Weather and Bicycles

In my mid twenties I was sent to Southern Alberta to work for a few days outdoors.  New to the west, it was a surprise to me that this province had a desert – like area.  Deep, dry sand, cactus and no trees anywhere to be seen.  Being outside in the full sun with no water, no hat and no sunscreen, it was no wonder that I suffered a sun stroke – although I didn’t know what was wrong with me at the time.

Driving back to Edmonton, my vision was blurred and I soon began to see double.  Frequently I had to pull off the highway, lurch out of the vehicle and vomit on the side of the road.  While driving, a sharp, pounding headache made concentrating on the road difficult.  Getting home, my girlfriend made me stay in bed for a couple days when she saw how terrible I looked.

A few years ago, I was bicycle camping in southeastern British Columbia with my friend Roy in full sun and 39 degrees celcius temperatures.  I began to feel woozy.  Recognizing those same symptoms from the ill-fated trip from my 20’s, I told my friend that I’d have to cool off or we would have to stop for the night right then and there.

My friend wanted me to continue on to the next town which was only a few kilometers up the trail.  What convinced me was his description of the steep, paved road up ahead that would take us into town.  I figured that if the road was steep enough, the airflow whipping past us would cool me off quicker than any other method at hand.

The 50+ kilometers an hour speed we hit going into town began to work its cooling magic and when we stepped into an air conditioned grocery store, I knew I was going to feel better soon.  I grabbed a tall, cold can of beer from the cooler and began to rub it over my body.  First my head, then my face, my neck and shoulders and when no one was looking, the rest of my body.

After an hour of aimlessly wandering the aisles of the store, Roy and I found ourselves in a line at the checkout counter.  It was then that I discovered that my cold beer was now a warm beer.  I debated what to do.  Should I dash back to the cooler and stuff the warm beer onto its shelves and grab a cold one?  Who’s going to know that this can of beer has been rubbed all over a sweaty male body?  (Unless the odd strand of hair caught in the pull tab was a clue).

Standing at the cooler, I decided that ethically, I had used the beer so I should pay for it.  Besides, after 3 more hours of climbing to our campsite, any kind of beer, warm or not would be welcome!

Bikepacking 2014 Album

The adventure begins

Burger,beer and fries $10

The tall grass prairie

Roy wigs out

Cyclists from Holland

You never know what you"re going to see on the trail

Cycling next to the Kettle River

That's the way to relax!

The Dry Run

With less than a week to go before my bikepacking trip, it seemed like a good idea to air out my camping gear and try a dry run in my home city.  The idea was that I would spend the day on my bike and then set up camp in the backyard.

Home sweet camp

The day started out in the rain which was a good thing.  What better way to train?  If you're out in the wilds on your bike and the weather turns bad, you have not many choices but to ride.  By the time I got downtown, the rain had eased up and in fact the sun began to burn off the damp.

After six hours of saddle time, I made it to my "camp" in the backyard.  My bike was covered in road splash which also meant that all its components were covered in a thick layer of sand.  Where the sand came from I have no idea but it was necessary to remove it before I rode any farther.  Being home, it was simply a matter of uncoiling the garden hose rather than dumping the bike in a creek if I was on the trail.

Bikey wash

Where we bikepack, it is not always possible to have a campfire, so it was a luxury to open up the woodshed and haul out dry fuel which I split using a survival shovel that my son had given me for Father's Day.  There was no need to find kindling since I could simply use my wife's blowtorch (yes she has better tools than me) to get a blaze going.

That's the way uh huh!

When we're bikepacking, most of our meals come from packages of dehydrated foods that we supplement with fresh vegetables bought from a local grocery store or roadside stand.  Camping in the backyard with a fridge full of food just steps away, it felt luxurious to have a meal served by my daughter and all I had to do was to cook the burgers over the fire.

Voila!

It wasn't until 2:30 in the morning that the down - side of camping in the backyard presented itself.  The constant noise of traffic from the nearby ring road prevented me from enjoying the new Hubba Hubba tent I had been given for my birthday.  As well, I wasn't able to get a full night's sleep testing out a sleeping bag that I was considering buying.  But I would have had to get up anyway since my Thermarest mattress was flatter than a pancake - reminding me of one more thing to add to my growing list of tasks and errands that needed doing before the real trip begins.

On Your Mark Get Set...Go?

At the tv station where I work I'm often asked to do a variety of tasks.  Just yesterday I had two shoots, I taught someone how to operate a minicam, a photo was needed of a prize giveaway and I had to drive two co-workers to a graphic design shop.  But the most interesting assignment was assembling a bike that our breakfast show intends use in a contest for the Tour of Alberta.

You could win this

It was while assembling the Devinci bike that it occurred to me that in only three weeks I'll be on the Kettle Valley Railway with my good friend and cycling partner Roy.  I'm working twelve days straight right now and I'm worried that there won't be enough time to get everything ready.

The two cycling amigos suck it in!

A trip to Mountain Equipment Co-op is still needed to stock up on freeze-dried foods and  Cliff bars.  Since I like coffee in the morning, I'm thinking of bringing my survival stove from my bug out bag from which I can boil up some water and use the camping Melita - like coffee maker (still to buy at MEC).

