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!

    Last you heard I was heading for the beaches. Well, I made it, down, or should I say up and over, the worst road I've encountered in my travels, bar none. It was hell folks, no shoulder, eight and half per cent hills, mad insane drivers, including one with a bumper sticker that read: HUG A LOGGER - KILL A HIPPIE! This particular turkey attempted to run me into the drink near Gordon Beach.
    I'm pleased to report he didn't succeed, although I did later go voluntarily into the drink, just so I could say I'd been swimming in the Pacific in October!
    The beach I made was called "French". It was not necessarily where I'd planned to go but, seeing as I managed to break my axle on the aforementioned eight and a half per cent hill, it was an excellent choice! Turned out to be fairly good. I was able to camp free about five minutes up from the surf, and did get in some real good days of tanning before the weather went to, well, we'll call it soup!
    With the axle broke, and the wheel somewhat warped, I went into a mental block and simply left Blu and BoB sitting tight for a few days, except for the few occasions I sat staring at the two of them, trying to heal Blu's wounds with my mind (not quite graduated from that class yet). Mostly, I just sat in the sun and thought about things.
    I came to some conclusions too. One summation is; this has been one of the most difficult and adverse summers I've ever experienced. In fact, in some ways, I feel like I missed it. A lot of it was weather, 52 days of rain in the first 74 before I stopped counting. Some of it, and perhaps even moreso, economics.
    Which brings me to my next conclusion: which is, in part, that it is becoming increasingly impossible for poor folks to travel. And I am a poor folk, which is the other part of the conclusion. Sitting there on the beach I realized I'm 50 years old and I have squat. Well, not quite squat. I have a truck load of poetry, a couple bikes, a mound of camping gear and a small collection of cassettes, but that's it. No savings, no RSPs, no land, no titles, no inheritances, and practically no home. Sure, there is in me a notion that I possess, in my sense of adventure and my art, "riches more than these", and there are times when that sense holds me through, but there are other instances where it just doesn't.
    Like now for example. With the bike repairs done, some days wafling while a part was delivered, and some weather was averted, I've managed to put myself into a situation where I can't even get off the island. I kick myself, 'cause I know it's my own making but, it was never my intent to end this trip because I simply was stuck.
    Right now my focus has become getting to Vancouver, where I can at least put Blu and Bob, and the bags on a bus C.O.D. to myself. Once there, I also have the option of a bus ticket offered by one of you. So, sooner or later, one way or the other, I'm going to get out of this jam. Can't really do much now though. It's a long weekend, so I can't ship until Tuesday anyway.
    Biggest chore is making Tuesday, but I'm resourceful and that's not my point.
    The point is: at 50 I think I'm finally good and sick of this business, and when I get home I'm going to get a job, or sell some books, or become a banker, or a bank robber (just a joke) or something. But even greater is the notion that I really need to start giving some serious
consideration to my future, and if my writing and cycling isn't going to kick up the cash, then I'll find something else that will.
    But that's not the point either. The point, hope I can get it this time, is that sitting on that beach gave me pause to stop and think about my life and, you know what, I'm not all that pleased about it. I don't like that I'm 50 and have squat, I don't like that I'm stuck, I don't like that I can't do the things I'd like to, like take my poetry to Europe, where I sense they have a keener appreciation for it.
    The point is, I'm tired.
    The other thing the beach brought home is, along with tired, I'm tired of being alone. If it weren't for you folks here, on the digital coach, this would have been a helluva solitary effort. In fact, I don't think I could have done this without all your support, encouragement and emails. Your contact has been part of what allowed me to keep going. Then again, as much
as I appreciate it, the little excursion I took with the Aussie lass last spring introduced me to the notion that it's a lot cheaper to travel tandem (in fact, I'm quite sure tandem-travel would have helped me avoid my current dilemna all together). So, if I'm to do this sort of thing again, it will have to be with a partner or partners, that's it! It's simply out of my range to do it alone anymore.
    Which brings me to the other conclusion that turned up in the sand and driftwood. If I'm going to have a partner, then I'm going to have to start doing some serious work on my people skills, on my ability to make compromises, and on diffusing the grumpy poet within. So that's the other thing I'm going to start working on, being more polite, courteous and less stubbornly bullheaded. Hell, I think I'm ready to give into the notion of just staying in one place for a while and doing some real time on "relationships."
