In June 2004 I set off across Canada on my bicycle. Or at least I'd planned to cross Canada. It didn't work out, mostly because of the weather, but I did have a great ride.

These pages are an account of that trip, as told through travelogs I sent to friends. I hope you enjoy the ride!

    Blu's load was feeling  heavier than I thought it should. Something was  rubbing as I climbed the crest of the hill just south of Riondel. Turning around in the middle of the road I set off down the hill. I could feel the weight of the BoB trailer pushing Blu and I, as we gathered speed.
    It felt good to be on the road, but there was obviously something wrong. Then it happened!
    Blu started to wobble. At first just a little from the back end, then the whole load began to rock. Time slowed. Squeezing the rear brake, I heard something snap, and felt the bike speed up. Gripping the brake again, the whole back of the bike seized. Touching the front brake, it increased the skitter. Looking ahead on the road, I was relieved to neither see nor hear any traffic. Quickly applying the front brakes again, I felt it slow, the back wheel and trailer were jack-knifing. I began to look for a place to crash! The edge of the road, one meter away, fell away into thick brush and prickly bushes.
    The smell of fresh wild roses filled my nostrils, as I applied both sets of brakes and tried to dismount. Blu slid beneath me as I went over the crossbar, hands first, onto the silky wet, but mercifully smooth, tar road.
    My last braking effort had worked. While still wobbling madly, the bike had slowed down and the final impact was more akin to falling over, than the crash it could have been.
    Pushing myself up, bum first, over Blu's prone, dead-horse, self. I was pleased to see I'd sustained no injury.
    Blu however, like I said, looked like a dead horse. Grabbing it by the horns and seat I attempted to upright it, then I noticed it there, twisted like a pretzel, was Blu's rear wheel.
    Allowing Blu to just lay there, I walked around and, reaching down, with both hands,
twisted the wheel into a somewhat straighter position. The wheel gave like silly putty beneath my hands. The tire, still full of air, held while I flexed the thing and gave it a spin. It rubbed, but I would be able at least to walk it.
    Uprighting Blu, I began walking, pushing, pulling, it and the BoB along, back to the yard, grateful that this happened on a quiet road, a kilometer from my friend's house, and not on a busy highway hundreds of miles away.
    By time I made the driveway to my friend's house a few minutes later only one thought ran fluid in my mind. It was: "Willbilly Boy Yer FOOKED!

    Wrestling Blu and the BoB down the steep grade and into the yard, I disconnected the trailer and was relieved when it came apart okay. Flipping Blu over, disconnecting its brakes and releasing the axle, I pulled it off.
    It wasn't easy. Looking things over it appeared the axle had survived. The wheel most certainly hadn't! The fork of the BoB seemed a little damaged but not severely. The brakes were okay.
    Nonetheless, I found myself looking seriously at the prospect of ending my trip before it started, and began to devise ways to get around the situation. I could suit up my other bike, Goldie. I would definitely have to send some of my weight on ahead of me. I could take Blue's wheel into town and see if it could be fixed or replaced. I could give up cycling and go back to hitchhiking!
    Many other thoughts and doubts passed through my mind. Perhaps this was a sign that I shouldn't go. Maybe I was meant to do other things, like lay around the Kootenays all summer, or get a job, or take up another hobby!
    No way, staying around would harm my appreciation for the place. It's better to go somewhere else, then come back and realize what a great part of the world this is! Besides, there's that old saying about how the greatest journeys begin with a single step. Well, I had to at least take that step. If once I'm out on the road things happen to stop me, or turn me around, or force me to change my plans, then okay. But I was going to be dag-nabbed if I didn't at least take that first step!

    Getting to town the next morning was no problem. And the good news came early. My mechanic said he could fix the problem, but it would take all day.
    "Hey, all day is better than no way!" I told him.

    You must understand. This was my intended departure date, or the latest in a series of delayed departure dates. I had absolutely nothing to do in Nelson on a rainy afternoon but wander around, drink hot apple ciders, and think about things.
    I began to to get philosophical. Perhaps there was some reason I had to be in Nelson that day. Maybe down the road somewhere I'd meet someone I might never have met, if it weren't for these delays.

    After many hours, tiring, I began to reconsider the whole ride. Maybe all this hassle was just a big sign to trash the plan. Maybe I'd be better off to just go, find a beach on an island somewhere, and let myself get fat and brown.
    Right about then the sky let loose with an awful deluge. Within minutes the streets were full of water. I decided to escape by ducking back into the bicycle shop to check the progress of my wheel. As I walked through the door I found the mechanic with BoB's quick release (the thing that holds the trailer to Blue) in a steel vice. He was hovering over it with a saw and I could see he'd marked a cut spot, a good seven centimeters into it.
    I'd earlier asked if he could take off a single millimeter, just to make the thing tighter fitting. Cutting off seven centimeters would render the thing useless.
    "Hey Daryl," I said. "That's a little more than a millimeter you're planning to cut there!"
    "Oh it's okay, I measured it," he said. "This new wheel for your bike is larger than your old one. . ."
    A light seemed to come on in his head. I could hear his thoughts. 'If the new one is wider than the old one, then its probably not a good idea to make the thing that runs through the middle of it any shorter!'
    "That's right Daryl, I said, confirming his worst suspicion, that I actually can, at times, read minds!
    "Good thing you walked in here right now!" said Daryl, a little embarrassed.
    "Don't worry about it man, it's the Kootenays. Something in the flowers around here makes people think funny. You're not immune."
    We laughed a few minutes and talked bikes, BoBs and some common sense.

    As it turned out, Blu's rear wheel was over 15 years old. Last year alone it did more than any
Japanese road bike ever dreamed of doing. It had carried hundreds of pounds of human, and human possessions, over mountains, down canyons, through rivers, over cliffs, along highways, across waterways, and along sandy beaches. When you do that to a road bike you need to be aware of things like aging, wear and tear.
    Another bit of common sense. When the BoB says 32 Kilograms maximum, it doesn't mean 40! Also, one must check gadgets like quick releases, cotter pins and all around tightness of things when one is carrying too much crap over hill and dale!

    In the end, it was a combination of things that led to the crash and learn. In the end it cost me 60 bucks and another two day delay. And the little thing with Daryl, where I stopped in just as he was about to destroy the quick release! Well that was the strongest "sign" I've encountered yet that said; "Get on with it. This trip is a go!"
    So, here's the good news. By time most of you start reading this travelogue Blu, BoB and I, will be gone down the road. We roll in the morning kids!
    We roll in the morning, (yahoo!) on down the Kootenay Lake to Creston town, then on to Yahk and Moyie, and in a few days, the Rocky Mountain Trench.
    See ya down the road.