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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