Councillor Raymond Louie is a former category three road racer. These days, he cycles to work once a week or more often, depending on his meeting schedule. He rides his bike almost every day, does some recreational mountain biking, and is teaching his kids how to ride. "I can rebuild a bottom bracket, service a headset, and tune up a bike, but don't get me to true your wheels or you may end up with an oval instead of a circle."

Councillor Fred Bass rides for health as well as for transportation. He regularly cycles to many places, and he's a strong advocate for pollution reduction. During the election last fall, Councillors Bass and Louie did a lot of their campaigning on their bikes. According to Councillor Louie, Dr. Bass "...is truly amazing as he handles his bike like a youngster approaching 70."

The plan

The organized network is taking shape. Interested meeting participants are forming an online forum in which we can discuss events and work with related groups. The network is not only for cyclists — Councillor Ladner's vision is for the fun to include self-propelled transportation beyond cycling, such as skateboarding and in-line skating.

The VBC is already working with BEST to promote June Bike Month (which helps promote our club), and we're participating at the June 15 Stanley Park Bike Festival. Bigger events are easier to envision with the network in place and the support of City Hall, especially that of our cycling politicians. Councillor Ladner sees part of his job as "...getting the city's bureaucracy onside to help."

Victoria, Montreal, and Seattle, move over — Vancouver is gearing up.

Originally published May 2003

Single track on Hornby Island - Photo by David Poon

Tour Story: Denman & Hornby Islands, April 18-20

By David Poon

It would be the Easter weekend that we will not soon forget for a bike club tour. Sixteen of us descended upon Denman Island, a little island located north of Qualicum Beach, to do some serious road and mountain biking. The weather was the wild card on the Friday morning, but the occasional showers didn't stop us, as we knew that we would have warm shelter once we arrived at Denman Guest House.

For the six cyclists that decided to cycle all the way from Nanaimo, the route was pretty routine, scenic, and doable in a day with time to spare even loaded with gear! The other eight cyclists went for the charter shuttle service — the vans took them all the way to Qualicum Beach, where they started their cycle journey. So instead of the 90 kilometres or so that you would do from Nanaimo, the eight cyclists only did less than half of that.

Mark and I operated the sag van and tried to pick up any cyclists in distress, which we did on the first day of the trip. Rob's bike had a nasty cut on the sidewall of his rear tire.

Dinner at the guest house was fantastic. Donna, our cook and the owner of the house, did not let us down. Her organic cooking and delicious breaded chicken with a little slice of garlic made us salivate for more. And of course, how can we not miss her famous mud pie and cheesecake! Thank God we are cyclists!

This tour also allowed cyclists of different levels and interests to congregate and share stories and experiences, which is something that you get from being part of a bicycle club. I hope to see this happen more often.

While on Denman, we all operated on a relaxed time schedule. After all, we were on vacation, right? At 9 AM we left the guest house to catch the Hornby Island ferry. It was starting to spit at Denman before we left, but once we were on Hornby, the weather was dry — a pleasant surprise.

The trails on Hornby Island were very well kept. The mountain bike trails were just spectacular. It made some of us want to go back and do more.

And after a day's hard ride, nothing beats relaxing in a hot tub and sipping a glass of wine while trading ride stories with fellow riders.

This is the second year for this ride. Thanks to Mark, Rob, John, Lucy, Lynn, Berni, Shawna, Ron, Dagmara, Anne, Dave, Andrea, Pat, Tammy, and Ken for coming.

Outside Hornby Island Community Centre - Photo by Andrea Corona

Originally published June 2003

Hot Stuff

By Barry Bogart

So here I am, lying on the beach at Larrabee State park, deliciously melting in the sun. Its hard to believe that yesterday I was cycling into driving, freezing rain on the way to Darrington, where we even saw an unmelted snowman by the side of the road. Then I couldn't have written about hot weather cycling. But now I can.

I have lived in hot places, but never really cycled in them, so I was a little concerned when I decided to ride out Route 3 through the southern Okanogan in July 2002. A randonneur had had heat stroke on a route that started the same way, so its no laughing matter. Most cyclists have had the experience of "bonking" after running out of glucose, but running out of water or salt is far more serious.

Hydration

"Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink." One of my most brilliant decisions was to get a Katadyn filtration bottle. It looks like a regular bike bottle, but has a three-stage filtration system, and it costs over $60. Money very well spent, if theres a chance youll run out of water. There are creeks, rivers, and lakes everywhere in BC and I bet every one can give you Giardia! I got it myself in the Seymour watershed, and I can tell you that diarrhea is not the best thing when youre dehydrated. I used this bottle several times on the OK trip, but it really paid for itself over Paulson Pass, where it got me over a 40-kilometre climb when it was 42 degrees (and no services for 70 kilometres).

Water is not enough when you run out of salt. All your nerves stop working not just your muscles and brain as in when you bonk. Normally this isn't a problem as most of the food you buy has too much salt. But your body doesn't store much of it. It comes out in your urine and sweat. I had a very graphic demonstration of the latter when I was cycling from Chartres to Versailles. I was wearing a navy nylon shirt on which appeared numerous deposits of pure salt as the day progressed. Too bad, because it was a pretty cool shirt!

Now you can get extra salt in lots of food pretzels, peanuts, chips, pickles, olives if you want to eat that sort of thing. But I wanted the quick-fix solution popular when I lived down south salt tablets. But they seemed to be impossible to find in Vancouver, anyway. I did finally find some in Anacortes (and coincidentally in Darrington). However, I only took a few on that trip on those few occasions when I was many hours from the next store, and out of peanuts. Cheap insurance (although not as cheap as salt should be!).

