September 28, 2007 by Naomi.

Our fourth ferry of the week took us over to Comox on Vancouver Island. We cycled the short distance to Courtenay and our kind hosts Judy (Moira’s old schoolfriend) and Des. Des immediately welcomed us with some carefully-chosen local beers. Over the next two leisurely days, we monopolised the washing machine, the fabulous pulley-system washing line in the beautiful garden and the computer - basically we took over the house. We enjoyed some excellent spaghetti bolognaise, some of the best fish and chips so far on the trip and some wonderful home-made bramble crumble.
Des took Tim and Paul for nine holes of golf at Comox, where they tried to avoid hitting deer instead of the sheep they are used to.

A bright sunny day took us down a very quiet coastal road (19A) where we enjoyed all the things denied us on the Sunshine Coast (ie coastal view and sunshine). We ate our lunch at some picnic tables at Fanny Bay and spent the night at Qualicum Bay in the excellent Nautica Tigh B&B, whose owner kindly donated us some rags for bicycle maintenance.

We’d hardly started the next morning before we stopped to play a round of Treasure Island-themed crazy golf in the mini-golf capital of the galaxy - Parksville. We spent the best part of the rest of the day on a ghastly freeway with speeding traffic, and luckily got to Ladysmith just before sundown, where we stumbled upon an authentic curry house which dabbled in Greek food too - visit the Royal Dar if you’re ever passing through town - the food and decor is excellent.

Due to the busy freeway (which would eventually have taken us over the ominous and traffic-ridden Malahat mountain pass) we decided to make our way to Sidney (BC, on the Saanitch Peninsula at the end of Vancouver Island) via a new island and some additional ferries. Salt Spring Island entertained us with its hippies and its winery, where we wisely invested in a bottle of white wine. On Saturday, while Paul and Tim headed off to Victoria (the capital of British Columbia), to find out the football scores, Moira and Naomi visited the world-famous Butchart Gardens, where we probably saw more cameras than flowers, although the latter were indeed something special to see. We found Tim and Paul rather predictably in the pub, and soaked in the Saturday night vibes of Victoria until half past nine (lightweight cyclists!)

The Saanitch Peninsula is excellently equipped for cyclists with two trails. On Sunday, we enjoyed a tour of Victoria on the Galloping Goose, and after a rather delayed and meagre lunch at the Superior Cafe, we sailed blissfully through meadows, forests, farms with fat pot-bellied pigs, pumpkin patches and posh neighbourhoods on the Lochside Trail, basking in the beautiful sunshine.

On our return to Sidney it was time to say goodbye to Canada for the last time and hello again to the USA as we boarded a ferry to the San Juan Islands in Washington State. Once again the immigration officers didn’t fail to entertain us with their amusing comments - this time they asked Paul and his mother if they were married and wondered if we had any Cuban cigars!

NB Please take a look at the ‘Where we are’ page for the most up to date info on our whereabouts!

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September 18, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

Sadly on Friday it was time to leave Vancouver. Everyone was extraordinarily late again meeting at the market in North Vancouver which meant we were not going to get the 1:30pm ferry from Horsehoe Bay to the Sunshine Coast.

We found a bike route on the Vancouver cycling map which, on entering West Vancouver (which has the highest income per capita in Canada), was not quite as bike-friendly as we thought. We found ourselves on a beautiful promenade running right along the coast, but alas, bikes were not allowed (despite the ample space) and the pedestrians did not let us forget it with their constant tut-tutting. The fact that we had huge panniers hanging off our bikes didn’t seem to give them much of a clue that we were from out of town, and it did not seem to occur to them to direct us back on track. When we re-found the official bikeroute, it appeared to discourage all but the most masochistic from cycling through the neighbourhood. So half-walking and half-struggling up these endless vertiginous (steep) gradients past some of the poshest houses in Vancouver, we were convinced that our hopes of reaching the 3:30pm ferry were pretty lost too until we suddenly found an escape route onto the freeway.

