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June 23/06 Falkland Fair Grounds, Falkland BC
I’m at a real hokey bluegrass festival in Falkland. So far I’ve had one redneck try to power trip and run me off, a few fat blokes with pink skin, bellies the size of Ronald Macdonald’s head, hair receded to their cowlicks, and obvious prostrate issues, have given me dirty looks.
Everyone else has been very sweet. I was invited for breakfast this morning, had several people quiz me about my travels and apologize too. I’ve blown two BoB tires, fixed them, rode a few k out the road, went into the village for bread and beans, and a big fat sticky bun, had porridge, drank coffee, struck and reset my camp, and all before 1 pm.
I’ve paid $15, admission and camping, two nights, one day listening. Right now, aside a nearby RV, fiddles and banjos, strike up, stop, strike up again, then take a break. Last night I was trying to wander around and listen. Some guy who is helping out and taking his volunteerism far too seriously accosted me, basically accused me of being a thief, standing in the middle of a feild of RVs, the only cyclist, in bright yellow! Good camoflage! Called me a hippie, said I had nothing, when I pulled out my $4,,000 computer he said I probably stole it. Demanded I stay in my camp, even though I’d been invited to wander around and listen to the jam sessions. Got all Hitler with me and came within about ten minutes of spending his weekend in a hospital. He was way over the top, claiming to be the big boss, threatening to call the cops, which I invited him to do, said I was looking forward to demonstrating to them what an ass he was being. In the end I told him I didn’t know if he was a drunken bully, some guy who was letting his authoritiy go to his head, the town lunatic, or a total miscreant of some sort, but he’d better get lost.
A while later some folks came by, said he was out of line, and I shouldn’t worry about it. Apparently he got dressed down good in the night and morning. He even made a half hearted attempt to apologize, to which I told him to just stay away from me. He was ready to start a fight, and I think still is.
Fortunately a firm more open minded fellow, with a genuine interest in people, is in charge, and has managed to keep the fool away from me. This in turn is allowing me to enjoy hanging out, hear a little music, and talk to a few of the folks who wander by.
During my ride I came to understand it is a very high traffic day and I am wise to stay off the road. Tomorrow I will carry on. For today, its sort of a neat situation. Haven’t just wandered into a Bluegrass Festival in nearly 20 years. The last one was Coombs.
June 24 Salmon Lake Resort, between Westwold and Merritt
Paid my dues today. Had to dissassemble to get up the hill to this place where I’ve had to pay $20 camping fees. Just think of it in Euros Will!
Was wise to wait until today to do the Falkland-Westwold run. Traffic wasn’t bad, one truck came a little close. Got a good shoulder from 5 K east of Westwold.
Road up here started out real good, a couple steep climbs, nothing serious, then about 21 K in it got unmanageable. Had to disassemble and relay Wheels, BoB and myself up for about 3 K. That was tough in the hot dry sun on a dusty road. Only about three vehicles went by in the couple hours it took to do the task.
Arrived here about 5 pm. Left Falkland about 9:30. Was in Westwold at 11:20, left there at noon. Five hours to do 35 K, not a fast run.
Rolling ranch country on either side of the heavily treed summit. A lot of it has been logged or burned, or gone a long time ago to the railroad most likely. Much like southern France, just no paved roads. Roads at start were nice, went to alternating hard pack clay and gravel. Got real chunky at the top for about 10 K. Nice thing was, maybe 10 vehicles in the whole five hours. None of them were a bother. One woman was rolling a little fast as I neared the top. I yelled at her.
Here is a big commercial campground on a lake, with a swimming pool and large RV area. I’m on a rise about 400 meters away in a stand of young birch, fir and long grass, up against a ranch fenceline, overlooking the RV park and surrounding hills, also planted with young trees of all sorts.
Have had to put bug juice on to guard against the beasts. Got eaten good last night at the Jamboringee. Didn’t want to put up with it today.
BoB tire was flat again. Changed tire and tube once again. Must buy new BoB tire and tube in Merritt. No fooling around.
Had problems with the gears. Really should get someone to look at them.
Not sure where I’m going. Have some vague picture of dropping in on Pauline. Will head for Merritt tomorrow and Berts the next day. Princeton, then Keremeos after that.
Nice campground here. I’m far away from everyone else. Have set up my mosquito net and will likely take a nap before I eat. Have chilli left from last night and some green onion and red pepper to add to it. Will be a quick cook when I’m ready.
Busted my ass today but I’m okay now, after an hour, some sips of tea, and a few words to the page.
One guy stopped to quiz me, got a weird vibe from him. Said he was from Europe, Holland. Told him a little about my adventure there. Part of me is still over there I think, expecting people to start talking to me in Slavik languages.
