Goodbye Canada, it’s been a blast!

Leaving Tera’s place was hard to do. We had had such a fantastic time but we knew we had to move on and Tera had packing to do - new adventures awaited us all…

The morning was dry but grey and cold. The predicted high winds of the previous few days hadn’t really amounted to much, so travel was not restricted. Following previous experience of Calimoto not being great for city navigation, Isi programmed the TomTom with the ferry destination in Horseshoe Bay. It was a very nice drive along the coast, with narrow roads amongst trees and large dwellings. Not much glimpse of the sea as the dwellings are well protected from overlooking eyes by hedges, fences and gates. The residents keep the views for themselves. As we neared our destination, it became apparent we were in the wrong place - as nice as it was, the biggest boat available had sails.

A quick Google and a reprogram found us retracing our tyre treads, then taking the main road that finally found its way to the ferry terminal. As we pulled up and enquired about getting on the next sailing, we were told the gate should’ve shut but, as we’re two bikes and easy to slot in, take the lane and get onboard. By the skin of our teeth, we had made it but the trauma was not yet over as we were left to strap our own bikes down with no instruction on how the straps worked. Seemed simple enough but the deck was cramped and another reminder of how old and overweight I am.

After a short and uneventful crossing with a tea and a cookie, we joined the bun fight to get in to Nanaimo and the much needed fuel. Having time on our hands for the next destination and on advice from our hosts, we took the coastal road, North, along the Eastern shore of Vancouver Island. Numerous caravan parks and holiday camps gave way to more private dwellings and the occasional view of the shoreline. The smell of salt and seaweed were evidence of the previous few days winds with a slight chop before the view of mountains and clouds of the mainland.

When we arrived at Simon & Faye’s house, we were greeted with a welcome flag, huge smiles and big hugs. Isi had known our hosts from hockey trips in ‘Life 1’ and I was the unknown element of ‘Life 2’. We were both nervous for different reasons but those nerves were ill-founded, with Simon and Faye welcoming us in to their home. As I stepped in to the house, I went to place my helmet on the sideboard just inside the door, but was greeted with a polite but firm request not to damage the surface - turned out to be a rather special piece of furniture and a more appropriate spot was found. Strike One, you could say, but no more to follow.

Simon and Faye had recently moved from Ottowa, having decided freezing temperatures and feet of snow was no longer right for them. Simon enjoys his cross-country skiing, so their location on the island provided the best of both worlds. A temperate climate for the house but access to the snowy mountains and abundant trails, just 20 minutes away.

After a relaxing evening and a great nights sleep, Simon and Faye wanted to give us a taste of the area and we all piled in to the one car. This gave Simon the chance to explain the 4-way Stop signs. Instead of a roundabout or lights, the 4 roads have equal priority, based on who stopped at their stop line first. You all watch each others wheels and allow the car that stopped before you, to move across the junction first. It all felt a bit random and not eco-friendly (you use less gas if you keep rolling) but it worked. If traffic was heavy, there would be queues on all sides and not just the minor road joining the main road. The rule is so engrained, vehicles actually stop when there is no other vehicle in sight. We have adopted our own adaptation of rolling to the line, watching for movement, taking our turn but not actually stopping AND treating both bikes as one vehicle - we both go together! If we are the only vehicles in sight, we just power on through - you can’t take the rebel out of bikers!

Our first stop for the morning was Williams Beach; a quiet, open, sunny, expansive beach with views that overlooked the mainland mountains and puffy clouds atop. The high tide line was thick with washed up seaweed, a few feet deep in places, resulting in a wet leg for the impatient or careless walker. Other than this, the going was easy and a pleasant walk watching seals basking on the soon-to-be-submerged rocks, herons fishing the margins and the occasional eagle or hawk flying the thermals above the steep and wooded shoreline.

As the tide advanced and the pools refilled, it was time to make tracks back to the car and tackle the same shoreline, through lush forest and ferns and down the steep creek before popping out on to a quiet bay covered in rocks and pebbles. No Orcas to be seen here, either. I was slow on the ascent but the back and leg were holding up OK. Any twinges or pains were kept silent as nothing was going to spoil this magical experience of timeless beauty.

Next stop was an Italian ice cream vendor and a walk around the harbour to watch the seals basking in the sunshine and the ships making their passage north, through the Strait of Georgia toward Campbell River and the numerous islands and ports along the Canadian coast.

Then it was back to the car and heading north to Elk Falls, a thundering waterfall and an area of outstanding beauty. The immediate area from the car park is a building site, where the hydro-electric dam pipes are being replaced in a manner to make them earthquake proof. To the west, the John Hart reservoir holds back the Campbell river, to provide drinking water and power for the local community. The Campbell river is allowed to flow unhindered; albeit a few times a day extra water is flushed down the river to relieve the dam pressure as the pipes are being replaced.