Other than salty stuff, I ate tons of fruit. Its a good source of water as well as sugar, and its easy to eat and digest no matter how hot it is. The fibre in fruit slows down digestion, so you don't trigger the insulin response like you do with pure fruit juice. Pure fruit juice has too much sugar, so always cut it with water (I like carbonated). I don't drink "sports drinks" any more you can get the same amount of stuff cheaper in regular drinks. For example, Clamato is loaded with glucose as well as salt and water.

Protection

I won't talk about things like sun screen and lip balm you know about them. But don't forget to cover everything exposed. I got a bad sunburn doing Paris-Brest-Paris on my heels just above my sock, where I guess I never thought to cover. And the back of your hands where the gloves don't cover is another neglected spot.

Comfort

The first thing I discovered in the way of clothes is the wonderful UBC Trek Burnoose. I have no idea what an authentic burnoose is, but this one consists of a triangular piece of heavy navy cloth which attaches to the back of a helmet by Velcro at two corners, leaving the third corner to hang down. Its purpose is to just keep the sun from beating down on your neck. That this has that effect is not surprising, but what is surprising is that it makes such a difference. You do immediately feel cooler. But being navy, it does tend to show salt spots from the fling sweat (so don't wait until the end of the tour to wash it like I do). But I think the dark colour is functional, having to do with OV or IR opacity. Ask UBC or some Bedouins.

I have always been a believer in sweat bands. You see, I have these bushy eyebrows, which collect about an ounce of water each before releasing it all in a deluge onto my sunglasses, rendering me temporarily blind. Sweatbands prevent that by not only collecting the sweat, but also by presenting a surface to the wind to hasten evaporation. I carried two, and dried one on the handlebars alternately. Unfortunately, that practice soon resulted in both bands being blown away! I was so desperate for a replacement that I fashioned one from one of those quick-dry towels and some safety pins. It worked, but it was so thick that it pushed my helmet up and my glasses down, causing me to grimace. And since it looked like a bandage, I must have looked like a brain trauma case running away from some terrible accident. The thin ones are the right kind as far as Im concerned, but I havent seen them in BC. You can find them in Bellingham, though.

If your glasses DO get sweat-covered, its a good idea to carry a little absorbent microfibre cloth to clean them off. Sunglass Hut has them.

On the way back from Larrabee, I picked up something new a combination skull-cap headband. I wore it home, but it wasn't hot enough to tell if it works as well as a sweatband. But a skull cap is a good idea if you have a bald spot like me, and if one product replaces two, that's great. It just depends on if you want to look like a professional wrestler, or a tennis pro! Only problem is that it costs more than two products $18 US. (Sweatbands are about $8 US, and you can get a skull cap at Taiga for $6 Cdn.) Its CoolMax, which explains the price, so it should work. I CAN wait to find out!

As for clothes, I usually just use cheap nylon shorts with Andiamo padded underwear under them. Keeps you dry and cool. Jerseys are a little more complicated. When its just moderately hot, long sleeves are a good idea to minimize sunburn. Its a good idea to have a zipper that comes down as far as possible (from a guy's point of view, anyway). The lightest ones from the MEC [Mountain Equipment Co-op] are pretty good, short sleeve or long sleeve versions. But when its REALLY hot, the MEC has a better solution the Rapidi-T-shirts. These are pretty well the same poly material as the cycling shirts, but they transport much better. When the breeze came up on my back climbing up into Manning Park last July, my back actually felt cool because of the rapid evaporation. These shirts are truly amazing. Unfortunately, I had mine fall off the bike along with a pair of Andiamos, on the ride down the hill to Kootenay Bay, and I didn't realize it until Creston. I found a very similar shirt in a bike store in Fernie, but it didn't work as well. But past there into the Rockies it wasn't that hot any more, anyway.

Another thing I found useful was a cooling neck thing I found at 3 Vets. Its a little hard to describe. Its packaged like a triangular scarf folded flat, about an inch wide and 15 inches long. But its actually sewn into a tube, and it contains some that when you immerse it in water, it absorbs the water and creates a kind of gel, which takes at least a full day in the sun to dry out again. Until it does, it really helps keep your neck and the rest of you cool. Every time I passed a roadside creek, I stopped and left the neck thing in the water for five minutes to fill up again. You just drape it around your neck and it comes with a brass ring to pass the two ends through to keep it on. Quite a fashion statement too.

Too bad I don't have a picture of all my hot-weather regalia Trek Burnoose, sweat band, skull cap, sunglasses, zinc oxide on the nose, neck thing. On second thought, its just as well!

Originally published July 2003

Cascade Valley
May 17-18

By Marcia Cooley

The day of the Cascade Valley Loop dawned early with the sun shining, birds singing, and sweet cycling promises in the air for a two-day camping trip along the pristine Skagit River with lots of mountains to look at but none to climb.

WAIT. STOP THE FILM. REWIND AND LETS PLAY IT AGAIN

The gods were not smiling. Saturday morning presented itself with low-slung ominous black clouds and torrential rain as we headed south to Arlington, Washington. Enthusiasm can be an infectious emotion, so everyone felt very optimistic that the sky would eventually open up and show us the sunny path to Rockport Campground on the Skagit River. There were nine determined riders in the party (Barry, Lorna, Marion, Bernie, Ben, David, Bonnie, Marcia, and Bob), but one mile into the ride, a very soaked and a very cold Marcia and Bob decided there was a problem, and ran to the refuge of their car. Rather than go home, we took the car on the loop.

The scenery was incredible. A fresh sprinkling of snow covered the hills, and by early afternoon the sky was azure blue. The route meandered through old-growth forests where twisted tree branches dripped long moss tendrils. A redheaded woodpecker was spotted trailing one of these to his future nest.

We had the entire tenting area to ourselves and found spots somewhere between the goose dung and the pristine Skagit River. It was COLD. Bob took advantage of the car by filling the trunk with firewood, so a wonderful fire and an entertaining night of story-telling and laughs was had by all.