    So, while the beach was nice and lovely and sunny and warm, I also found it to be much, part and parcel, like the trip I've had this summer, which has been adversity, after adversity, with a lot of growing and learning stretches thrown in.
    Two nights before I left the beach a bus load of 50 students, from a middle school in Victoria, checked into the campsite. They'd no sooner got off the bus then the woods were full of their homonal noise, which continued until long after the owls would have been hooting. It was an agravant, but they were kids, so it was to be expected.
    Anyway, many campers were upset by the kids, and it surprised me that I wasn't more than mildly aggravated, considering the noise and pollution they were up to. One camper, a fellow with a distinctly red neck, decided the way to deal with it was to place his loud generator out in the road near the top of my lane. So there I was, with 50 screaming teeny boppers in one ear, and a Canadian Tire generator in the other.
    As is my way, I went over to have chat with the coloured neck man.
    "Hi," I said.
    "Hi," said he, " can I help you?"
    Yeah, I was wondering how long you were going to run your generator."
    "I'm gonna run it 'til those goddam kids shut up!"
    Well, then, do you think you could tuck it behind your truck (a huge behemouth 4 X4) so that it doesn't make quite such a racket?"
    "No, why would I do that?"
    "Well bud, its acoustics. Right where you have it, it just echoes through my site, so I have the kids in one ear and you in the other."
    "Life's a bitch!" he said, smiling.
    I went on to explain that I could maybe start yelling, then we'd have another source of aggravation, but the red in the fellow's neck seemed to be leeching into his ears, and he just couldn't hear it.
    Finally, I said, in a rythmic fashion that sounded like rap, "Hey man, I could be a jerk too, but, I guess, I just got more coothe, than you!"
    The next day the fellow was waiting for me at the watering hole. He got in my face and was calling me a hippie and such, while doing some  more bitching about the kids. I laughed and suggested, if he didn't like kids, he oughta not be in a family campground. At that point he told me he'd "kick the shit" out of me.
    I responded calmly; "Well Bud, if you have to, but I've just ridden 3000 k on that bike over there, and I'm in the best shape of my life, and if we get in a fight then, I guess you're going to know you were in a fight!"
    That he heard! For the remainder of the time there were no more generator sounds, but the kids kept up their nonsense, even congregating at one point all around the guy's RV and letting out a massive scream. I don't think it was intentionally meant for him, it was just where the kids happened to be at the moment they felt like exercising their vocal chords, and I did not feel guilty when I got a good chuckle out of it.
    When the kids, and the redneck left, the rain came. I got Blu and Bob into town and all fixed up. Had a  great visit with one of my old salmon arm crew, and found a relatively safe, dry place to hold up, while I try to figure myway out of this jam. So life is okay, but the trip is ending as it has gone, with considerable adversity, and with a resilient little bugger on a bike.
    Well folks, that's pretty much it for this trip, although I may send you all an epilogue once I'm safely back to my winter hideout. I am sincerely glad and appreciative of all of you who've hung in there. It hasn't been all fun, but it has been an adventure. I hope it has been some fun, and some adventure for you too, like maybe when you go out and buy a new CD or book, not really knowing what you're getting, but after taking it home and getting into it, deciding you like it.
    And by the way, if any of you are overcome with a desire to help me out here, there's a few things I need. One is a safe place in Victoria or Vancouver to stash Blu and Bob until I can have them picked up later. That would save me the immediate outlay for transport, either here or the other end. If anyone is travelling from the coast to the Koots, and has room for my bike and gear, and maybe even me, that would also be excellent. On the other hand, if you just took a win in the lottery or something, or if you feel my adventure has been worth the price of a new CD, or if you just want to loan me the cash to get home (about 250 to 300 beans) then let me know, I'll send you my bank info. Barring any of that, maybe you can all just send some positive vibrations, which will make me feel warm and fuzzy, despite being up the island without the boat fare.
    Again, thanks a lot for coming along and although it ain't over 'til its over, it may just be over anyway.
    Keep warm, stay dry, and don't eat too much turkey this Thanksgiving.