This was great as the road suddenly turned downhill, but once again complications arose when the sign for foot passengers and the ferries (we, as cyclists, are normally categorised as foot passengers) forked off to the left and signs to Squamish and Whistler (where we did not want to go) forked to the right. This meant a good wait for a break in the endless stream of rushing traffic to cross the freeway. Once crossed, we descended right down past all the Friday weekenders lining up in their cars to the front of the queue and into the ferry terminal.

We were warned several times of an ominous big hill to climb up once we got to the Sunshine Coast, and could easily avoid it by taking a left turn into the little town of Gibsons, which we did. However, as we suspected, the hill would come back and haunt us, and we ended up having to climb the damn thing out of Gibsons, where I suspect it was somewhat steeper. It wasn’t long before we found the excellent Welcome Inn B&B where we had booked a wee cottage. So lovely were our hosts that they gave us a lift down to the Gumboot Restaurant in town, a very nice but possibly over-rated place, though the waitress was awesomely friendly. After dinner we had the pleasure of waiting for the bus with the local Saturday night crowd, some of whom were quite worse for wear, we assume innocently from having drunk vast quantities of some kind of alcohol. One poor soul, Daniel, was so out of it he kept banging his head in a very catatonic manner in some kind of desperate attempt to attract attention to himself. The bus was a little late but the entertainment on offer in the streets of Roberts Creek more than made up for it.

Our breakfast the next morning was very special as we had something called an asparagus strata which was a type of omelette with egg and cheese. We also enjoyed some lovely conversation with the other guests, Diane and Lloyd, and our hosts Joan and Mike from South Africa. B&Bs in this part of the world often put all the guests around the same table (unheard of back home, where all guests get their own tables) so conversation is a necessary art first thing in the morning!

We stopped in Sechelt for a good part of the day, and got particularly distracted in a bikeshop before doing our usual food shop in the supermarket. However, we still had accommodation for the evening to sort out and did not account for the fact that there was a jazz festival in the direction we were heading. On phoning every phone number we could find in all the accommodation guides we found nothing available but luckily found help in the local Visitors’ Centre where the very competent and knowledgeable man eventually found us some rather pricey accommodation at Ruby Lake some 50km up the road. But it was already 2pm and the clock was ticking, so onto our bikes we hopped and sped up the road.

The weather was very good that day and the Sunshine Coast, in this aspect, did live up to its name. However, the road we took (we were advised by various cyclists to stick to the main road as this was safer and less windy), had no more than about three glimpses of the actual coast and although we enjoyed a lovely picnic lunch next to the picturesque Trout Lake, we were quite disappointed with our lack of vistas of the sea.
The road was also very very hilly so we arrived at our Ruby Lake Resort somewhat tired but very ready for a good shower and some food at the nice-looking restaurant. The restaurant also served as the reception for the motel and was very busy when we arrived. I asked the woman who hurriedly checked us in if we could come for dinner at 830pm so we could have more time to get showered, but she insisted that we come earlier if we wanted to eat. Dutifully we rushed off to our rooms to get cleaned up but this was rather hampered as they had left only two sets of towels in the room despite knowing that we were four people. When we went to ask for extra towels, reception assumed that we would pick them up at dinner, utterly failing to notice that after cycling all day we would want to wash before eating! The impeccable standards of service were maintained over dinner as we waited over an hour and a half for our dinner to arrive (at 930), a particularly galling wait after being told to come earlier than 830! The Ruby Lake Resort and its over-priced services will not be receiving a return visit from us.

But the Westview Hill Bed and Breakfast we stayed at the next day will be receiving another visit from us if we ever come back to Powell River again, although our journey to get there did have its usual complications. It was a very wet day which meant that the road was now no longer sunny nor coasty and therefore did not live up to its name at all. We enjoyed a good plate of bacon and eggs on the ferry journey from Earl’s Cove to Saltery Bay before cycling the hilly 35km to Powell River, where we had originally hoped to stay in the Beacon B&B. The hostess opened up the door and welcomed us in, wet and bedraggled and we settled into our rooms looking forward to getting comfortable and dry after a good wallow in the hot tub (an added perk). After arranging breakfast and paying our bill it was discovered that one of our rooms was actually double-booked, so still in our damp soggy clothes, we packed up our bags and and heaped them onto the bikes and cycled back out into the rain and up another very steep hill to our new B&B where our Polish hosts awaited us with our own private two-bedroom apartment; this time we were not let down in any way. In fact, we loved it so much we decided to stay in for the evening instead of going out for dinner as originally planned.

