Whenever I travel I take several people with me via email. Below are some excerpts from travelogs I sent to them during my recent adventure on the Kettle Valley Railway.
These are observations, experiences and opinions. I hope they provide you, the reader, with a look into what I see going on in the world as I travel through it.
If these words give you pause to think, good. I've done my job.
Chilly Willy!Arrived here yesterday about 6:30 pm with David. He dropped me off and went on to Kelowna. I hung out, made tea, built a fire, set camp, then sat around until the starry night grew too cool to bear. I then tucked myself into my flimsy secondhand tent, which I discovered, much to my chagrin, was full full of minute pin holes, and went to sleep after opening the space blanket David gave me. I did sleep well and woke up with first light, then stood around shivering until the water boiled. Once I'd some coffee in me I woke up enough for it to dawn on me that I could re-light the fire, which I did!
Now I've had a good breakfast and am into my second coffee, the sun is finally getting warm, although a stiff chill wind from the west is reaking havoc on my comfortablility! Feels good to be roughing it but it will take some getting used to. It's been a while. The ride over was uneventful but for a dinner stop in Grand Forks and a moose sightting on the Blueberry-Paulson (I thought it was a donkey at first and then remembered I was still in BC, not Mexico).
David and I went to a little cafe in Grand Forks, where we were waited on by the lovliest six foot blonde woman I've ever seen anywhere, anytime, bar none. Turned out she was from the central Kootenay, just down the lake from where I live.
My tent is a piece of crap when it comes to dampness. For the money I'd have been better off buying one of the cheap Canadian Tire domes like I had a few years back. Oh well, it's my tent now. I'm sure it will suffice once the summer wears on.
I was alone in this camp last night. A few cars went by, and I thought I saw someone on a bike at one point, but I've been left to my own devices and I've rather enjoyed it. As far as the tent goes I may have to pick up a tarp or length of poly to make it that much more resistant to dew and rain.
I expect it is about 8 or 8:30 because there are loaded school buses going by. I'm plannning to ride about 30K today, to a backcountry campsite half way to Beaverdell. Hopefully I'll make it in good light, with a stop at the Provincial Park along the way, and the pine forest I visited a few years back. Where I am now is also a pine grove, on the north side of the river just east of Rock Creek. Nice place except for the highway noise coming from across the river. No sign of critters, except for some sort of large rodent dung on the floors of the outhouses. There were also some deer in an adjacent field last night. No sign of them this morning.
Everything seems to be working well. My only concern is doing a proper packing job on my bike. I need balance! About the only item I'm short of is decent metal tent pegs. I'll have watch out for some, them and a light tarp of some sort.
There's an owl hooting as I write. Neat sound! The river is quite high, having turned the bank to marsh for the time being. It is a muddy green rolling mass.
Anyway, I rather suspect the first few days fo this adventure will be solitary and quiet. I don't really expect much company until I reach Myra Canyon and the Okanagan Valley, which should be Thursday or Friday (it's Tuesday now).
For now though I'm off on this adventure. I'm wondering a bit what it is I've got myself into this time but it feels good and I'm sure I'll grow accustomed to the challenges it presents soon enough.
Well, my big breakfast is settling in my belly and the sun is high in the pines. My gear is begging to be stowed and this adventure has begun in earnest.
Despite being a little chilly and a lot lonely the next morning, I was pleased to wake up and find myself alone in the small pine forest by the river. Just being away from where I'd been all spring was a giant relief. I thought of all the folks back in Nelson and Kaslo who I'd been having such a difficult time with and thought to myself, 'well, they're all stuck there, working and slaving away, and I'm out here in the forest. Looks good on them. While they're all caught up in day to day living I'm going to be out here enjoying myself. Yay me!'
Still a little numb but dry, thanks to the space blanket, I wrote in my journal, made breakfast, and sipped fresh coffee. I sat around, warming by the fire, eating, writing, until I noticed school busses going by and thought I'd best be moving before the day grew too old.
I was suprised how well my bike packed up, and how fast. It was my first morning out and the packing had only taken about 15 minutes. Heartened by how well organized I was, I cleaned up my camp, put out my campfire, and rode off.
