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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August 24, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

With new toeclips on Naomi’s bike (vital parts fell off pedal cleats) and broken strapped and bunjeed panniers on Paul’s, we started south on what is “the most beautiful road in the world”. And they made us pay…a park pass charged PER PERSON, PER DAY, and unlike the cars which take a few hours, it would take us three days for the Parkway plus another two to get out of the parks. So possibly the most expensive road in the world for cyclists at CAN $71 (basically a night in a motel)!

To avoid traffic, we made the very wise decision to take Highway 93A, a wee side road. Hillier it was, but this was an excellent warm up for what was to come and gave us some good views of the mountains we were going to cycle around. We rejoined the Parkway at Athabasca Falls, where we parked up next to a bench for lunch. The falls were very impressive but also teeming with tourists. This was our first experience of being a sideshow attraction ourselves, with people looking at us oddly and a few coming over to speak to us. One particularly effusive American couple cover to say, “Ah think yer just amayzin’, pedlin’ up all them mount’ns!” which was very encouraging for us, but we realised later that this was somewhat of an omen for what was in store for us.

The afternoon brought us some challenging hills; we really started to feel those nine days we’d had off the bikes and morale was not at its best despite the wonderful scenery. The Beauty Creek wilderness Hostel thankfully had what we’d read was ‘a state of the art shower’ (most of these places have no running water). Indeed it was: for a shower, one had to ask the manager, Roger, to put on the ‘kettle’ for 20 minutes; he let you know when it was ready and only 20 litres of water meant a quick rinse, shower off, wash and rinse again (but Naomi was very grateful that she didn’t have to jump in the icy river!) Washing up and brushing teeth took place at the same sink and waste water went into a bucket underneath, which when full was taken to be emptied into pit toilets. We were also very impressed with said toilets, incidentally, as despite all the sewage in them, they did not smell! Well done, Beauty Creek! This is a great achievement after hearing about the old ones, which, at one point apparently had only three inches between one’s backside and the waste (eugh!)

We thoroughly enjoyed our stay there as the atmosphere was very sociable and friendly and Roger and his wife very welcoming. Roger addressed Naomi as ‘my dear lady’, which was a welcome change to the ‘madam’ she’s having to get used to now (whatever happened to ‘miss’??).

After a big pile of fruity pancakes whipped up by our dear Roger, we set off for the Columbian Icefield (actually called Athabasca, we think) but despite being warned of the hill, no one could have prepared us for THAT hill. To make matters worse, just as the gradient got leg-buckingly steep, they decided to come and paint the lines at the side of the road - yes, our side of the road. Each gasp for breath therefore contained a mouthful of noxious paint fumes along with the fresh mountain air. The climb was quite a struggle, N had to walk some of it and ended up having a bit of a dodgy moment with her new toe-clip pedals at Tangle Falls, causing a temporary dip in enthusiasm (the less said about that the better).

Once the road plunged down towards the famous Icefield, we realised we had left the best part of our food at the hostel, so we were at the mercy of the over-priced cafeteria at the Icefield Centre which was brimming with bus-loads of tourists. After paying through the nose for a very simple lunch, we decided to skip the walk to/on the Glacier (it wasn’t much to look at anyway) and try and escape the whole tourist infested area. On leaving, we bumped into another pair of cyclists, Scott and his sister. They were also cycling the Parkway before returning to school the following week and would be our on and off cycling companions for the afternoon (a refreshing change from all the cars and RVs!)

Further up the road, we found yet another misplaced summit (Sunwapta pass), after which the roads quite literally dropped off the side of the mountain, revealing ever more dramatic scenery. Even better, the morning’s low moments were finally paid off as Naomi not only beat her own top speed record , but also went over the speed limit by 5km - possibly one of the most victorious moments for a cyclists. But the cars still overtook!

More than a few rolling hills later, and a whopping climb, we arrived at Waterfowl Lakes campsite, where once again we felt hard done by, having to fork out exactly the same CAN $21.80 as our neighbouring 40-foot RVs and SUVs with five tents around them. The campsite did have hot running water, although strangely enough no showers. After making use of said hot water with a splash around in the sink, hanging up our food out of reach of the bears on the provided cables, and a wee stroll down by the lake, sleeping proved very difficult due to the unexpected drop to sub-zero temperatures at 1600m. We froze, all night.