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September 17, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

We absolutely loved sunny Vancouver, where we spent three action-packed days, and still didn’t get to see everything! Our first morning was spent up Grouse Mountain photographing grizzly bears, watching the world-famous but somewhat cheesy (although entertaining) lumberjack show and eating our picnic lunch with one of the best views of the city of Vancouver there is. In the evening we had the opportunity to get to know a number of N’s (3rd,4th and 5th!) cousins at an entertaining dinner arranged by Wendy and Ann, our wonderful hostesses.

Wednesday brought us an excellent lunch in a Vietnamese restaurant in China town, and Moira and Tim (Paul’s mother and brother) on the evening flight from Glasgow. Their undamaged bikes were tossed into the back of a taxi and we sped off to the somewhat (in)famous Patricia Hotel, unfortunately located in the middle of Vancouver’s dodgiest area, the streets of which were populated by pimps, prostitutes and various crystal meth casualties trading single cigarettes and marshmallows (apparently this is all they eat).

The following morning a whirwind tour of Vancouver on our bikes took us down the coastal path, through the wilderness of Stanley Park, along the beaches of English Bay to the Fischer Price ferry (Aquabus) to Granville Island and its bustling markets and quiet suburban streets. Eventually we ended up in Kitsilano and the very funky Sophie’s Cosmic Cafe, which had kitsch, not kids’, toys stuck to the wall. We enjoyed an excellent chatty lunch with the delightful Maggie, who gave us a wealth of information on Vancouver. Our next engagement was a coffee date with the lovely Jane and her sweet dog, Oliver, which ended with a tour of her beautiful house and some directions to get to the best shops in the area.

After a frantic shopping expedition to obtain various cycling necessities, we realised we were going to be very late for our dinner with Wendy and Ann back in North Van in the evening. While Moira and Tim dodged the crystal meth victims on their way to sort things out at the hotel, N went on ahead solo and found herself struggling onto a bus with her bike, a big bunch of flowers, two bottles of wine, her handbag and a u-lock (luckily aided by a very helpful bus driver), to try and somehow make us less late for the dinner date. Moira, Tim and Paul arrived a fantastic two hours late, but all was not lost as we enjoyed a wonderful feast with lots of wine and laughter, a wonderful way to end a most chaotic day!

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September 12, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

Oliver made its mark on our map by providing us with the best and booziest meal we’d had on the trip. The Toasted Oak boasted Okanagan wine tastings with excellent food to complement them. Unfortunately, the evening blurred as we worked our way through the very good wine list and our memories now fail to recall most of the wines we drank. (oops!) For more information that we can’t provide, take a look at http://www.winecountry-canada.com/.

After watching the all-clear and sunny forecast (thankfully without a hangover), we set off on minor road that had been recommended, towards Keremeos. It was quite possibly the steepest road out of Oliver but thankfully with very little traffic (this usually makes the effort well worth the climb) and were suddenly hit by a completely different weather system. We were bombarded by wind around various corners and encountered our first rainclouds since Kootenay Lake. After hearing various stories about cougars (and attacks being on the rise!), there was a bit more of an adventurous edge to the day’s journey - and we still had the usual (but not quite so scary) bears to worry about! While dodging said rainclouds, we eventually came to our highest point of the day after four hours (once again) and once more reached civilisation at Twin Lakes golf course, incongruously perched at the top of the mountain. Highway 3 took us back down to the not so picturesque Keremeos (although it must be said that the mountains around it are). Once again we found ourselves in the cheapest motel in town, although this time we could tell why! Our appetites were quenched with an excellent take-away curry from the Sanderson’s fruit stand down the road.

