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Next stop was back in downtown Vernon, from where I called Linda Stuchberry. She lives up toward Silverstar ski area, so I was looking at a nasty climb on my day off to meet up, but she was kind enough to come down to pick me up. I locked up the bike and waited at Starbucks, having a heavenly orange mocha frozen thing. Damn good! She arrived shortly after I finished, and I had another excellent visit, catching up on how Fred was doing as well as his siblings. Turns out he’d in Edmonton, so I’ll make plans to visit when I’m up there for a course in October. After a couple nice hours, she drove me back to the bike and I headed back to James and Andrea’s house.

That dog does NOT look happy

Andrea and Spencer were already home, and with Spencer’s help I relocated the tent again to what he decided was a much better spot. I didn’t see much difference, but we had fun doing it. No earwigs this time, as the heat had kept them away from the tent. Spencer was then quite disappointed to hear that he was going to his Grandma’s house rather than joining the rest of us for dinner, but he got over it pretty quickly. Loves his Grandma, of course.

We went over to Sir Winston’s, and had a fabulous meal. If you’re ever in Vernon, check it out. James builds the menu himself, including all the recipes, so he works hard to make sure there’s a mix of typical pub food and more original ideas. I had a great stirfry, then ate half of Andrea’s too, since she filled up. James and his buddy had their own meals, but I didn’t eat any of them so who cares what they had? Seriously, go by if you’re ever in town. Links galore, this post: http://www.sirwinstons.ca/

After dinner, James and his buddy went to someone’s house where they’re working on renovations, their side business. Andrea took me round to pick up Spencer and say hi to her mom, who I’ve known for a number of years. Then it was time to head back to the house. It was reasonably early, but due to the less than stellar sleep I’d had the previous night, I was still a bit knackered. Took some shots of Spencer and their puppy, then climbed into the tent to get set for a longish day tomorrow. It’s looking to be hot again, so we’ll see how the old body handles it.

Sleepy time for everyone...

discuss.

p.s. i’m in vancouver for the next couple of weeks, and am available for drinking on most days.

photos from our wedding, including some by the hired photographer and ones taken by the few unfortunate people who had to drive-ferry-drive all the way out to ucluelet. if you play the slideshow, it’s like being there!

Tuesday, June 19

Distance: About 30? See tomorrow’s stats, the spedometer’s too far away.
Riding Time: Most of an eternity
Average Speed: Sluggish, very sluggish
Top Speed: Nearly 8 kph
Peter and Andrea’s house, Vernon


My grandmother nearly killed me, but for a guy who loves to eat, it was a good way to nearly go. Ah, onion and butter soup over perogies…

Laundry day! Before I even had breakfast, I…no, that’s impossible. I couldn’t delay breakfast for anything the way I’m eating right now. I wake up with bloody hunger pangs that make damn near anything taste good. I love it!

Blah blah. After my cereal I gathered up all my sweaty, smelly, crusty clothing and threw it into the washing machine. I was actually carrying enough for two loads, if you can believe it. Hilda came by again before work and we continued chatting while I was waiting for the laundry. Most of my workout wear I was able to hang from the clothesline, utilizing skills that I thought I’d forgotten, particularly since I barely knew how to use a clothesline in the first place. I suppose it’s really not that hard.

Once the clothes were all clean and drying, we made our way to a local diner for some lunch, where I had a burger and lots of fries. Hell, I’m working hard, I can get away with it. I realized that, even though I’m not related to half the town like I’d thought, about 97 percent of the people there know Grandma. Which isn’t too surprising, since she’s lived there for half a century or more and has been active in the community for a long time. Still spry for 90 years old!

After lunch we headed over the Sheardown’s for groceries for dinner, where we figured on having perogies and carrots to go with the steak that Grandma was defrosting. She was quite offended when I pulled out some cash and paid the 5 bucks for the groceries, so I refrained from buying anything else. Including the dessert we had at the bakery where Hilda works. Nice, big blueberry turnover. I was really loading up on the calories today. Eventually we got back to the house (we’d been walking, but she lives quite close to everything) and it was time to take down the tent and start getting packed up. I wanted to make sure I made it to Vernon at a decent hour, so we were having an early dinner so I could set out.

I had yet more evidence today that we’d chosen a good tent when we went with the little Eureka. Turns out I had set up my tent and slept the entire night on a hill-less anthill. All the holes were there, they just went straight into the ground rather than building a hill. The ants seemed quite irritated when I moved the tent, so I decided to keep moving it further away to collapse and pack it up. Not sure how many I sent on to the afterlife, but none came into the tent as far as I knew.

Ah, dinner. I fried up some mushrooms to eat with the steak, which was, in turn, broiled in the oven as the BBQ was buried and chained up in the backyard to prevent thievery and honest use. The carrots were nicely cooked, and the perogies were boiled. The magic touch was the onions, which were initially frying in a pot, but once Grandma was done, were boiling in butter. Seriously, this blend was about 60-40 butter to onion. The onions were actually floating in the butter.

Man, was I stuffed. After pouring the onioned butter overtop the perogies and adding sour cream for some dairy, the caloric intake for the day must have approached 10,000. I was absolutely bloated and feeling damn gross when we said goodbye and I started riding out. I figured the ride would help burn it through the system, but I didn’t feel better until I was pretty much in Vernon.