Will
Chilly windy morning waiting for the sun which has just now appeared on the east hill beyond the river. I have a fire going, porridge cooked and am nearly done my first cup of coffee. Slept well, although my tent turns dew into water.I am being visited by a robin, the only wildlife I've seen around here. Got a lot of congestion in my sinuses, and some in my lungs. But mostly I feel good.
Ride here was okay. A little bumpy in some places with one long stretch on a paved country road. Did some climbing yesterday but came down again to get here. I'm about 18 K from Beaverdell, where I will likely stop tonight.
This is a pleasant spot, something of a moose pasture surrounded by marsh and small trees, birch and pine with some wild rose, berries and the like. The river is fast moving and brown in colour. It is high with run off.
Bugs got me pretty good last night. They died down once it got cooler. Only people I saw were two couples high balling. We didn't visit, so I have no idea who they were or where they were going.
The sun is taking its sweet time reaching me here. It's all around me but not on the spot where I am. I need it, not only for warmth but to dry some clothing I washed out last night. I also need it to dry out my dew-drenched tent and sleeping gear.
The saving grace of my trip so far has been the space blanket David gave me. I'd be freezing my ass off, and getting wet at night, if it weren't for that thing.
Ran out of water last night. Retrieved some from a creek. I'm not drinking it straight up, so it should be okay. Made porridge with it. Put too much bran in my breakfast yesterday, nearly farted out my colon.
Mostly I'm enjoying myself. It's been a tiny bit testy and rough but mostly quite easy. I've been taking my time but I was getting quite road weary by time I stopped yesterday. I have to watch my strength and definitely need to stock up on more fruit. It also wouldn't hurt to pick up some energy bars of some sort. I simply was out of gas yesterday. I wasn't hurting or anything.
So, I'm pretty much done here this morning. I have to pack my gear and make a last coffee, check my guide book and eat a bee pollen tablet for energy.
It's lovely and warm now. I'm peeling off layers and getting ready to enjoy yet another lovely summer-like day.
I realize I'm only two days in and the roughest climb is yet to come but I'm glad I'm doing this.
It was clear to me the next morning that I would have to do something to further insulate my tent against condensation. I decided I would find a tarp or a stretch of poly when I got to Beaverdell.
After a good breakfast, a couple cups of coffee and an hour's journal writing, I packed up and was on my way. It was a choppy ride into Beaverdell, a village about two thirds of the way up the Kettle Valley, through an area where logging trucks used the trail to haul wood from clear cuts that lined the trail. I arrived there about noon, after stopping for a short swim in the river, during which I shaved using nothing but sense of touch to guide me. Once in the village I set about re-stocking my supplies, which included purchasing a small tarp that was just big enough to cover my tent.
I lunched at a picnic table next to one of the local stores and chatted a bit with some of the locals. One of the people I chatted with was an overweight woman with long blond hair. She told me she was too much of a "wuss" to ever do what I was doing. I told her anyone could do it, even her.
Beaverdell was, at the time of day I stopped there, not much more than a parking lot for logging trucks. So I ditched my plans to stay overnight and got back on the trail.
After a pleasant ride, no more cordoroy, of not more than two hours I arrived at Wilkinson Creek, where the Langford's book said a bridge was out. My pal David, who rode the trail a few years ahead of me, had taken some time before he dropped me off to explain the detour here. It was all for naught because I arrived to find a brand new yellow bridge connecting the two sides of the river. A brand new bridge and a large herd of young bull cows, who seemed undisturbed by my presence as they passed several hours moving enmasse back and forth across the river, delighting I think in the cold running water on a blistering hot afternoon.
My legs were a little tender and my hands were numb from all the cordoroy earlier in the day so I parked my bike, strung my food bags in a tree by the river, and decided to relax. I tried to do a little drawing but I was more interested in just hanging out. For about six hours I just ran around with the beef, sunning myself and exploring the area. I was a little surprised that, through the whole day, I saw no other people. There was a forestry road across the river, and with the herd of bulls, I thought for sure there would be people along sooner or later.
Late in the afternoon I cooked dinner, set my camp, then busied myself singing songs and tending a small campfire. It was just a lazy afternoon in the middle of nowhere and I was glad to be off the bike and on two legs for a while.