We went to sleep with the wind whistling through the trees, and the next day’s cycling was spent battling the wind towards to Princeton through the Similkameen Valley (we thought this might mean ‘westerly wind’ in the local First Nations language). Luckily, the road was relatively flat compared to what we had been used to which made the wind a fair bit easier to deal with. A quick stop for coffee in Hedley turned into a long stop to hoover up a big plate of not very nutritious or tasty ‘hotcakes’, served by a waitress who refused to fill our waterbottles. Instead, she turned us in the direction of the hose outside and now I’m convinced that the $3 tip I left her was $3 too much. Luckily the sweet girl in the petrol station next door was happy to fill them - in the same kitchen as the restaurant!

Luckily the closer we got to Princeton, the wind died down and N had developed a big craving for Greek food - luckily the only restaurant we found was Greek. However, confusion reigned when she found that her moussaka was not only served with a salad, but with potatoes, rice and bread too! As the moussaka itself was enough to fill the hungriest cyclist’s stomach, the plate went back to the kitchen with all the unnecessary carbs untouched.

The next day presented us with another big dilemma: we had to be in Vancouver in two days’ time, but with over 300km and a range of mountains separating us, this was going to take some imaginative, if not, hardcore cycling. We decided our only palpable solution would be to try and get a ride, and were somewhat nervous and excited as we really had very little clue of where we’d end up. After a short half-hour of thumbing, we got picked up by a retired primary school teacher, Rika, who was on her way up for a Sunday hike in Manning Park. She dropped us at Cascade Lookout, one of the highest points in the park with a spectacular view. Although feeling somewhat guilty, this lift (all uphill) did save us a day of total uphill cycling. Despite having an excellent, although short, descent to the main road, we did have to get up to the second summit named Allison Pass, which gave ourselves the opportunity to warm oursleves up before the descent. Unfortunately, this was marred by a narrow road with little shoulder, speeding traffic and some nasty and unexpected uphills. The highlight, however, was Hope Slide where a big chunk of mountain had fallen off itself (see photos 8th Sept).

Our next stop was Hope, a bit of a misnomer at first, as in terms of public transport, there was little hope of getting into Vancouver. However, after whipping out our thumbs once again, it eventually lived up to its name by bringing us the lovely gregarious dog-breeder Sonja and her husband Jim, and their enormous empty pick up, who/which took us down to Deroche, from where we cycled to Mission just before sundown. This was not such a misnomer as our goal for the day had indeed been to get to Mission, the last stop of the West Coast Express train service into Vancouver.

It must be said that the closer to the city one gets, the more of a nightmare it is for a cyclist to proceed in a safe manner. This last leg from Deroche to Mission along a narrow shoulderless highway was very intimidating as we now had to deal with the added danger of cars (mainly towing enormous boats) who blared their horns at us - I suppose as they perceive that we’re in the way (who’s taking up more room is my question!), and the downright nasty passenger who felt that giving us the finger would somehow be productive. We counted ourselves lucky, however, as many cars did give us sufficient space and we didn’t get sandwiches thrown at us, as happened to Stephanie and John (our hosts in Juneau) when they were cycling around Australia.

The following morning found us on the last train into downtown Vancouver (at 7:27am!) where there was a PRIORITY SPACE FOR BICYCLES with special straps and everything, which we were so impressed by we took a photo. On arriving in Vancouver, we had our own little tour of the city while looking for bicycle shops and breakfast, and eventually made our way to the SeaBus, which is a very efficient ferry that takes foot passengers (and bikes!) over to North Vancouver. At said neighbourhood, we very slowly made our way up our last hill of the journey to Wendy’s wonderful house in Upper Lonsdale, where we spent the rest of the day doing little more than eating, resting and relaxing.

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September 11, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

For the next three days we reckoned with very similar terrain: they each involved 30-40km back-breaking climbs and, of course, descents, although these varied greatly in quality.