Get beyond the works and you are immersed in wonderful walks under the immense canopy of trees that allow the Jurassic Park ‘like’ landscape to unfold with every step. The centrepiece is the waterfall and an obvious natural barrier for the salmon - their swim stops here! There is a high suspension footbridge that takes you over the gorge to allow better views and yes, I did make it, despite the height and bouncy nature of the bridge. Back on the ‘mainland’ and the walks took you on a journey where I could only watch on as Isi scrambled over the rocks and trees, to gain the better viewpoints.

The Campbell River is well known for the salmon run and attracts many fishermen, bears and other wildlife to reap the spoils of nature. The Quinsam River is a tributary of the Campbell River and holds a salmon hatchery that is open for the public to wander. It is fascinating to see how the hatchery has exploited the desire of salmon to swim upstream, by guiding them through water ladders and tanks to trap the salmon and save their eggs. The hatchery is a commercial enterprise but also one of conservation and study.

Just up from the main hatchery breeding tanks, the seagulls can be found making a feast of spent and damaged salmon. The smell of rotting fish lingers in the air as nature does what it does in cleaning up the spoils of a successful salmon life-cycle. The eggs hatch, the fry grow to smolts and migrate down the river to the sea where they travel huge distances and grow, to return 3-5 years later, swim back up the very same river to the very same place they hatched. They lay/fertilise their eggs and then die. Their life is over but along the whole process, they have provided food for other species.

One such dominant species is the bear. A huge, scary animal that mainly lives off berries, with salmon coming late in the summer and being a rich source of needed fats before their hibernation over the winter. At the hatchery, one lady was patiently waiting for the return of a bear that had been seen sometime earlier. We didn’t have the time or the patience and so we moved on.

Back in the car and leaving the hatchery we crossed over a small bridge, when Faye shouted “It’s a bear!”. Simon, who was driving and hadn’t seen it was not convinced until Faye shouted “It’s a fucking bear!”. Simon understood and pulled over to the side of the road and we all rushed back to the bridge but no bear could be seen. Faye was adamant and as she started accepting it will not return, we saw movement upstream and then - a bear! A big black, cuddly bear! The next 10 minutes will forever be etched on our memories as a once-in-a-lifetime encounter with a bear. We were close. Really close. But, being on the bridge, we were safe. He knew we were there and ignored us as he carried on his walk downstream, under our feet and in to the woods below.

Our excitement of the experience was tempered when we came across a Police escort of a cycle ‘race’. Not so much a race, than a bike ride, but the Police cars outnumbered the cyclists. We could have easily overtaken the 8 cyclists but were not allowed. Someone was on an ego-trip to wield the power for a Police escort on a cycle ride…

A few more stops with a hope to see Orcas but we couldn’t be so lucky to have more than one awesome experience, though the scenery was a very adequate alternative.

The following day and it was time to leave. Simon and Faye had been the perfect hosts, allowing us to fill our herb jars, oil container and other such essential supplies. We rolled around the corner waving goodbye in the hope our paths will cross again. But today, our desire was to replace a really comfortable bed with a sleeping bag. A blast down the highway took us to Duncan, where we turned inland toward and around Cowichan Lake to Heather Campground. The last 15 miles were rutted and sometimes wet dirt. We were not riding with the confidence we had had in Alaska or the Yukon and it felt weird to realise we were being cautious now that it was feeling less like a holiday and more like a lifestyle. I can’t explain it better than that, but our vulnerability is limiting our road choices as the ‘what-if’s’ creep in.

Heather campground is a state run site that would be packed in the summer. Since we were late in the season, there were very few other souls around and that’s just how we liked it - though we didn’t like having to buy firewood but struck a deal for a barrow load (and snuck back for a few bits more). We had the choice of pitches and elected to pitch on the beach, looking down the length of the lake. Tent pitched and I began to prepare the evening meal of a beef curry, whilst Isi went off for a swim. The water was cold but not as cold as expected. It was clear, and became deep very quickly.

The evening was spent huddled around the fire and enjoying the light turn from day to night and all the stars that came out. A truly dark sky in a beautiful, but cold, place, shared with a hawk that had chosen to be our neighbour in the nearby tree.

Isi was having concerns about her back and all the floor work required with camping. How much longer can we carry on with lifting bags and getting on and off the floor? How much longer can we cope with the cold? The following morning revealed some of the answer. I was up and out first, as usual, only to shout back “Get up and come out now. You don’t want to miss this.”. The sun had not yet risen but the light had that magical pre-dawn colours of blues, purples and oranges. Mist was rising off the surface of the lake as not a breath of air could disturb the tranquility. The audio was provided by the waking birds, calling to announce another day. Certainly not the dawn chorus of an English woodland, but beautiful in it’s simplicity.

A few more miles of dirt on the south side of the lake led to a brilliant biking road to Port Renfrew and the coast road toward Victoria. There were many other bikes out, no doubt ‘doing the loop’ on a glorious Saturday!