The temperature had only reached 4C when we crawled out of our sleeping bags, teeth chattering at 9am, but the sunny weather and the 10km haul up to Bow Pass soon warmed us up. Lunch was well-timed once again with an excellent view of Peyto Lake from the overlook (although enjoyed as always with lots of other tourists). More lovely views of Bow Lake and surrounding glaciers marked our descent towards Lake Louise. However, the traffic had obviously decided the attractions were well and truly over and speeded their way back home. Rumble strips in the centre of the road were obviously put there for the added security of scenery-ogling drivers, but unfortunately this meant over-taking traffic (most of whom thankfully gave us some decent cycling space), made this constant farting noise which rendered our last 40km into Lake Louise quite unpleasant. Finally, the frightfully expensive Lake Louise hostel welcomed us with proper showers, proper beds, laundry, internet, food, beer and an excellent night’s sleep!

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August 21, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

The Ferry
Our two day ferry/cruise from Juneau to Prince Rupert was a hive of inactivity. After spending the first 20 minutes casing out the ship’s entertainment options we realised it boiled down to looking through the windows from the front observation lounge, open air views at the back from the solarium, the self-service cafe and the bar. So, naturally, we decided to have a couple of drinks in the bar on our first evening out on the water.
The rest of the trip was spent reading, with only the occasional trip to the bar until we reached what we were promised was the scenic highlight of the trip - the Wrangell Narrows. Also know as Pinball Alley. It is, as the name suggests, narrow. And also long. About 35 kilometres long and a maximum of a kilometre wide although the channel for shipping is only 300 metres wide at most points. We entered the narrows at dusk and saw the twinkling lights stretching in to the distance, in true superlative American style it was labelled one of the most ‘buoyed’ stretches of water in the world with its sixty plus flashing buoys. All very exciting and after the captain negotiated the first few turns successfully, and it got darker and darker we left him to it and went to bed. That was the most exciting part of the boat trip until we hit Prince Rupert the following day.

Manners and the Beastly Train:
The wonderful thing about travelling around isolated parts of North America is that people tend to be very friendly. I don’t suppose this is a particular plus when travelling in cars etc but it is if you’re travelling by bike - after cycling all day and battling the elements, it’s really very nice to be welcomed with a lovely smile and a ‘How are you?’ People you don’t know say ‘hello’ in the street (even in Anchorage - a relatively big city), you don’t need to ask people the way, they stop you and ask if you need help, delays are always apologised for and normal daily transactions are usually accompanied by friendly conversations. In one town a woman even came up and shook my hand and said ‘Welcome to Terrace’.

Unfortunately, this made it all the more shocking when we finally did encounter a nasty man in charge of checking people in at the Skeena Railway terminal in Prince Rupert. We had not received and did not find any information in regards to what food would be provided over the next couple of days and having only provided ourselves with breakfast (assuming, as anyone would, that there would be a dining car on a train travelling for two full days), we decided to ask. This man wanted to know what class we were in - ‘comfort’ (but should more realistically be called ’scum’), he informed us that we better get to grocery store asap because although there was a ‘cart with muffins’, there wouldn’t be enough food for everyone for the journey as the coach was full. I told the man that this information really ought to be advertised on the internet so that passengers could be prepared for the journey, but he made it quite clear that they didn’t do this so that the passengers were forced to buy food on the train and the railway company could therefore make more money with inflated food prices. Furthermore, the practicalities of getting into town and back on a bike, with less than half an hour before the train was due to leave, didn’t interest him in the slightest, but his unprofessional attitude and the pessimistic advice immediately affected my mood and I dreaded getting on the train, especially when faced with going hungry for the best part of the day (the train journey was 13 hours!). All was not lost, however, as a British family nearby overheard our conversation and asked the man the same question as they were equally as clueless as to what food would be provided. It turned out they were in ‘Totem Class’, somewhat more luxurious than scumclass, and had prepared for lack of food and therefore had a spare bag of bagels and a packet of Swiss cheese, which they very kindly donated to us! As it happened, the information provided by this silly man was highly inaccurate; there was plenty of food for the journey, but as members of scumclass, it was indeed only a cart with ‘take-outs’. The train journey lasted for two days (with a break for the night in Prince George); the first day lasted for 13 hours and the second for 9. Apart from the odd stop at a station where we had to go scurrying around for a shop to find food other than ‘take out’, we had no other food available to us (even in Prince George, we arrived so late that we were lucky to find a shop open at 930pm, and left at 7 next morning, before any shop opened). Coming from countries where train distances tend to be a lot shorter, and the availability of food on such journeys a lot better, and going to a country that was equally as developed as mine, if not more so, with train distances infinitely longer than back home, I would have expected some sort of adequate food provision, at least a dining car. But, no, the Skeena Railway wanted ‘comfort class’ passengers to eat their three day old pre-packed sandwiches, or starve.
My other issue with this most snobby of railway companies was access. On the first day of the journey, I was blissfully ignorant of the fact that as a member of scumclass I was not entitled to walk down the whole train, and as a result I did so twice and thoroughly enjoyed the view from the Bubble Car. Although (according to the customer services manager) I knew that apparently we did not have ‘access’ to the latter , no one was there to stop me. This was a strange train as the majority of the people were in ‘Totem’ or ‘Totem Deluxe’ (2 cars) and the minority was us lot in ‘Comfort Class’ (1 car). On the second day, I went for my usual walk, only to find the cart lady asking me if I was in Comfort Class, and on confirming that this was so, I was not allowed to go any further. I told her that no one had stopped me the day before and wondered why she was stopping me now, she checked with the manager, he confirmed that this was so - I was not allowed to go. I went back to my seat, seething with anger at being trapped in the one railcar. Although, on a slightly brighter note, it was noticed that the seats in ‘comfort class’ might actually live up to the name even if nothing else did - more leg room, more recline and perhaps even more comfort than in the Totem Deluxe car.