Will
Slept well and warm with no condensation and no early morning wake up problems. Cooked my breakfast on wood, saving propane.Had a nice half day here yesterday. Got to bathe in the river, wash my hair and shave. Also walked around and made a lot of movements not afforded to me on my bicycle. Have used up most of my water but I have enough left for a second coffee and to wet my whistle until the first water stop.
I'll have to pull out of here early if I want to make McCulloch tonight (40K).
Stopped at Beaverdell for about an hour yesterday. It was quiet white-bread community with lots of rednecks and overweight people. Prices were high although I managed to pick up a perfectly sized tarp, that's why there's no condensation in my tent this morning.
Feel like I've got a good thing going here. The trail feels real safe and I've had no problems. Was no one at all on the trail yesterday, although I expect that to change tomorrow when I go into the Myra Canyon and get in the Okanagan flow. This would be a great ride to have a little company along!
It's nice to be out of touch with the world for a bit. I have no idea what's going back there and I don't really care. If I had means of replenishing food and water I'd likely stay up here a lot longer.
Right now a herd of cows are shepherding themselves back and forth across the river. They seem quite wary of me. Funny they don't use the bridge.
Didn't mention it before but David and I saw a young moose up the Blueberry Paulson on the way over. I took it as a good sign although I thought it was a donkey at first!
Anyway, I'd best get on with my day. Got breakfast to eat, a pot to wash and gear to pack.
Leaving Wilkinson Creek the trail became a total delight. This would be my longest stretch yet and I was well psyched to go the 40K I woud need to complete by days end.
About one hour along I came upon a four-some of senior citizens on bikes heading the opposite direction. We stopped and chatted for a few minutes. They told me they were only doing downhill runs, and had a friend moving their mobile homes ahead of them. I scolded them for "cheating" and we all had a good laugh.
A few minutes later I was alone again, plowing my way up the light incline along the valley walls. It was pretty stretch winding through a couple small rock canyons that were so narrow snow still clung to the edge of the trail. In a couple places wI had to dismount and walk the bike around large puddles and over a couple small slides. It felt good to get off and walk a bit, here and there.
Having got myself into a total lather about doing a 40K uphill I was taken by surprise when, by mid-afternoon, I found myself crossing the Okanagan Falls Forestry Service road less than a few kilometres from McCulloch Lake. In my mind I'd been prepared for a long arduous ride, and now, much to my amazement, I was already there.
Will
Mosquito Gultch!Once again here I am with barely enough light to see trying to recount my day. It was fun. Lots of little mud holes and rock slides to navigate. A lot of climbing as well, but nothing too dramati. Saw some grizzly and black bear dung, moose again as well. Not sign of the actual beasts.
There's a bear warning here although I've seen no signs of the critter. I think maybe the park attendant is just trying to keep the camper's garbage under control. Ran out of water on the trail yesterday. Tried boiling some from an abandoned water slough but it didn't smell good. Ended up buying some at the McCulloch lodge, one dollar a litre, good stuff.
As the light fades the lunes are letting up a chorus. It's a haunting sound amid the pines and rocks by the warm shallow lake beneath the same cresent moon, which is located a little to the south tonight.
This is the top of the mountain. No higher hills can be seen in any direction.
The mosqutoes are calming down now it's darker. All gone, I suppose, after the moon. It is very warm, warmer than any night since I began this adventure.
Right now I'm thinking I might sit here an extra day and give my body a rest. I have enough money to pay the night and get myself more water from the store. I could use to do some more drawing and it wouldn't hurt to check this place out a little more. It really is spectacular.
Now the frogs have taken up the lune's chorus. The occasional fish jumps. Then a heron squawks. The mosquitos remind me of Salmon Arm last summer.Now it's too dark to write. It's a poets life.
Will
A gorgeous sunny morning greets me, and if it weren't for the RVer playing homogenized Elvis the scene would be absolutely idyllic.Yesterday was my longest and toughest ride so far, 40K uphill, although the hill was not so steep by any sense of the imagination. More interesting were the numerous rock slides and mud holes I had to circumnavigate. It allowed me to do some walking, and provided some diversion.
Today better wisdom dictates I stay put for a day, do some writing, drawing and let my muscles relax. My next run will be 50K, although much of it downhill. Still, I'll need to be in the best possible condition. I was close to cramping last night and I've gone fairly hard for a few days, so I'd best relax. Besides, this is a phenomenal place.
