Vancouver - Powell River: The Sunshine Coast Highway - A road that doesn’t quite live up to its name 14th - 17th Sept

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.

This entry was posted on September 18, 2007 at 10:42 pm and is filed under Two for the Road - On the Road. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.