We were very happy to arrive in Jasper; I think everyone was relieved to get off the train - even those for whom the two day trip wasn’t a desperate search for edible, healthy food. The scenery on the journey, however, was excellent so all was not in vain, and we were now in the Rockies. Apologies for lack of photos, but opportunities for these are much better on bikes.
Recommendations for the future: if you find one day that you must buy tickets on the Skeena Railway make sure you don’t go for the cheapest tickets!

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August 18, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

This was without a doubt the most scenic road we had taken so far, and also the most isolated - luckily we’d stocked up on supplies as a sign warned of no services for the next 203km, and we felt very confident, leaving town under some very sunny skies in t-shirts and cycling shorts.

Now if there is one thing guaranteed to keep a cyclist on his toes (or rather his pedals), it’s an imminent raincloud. After seeing various ‘partly cloudy’ weather forecasts, we interpreted these in the Spanish sense (usually no more than two tiny clouds in the sky) and all waterproofs had been packed at the bottom of our panniers. Menacing clouds appeared from nowhere and bullied around behind us, the rays of sunshine were teasing in front of us - no matter how fast we cycled we could not catch up with them. Nasty clouds that they were, we first got pelted with whopping hailstones (partly cloudy!!!) which were quite painful little bastards, and carried on cycling as fast as we could, desperately trying to catch up with the sun. (No doubt providing great amusement to passing vehicles.) We had a break from the clouds but not for long. After stupidly deciding not to stop until the last minute to get all our raingear out of our panniers, by the time we had digged deep and waterproofed up, our clothes underneath had got soaked anyway (partly cloudy!!!). We eventually found shelter from the beastly rain at Dezadeash Lake Campground, and had a very long well-deserved break drying out clothes, eating lunch and most importantly making our first and much-appreciated cup of tea with the now functioning WhisperLite stove.

Having surveyed the clouds ourselves for our own more realistic forecast, we set off and the scenery became very impressive after Flying Squirrel Creek. Eventually the road climbed towards our last summit of the day at which point we were pursued by yet another very menacing raincloud. Of course we were very prepared for this one, but might as well not have been as it sprinkled us with about three drops of drizzle before heading off west! A steep downhill took us to Million Dollar Falls Campground where the lack of shower facilities was made up for with very clean pit toilets (well-done Yukon, but still a smelly!), a warm dinner made with the WhisperLite and shower wipes (basically wet wet ones). The falls were a short walk from the campsite - the quantity of water pounding down was very impressive - too violent unfortunately to jump in for a wash!

After yet another unsatisfactory night’s sleep in the tent, when we overslept once again and therefore headed off late for our most scenic and most challenging day yet. The prospect of staying at another campground without showers for a second night was enough to convince us that cycling 150km in one day is a good idea. The scenery was fantastic (we’ll let the photos do the talking). We also saw squirrels/chipmunks (please can anyone identify animal in photo?), a lynx, lots of crows and various piles of bear poop along the side of the road. We cycled through a high valley which followed massive glacial rivers, and which eventually took us to two summits, the first of which was sign-posted on the way downhill!! The second summit saw us complete half our journey of 70 or so km and all was meant to be rosy as the rest was downhill (a very silly assumption for a cyclist to make indeed).

