Vancouver - Kent - Hope 150km

Sorry for the lack of updates but finding internet connections out here has proven harder than I thought.

I am now in Hope BC, a small town located approximately 180 km east of Vancouver. Yesterday was my first official day of riding in which I travelled 110 km from Vancouver to Kent. Overall, the highway I rode (7, for those of you interested) was quite pleasent. There was ample shoulder for most the journey and courteous drivers too boot. I had one frightening experience just west of Coquitlam where the shoulder completely disappeared, effectively forcing me into traffic for a good 1/2 kilometer. This was by far the most unsettling cycling situation I've had yet, as the cars were moving at 100kms + and seemed completely oblivious to my presence. After many "dear god let me survive this" requests and some steely determination on my part, I made it through. Shortly after passing Coquitlam I encountered a friendly cyclist named Jason on his way to ride some mountain trails. It turns out Jason has many years of touring experience and was a wealth of helpful information. Around 6pm I rolled into Kilby campsite, where within seconds of arrival, was accosted by several semi-drunken 20 somethings who invited me over for food and drinks. After a couple of old milwaukee's I made my way back to the tent whereupon it started to rain. It rained for the entire night, leaving all of my belongings in varying states of wetness. Despite the uncooperative weather, I set out around 9 am in a light drizzle. By mid-morning the sun had come out and riding conditions were excellent. For much of the trip I was traveling within a couple hundred meters of the Fraser river, with it's large whirlpools and swift current making for fascinating scenery. I've seen a lot of dairy cows throughout the Fraser Valley, most of which stare me down whenever I roll pass. I desperately want to approach them but I'm afraid of being caught by their owners.

Around 3pm I rolled into Hope. While searching out a local campsite I came across another tourist also riding to the east coast. Apparently, Sebastien had been holed up here for the past couple of days due to poor weather. He seemed excited to find another cyclist and promptly invited me to share the motel suite he had rented. I gladly accepted as my tent and clothing needed to dry out and the forecast called for showers throughout the night. As I settled in for bed that evening, I felt an odd rumbling in my gut. Just to play it safe I approached the toilet, where I immediately let out a hearty stream of vomit. Thinking the sickness was the result of some questionable pizza, I crawled into bed. Sadly, my slumber didn't last. By 4 am I had expelled all solid and liquid material from my ravaged body. The pain was so crippling I decided to call the local hospital--911 didn't work, I guess they take Sundays off here--where I was greeted by a nurse who showed virtually zero interest in my predicament. After our brief and altogether unhelpful exchange, I hung up the phone and continued dry heaving until I finally passed out.

I'm feeling better today, and will hopefully be recovered by tomorrow morning as I'm getting a bit stir crazy here.

When I get more time on the internet I'll make an attempt to upload photos.

Onwards!

That's more like it. In the past 6 days my physical condition has improved by leaps and bounds. My knees, back, and butt feel top-shelf. Granted, only once have I taken the fully loaded beast out. All other rides were done on the much lighter, faster and more responsive road bike. Miles are miles though, right?


Okay. I know I need to start riding the mule more often, and I will. I finally have all the major gear needed for the trip and can now train on it with an accurate feel for what I'll be enduring daily for the next few months. I must say, the touring rig is quite difficult to handle. At low speeds the handlebars jerk nervously back and forth as I try and stabilize the collective 45lbs of gear spread across the bike. Once at speed steering becomes less an issue, that is of course until I try and turn. Unlike the catlike behaviour of most road racing bicycles, the loaded tourer turns in wide arcs much like a schoolbus. I must keep this in mind before I go barreling into hairpin turns.

I camped out in my backyard two nights ago in order to test out my new tent and sleeping bag. The ground in the yard is awfully lumpy, which resulted in a restless, uneven sleep. At first I was quite warm so I took off my pants and slept only with a sweater. This soon proved problematic as the temperature between my lower extremeties and upper body fluctuated wildly. Being the stubborn fool I am, I decided to stick it out instead of re-installing my pants. I simply zipped up my mummy bag to it's maximum, pulled the draw string tight as possible and hunkered down. To my utter delight, I awoke in a puddle of sweat and stink, as the morning sun had heated the tent to an oppressive temperature. This was unsatisfactory, and I wanted out immediately. After a good minute or two of fumbling for the both door and zipper to my bag I was free from the death pod; pantless and happy. Lesson learned: Leave the fly open.

So I leave on May 25, guaranteed. This seems like it should be a sufficient amount of time to tie up all the loose ends—especially considering I don't work at the moment—but I have a sneaking feeling that I'll be scrambling right up to the last minute.