Didn’t take bee pollen today. Must remember that. Makes the day a lot easier. Still, I did well and was able to apply a lot of muscle and energy through out. Could have gone further but was wise to stop, despite the hefty fees. It should make tomorrow nicer, a lot of it will be downhill, into the Nicola Valley.
Beautiful hot summer day. A few clouds, but no rain like on the way from Vernon.
Just bagged this evening. Should try to make use of the showers later. Ought to lay down for a bit right now. Let the sun set a little before I eat.
All is well. I’m in the hills!
June 25 Merritt BC
Hold up in the local muni-camp with a young Aussie boy who just ran the Coq, all the way from Hope, in one day. He’s bushed and sunstroked and right out of it, in his tent now, which is probably good.
Glad I ran into him. Saved me $7:50 on rent, but we splurged and bought pizza, which cost $12 each. Still saved $.50 over yesterday and got fed to boot.
Road today was easier but there were still hills to climb, although none knocked me back like the ball cruncher yesterday. Larger issue today was heat. It was a killer. I drank a lot more water than usual and ate big, lotsa juice and orange and fruits.
Got out of Salmon Lake about 10:30. Took my time. Wanted to go in and give them hell for the awful bugs and ridiculous prices but didin’t think it would do any good. They really don’t care.
Some beautiful country I passed through today. It really is much like the south of France, minus the paved roads and little villages. There was a little more traffic today, most of it polite. Went through the Upper Nicola Band reserve. It was quiet. A few of the people from there waved at me.
Had a couple real long downhills, one coming into town had to be over 10 percent grade. Don’t know if I’d want to climb that pass going the other way. Glad I did this though, it was interesting. Some nice lakes and the half million acre Douglas Lake Ranch was storybook stuff. Didn’t see any cowgirls tho’.
Here is a homogenized campground with a decent shower right on the Coldwater River. Unfortunately the camp is located right next to the mill. Can here the chains and machines grinding. We’re in a 12 by 12 site, but fortunately have no real close neighbours. Mostly its RVs here, but I can tell they get cyclists, like my Aussie pal, burnt out and worn out.
Bugs are bad. I’m getting eaten alive even tho’ I’ve put on repellant. Can’t seem to escape them. Tomorrow I’ll shoot for Berts Horse Motel, which is less than 40 K. Figure I did close to 60 today. Seemed to take forever to reach Quilchena. Went quicker from there but I was on the 5A and was dealing with traffic, not too much but enough.
Town remids me of Alberta. Big wide streets with nothing going on. Most of the places are shut down. About the only thing going besides the mill is the country western thing, and that basically doesn’t really happen for another three weeks. Not much more I can say about the place. Its deadsville.
Park is over half full. Wouldn’t want to see it full up. It would be too much like Germany or France.
Anyway, not much more to write about. My Aussie pal is heading across Canada. I’m trying to steer him off the number one. Hope he takes my advice.
June 26 Princeton Municipal Campground, Princeton BC
Second night here.
Didn’t do a digital journal entry at Berts because I was too busy battling mosquitos.
That was a hard day. It was 60, not 30 K. The Aussie decided to come along with me. I’ve convinced yet another tourist to stay off the No. 1 Trans Canada Cycle Killer Highway. So far he’s enjoyed it, despite the bugs at Berts. It was horrendous folks, some of the worst I’ve ever seen. They just kept coming and coming, good thing Bert wasn’t there to collect any camping fees because he would have had to pay us!
My return to Berts was sad in a sense. Many of you will remember a few years ago when I went there. It was the hilight of my Kettle Valley Railroad adventure. I’d seen a bear that day, a grizzly cub, a falcon fishing, and rolled into Berts to find his horses trying to be affectionate and this great aging trapper whose joys in life were his horses, his tobacco, and his music. The whole time I was there people kept dropping in to play a few tunes with Bert, and he even entertained us one evening by singing us a bunch of old Woody Guthrie songs.
Bert's still around but, according to one of his pals in Brookemere, he’s become “citified” and moved into Tulameen. Apparently he only goes out to his place on weekends. Don’t know what’s become of the horses but the patch of land is overgrown and full of mosquito larvae without the horses there to keep it trimmed.
In most ways its pretty much the same as it was, it defines the word “rustic.” Sadly, its also approaching the definition of the word, “abandoned.” You know, I have half a mind to go to old Bert and say, “Bert, let me stay free and keep a cut of the camping fees and I’ll fix up the place and get it running again.”
