive on my bike...

Staying in the valley bottom I made my way through Cranbrook and camped on the other side of Moyie Lake with a gentleman I met in a bar I entered to escape the impending rains. The next day I encountered some serious rains. I ended up camping in a yard near Creston, not far down the road from where I departed that morning, held up by some crazy storms that whipped in suddenly, making me take shelter in peoples garages while I waited. I feel it is easier to stay dry than to get dry. That night I stayed out in a tarp garage, protected from the rain in a nice families yard.

I had been fighting headwinds blowing from the south through the Colombia valley, so when I turned out of Creston to head back north along the Kootenay lake, the wind sped me a long at a good pace. I camped at Grey Creek, the opposite side of the road I was going to take from Kimberley. 1 more day of bike riding took me to Nelson, where I planned to stay for a week and recuperate a little. While there I helped out some lovely friends with their new venue they opened this spring called the Velvet Underground. Its a pretty neat spot, an after-hours club with a juice bar instead of alcohol. I like it there, its a good spot. I also hiked up top Pulpit rock one day there, met some great people and made an adventure to the crystal caves with a new friend. I like Nelson a lot, every time I arrive in this town it is into the open arms of lovely people in a lovely valley. No matter how much I like a place, I can never stay. The wanderlust and the need to move on calls to me and I have to go.

In this case I was on a mission to get Serena and begin our summer of love, so I headed out eagerly after a week, heading toward Castlegar, down highway 3A. Right after arriving in Castlegar, the first hill of many to get to the Paulson summit began. I have hitchhiked this pass several times since arriving in BC, and this was my first opportunity to bike it. It's humongous! I camped out only a little way up the hill and in the morning/afternoon ascended to 1535 Meters at the summit before rolling down the massive hill on the other side. If you've driven this road, you will remember the big blue bridge on the west side of the summit. I made my way to a little road side rest area by a nice creek and met some nice people there who were camping in their car. The next morning I met with them in Christina Lake for some coffee. Energized by some fair trade Colombian coffee, I pulled off over 80km over the little Eholt pass and camped in the yard of some people with a fire. I quite often end up in the middle of no where each night, so I tend to seek out human contact by presenting myself to the people I see, and in this case, I was led by a bonfire in the distance to Liver burgers, some cold beer and a family out for a month to finish their cabin. I camped right by the fire that night, enjoyed breakfast with them and departed to Greenwood.

The next day was another big day. I sped through several small towns like Midway and Kettle Valley and in Rock Creek I met a friend named Elek who was hitch hiking from out of town to the Okanogan just "over the hill". It was good to see him again, and I would meet him at random several more times this summer. The hill he was headed over was the Anarchist Mountain that lay between me and Okanogan Valley. Anarchist summit sits at 1491 meters above sea level. The east side rises up from Rock Creek via some long switch backs and climbs and tops out high above the valley. I camped that night with a fire near the top. In the morning I finished the hill I had started and headed down. On the west side, anarchist mountain is a broad landscape of open fields and woods, some small developments and finally the hectic switch backs of the descent into Oosoyoos. Just before departing down I checked out my bike to find some pieces had fallen off, so I repaired them as best I could, met quickly with a Sasquatch, and headed down. The hill was great fun to ride down. At one point where the road divides I came flying around the corner at about 60 km/h and right in front on me was a huge hole in the highway, at least 2 feet wide and 6 inches deep. I managed to pop my front wheel over it, but the heavy back tire slammed into the edge of the hole and I felt the wheel bend out of shape. I wobbled down the rest of the hill at a more reserved pace, watching the rickety wheel carefully.

I found no bike store in Oosoyoos so I headed out towards Keremeos, up another little pass. At one point I noticed a Mexican flag flying and some workers hanging out outside a large building so I hailed them in Spanish and asked for some water. They were all workers living in a staff accommodation house, and joining them that day was a local couple out to learn some Spanish. They invited me home for dinner and I stayed at their house that night.

The next morning, I reached Keremeos and having cycled almost 100 km on a very wobbly wheel I piled my gear on the side of the road and stuck out my thumb. The traffic was sparse so I waited quite a long time before a green Volkswagen sped past. I had a strong sensation that they would be coming back and sure enough, the green Volkswagen turned around down the road and rescued me. Now, while I was standing their, I was strongly putting it out there that the ideal ride was going to pick me up. My stipulations were that they had to have enough room comfortably for me and the bike and they had to be going all the way to Vancouver. This green Volkswagen was my car and they dropped me off at the Ikea in Vancouver. It took me an hour to limp the bicycle to Serena's house, but I was very happy to be there!

Finally I had arrived! I called Serena from a pay phone near her house and she raced home from the beach to meet me. Hurray, love is lovely! One month of traveling had brought me to Vancouver, BC from Sylvan Lake, AB during which time I pedaled over 1000 KM. It was a good journey, and I thoroughly enjoyed all the (few) toiling and hardships. Having arrived in Vancouver, Serena and I planned to leave in the beginning of June, over a week away. For now it is time for some relaxation and loving. My solo adventure is over for now and soon I will embark on a new kind of journey into the heart and soul, a journey we are all walking in our ways, on our paths. Unique individuals coming together as "We".

Peace and Love
Brothers and Sisters
Steve Fox

Serena and Steve's Summer Adventure 2009

Sunday, April 19, 2009

The Road Begins

Steve's Winter Solo ride to Serena

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