Weird looking but works well

Every year it's like this - just when the weather is decent, work gets very busy but I remind my self that when the time comes that Roy and I disappear into the mountains, it will all be worth the effort.

Fairy Tale Using Bike Names

Once upon a time a GHOST wanted to have an ADVENTURE.  She wanted to take the EXPRESSWAY to the NORTHSHORE of Vancouver.  Her ROUTE would take her to WHISTLER where she expected to meet her NEMESIS the GIANT DRAGON.  But a THUNDERBOLT boomed nearby and LIGHTNING scared her.  The LIGHTNING made a SIMPLE SLICE in the LUSH undergrowth and the GHOST was afraid that it could TRIGGER a landslide which would cause her to make a DETOUR.

How the GHOST wished her friends LEXI, IVY and LILY could come and help her.  But LEXI was such a BAD GIRL and LILY was a HOOLIGAN.  IVY was a heavenly CITIZEN with a QUICK temper..  The group of them could RACE DOWNHILL and call the POLICE.  The worst that could happen is the POLICE might warn them of the GRAVITY of their situation or even give them a TICKET.  A TICKET could PROPEL then into court where a judge might find them too ROWDY and throw them out of the SESSION.

It would seem that the GHOST COMPANIONS would never leave the METROPOLIS and get to WHISTLER where if they DEFYED the DRAGON they could REMEDY a situation in that mountain resort. There would be a certain amount of PRESTIGE involved if and when they could do it.

The moral of the story?  You can't always get what you want.

The City Gets it Right

The rootbeer folder

In an effort to engage the public about plans to build more biking infrastructure, the city has gone to a lot of trouble and expense.  Recently one meeting was held on the south side of the river and two meetings were planned for the north side.

The meeting I attended was only a few blocks from my work so after scarfing down a quick supper, I rode the Raleigh 20 over there.  With only fifteen minutes remaining before the start of the meeting, the bike racks were full and it was all I could do to find a sturdy fence to lock up my ride.

Another folding bike on the fence

The city had gone all out by renting a large gymnasium and filling it with enough tables and seating for two hundred guests.  Colourful balloons added a cheery note to the sterile gym. However the music playing on large speakers was odd.  "These Boots Are Made For Walking" and Steppenwolf's "Born To Be Wild" which starts off with the lines "Get Your Motors Running..." seemed out of place for a meeting of cyclists.

Party atmosphere

In a short speech, the organizer explained that the city had made a mistake last year when they presented already completed plans for bike lanes to the public.  Motorists in the crowd were vocal in their anger and cyclists were eager to point out flaws in the plans.  This time, the city wanted  input before making any decisions.

Plenty of maps

We sat at tables with a facilitator and talked about what we thought a bike lane should look like.  An engineer had shown examples of what cities like Winnipeg, Toronto, and Vancouver had done.  As well there were examples from the U.S. of A. and Europe.  In the middle of our table was a pie shaped diagram that looked like something from Trivial Pursuit.  In each pie section were elements that had to be considered when designing bike lanes.  The impact on property owners.  Will this affect businesses along the route?  The cost to the taxpayers.

Trivial Pursuit

As the evening wore on, I became convinced that the city was sincere in wanting to know what we as cyclists in this car centric city wanted.  We switched tables after half an hour and studied what other participants had written on their wheel shaped diagram.  We added to their remarks and when we got back to our table, we studied what other cyclists had written on our sheet,

Edmonton's poet laureate

The evening was capped off with a poem written by Edmonton's poet laureate Mary Pinkoski.  This artist had spent the evening wandering from table to table listening to the varied discussions.  Her poem which sounded more like a story was involved and lengthy.  My ears perked up when she mentioned something I had said to our table and I'm sure others felt gratified that she had listened to them. I'd like to get a copy of her poem since I felt moved by her words.

Except for a error on the maps which placed Christ Church, a 1920's era Anglican place of worship a block away from where it actually stands, the city's effort to reach out to the cycling public was an encouraging step in the right direction.  Just ask Nancy Sinatra - her boots are walking...

Christ Church in situ

Father's and bikes

It was always amusing to see my father come out of the house wearing shorts.  Seeing his lily-white legs covered in red hair was an unusual sight since my father wore pants almost all the time.

The reason for wearing the shorts would be some excuse to take my bike out for a ride - most likely Dad would want to test out a recent repair that he had made.  He had probably fixed a flat.  As a kid, you don't think anything about riding over sharp objects like broken glass and nails.

The funny thing about watching my father ride a bike was the angle at which he had to position his legs to be able to ride such a short bike.  The same sort of angle a frog's legs would take if you can imagine a frog riding a bike.

When my father arrived back at the house with a smile hidden under his red moustache, you forgot your impatience and were hapy to know that one, he hadn't crashed your bike and two, the repair he had made was good.

Once visiting my in-laws at their family home in Ottawa, my father-in-law took it upon himself to ride a bike up and down their street.  Being a photographer, it fell to me to record this surprising event.  The warm glow of lights inside the house matched the orange colour of the setting sun.  I used a slow shutter speed and let my father-in-law ride through the frame.  Later, when the film was developed, there was a ghostly streak of my wife's father across the picture.  When I look at the photo now, I realise that I never really knew the man on the bike.