Castlegar to Cristina Lake was supposedly the most difficult with a 40km climb up by 1000m to the excellently named Paulson Summit. We had an early start and luckily it was only after a few metres of climbing that we realised P had left some clothes in the motel! We reached the top after 4 hours but it wasn’t so difficult - we only remember two short steep bits and the rest was gently uphill. Or maybe our big psyche up the day before was very effective! An excellent descent welcomed us on the other side, although due to the lack of picnic table facilities we had a very uncomfortable lunch sitting on pointy rocks by a stream with lots of insects sharing great interest in our food. Further down, we encountered the Paulson Bridge which went over the Kettle Valley Rail Trail (now being restored for recreational use). After only an hour of wonderful descent, we found Cristina Lake waiting for us (the warmest in Canada), where after an ice-cream and a chat with some fellow travellers (well, car travellers), we had one of the most refreshing swims of our journey. After enormous dinners that we couldn’t eat (first burger Paul couldn’t finish), we slept soundly and the following morning set off for Grand Forks on the Kettle Valley Trail to check it out. Lovely and scenic it was, but it did not prove wholly practical to our purposes. Within the first 500m we encountered no less than three gates which had bars across them (to prevent motorised vehicles from using the trail) which meant the bikes - luggage and all - had to be lifted over, the path was quite sandy and pebbly, reducing our speed to a measly 10km/hour, and at one point, it was so overgrown that the weeds whipped our legs in a most painful manner. It also meant that we arrived in Grand Forks rather knackered, and we hadn’t even gained any altitude! However, it was a lovely peaceful break from the lorries, RVs and SUVs which constantly tormented us on the roads.

The climb up to Eholt summit was supposedly the easiest, with a 400m climb over approximately 25km. We left Grand Forks at one and, like most days in the Kootenay mountains at this time of year, it was very very hot and sunny. Being quite tired from the day before and from the morning’s shenanigans on the trail, N’s morale was very low, and because the road was a constant steep climb, it took hours to cover a few kilometres which resulted in issues which we will not discuss here. After yet another badly placed lunch, also on uncomfortable rocky boulders, we finally reached the top at the late hour of 4:30pm and descended into Greenwood (the smallest city in Canada - but actually looked like more of a village to us) for ice-cream, and then Midway, where dusk brought an excellent sunset over-looking the mountains, for food and much-needed and welcome sleep in the last available room at the Mile Zero Motel.

After the previous day’s ups and downs an early start was deemed imperative for the last of the big mountains before the Okanagan Valley. We left for the wonderfully named Anarchist Summit at 8:15 (possibly a record!) in much better spirits than the day before. The climb not only involved some thigh-splitting steep slopes but also various rank-smelling decomposing deer at the side of the road. After 3 and a half hours and 40km we crested the summit - this time the sign was posted in the correct place (although some of our profile maps would have you believe otherwise). Luckily, however, the rest area marked on the map did materialise (unlike previous days), and we ate lunch in relative luxury at a picnic table.

The following descent into Osoyoos immediately entered into our top 5 of all time, with its dramatic fast-swooping 14% switchbacks and excellent views of Osoyoos Lake which were divided in half by the US-Canadian border and Osoyoos itself (see photos 5 Sept). The descent went on for ages and came to an end at Osoyoos Gelatto Ice Cream shop where we were given our first cyclists’ discount of the journey! Well done, Gelatto!

A mere 20km, largely flat/downhill road took us into Oliver, the wine capital of Canada, where we managed to find a motel with a pool within our (somewhat revised) budget, and once again put off the camping for a more desperate situation. We therefore dived straight into said pool and shortly after, a delicious bottle of Mystic River Pinot Blanc, before falling fast asleep in front of the telly once again!

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September 6, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

A rather pokey little room with a bunk bed awaited us at the Dancing Bear Hostel, and laundry essentials held up our much anticipated spotties because our clothes were so dirty and the washing machines so green and eco-friendly that they needed to go through twice. We rejoiced at finding a tapas type place within steps of our hostel and were very thankful that the dramatic thunderstorm hit Nelson when we were comfortably seated inside. A few more drinks and pull-tabs (although not as successful as our first experience) were to be had in one of Nelson’s more traditional pubs.