My favourite part of cycle touring is seeing what others bring to eat, and that night we had a virtual smorgasbord of swapping gastronomic delights. Sunday was sunny and beautiful as we headed back to our cars in Arlington and all saying Lets do it again next year.

Originally published July 2003

Douglas Lake Ranch
May 16-19

By a VBC rider

A long weekend at Canada's largest working cattle ranch awaited, the eager VBC group looking for a relaxing weekend and a chance to escape the city. Douglas Ranch is located approximately one hour northeast of Merritt and has 164,000 acres of land within its perimeter. Although mountain biking is restricted to the mostly gravel and dirt ranch and logging roads, the abundance of logging roads made the potential for rides appear unlimited. Elizabeth, John D, Juergen, Julia, Lois, Marian B, Ron K,

Sharon, Svetlana, and Tim took part on this first annual VBC tour.

By dusk on Friday, the four carpools of cyclists had arrived at the Salmon Lake campground. After setting up tents and tarps, gathering firewood, and unloading the usual camping gear, some people cycled down to Salmon Lake to watch the trout and salmon fishermen trying to bring in a nights catch. The Salmon Lake campground and arguably most of the Douglas Ranch visitor areas appear to cater to trout fishermen.

Saturday morning was crisp clear with some overhead clouds. The nighttime temperature had dropped to around minus five, and by morning everyone had bundled up. At breakfast we compared notes on wolf, coyote, cricket, deer, and owl noises from the previous night as opposed to the usual city sounds that were more familiar with.

After a meeting at the general store, we headed north on the main road with the plan of finding one of the many pristine lakes located on the ranchland. We made a brief stop at an abandoned house where we spied some marmots resting on the porch, inside, and on a nearby bridge. After some more riding and some head scratching, it soon became evident that figuring out our route based on a topographical map was going to be quite a challenge, given that it appeared that quite a few new roads had been added that weren't on the map. To make things interesting, most of the roads were unsigned. Fortunately, the scenery and the views were spectacular, and everyone seemed content to ride from one ridge to another for the opportunity to see some new vistas, meadows, or valleys.

As we ascended into the back country, the first of many periodic snow pellet flurries and snowfalls besieged us. Although the snow clouds always passed on eventually, they added an element of drama to the mountain biking and camping. As any outdoor enthusiast knows, Mother Nature is not to be trifled with.

Although we did encounter quite a few unique creatures, including eagles, hawks, marmots, and coyotes on the ride, arguably the most unique was the one and only cowgirl on Douglas Ranch, who stopped to offer us some assistance. With her $800 cowboy hat and her pickup truck, she fit the image to a T. She gave us some directions and then invited us to a rodeo demonstration at a nearby town before she headed back to work.

After a few more hours of scenic riding and temperamental weather, we headed back to camp.

All dinners had been agreed to be potluck prior to the start of the trip. A hungry and generous group member had prepared salmon and corn for that evenings main course, with others pitching in with desserts, starters, and sides. After a day of riding, dinner around the campfire definitely hit the spot.

Day two saw most people start the day more rested as everyone had figured out how much bundling was needed inside the sleeping bags before the temperature dropped at night.

After breakfast, we departed for our new destination, Glimpse Lake. An hour or so into the ride, we came upon two cowboys (in a pickup truck) who tried to give us some directions for where we were heading. We did manage to find another lake for our lunch break. After lunch we continued our quest and our ascent, passing through some beautiful alpine meadows, and stopping at some viewpoints for looks at distant lakes and valleys.

The weather was still temperamental, so we decided to turn around and head back to camp without reaching our original destination. In my opinion, though, everyone had been satisfied with the days ride.

That evening a different chef du jour produced the evenings main course of homemade chili.The jury of hungry riders gave it a unanimous thumbs up. The appetizers, dessert, and snacks also helped to win over the saddle sore crowd.

After two days of riding, most people were ready for an early night. Day three came soon and it was finally time to head home. Monday of a long weekend is usually one of the busiest days of the year on the highways and this one was no exception, with everyone rushing to head back to the city and the real world....

Lunch at a lake. Photo by Juergen Kaefer

Originally published July 2003

Chilliwack 100 Km
June 1

By John Joyce

The beauty of Chilliwack and peace of the surrounding roads for cyclists is a secret for most Vancouver cyclists. For readers in Melbourne and Ottawa, Chilliwack is located in British Columbia, Canada, 92 kilometres east of Vancouver. Its history is linked with the gold rush, the Fraser River, and steamboat landings called Miller's Landing, Sumas Landing, and Chilliwack Landing. Anyone have relations that remember any of this? The French Open Tennis was taking place, and the Yardbirds were scheduled for early July in Vancouver.

Our fit group comprised Ken, Rob, Ziff, Kang, David P, John C., Andrea, Pat, and John J. We enjoyed 100 kilometres at a brisk pace amongst the environs of Chilliwack. The day was perfect at 30 degrees centigrade with unlimited visibility of the surrounding mountains. How many of them can we name, and does E.J. Hughes paint out here?

I'M GOING DOWN TO ROSEDALE, TAKE MY RIDER BY MY SIDE
AND I'M STANDING AT THE CROSSROADS, BELIEVE IM SINKING DOWN.

You must agree that it is impossible to pause at the crossroad in Rosedale and not think of Robert Johnson's song, but which version would you like to hear there? Cream or the Kronos Quartet!

Photo by John Joyce

Originally published July 2003

Iron Horses and Frying Pans

By Peter Oechsler

My lungs were starved for air, my legs sore from hours of pushing the large single gear, and my butt sorely in need of dermatological attention after chafing between a worn-out saddle and a pair of ill-fitting Lederhosen. My very young and immature mind had only one thought: make it to the next town, make it to Schaffhausen.

The first bike tour of my life was conceived from youthful enthusiasm but little sober thought. My brother, three years my senior, and his buddy had planned a tour to Lake Konstanz at the Swiss border, from our hometown Karlsruhe at the edge of the Black Forest. Why can't I go, why can't I go, was a refrain our parents heard day after day, until they finally relented and let me tag along.