The lunes had an incredible chorus going last night, and this morning. But last night under the cresent moon and stars it was like a symphony, complete with the mistimed interjections of a blue heron, who periodically, when the lunes hit a particularly high faluting strain, would interject with a loud abrasive "brauwk."
Crossed paths with a four-pack of senior cyclists yesterday. They were heading down from here and we crossed paths just this side of the Lois Station. They were cheating, riding only the downhill stretches while having their camper vans moved to meet them. We talked for a couple minutes then carried on.
I did better than I thought I would yesterday. I still had some steam left when I got here. I was quite dazed though, and don't think I could have gone much further. Think this is the lonest I've been away from techno-contact since my trip to Texas last fall. This is definitely more fun and interesting than any bus ride I've ever been on. Don't have a lot more to write about. This is the top of the mountain. There are no high hills visible, except at a great distance. Despite this, I found the night quite warm and the morning less chilled than the previous. Still, there was a thick dew.
The country here is dry pine forest with very little grass and a lot of rock. The lake is blue, shallow and warm compared to any other I've been in so far this year. If it weren't for the RV accessibility this would be heaven. Guess its the price we pay.
I really want to catch up on some writing and maybe see if I can be a little creative today. I also want to pass some time upright on two legs and see if I can loosen myself up for the next leg.
Mostly I feel real good and a little like I've accomplished something just being here.
Will
Early morning, the lake is still, fish jump, a lune calls, coffee's hot and so is the fire. My porridge is cooling and I'm slowly getting ready for the next segment of my journey. It's been a good two days here but for last night wehn some rowdies inundated the area with deal metal and ghetto rap on a boom box. I got so mad at one point I bellowed but we eventually found a way to shut them up and I got some sleep.Its so lovely and quiet here at this hour. IJ'd love to come back again sometime, but never on a weekend.
Kieth, the fellow who minds the camp, gave me a propane tank last night. I'd run out, now thanks to him my morning has been made easy. I plan to make Chute Lake today and do my longest run, 50K, but much of it is downhill.
Had a good day last. Let my legs rest, drew some pictures, ate losts, did a tiny bit of exploring and bascally kept to myself.
Its nice to be in the pine forests again. I really do love this country and find it more interesting and easier to negotiate than the Kootenays. The only complaint I have is wth bugs, but then this is moose country with its standing water and swamp.
I think my biggest impression of this place is the lune symphony. I'd love to come back and record it sometime.
Anyway, I've got a big day ahead so I best get to it.
One of the things I was really looking foward to seeing on this trip was the Myra Canyon, a 20 K stretch hallmarked by 18 trestles and tunnels that winds like a snake over the summet between the Kettle and Okanagan Valley. It is, or was, by far the most famous stretch of the trail and attracts visitors from all over the world. In fact, several adventure tourism outfits in the Okanagan Valley, rely on it as a cash cow for their businesses. Visitors to towns like Penticton, Kelowna and Vernon are encouraged to take the trip over this pass. Most often they are bussed up with bicycles to one end of the canyon and then picked up again at the other end.
Because this part of the trail is so heavily used it is, by far, in the best condition. The trail is hard packed and smooth. The trestles are, or were, well kept, with side rails (to keep people from falling over the sides) and good seamless decks. However, for those folks like myself who are riding the entire length of the KVR, this part of the route is a little anti-climatic and, in some cases, a bit of a pain. The long riders, who at this point have grown accustomed to being in the wilds, are suddenly thrust onto a major thoroughfare inundated with recreational cyclists, hikers, and folks just out for an afternoon walk. There are picnic benches, historic plaques, garbage containers and outhouses spotted along the route. For those of us riders who have gotten used to back country travel this part of the trail is a little too much like pedalling through a city park.
It is nonetheless beautiful, breathtaking and, at times, vertigo inducing.
All that in account, I found it impossible not to take advantage of the good grooming of the trail and high ball. In fact, I transversed the 20 K in just under two hours and found myself tempted to go back over it just to see what I'd missed while riding so fast.
Will
Slept in until 7:30 am. That's sleeping in these days!Got here mid-afternoon yesterday. It was a relief to pull into a civilized outpost. Had a burger, watched a hockey game, and rented a camp space all for about $25. Also got to hang out with some fellow cyclists. One from Belgium and another from the coast, with a gerry-rigged bike and 60K of crud piled up on it.