Nelson is rather a bohemian town which made a refreshing (although sometimes whiffy) change to the smaller towns we had been travelling through. Having saved several pennies by staying at the hostel on the first night, we moved out of our cubby hole to the off-beat (although rather pricier) delights of the Dandelion Bed and Breakfast run by fellow cyclist, Kevin. Determined to relax, we invested very wisely in our first bottle of Okanagan wine, to be enjoyed on the deck outside our room with a very picturesque sunset. We continued the evening playing football pinball (Paul was particularly impressed with the Union Jack representing a country called England), and then enjoyed a great evening of people-watching in one of Nelson’s more alternative venues. Musical delights included a 15-minute stint of farty noises emanating from a human beat box and various other groovy thumping curiosities that had the crowd out on the tiles; a good night was had by all!

The following morning, sadly, it was time to leave Nelson behind us with Kevin’s delicious cookies in our panniers. We coasted down the short distance to Castlegar along the Kootenay River, stocked up on ridiculous amounts of energising food in the local supermarket and shacked up in our motel to psyche ourselves up for what lay ahead…

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September 6, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

We awoke with only one certainty: we wouldn’t be going over the 2000m Grey Creek Pass. The thought of cycling and/or walking up steep ascents, and then not being able to enjoy the 14% descent over gravel was too much. But what to do? Feeling spontaneous, we took the scenic route to the town of Cranbrook with little idea of what we would next (although Paul thought it a good opportunity to try and watch the Celtic Champion League Qualifier - to no avail in a country dominated mainly by baseball and American Football). Given our planned itinerary to Vancouver we decided that a little bit of motorised assistance would set us back on track. Our first attempt, the Greyhound, proved futile as they insisted on boxed bikes (we could not carry bike boxes on our bikes, and we certainly couldn’t carry boxed bikes from the bikeshop!), and the bus was leaving in 20 minutes. While considering our next move over monster burgers, we saw the practically empty Greyhound bus sail smugly by. Our only and last option was to hitch, or failing that, cycle on. We stopped in the Visitor Information Centre oddly located at the end of town to check our options for food and accommodation on the way to Creston, and were given little encouragement that hitching would be a success. We took up a position by a lay-by with two other hitchers up the road from us. We figured, hopefully, that we would be appealing to a different driver market than your average hitch-hiker: the bicycle-loving, empty pick up truck driver. Without much luck in the first 40 minutes we ventured down the road trying a combo ride and hitch strategy which also proved singularly unsuccessful. However, on the point of turning back to Cranbrook, someone pulled up for us and we hopped in. Bryce was headed home to his RV resort at the end of Moyie Lake but very kindly took us further on to Yahk, about 65 km down the road from Cranbrook. We were suirprised to find in Yahk that we were back on Pacific time and with an extra hour to play with (although not of daylight!) and some fortifying ice-cream from Two Scoop Steve’s, we decided to head onto Creston (home of the Kokanee Beer we had enjoyed many a night on our travels through Canada) 42 km down the road from Yahk. It was so downhill it took us a record hour and 40 minutes to get there!

Visitor Information Centres in Canada are always staffed by friendly and welcoming people. Many tend to be volunteers which is a wonderful idea in theory. They can always tell us where we can find a museum or a soap-making factory, but when it comes to vital information like accommodation and food (for tired and hungry cyclists!), their knowledge is largely circumstantial and they often provide the same information we have already read in the abundance of leaflets and brochures these places provide (usually based on advertising). On this particular morning, we were directed to the local library, but ended up on the wrong side of town in front of the university. With that failed attempt at getting things done on the internet, we decided to raid the local supermarket instead, curiously named Overwaiteas (anyone know the origin of this one?). This supermarket also marked the 1000-mile marker for the empirically minded and after a brief photo session we headed north towards Kootenay Lake where a torturously windy road yo-yoed us up the side of the lake. Beautiful but tough (after several days of mostly downhill cycling). A late lunch was had outside a house made entirely of glass embalming bottles in the shape of a three-leaf clover (see photos). Just before the sun went down we finally arrived wearily at Crawford Bay.