When we’d cycled downhill for a good 12km (at last!), much to our dismay we encountered a very unexpected steep hill and arrived at the US border panting and sweating with the hope that this would be the last of the hills. The US border guard assured us, after confirming that we were carrying neither drugs, firearms, alcohol, over $10,000, antlers, furs or horns, that the 60 km into Haines was ‘mostly’ downhill. A very welcome pie and ice cream stop 11 kilometres later (the services promised a day and 203km earlier), provided the energy for us to slipstream our way onto Haines along the valley, with very sore bottoms and very glad that over-ambitious rides were on hold for at least a week.

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August 7, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

What with fork issues and wet fog and drizzle, we left Valdez four days behind schedule. To raise the spirits we had an almost 3,000 foot mountain to cycle up, which would take us panting and sweating into the Chugach Mountains. After a sandwich lunch within touching distance of the very impressive Worthington Glacier, we coasted down for 22 miles and after 62, we arrived at our little doghouse (see photos 1st Aug) at Tiekel River. 

The following day, under an unusually blue Alaskan sky (with a few pink fluffy clouds thrown in), we left the Chugach mountains. A nasty steep hill up from Squirrel Creek and Tonsina Lodge was rewarded with another well-timed lunch and our first view of the Wrangell St Elias National Park and Preserve with the 12000ft plus peaks of Mount Wrangell, Drum and Blackburn (photos still to be uploaded). After a friendly chat with some lovely people from Atlanta (who wondered if we were noolywedz), we made our way downhill to Copper Centre, where we stayed at the old copper mining railway depot and actually slept in a lineshack built in 1914, the only conversion being that a big bed had been shoved in it. For more information on the copper railway see http://www.copperraildepot.com/ (there is also a book available written by owner of the hotel and depot). After dinner at the historic Copper Center Lodge, we went for a few beers in the middle of a big trainset/bar (see photo 3rd Aug) and met a couple from Montana, Mike and Abrei, who were on their honeymoon cycling round Alaska!

The following morning, after an early brekkie of some weird berry bread, reindeer sausage and coffee, we set off for Gakona via Glennallen (for laundry and internet admin). Another impressive day of forests and mountains covered in snow ended up in the tavern at Gakona Lodge (the oldest in Alaska apparently) being regaled with some very interesting tales (see below) by a well-oiled pipeline maintenance worker called James O’Leary.

James was conceived on the Thompson Pass in 1954, when his parents got snowed in in their truck in a snow storm, and for four days they lived on fruit and veg until they were rescued. On Good Friday in 1964 there was a massive earthquake and a series of tsunamis in Alaska that destroyed all of Valdez and Portage and parts of Anchorage and Seward. On this day, James O’Leary’s father was waiting on the dock with his truck to pick up some cargo at Valdez along with some other truckers. The boat they were all waiting for came and just as it did, the earthquake struck, causing the sea to get sucked right down and when it came back, it swallowed everything: ship, cargo, dock, dockers, truck, truckers and most of the surrounding buildings. Three tsunamis struck in a row and after a year of searching, no trace was found of them - not the ship, the cargo, the dock, the dockers the truck, the truckers, the buildings - nothing. So now Valdez stands four miles away from where it was before, a totally new and typically small American mountain town with a very friendly population. For more information on this subject, see

 http://www.valdezalaska.org/history/earthquake.html

and

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valdez%2C_Alaska

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August 7, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

Our three nights in Valdez (which rhymes with sneeze) were very comfortable due to Mandy and Tom’s warm hospitality. Tom gave us a tour of the area, showing us the site of old Valdez (which was totally destroyed by an enormous earthquake in 1964), catching a salmon with his bare hands down at the hatchery, and even arranging for a black bearcub to appear on cue at the side of the road (though unfortunately not for long enough to get a decent photo). We were also introduced to various homemade culinary delights such as moose steaks, caribou sandwiches, barbecued Alaskan sock-eyed salmon, salmon pate made with Mandy’s own delicious pickled green beans and Tom’s beer-laced breakfast pancakes. All of which set us up nicely for the following days on the Richardson Highway.

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