I really don't have much to write about today. The Myra Canyon was excellent, great panoramas, well-groomed trail, lots of interesting landscaping and marvellous engineering in the trestles, built a 100 years ago from virgin timber, but it was such an easy ride I was through it before knew it, chased by a deer fly.
After the canyon the road turned to sand and cordoroy, which made it rather unpleasant. Still, I did the 50K in about five or six hours, without much trouble.
All around me now people are packing up and moving along. It appears I will be the last to go today. I sort of like that. All the beef I ate last night, with included some chili offered to me by some other campers, have me moving very slow.
I'll likely pass the next few nights in Pentiction. There I'll stock up on food and extra gear before pushing south on the Osoyoss Subdivision, as it is known.
I've thoroughly enjoyed this part of the trip and, now that I know what to expect, my next pass through I'll be better prepared and able to spend more time doddling. I do plan to come through again someday.
Anyway, I've got a downhill run to do! Down deep into the sunny Okanagan!
Riding down from Chute Lake was a joy. There were a troupe of middle-aged women doing the run along with me. They'd stayed overnight at the lodge, on the tail end of a "power lunch" that had lasted the weekend. We kept crossing paths here and there along the trail. From out discussion I was able to determine they were all housewives who'd grown up together and had decided to have a little bonding experience. Their run had begun in Rock Creek, with stops in Beaverdell, McCulloch and Chute.Before we parted company my fellow Canadian, the guy with gerry-rigged bike, told me I was an inspiration to him. Apparently, in his several years of wandering around the interior on a bike I was the only other Canadian he met doing the same thing.
I stopped for an hour near the lower entrance of a spiral tunnel about one third of the way down to Pentiction. A small canyon led to the tunnel entrance which was blocked by large concrete slabs. I found this canyon interesting because, while the surrounding land, Okanagan Mountain Park, is dry cootch grass country laden with Ponderosa Pine, the canyon was a wet green space with lots of puddles and bubbling springs.
From the amount of animal dung, including several bear pies, I determined the spot is a refuge for wildlife, protected by the canyon walls, which rise about 10 meters on either side, and by the abandoned tunnel, that runs several kilomters into the mountainside.
What I liked most about it was it provided a cool respite from what was a very hot and humid afternoon.
Leaving the tunnel entrance I found myself on a long switchback that evenutally emerged on a high plateau overlooking Okanagan Lake. From this vantage point I was able to see the cities of Kelowna, to the north, and Penticton to the south. To the west the Coastal Mountains loomed large and snowcapped.
Here the trail began to grow a little soft. I was glad to be moving downward through it, and bristled at the idea of what it would be like to try to ride uphill in what was increasingly becoming a sandy soup.
My hands were totally trashed from the absence of handlegrips, and my legs were growing tired as I continued to have to peddle, despite the downward slope of the trail. I'd pictured an easy glide down at this point and found myself resenting the softness of the path that made it so I had to continue pumping my legs to avoid getting bogged down.
Still, minus the stop at the long tunnel, and a few breaks at benches along the way, I was able to do the 50K run in just under five hours. The last 12 K being the most difficult as the trail levelled somewhat and the sand grew deeper.
Once I'd passed the turn off to Naramata, and negotiated the sand turned up by ATV use, I was exhilarated to be riding down into the bustiling city of Penticton. After a week of quiet riding I was suddently singing and hollering and feeling like I was, at last, getting somewhere.
I pulled into the Penticton International Youth Hostel with all the bravado of a mountain man coming into town for the first time in years. There were some young people hanging around on the patio as I pulled in and I subjected them to a long excited rap about where I'd been and what I was doing and how good I was feeling as a result.
If felt great to be back in "civilizaton."
For all intent and purpose my arrival marked the halfway point in my journey over the KVR. However, it would be three full weeks before I'd be able to continue west. For the time being I would rest, then explore the Osoyoss Subdivision of the KVR, which led about 60 K south, through the desert country of the south Okanagan and down something of a personal memory lane. As a young man I had lived a few years on farms and in the little towns of the south Okanagan, where I earned my living working in the orchards and vineyards for which the valley is so well known.
Will