I did not share their concern over letting this puny fourteen-year-old ride with two macho guys that had more brawn then brains much more brawn! My older brother Dietrich was then working for the post office, as a courier. Being a muscular guy to begin with, he had turned into Mr. Gorilla due to the constant exercise while carrying out his daily work. I, on the other hand, was a little gnome by comparison. Nevertheless, I loaded my post-war heavy steel bike with tons of stuff, including a cast iron frying pan and a large canvas tent.

Off we went.

It became immediately apparent that I could not keep up with these guys for more then a couple of hundred metres, so a devious plan was devised. It stated that at the end of each day, we would meet at the town limit of a previously-agreed destination.

And so it went. At the start of each days riding, I would keep sight of these guys for the first ten minutes, only to see them disappear in the distance. Upon arriving at the days destination, I would collapse totally exhausted, next to my brother and his friend, who had had a good dinner and hours of rest. The best I could do was to wolf down a leftover piece of bread, which was adorned with some margarine and well-travelled bologna.

Day after day the routine would repeat itself, with me often too exhausted to eat. Boy did these guys have a great bike trip. I went into survival mode.

One of those days, I would like to go back to Germany to see Lake Konstanz and the countryside through which we cycled. I have no recollection of the sights along our route. Totally ignorant of my suffering, they rode on day after day. I, on the other hand, was too dumb and proud to say anything. I wanted to ride with the big boys.

The day of reckoning was fast approaching for my dear brother.

Fifty years later, I can still see the horrified look on my mothers face as I walked up to the house two weeks after our departure. I also clearly recall her anguished outcry to my dad, "Oh my god Hermann, look at this boy." Death warmed over must have been my look of that day. Needless to say, my beloved brother was grounded for an eternity, and I, even in my misery, felt driven to come to his rescue to lessen some of the tongue-lashing he received.

Then again, I might want to be thankful for this rough initiation to bike touring, for it led to many unforgettable future tours:

• Too many tours in BC to recall
• Vancouver to Calgary by way of Jasper
• Vancouver to San Francisco
• San Francisco to San Diego
• The Baja Peninsula in Mexico
• Repeated trips through the Mojave Desert, Arizona, California, and Nevada, including two trips to Death Valley
• Tuscan to Mexico
• Germany, France, Spain, Austria, Hungary, Morocco, and a short hop in England

Never again, though, did I ride in Lederhosen.

I have done some dumb things in a long life, but have gained the ability to learn from past bad experiences and avoid a major pain in the butt.

Originally published August 2003

Portugal & Spain

By Jim Kelly

Portugal

When I heard that Scare Canada was having financial problems, I decided to trade in my air miles and fly to Lisbon via London in May. I met Gilles Marchessault [a former VBC member] at the Lisbon airport. Hed been waiting for two days for his bike to show.

We assembled our bikes and headed for the campground. After checking in, we headed for a tour of the city, some food, and beer.

We would spend the next 10 days exploring the coastal towns and villages as we headed north to Spain. We passed many pilgrims walking to Fatima for a special service for the Virgin Mary. Our route took us through forest with bridges washed out that required some tricky fording.

There were ancient walled cities with cobbled stone streets, cathedrals, and monasteries so much history. The beaches along this coast were magnificent, and great for surfing with Atlantic breakers rolling in. The campgrounds were very quiet, but that would change come mid-June when hordes of Europeans descended on the coastal resorts for their vacations.

Portugal was the only country where they tiled the outside of their homes. Some of the designs were overwhelming. In one restaurant we dined in, the tiles on the walls and floor were magnificent, but on the ceiling, they had hardwood flooring. Very different!

The restaurant often had a set menu, three courses with a choice of bottled water or wine for the same price, approximately 10 dollars for a great lunch. In Porto, the home of great ports, we did the tour, with some fine sampling afterwards.

We crossed into Spain at Tuy across an ancient bridge built by the Romans. Then the rains began, but that's another story.

Obrigado, Portugal.

Spain

The rains never let up as we pushed to be in Santiago the next day, Sunday. After such a miserable day, we decided to have our first night in a hotel. Such luxury. We finally got to dry out and get some warmth. Our plan was to be in Santiago for Sunday mass, which was a huge celebration for hundreds of pilgrims who had completed the ancient pilgrim route from France. Santiago is the third most religious shrine in the Christian world. The bones of Saint James are rumoured to be buried in the crypt there.

During mass, a huge incense burner was suspended 120 feet in the air. It took three men to raise it. It was then swung into the naves of the church, bellowing out smoke as the choir sung. It was a very moving experience.

Our plan was to follow the 750-kilometre ancient pilgrim route across Spain from Santiago to Roncesvalles, France. We detoured 200 kilometres and headed to Fonsagrada. On our first night, we camped in Lugo, an ancient city and the only city in Europe with a complete Roman wall around it. We carried our bikes to the top of the 45-foot wall and cycled around the wall looking down into this ancient city. That night, the temperature dropped to five degrees. We had been climbing most of the day and knew we were in the mountains. The next morning, the city was surrounded with cold, damp, wet stuff. We hung out drinking coffee and eating pastries till the sun finally broke through. It was a good climb to Fonsagrada to visit the cyclist that I had ridden with in France couple of summers ago.  

That night, we were guests of honour at my friend Nacho's graduating class. We sat at the head table with the teacher. The students came to us and practise their English. It was interesting to hear their plans and hopes; some would be leaving to attend university, while others had planned to travel. By 11 PM, Gilles and I were ready for sleep. The students would celebrate till dawn. A wonderful night, great food and wine.  

Our route across Spain took us through wonderful varied landscape, including mountains; at one time, we were hailed on. We visited ancient cities and monuments. So much history.  