A short ride and free ferry journey took us across Kootenay Lake to Balfour. We took a very hilly detour north to Ainsworth Hot Springs, where, after getting soaked in the rain on the way, we got even wetter exploring the fantastic caves in very hot, soothing water. The watery theme continued as we stopped for a slightly colder but refreshing mid-afternoon dip in the lake on the way into Nelson. We were very lucky to find this poky little patch of beach as most of the lakeshore was monopolised by some very posh houses and their very well-tended gardens.

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September 2, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

This day brought us some excellent changes in weather conditions and terrain. We arrived at Invermere Information Centre 20km down the road in what seemed like seconds, under a bright sun and going largely downhill. On being bombarded by a very unexpected barrage of sleet on the way into Invermere, we took refuge in the Eatery with an excellent salad bar. After some mundane shopping and bureaucratic necessities in town we made our way down a lovely rolling road in once again beautiful weather to Fairmont Hot Springs (no bathing this time), where we spent the night.

The following day, the easy riding continued for 60km at record breaking speed (19km/hr!), with some excellent slip-streaming (and therefore energy-saving) opportunities. However, easy riding does not last forever when your heading for the highest city in Canada. For 30km we made our way up slowly towards Kimberley, a city that for some reason deems itself as some kind of mini-Bavaria. I have since found out that most of its population is descended from Swiss, German or Austrian immigrants. Therefore it was schnitzel for dinner at the Mozart Inn with a big hearty mug of beer.

When planning our route, we had noticed a minor road through the mountains from Kimberley which knocked a good 160km and a couple of days off our route to Nelson (next planned day off). But things were not as simple as they appeared on the map. We knew this road was unpaved. What we didn’t know, is that it was not only 95km of wilderness, but also meant a 900m ascent with 14% switchbacks on either side of the summit. Over 35km. With potholes. And bears.

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September 1, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

Lake Louise is a town lacking permanent residents, and is split into two parts: the village consists of an over-priced pokey shopping mall and a few expensive hotels while the lake proper is a glorious mountain-ringed glacial lake with an over-priced, misplaced ugly hotel at the end. And a lot of tourists. We dumped our luggage and took 45 minutes to cycle weightlessly up to the lake like fairies, and cycled along the trail to the end of the lake. On our way back we were reprimanded for cycling by a park warden, also on a bike, after we had deliberately over-looked the no cycling sign. Five minutes later we were back in the uninspiring shopping mall, stocking up on necessities for the next leg.

The Bow Valley Parkway is allegedly the top spot for viewing wildlife in the National Parks. As we rolled our way to Castle Mountain, very slowly and quietly, we saw a coyote and another lynx slinking across the road. Noisy passing cars meant that not much else was to be seen that day.

We were welcomed by Tony at Castle Mountain hostel and sent to our separate (single sex) dorms. It was a lovely little place, the kitchen was big and the living room had windows on three sides with a fire in the centre - all very cosy. Tony, with his distinctive personality, had a far from optimistic version of the weather forecast, which predicted a few showers. As we set off, he was quite convinced it was going to rain constantly that day and snow the following day and that we would only get half way to Radium at best. Two hours later, following the Vermilion River down the valley, we were half way to our destination, albeit in on and off drizzly rain. As the bad weather meant the scenery was less of a distraction, we took lots of photos of signs instead, although Paul failed to take a photo of the most interesting one, which stated simply ‘Animal Lick’ (can anyone explain?). Lots of animal sightings were also promised on this highway, indeed we saw a few white-tailed deer, one of them being scooped up off the road by a park ranger and his pick up truck. The ride would have been a lot more enjoyable if it hadn’t been for the constant stream of speeding traffic whizzing by.

After 85km we started up our second pass of the day (it had the added plus of warming us up after 60km of downhill), and it was a tough one lasting for 10km. After a quick photo at the top, we plummeted down the other side and straight into the deserved and welcome Radium Hot Springs where we bathed our sore muscles until we were wrinkly as prunes. We were also very relieved to be leaving the Canadian National Parks and slumped down in our dirt-cheap, feature laden room in the Columbia Motel!

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