We had intended to enter the lower states the next day and had identified a campsite just before Victoria. As we pulled in, the entrance was partly blocked by a sign stating the campground was closed due to a wedding party. We rode down but saw the place was full. Not good, as we were tired and somewhat irritated but on we must go. We rode in to Snooke Campground and paid what they asked. A pitch with no privacy and pretty full of RV’s, campers and tents. The bear-box was a metal kennel with shared space and really was not very secure. There were reports of bear sightings on the other side of the river bank that was hidden from view by the RV’s…

Despite the party noise from some pitches we slept well, to awake to another glorious sunrise with seals fishing in the river and a large eagle perched in the top of a tree. The site was orientated toward young families but it had a certain appeal for us oldies too.

Early start and in to Victoria to find the port and customs. Roads were reasonably empty on a Sunday morning and the sun was out. We parked our bikes as instructed, closest to the Customs doors and left to spend the rest of our Canadian dollars on a breakfast across the road.

When it was nearing time, we returned to our bikes to await the arrival of the Customs officers, as they would visit each person and vehicle within the queues pre-boarding. Ramone was one such officer and we instantly warmed to him, as we shared our events for the past 2 months and our plans for the rest of our trip. We asked for a new 6 months and he instantly agreed, making notes on the piece of paper we were to hand in. “Join the queue over there and go in together when it’s your turn”. We joined the queue of other people waiting to get themselves through the Customs check.

Soon enough it was our turn and we both mounted the steps and entered the door. “One at a time!” was our greeting but the lady grumpily relented when we said we had been told to come in together. A few questions answered and Isi’s passport was handed back. However, mine was held back with some unintelligible comment about not being on the system and I would need to sit on the bench outside. We both left the office, Isi to return to the bikes and me to sit on the bench - elevated above the continuing queue of people but (thankfully) with my back to them. People entered the building to my right and reappeared to my left. The queue got smaller and smaller but only once did someone else join me - albeit for a mere few minutes.

I am known for my anxiety and this was one such time when the anxiety was in overdrive, trying to recall the dates of our flights in, dates and times of border crossings and what would happen if I wasn’t allowed in. I very desperately needed to use the bathroom but knew I couldn’t just ask.

Meanwhile, Isi had been standing with the bikes when another customs official walked over and asked if everything was OK. Isi said they wouldn’t let me through and the official said I may not be allowed in today. Even though Isi knew he was joking, she said it was not funny and kept it serious. The customs official took a hold of Isi and said “come with me, we’ll get this sorted” and, just as the queue was coming to an end, Isi and the customs official picked me up and marched into the immigration office. We were told to keep quiet and it would get sorted.

Our new best friend explained we needed new 6 month visas and to let us in. The grumpy immigration guy (they must pass a test or something?) said it didn’t work like that and it was not as simple as that. Our new friend was stood behind the immigration guy and could see what an anxious mess I was in; he winked and mouthed “it’ll be OK”. And it was…. It would seem the immigration official at Denver Airport had not entered me in to the system correctly so an entry interview was required. This was ‘waived’ as it was obvious an error had occurred and a new 6 months was eventually agreed, stamped and passports handed back - we could enter!

Just as we were leaving, Ramone entered the room and said “Have these guys told you what they’re doing? A trip of a lifetime!”, to which I grumpily, cheekily and anxiously answered “No, they didn’t ask” and left quickly before anyone could change their mind!

We sat with the bikes as our ship docked and the contents drove off the side of the ship and out of the parking lot. We were seriously impressed in the drivers skills of the large articulated truck that managed to manoeuvre his load out of the side ‘hole’ and on to the exit road - it was tight on all corners and an applause was required!

We were first on but had to tie our bikes down with different straps and anchor points as last time. By the time we had finished, the hold was full and we squeezed our way up a few decks to look for a seat. A young couple, from Puyallup, made space for us to join them and we talked about each others journeys and plans for the future. The crossing was silky smooth and uneventful.

When we disembarked, we had to go through further customs checks and the officer, seeing we were together, gestured for us both to approach, on bikes, and he asked about weapons, narcotics and food. Isi said the pantry was empty and we’d even eaten sardines for breakfast as we weren’t sure. This broke the ice, he was happy we were no threat and away we rode.

People always say “Don’t stop in border towns” and Port Angeles was no exception. It looked and felt dirty and seedy and not a great introduction to the United States. On the ship, we had decided to celebrate my eventual escape from Canada with a hotel or similar. We had decided not to choose a really cheap room in Port Angeles and we were so relieved we hadn’t. Instead, we found a really nice hotel in Sequin, for not a lot more, with a swimming pool and hot tub.

Goodbye Canada. Hello USA!

Goodbye Canada, it’s been a blast!

Until we meet again.

What are we doing?