In Leon, Gilles decided he would take advantage of the winds and head south to Cordoba. I decided to stay in the pilgrim refugio (a place to sleep along this route). It was a good choice. I met people from all over the world. There was always someone to head out for dinner and a glass of wine with.

At Pamplona, after riding 1800 kilometres from Lisbon, I ran out of time. I caught the bus to San Sebastian, where I would catch a train to Paris. But that's another story. It had been a great ride, with so many great memories.

Originally published August 2003

Ninety Laughs Per Revolution
July 10 to 13th

by Marcia Cooley

Fourteen VBC members set out with high expectations in July to conquer the intrepid Mount Constitution on the Tour de Orcas.  Five club members attained this formidable mountain's winding 2,409 foot road in less than 50 minutes with the last person arriving at the observation tower 20 minutes later.

Our sun, fun filled four days could not have been more perfect.  Two new club members, Marianne and Bill braved their maiden trip with club veterans Ahn, Teresa, Tim, Elizabeth, Bob, Tammy, Ken, Lynn, Ben, Harold, Cameron and Marcia. 

The San Juan Islands have "quaint" towns nestled in small coves and inlets with spectacular ocean views at almost every turn.  Even when we took an inland road there was an occasional lake for a dip on a hot day.

It was HOT and very dry so by the time we arrived at our first campsite it was "first one into the lake".  Four unbelievably relaxing days yet many, many hill to challenge our mettle.

Good food, hefeweisen organic beer, a lavender festival on San Juan, no whales (missed them by 1 1/2 hours), sculpture festival on 20 acres at Roche Harbour, oyster shucking and many art galleries were just some of the diversions.

Next year we will do it again and Campsite 13 has our name on it!  Thanks to everyone for making this trip so "funky".

Originally published September 2003

Rough Riders

By Cliff Jarrett
(Seattle Bicycle Club editor)

"A true friend is the most precious of all possessions and the one we take the least thought about acquiring. - La Rochefoucauld, Maxims, 1665

Let's face it, relations between the US and Canada have been a bit strained for the last year or so.  Events in Afghanistan and Iraq made me a little apprehensive about crossing the border.  I had neither a passport nor the alternative acceptable documents so I had only my good looks and wit to depend on.  I was in deep trouble and knew it.  Oh, how I long for those wonderful and naive days that defined life before 9-11.

Crossing the border at the Peace Arch Friday afternoon was everything I expected and feared.  I was traveling alone in a beat up old Rent-a-Wreck. It was the kind of car I felt very relaxed in, so perhaps I was a bit too cool when I pulled up to the crossing.  Nobody advised me of the prudence of removing my sunglasses.  My story that I, a Pennsylvania resident with an expired Pennsylvania driver's license, driving to Vancouver to bicycle for a weekend, apparently raised some suspicion with the underpaid and overworked Customs Agent.  The ensuing investigation was only slightly less painful than my previous day's 154-mile ride around Mount Rainier.

I arrived at Gauge Towers [UBC Residence - ed.] at around three o'clock and promptly took a nap.  SBC members had been arriving all day in ones and twos. My experience at the border was not unique.  Other SBC members forgot to take off their sunglasses and suffered similar indignities. 

While I slept, others rode and we all met for dinner around six pm.  T'was a night to hang out on campus.  With me in my cleanest tattered  t-shirt and a pair of cut-off jeans we set off for the best restaurant UBC had to offer.

The maitre de was polite but a bit cool.  After waiting about twenty minutes he suggested perhaps we would be more comfortable at the pub where we could get hot burgers and cold beer.  Now, he was speaking my language.  The beer was indeed cold but as the SBCers arrived for our burgers and sausages, the cook left for her break.  I bit my tongue, held back the cuss words and ordered another pint.  When she finally returned, the natives were restless.

My sausages took way longer than either the dead cow or the veggie burgers so I got to flirt with her.  I think those were the only grilled sausages I ever ate cooked by a PhD in geography candidate.

We sauntered back to the dorms and got ready for the first formal event of the weekend, the packet pass out.  VBC members Mark and Denise were kind enough to come by to hand out maps and answer questions about Vancouver.

The evening was not quite over.  A select group of die-hards came up to my suite for a bit of wine and cheese.  Rumors of a love palace somewhere in Gauge Towers surfaced at that little get together.  Though I must admit it was tempting, somehow it just did not ring true so I went to sleep. 

I awoke and chaos ruled.  Getting 30 SBCers to meet the VBCers at breakfast did not sound too difficult but the fact that nobody knew the way complicated things a little.  All is well that ends well, somehow everyone made it - even if a taxi was needed! 

Life got complicated at this point.  Approximately 50 cyclists broke into groups and headed out in at least as many different directions. This would not have been a problem but for the fact of some vague plan to meet up on the North Shore.  Well, as Mr. Steinbeck noted way back when, "the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray."  And they did.

The 30 or so who made up the vast majority of the ride headed for the Seabus.  Unfortunately, only seven bikes were permitted on each boat.  The boats ran every half hour and simple mathematics told me we were going to find it time consuming to get across..

Luckily, thanks to the feminine charms of person or persons unknown to this author the rules were bent and the remaining twenty odd bicycles were permitted on the next boat. 

Hooking up was still a problem.  Twenty or more bicyclists were waiting for us at various points on the north shore.  I am not sure we picked up everyone, but we did eventually find Marine Drive and break into brisk, moderate and social groups.  I can attest that the brisk and moderate groups made it to Horseshoe Bay for lunch and a photo session.  Thank you Eric. 

Some of the more adventurous in our group chose to climb Cypress Mountain in part or in whole.  I decided 50 miles was enough and headed back to the dorms.  Dinner was a free for all and each of us found what we wanted: Thai, Mexican, Chinese, Italian, or pub.

