Well, Will rides again! A new wander has already begun.
Ten days ago I left Kaslo and rode over the New Denver Highway. I call that day, the Day of the Butterflies. Everywhere I went great clouds of butterflies alit all around me. I thought they were Monarchs, but I'm told they were not, although no one has explained to me what they were, if not Monarchs. There were so many of them, when I stopped to eat lunch near Three Forks, I actually bit through one that found its way into my sandwich!
All in all it was a good day. I made the 50 K ride in less than five hours and only had difficulty on one hill, just outside Three Forks. Still, after a few minutes leg rest and heart stilling, I was able to top it.
Rode into New Denver feeling very full of oats and vinegar, singing, like I was the king of the road, and found my way to a friends house on the edge of town.
This was Easter Sunday. I'd timed my trip so as not to interfere with anyone's dinner. When I got to my friend's house, she wasn't around, so after a few hours I threw a tarp over my bike, rolled out my bivy under it, and went to sleep as the rain began to spit. I hadn't been sleeping long when I heard my host arrive. She walked over to my tarp, thinking maybe her landlord had stashed a load of something under it. She thought she was walking up to a pile of lumber or something, and nearly jumped clear out of her shoes when my voice permeated from under the tarp.
Turns out, despite my best efforts to miss Easter Dinner, I landed at a house where Easter Dinner happens the day after Easter. So, for the next couple days I got all turkied up, managed to do a little cooking myself (wowing the folks with my stuffed potatoes and turkey enchiladas) and basically whiled away a few days with a multi-generational female side of an extended family.
There I was with all these woman, my latest adventure off to a magnificent start.
My next chore was to cross Cape Horn, no, not Africa's Cape Horn, but the Cape overlooking Slocan Lake between Silverton and Slocan City. Now, Cape Horn used to be one of those mountain roads only the brave, the foolhardy, or the extremely intoxicated would dare travel. It was a goat trail wedged along the rock bluffs hundreds of meters up a sheer cliff overlooking Slocan Lake. Way back in university, my buddies and I would hop in a car on Friday night and head up to Silverton, usually to hear one of the great local bands that hung out in these parts in those days - Brain Damage, Pied Pumkin, The Vallhalleluja Rangers. We'd approach the bluffs, and inevitably would have to wait at one end while a stream of cars made there way along the narrow single lane chiseled out of the cliff. Some years ago the government decided this route would be a good one for chip trucks to travel, hauling woodchips to various mills in the area. They took dynamite to the cliffs, rebuilt the road into a two lane highway, and the old days of slow-mo' on the mountainside were gone.
Still, though the road's widened, the hills remain. From Silverton its an eight K grind, at eight to 10 per cent grades, to the top. This was a good challenge for a guy on only his second big hill of an adventure, but with numerous stops for water and muscle relaxation, I made it up and over the top in just under two hours, then passed another hour fighting wind, and occassional spits of rain, before winding up in the rough neck town of Slocan City. This was my Day of the Eagles, because everywhere I rode that day, eagles circled.
That night I rode towards Winlaw, but stopped in Lemon Creek when the sky grew suddently ominous and the wind went dervish. After a long winter in Kaslo, saving my sheckles and not splurging on anything but bike repairs, I decided to blow my wad and take a room in the local lodge (I was really just looking for a tv to watch the Stanley Cup hockey playoffs on). It was expensive, so was the food, but I had a good shower, a shave, watched the game, ate a nice pasta dinner, and slept like a baby. I also got some of my money back by raiding the proprietor's CD collection and recording some long sought music onto my computer. It was delight, and if you're ever feeling really flush, I mean millionairistic, stop by the Lemon Creek Lodge, stay a night, rent a cabin, enjoy the sauna, have dinner. You'll enjoy yourself, and leave a little less burdened by cash.
The next day I got off the highway and rode the newly refurbished Slocan Valley Rail Trail. Unfortunately, I missed the days here in the Slocan when the railroad was the main form of travel up and down the valley. I do recall when the line actually still had tracks laid, but years ago they were torn out.
Way back in '99 I tried to ride the rail line, but it was full of railroad rock and hell on the wheels. Over the past few years money has been poured into the route, the rocks covered or swept aside, and the surface graded. Today, although somewhat bumpy in places, and sandy in others, the trail is a lovely detour away from the road along the lovely pasture land, past farms and abandoned orchards, alongside the Slocan River.
It was a short pleasant ride in the morning cool to Winlaw, where I pulled in and began visiting with people, mostly Al, who owns the local bookstore, gem shop, video rental outlet, called Earth Spirit. I also met up with a few folks I know and even got invited out for pasta and a hockey game the next day.
Unfortunately, through all this, the weather has taken a bit of a dive. It has remained cold and cloudy, raining ofte
n,
with the wind blowing every which way. Fortunately, I've found
a decent
campground, the Karibu, and have set up on a bluff overlooking the
north end of the valley, the river, and the local bird sanctuary.
I've
stayed dry, but my tent and tarps have not. Good thing I have a tent
and tarps!At night, and sometimes during the day, I've had company! At first I thought it was unwanted company. I kept hearing this weird sound and thought it was someone trying, unsuccessfully, to start a lawn mower. I'd hear what sounded like a whir of someone pulling the starter rope, then the sound would die, like the engine had either no gas or no spark. I kept thinking, "I hope whoever that is doesn't get the thing going because it will ruin my serenity!"
Then, after changing seats by the fire, I heard the sound again and saw something move in the low brush before me. I went over to investigate. There I found a Ptarmigan, all the locals say pheasant, but I think its a Ptarmigan, doing a very lonely dating dance, spreading its wings wide, then quivering until they closed, making the whirring noise I'd initially mistaken for a motor of some sort! One night that Ptarmigan did his dance all night. Since then, I've not seen hide nor hair nor feather of him, so I guess he's found love.
Last night, after a trip into Nelson on the bus, and by way of a ride from a friend of mine, I went to sleep to the sound of an owl hooting. I guess its his turn to call for company.
Today is wet and rainy. I'm back at Earth Spirit, escaping the rain and staying warm and dry, writing this travelog. Soon I'll check email, then maybe see what I can do about finding a place to watch the next instalment of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, having basically decided to stay put until the weather changes, which is supposed to happen sometime by the weekend.
So there folks, that's my first edition of the 2007 wander. Hope you've enjoyed the read. Let me know if you want to keep riding along with me. And if you're around these parts, I'm camped in #24 of the Karibu Campground. Better yet, if you're watching the Canuck game somewhere tonight, close by, come get me. I make a good hockey watching companion!
Hope you're all well.
Will
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