I would, but there’s no drinking water there, it has to be trucked from Brookemere, and there’s no internet, and I’d lose touch with the world in that lonely valley, along the roughest most abused stretch of the Princeton to Hope section of the KVR. Could be a dream place for someone. Probably need need a car or small truck, or one of them ATVs. Hauling water on a bicycle is rough, on the bike and the water containers.
Riding down from Merritt in 40 degree heat, up the long sometimes steep Coldwater Road, wasn’t much fun. It was nice having a little company for a change, and I thoroughly enjoyed the long cold dip I took in the river when we reached the Brookemere cutoff, but all in all it was a grueling piece of grind.
It got worse, in some respects. We got away from the hills but then we hit gravel road full of big rocks and suspension rutts. Both the Aussie and I were shaken from our seats at times, and even when we slowed down we were bumped around like bicycles in the cargo holds of British Airways jets.
At Brookemere we stopped to get water from some folks who own the local well. I found out about this water last time I rolled through. It didn’t take us long to find the right house. We just asked an old fellow who was out tinkering in his yard where the good water was. He pointed to a little white house in the center of the village. We went there, knocked, and were directed to the tap.
“Any tap on the house is from the well, don’t drink from the sprinklers tho’, that’s creek water,” said the woman who answered the door all smiles. She was surprised to see us on such a hot day, and told us so many people come by to get the water they had to dig it an extra 50 meters deep.
Once we got to Berts, found the gate open, the house open, everything open, but no one home, we made our way to his camp, made quick dinners, killed thousands of mosquitoes each, and crawled into our respective mossie-proof shells, and went to sleep. There was no time for conversing or looking around, no time for leisurely dinners as the sun went down, it was all kill, kill, kill, get bit, bit, bit, then get under cover as fast as one can.
It was the same in the morning. I got up early, having gone down before 10, while it was still light out. I killed a thousand mosquitos while I made coffee, five thousand more as I wrote in my ink journal, another thousand at least while I changed my front break (a chore I’d been avoiding since one week after I got Wheels and had delayed until the moment when the mossies were thickest), and another thousand whilst I packed up.
We were out of there before 9am!
The ride out of Berts was all rock and suspension ruts again, but mercifully short, maybe 5 K. When we hit the Tulameen Road I considered taking the road, but the Aussie surprised me by saying he liked the trail. So we climed the abuttment where the trestle is still missing, and got back on the KVR. It was rocky and bumpy, and I even growled at the Aussie for riding alongside me all the time, when I nearly crashed into him for a third time. He was just talking away, talk, talk, talk. In the end I found out he was scared of bears, I’d told him about the Grizzly cub, and he felt he was supposed to talk. After a few growls from me he gave me a little more space. There are different kinds of grizzlies!
That day was actually fun. We stopped at the rocky outcrop on Otter Lake and I had a good swim. So did the Aussie, after I brow beat him into going in the water. He’s all afraid it will wash the sunscreen off him and he’ll get skin cancer. Me, I’m going in the water. I’m hot. That’s all there is too worry about.
Four times that day I found places to jump in the rivers and lakes. It was glorious, and I even had a shower at the end of the day, just to make sure my skin isn’t drying out in all this sun.
A lot of the time I’ve been thinking, this is just the south of France without all the grey little villages and the paved roads. I miss the paved cycling roads.
Haven’t had much time to think about Europe. Have been too busy riding. Don’t even know where I’m going or exactly what it is I’m up to. I’m just riding. Sometimes I think I took up this whole chore so I wouldn’t have time to think about things and would be so tired I’d sleep at night. If that was my aim, its working.
Other times I feel so damned tired of it I just wanna park the bike and get a real job.
Think I’d like to go back to Europe some day. That might make a real job a neccesity. I’d do a lot of things differently. I’d give Germany more time, and maybe ride into the east of it. I’d also go to Prauge, and to Poland. I’d take the train to Rome and spend a weekend, and I’d find someone to tour a little of Spain and Portugal with. All I’d do in France is take a three day period, rent a cheap hotel room, and really see Paris. I’d go to Holland again, and ride all around it, and I’d spend at least a month in Brighton and the south of England.
Yeah, I’m a little disappointed with myself for pulling the ripcord and getting out. A true adventurer would have thrown caution to the wind. But I’m not a true adventurer, I’m just someone looking for something interesting to tell other people’s grandchildren about.
This morning when I woke up I just couldn’t bring myself to playing in traffic. Tomorrow I will likely have to. My plan is to ride with the Aussie to Keremeos, maybe try to find him a job picking cherries. Me, I don’t know. I have a friend who is sometimes thereabout, I may drop in. If not. . .
Who knows, maybe I’ll meet a bus load of gypsies heading for Montreal with room for Wheels and BoB, and me. Maybe I’ll just keep riding.
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