Satiated with a good dinner and fine wine, the wise headed off for a peaceful slumber.  The rest of us climbed into my van and found a place to watch the fireworks.  It was a fantastic fifteen minute show crammed into a mere half hour.  [Fireworks officials say that Canada's display was marred with computer glitches, and that about only of the fireworks actually worked.  China eventually won the otherwise fantastic competition between The Czech Republic, China and Canada - editor]

Unlike most, I did not have to check out of our rooms on Sunday morning. Breakfast and the drive down to Ladner were way too complicated.   There were not enough vehicles and many of us were not prepared for a border crossing. 

However, the ensuing ride to Point Roberts allowed us to break into natural pace groups.  I hooked up with a group of VBCers who, to their credit, could enjoy pints at lunch and still ride back to the cars, a skill I do not dare attempt.

By some chance of fate, on the return trip I found the moderate group of SBCers and rode back to the cars with them.   I learned that some brave souls did attempt to find that legendary palace of love, and like those seeking the boiling pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, returned only very frustrated and perhaps a bit wiser.    

People parted to resume their lives and I did not get to say goodbye to many new and old friends as they raced off.  A handful of greying SBCers decided that hanging out in Vancouver was a bit more important than returning to work.  We found a most continental Italian restaurant and enjoyed a fabulous dinner. <> I offer a heartfelt thank you to the many VBC members who made this tour an overwhelming success.  Perhaps if Washington and Toronto officials could learn to relax a bit, bicycle, and interact a bit more (like Seattle and Vancouver), life would be better for all of us.  If you can't figure out how to do those yourselves, you are all welcome to accompany us on next year's rides to Horseshoe Bay and Point Roberts.

Ride on Dudes

Originally published September 2003

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

By Judith Beeman

I rode my bike from Vancouver to San Francisco! The final tally was 1,197 miles. I left on August first and rode for 25 days at an average of 50 miles per day. Before this trip the longest I'd ventured away was overnighters to Victoria, Bellingham or Seattle. It was the first time I'd used a tent since I was a kid. I followed the route in the Bicycling the Pacific Coast book by Kirkendall/Spring (Mountaineers) which conveniently left me at a State Park most every night.

I thought I'd jot down some facts and observations for you. In no particular order:

• I totally lucked out with the weather. The first of a few days drizzle came on Day 8 and I welcomed it as I realized my rain jacket was the perfect pillow I'd been craving. The morning fog for which the coast of Oregon is notorious just wasn't there. Most days it was either clear sky from the start or some cloud then sunny by 10 am. In California it got crazy hot, just how warm I don't know as I had learned to stop looking at the temperature the day it was 92f midway through Oregon.
• I wore my orange and yellow safety vest, which I referred to as my Force Field. Simply put traffic couldn't miss me. I can't imagine anyone going on a trip like this without one. I don't know why I don't wear a vest all the time.
• Forget about bears, you need to protect your food and toiletries from raccoons! These aggressive, persistent little snuffling beasts lurk in the dark and breathe aggressively outside your tent in the middle of the night.
• The State Parks in Oregon and California are outstanding. Oregon charges a flat $4.00 per cyclist and there was always a separate hiker/biker area in the parks to keep us from them (the dreaded RV'ers). This fee often included free showers. In California the hiker/biker sites fee was between $2.00 and $3.00 (two bucks!). Washington charges a flat $10.00 per campsite and you can squeeze as many into the site as you wish.
• I knew I would be meeting up with fellow cyclists on the road but didn't quite expect it to begin so early in the trip. On the 4th day I met Marcus, a young lawyer from Santa Cruz who was taking a year off to do this trip and then go traveling with his girlfriend. We camped together for the next 10 nights until I decided Honeyman State Park in Oregon was the place for a rest day (I only took the one rest day). This park was gorgeous, with sand dunes and a beautiful lake.
• Aside from Marcus I traveled the most with John from Illinois (we met and bonded over our dirty laundry at a laundromat in Astoria) and Daniel from Michigan (nice kid in his mid 20's but he'd do silly stuff like throw water at the raccoon's at night -- glad we escaped with our lives). There was Tom from Kentucky in his early 50's who looked just like Bob Weir from the Grateful Dead (i.e. a deal w/the devil to stay so youthful?) who I had to constantly get to repeat himself for he either spoke too softly or with too much of an accent! Tom and I rode the 7 Devils together (one helluva rewarding ride!) and lived to tell. There was also Frank the android from Germany who bugged the heck out of me (I no doubt annoyed him, too) who would alternate between fancy b&b's and campsites. What was really terrific is each morning I'd either head off on my own or with one of the crew. No pressure to ride with others and as my riding itinerary included stopping at thrift shops and bookstores in small towns (lots in OR, few in CA) I often preferred my own schedule. Hey Ladies, want to meet single men? Get touring.
• The two not to be missed camping spots in Oregon are Nehalem Bay and the aforementioned Honeyman State Park. Nehalem Bay had the most amazing ocean beach (although all the beach views are winners) and the dunes at Honeyman are not to be missed. The sand in Oregon can only be described as fairy tale sand it's clean, soft and practically glows.
• One day John and I were riding together and we arrived at the town of Elk half an hour before their annual "it's a big day in Elk" event kicked off with a parade. It was terrific with floats and kids, a band and Smoky the Bear (I got my photo taken with him). After the parade we hung around for the other festivities, which included people trying their luck at climbing a greased pole hung with bills. Alas we had to leave before the bands kicked in. About three miles out of Elk I met the only hill on the route that beat me. I had to walk. It was insanely steep with three switchbacks. I later felt a bit better upon reading the ride itinerary for the day that this is the toughest hill of the whole ride (I took a photo of it).
• Best meals. The experience of trying sausage gravy on my hash browns at breakfast. It's gray and looks awful but tastes heavenly. The homous, pita and artichoke salad at the gourmet restaurant in a tiny town! The breakfast at "The Dogs Water" in Oregon (a local pointed the way -- always ask the locals). Any one of the numerous dehydrated dinners I "cooked" for myself after a hard days pedaling were pretty tasty. That Hagen Das coffee almond ice cream bar was pretty memorable.
• The Three Amigos! I met this trio of pals who live near LA. For the past 19 years they've been doing the West Coast each summer and they were a well-oiled machine. I only saw them the once, but their distinctive tag was left on the side of the road fairly often "los three amigos tour 2003" in cheery yellow spray paint. The day I had to walk up that dumb hill, they added "100 miles in 1 day." Colour me impressed, as this would have included numerous ups and downs and blistering straight-aways in hot cowboy country with dead and decomposing elks on the side of the road every few miles.
• Only one flat tire...but what a flat. On my second night, my first camping after staying with a friend in Sydney, I had reached camp 15 miles out of Port Angeles and had set up my tent. Then ka-boom - my front tube blew with such force the tire came off the rim. I changed the tire with the one spare tube I had brought and found some of the tire had been blown off. I was able to ride back to Port Angeles (big bulge in the tire) and had to wait overnight to get another tire/spare tubes (Murphy's Law it was a Sunday). The tire was $37.85 US (insert sputtering expletive here) but it's a pretty great Continental - the Conti Top Touring 2000 and I didn't suffer any other flats or bike emergencies.
• I stealth camped three times. In Port Angeles I asked a couple who were on their front porch if I could stay in their backyard for the night, as I needed the bike shop in the morning. Then outside of Astoria I stayed in a church yard (I was too tuckered out to ride to the camp ground). And in Eureka, CA I asked a woman who was with a friend chatting outside her house if I could camp. Once Judy found out my name was Judith we got along like long lost sisters. In Eureka I stealth camped because it was one of the few areas that didn't have a State Park. As I was setting up she warned me the neighborhood was a bit rough and yowzer, she wasn't joking. Fights, sirens and roaming drunks were heard on and off the rest of the night. I was lucky to be in a fenced backyard and not the area I had originally checked out as a possibility, just a few blocks away.
• The best rides. Around Willapa Bay in WA. For much of this ride you can see across the bay to where you're headed. It's flat, not much traffic and just a lovely long ride with you right beside the water. The ride between Fort Ross Park and Jenner, CA was pretty breathtaking. This was cattle country with large winding climbs and steep drop offs and the bonus of a silly cow spotting; she had somehow escaped her pasture and was on a little knob of grass off the highway. Alas there isn't exactly a place to stop and lean the bike so I couldn't get a photo. By far my favourite day had to be the infamous (according to my guide) Leggett Hill, CA ride. It was steep (2,000 ft granny gear all the way) but almost zero traffic and the ride had plenty of twists and turns both up and down. The downhill was a rush, and had to be taken slowly, with traffic signs appearing often stating 18mph -- these were super tight curves I felt like I was skiing. That day also included a ride through Westport, which features classic ocean viewing and mellower ups and downs. The Avenue of the Giants (those would be the redwood trees) was pretty spectacular and a nice, cool break from the weather. And finally you can't beat arriving in San Francisco and riding over the Golden Gate Bridge to get into the City. Talk about making an entrance.
• The worst rides. The first day in California is a kick in the ass. The first 30 miles are swell as are the last 20 - it's the 10 in the middle that slayed me. From Cresent City you're going up and up and the logging trucks are zooming by and it's just a nightmare. Very scary, but extremely rewarding. Truth said there are lots of places in CA especially on Hwy 1 that were ridiculously scary due to little shoulder and windy roads.
• During the trip two songs constantly ran through my head and out my lips: The Beverly Hillbillies theme ("swimming pools, movie stars") and "Camarillo Brillo" by Frank Zappa (thanks to that darn Mendocino bean-o line!)
• The last time I had been on the Pacific Coast was when I was seven, riding to Disneyland with my parents. I was surprised how many of the towns and scenery I recalled from that trip! It was a most terrific sense of deja-vu.

Originally published October 2003

Utah & beyond...

By John Daly

Utah Arches National Park - Photo: John Daly

This is a candid snap of VBC member Tim Leung looking out over Arches National Park in Utah.

Tim had already taken a few pix of his tour group at the pinnacle of the Klondike Trail in Moab, Utah - home of slickrock - and stepped away for a look on his own...

A number of VBC members - and some future members - were on a long road trip in mid to late October ride to some slickrock, streams, and awesome singletrack.

On board: Tim, Cameron, Theresa, John, Lenora, and Catherine.

The Klondike trail came the day after riding Onion Creek - the inaugural ride. A warm-up with 17 or so stream crossings a number through beautiful rock canyons. But that wasn't a good enough for some - and the second day we all headed out to ride the 'Blue Buffalo'.

It's a new ride listed in the Moab Fat Tire Festival guide: "...a classic 16 mile ride of mid-level Moab terrain - a bit of dirt, a bit of sand, a bit of slickrock. A great scenic ride featuring Monitor and Merrimac Buttes..." Blue Buffalo offered extensive slickrock at one altitude... and was a good warm-up for Klondike -

Klondike is not too hard - some uphill slickrock with giant dinosaur footprints in the rock for those in the know - on the way up hill across slickrock and sand.

At the top - a bike barring barricade with a one-mile (return) hike facing riders wanting to earn a view.

Some, fried in the 90 degree plus heat, chose to descend directly.. avoiding the walking part.

Others, like Tim - headed out to capture the view from the Voodoos into world famous Arches National Park.

Where there are excellent views, the actual arches remain hidden from this p of v. Still, the bizarre rock formations are visible and intriguing from Klondike.

Some of the Moab crew went on to ride Slickrock, Porcupine Rim, and other superb Utah trails. A small break-away group went south to Flagstaff, Sedona, Phoenix, Tuscon, Santa Fe and Taos. In all, an excellent ride was had by all. Write us for details, more photos, etc.

Just one of the many benefits afforded by connections forged through VBC affiliations.

Originally published December 2003

The Haida Gwaii Part I

By David Poon

In July of 2003, a combination of circumstances allowed me to visit the Haida Gwaii, or the Queen Charlotte Islands. The Queen Charlotte consists of a group of islands. The two most habited are Graham and Moresby Island. I decided on Graham since it is better developed with a highway that links Queen Charlotte city to the city of Masset, on the north side of the island.

With bike and panniers double-checked for loose bolts, I was off on the road. An hour and a half later on the bike, I arrived at Horseshoe Bay to buy a ticket to Nanaimo. I had also made arrangements with Elizabeth and Tammy, both VBC members, to cycle together to the Queen Charlotte Islands. We made good timing met in Qualicum Beach where we camped for the night.

The stretch between Qualicum Beach and Courtenay was scenic and traffic friendly with a couple of rolling hills. This was probably the easiest stretch of the island highway before heading inland. We decided to camp the night at the Miracle Beach Provincial Park, just another 20 even km north east of Courtenay.

The inland highway made for an interesting climb. There were road improvements being done to widen the shoulders but, without any shoulders, we were left riding on the single lane road.

Because it was a climb out of Campbell River for the next 20km with an 8% grade, it meant that we wouldnt be going very fast. The road crews would let us go first from one road station to another. The fumes from logging trucks were not all that rosy if you know what I mean. After the climb, the ride to Sayward was smooth sailing. We ended up the ride close to nightfall by staying at the Fisherboy Park campsite.

The ride to Woss the next morning was greeted by a pretty steep hill with sharp switchbacks and a gradual hill climb afterwards. We stayed in the motel called the Rugged Mountain Inn a fitting name for the night in Woss.

The ride from Woss to Telegraph Cove, with its gentle roller coasting hills and little car traffic, passed through beautiful Nimpkish Valley. This scenic splendor would repeat itself at the turn-off heading into Telegraph Cove, except for the last 5km which to me was pure hell. The Bike Friday folding bike with real thin slicks to tour were fast on the highway, but lousy on gravel. My worst fears were soon realized 2.5km into the gravel patch with my first rear flat.

After the first tube replacement, I suffered another flat just 1km from the steep hill going into Telegraph Cove. So, gracefully, I walked that last 1km in and was treated with the picture-perfect Kodak moment - coastal community with a boardwalk, a multi-million dollar condominium establishment and a neat whale museum. (continued below).

Originally published December 2003

The Haida Gwaii Part II (cont from Dec. 2003)

By David Poon

As I parked my bike and readied my tools for the flat repair (the last for this tour), I saw Elizabeth and Tammy wheeling their bikes into the cove, smiling - perhaps enchanted by the beauty of the cove like I was.

The cycle to Port Hardy was pretty routine, with a lunch stop in Port McNeill. After replenishing some supplies, we continued on to the campsite where we would camp the night to catch the morning ferry to Prince Rupert. This was indeed a nice ferry, definitely designed like a cruise ship with passenger cabins - they even have in-flight movies!

The ferry trip over to Skidegate on Graham Island the next morning was our last chance to try to spot a whale. I was not able to spot one on my way to Prince Rupert and was hoping to now. Guess what? The whales were shy that day too!

We were told by one of the ferry attendants that we should not miss the Salmon Festival that day not far from the terminal. As we approached Skidegate, we noticed eagles and ravens hovering above; these are extra sized birds of prey. The salmon-filled ocean must have something to do, perhaps, with their buff size?

The barbecue salmon steak we had for dinner was delicious. Now, it was up to us to search for a campsite to retire for the night. Searching for a campsite on the island, especially with full facilities (toilet and showers) was not easy.

The day was getting pretty late so we settled at Joy's Camping. We decided on this place because it offered one of the most spectacular views of the island. I set up my tent just right so come morning, to ride down to Queen Charlotte city and do a day tour. I decided to tour around the city while the others went off-road to try to get to the start of the town's well-known hiking path.

The campground was also a home to a nice sandy beach and the Pesuta shipwreck and we would plan to take a day off to explore. Before hiking the path to the shipwreck, understanding the tide table was most important. Otherwise, you might have to bunk beds with those chubby looking ravens, which can sometimes be mighty territorial. After seeing the wreck, we returned to the campsite - tired and hungry for lunch.

The next morning, we figured riding from Tlell to Masset could be done in half a day. What we didn't expect was a lot of climb and a hurricane strength headwind! With the pace I was going at, I decided to ride by myself but David K., who was part of our group, decided to join me. Frustrated by the wind, we both decided to stop and check out Pure Lake as recommended by one of the locals.

The incredible body of clear water and carpet like sand did not hesitate my friend David to baptize himself with a swim.

So, what's to do in Masset? Well, a ride to the old town of Masset takes you to an ice cream stall that sells more than 100 flavors. There were also a marine museum, and the local Haida people working on totem poles. But the jewel of the crown would be Rose Pit in Naikoon Provincial Park. Located north east of Masset with a ride through gravel and soil paved road, you will be greeted by a hard packed sandy beach where you can either drive or cycle to Rose Pit. Here, a tide table would be handy also, or be prepared to be stranded with your very own Gilligans island.

After spending sometime in Naikoon Provincial Park, I decided it was time to leave. The other David also decided to leave the same time as I did, so we both cycled to the airport in Masset. Being a folding bike, I folded and packed it in less than 30 minutes in its duffel bag. David K. with his full sized mountain bike took a bit longer and needed to be bagged in garbage bags.

The land of the Haida Gwaii will forever be engrained as one of my memorable tours. If I am to do it again, I would drive to Prince Rupert, take the ferry over to Skidegate and then do an off-road tour on Moresby Island. That would be interesting.

P.S. Catch me on my next cycling tale 5 Western States tour (as opposed to my cancelled Cross Canada)

Originally published February 2004