However, I had some great distractions. I took the roundabout route to Vernon so I could see the old Betke homestead, the house that I lived in for all the years that I remember until I was 12. Just sitting and looking down Bloom road awakened all sorts of memories.


The mountain in the picture below is the one that I’ve always thought of the sleeping lady-giant in the mountain. Not sure why she’s a she, but she always has been. This is a view from Bloom road, and I must have looked at this mountain several thousand times over the course of my years here.

Lady in the Mountain.

When I got to the old house, I had to snap a picture, but the place is quite a bit different than it had been when we moved. Though Dad had worked amazingly hard building the house, we’d never actually gotten it quite prettied up, so all the siding and brownness is a development for me. When we left, it was still a gorgeous raw plywood finish on the outside. Somewhere in the past 22 years someone had built a big deck onto the back as well, and when I was at a better angle to snap a shot of the deck, the man standing on it and staring at me deterred me. Did I say staring? I meant glaring. Menacingly. Scruffy-looking, coffee-cup-holding-at-5:00 pm, bathrobe-wearing, glaring man. I moved on. Outside of Mr. Congeniality, the most disconcerting part off the whole stretch of ride was how small everything seemed. Seriously, was I really that small when I moved? I guess.

The house that Betke built.

Continuing on down Whitevale road toward my old school, I spotted an old landmark. If you click on the picture below, you might see a radio tower at the top of this mountain. Well, when I came back to Lumby in 1987, Fred and I loaded up the Alpha Bits and Koolaid and hiked up to this thing. We’d carried four foil-wrapped potatoes with the intent of cooking them, and after starting a fire on a forested mountain in tinder dry conditions, we not only avoided burning down the entire forest, we even cooked one of the potatoes to the point where we could eat it. Ah, the memories…

Quest for the radio tower.

The rest of the ride into Vernon was pretty uneventful. It was a great feeling riding along familiar roads and through the old Whitevale school grounds. The school was closed in the past couple years, I guess because there just aren’t enough students to justify it operating. Seems a bit strange, as I was part of its first Kindergarten class, so it’s not that old, really.

The worst thing about the ride today was the danger aspect. I had no idea that Hwy 6 between Lumby and Vernon was that bad for cycling. There was no shoulder at all, and traffic was very heavy, including many logging trucks. There were a couple of times that I just rode onto the gravel shoulder (down the 1.5 inch drop off the asphalt) in order to stay away from the truck I saw coming up behind me. This was easily the worst stretch of road for the trip so far. Fortunately it wasn’t that long.

As I was coming into Vernon, I was starting to feel a little better as my body gradually absorbed the calories I’d consumed that day. It was pretty hot, too, so I was both sweating and drinking a lot, even though I wasn’t working that hard. Good for the system, I guess.

Farmland near Vernon.

Vernon itself, I realized, is not a bicycle friendly town. There’s very little room for a bike on the road, and there’s a lovely curb onto a sidewalk on most roads, so drifting onto the shoulder in town is not an option. With the saddlebags I felt like a big old target for the big pickups. But I made it to the pub in one piece.

I’m staying tonight with Andrea and James, two wonderful people that I know through Dave and Lydia Harrison, the people I visited in Airdrie for my training run the weekend before the trip started. Andrea (Dave’s sister) and James were both there for that, and offered up their back yard for me if I needed it. I initially hadn’t planned on doing so, as I’d made plans to visit with my aunt Bev in Vernon, but I eventually found out that Bev only owns a condo, and tents just don’t work well indoors. Defeats the spirit of the thing. So I called up Andrea and James and took them up on the offer. I stopped off at Sir Winston’s pub in downtown Vernon to grab a six pack from the cold beer & wine store, and continued on to their place.

Andrea and her son Spencer were both there when I arrived, and Spencer was immediately trying to come up with a means to share the tent with me. Wanted a bit of adventure, the boy did. Sadly, it was pretty close to his bedtime, so he didn’t even get a chance to help me set it up, much less sleep in it. Besides, not enough room for someone else unless you’re married.

Turns out that the pub that I bought the beer at is the one that James owns, which is a funny coincidence. Though I bought the beer mostly for James (Andrea is preggers), I couldn’t resist having a cold one myself before getting all cleaned up. I was actually relatively clean, since I’d only ridden about 30k. Still, beer tasted good.

Set the tent up, had a good chat with Andrea and James when he got home, and it’s time for bed. Good thing, I bloody well wrote enough for today.

Monday, June 18

Distance: 116 km
Riding Time: 6:01 hours
Average Speed: 19.3 kph
Top Speed: 68.3 kph
Location: Grandma’s house, Lumby

THAT, was one Gawd-awful hill. Two, actually. No, three. But the sweet, sweet reward of the downhill after the pass was truly, well,…sweet.

Breakfast at the Mushroom Addition restaurant in Faukier was only alright, but very filling. Lots of fuel for the pass. And I needed it right away, as that bloody steep hill up to the Plum Hollow campground turnoff continued on for quite a while. I nearly had to stop just to rest, but was able to camouflage it by doing my morning stretches. Not sure if I mentioned it, but there were several hard and fast rules by which I planned to function for the course of this trip.

1: No stopping on hills to wimp out and rest (Check!)
2: Sleep in a tent every night (Check, sortof)
3: Shower every night (This one showed up after missing out in Yahk – Check!)

On the whole, I’d done pretty well up to today, then I blew it.

After the first hill off the ferry, I had a pleasant downhill run into a valley that housed the turnoff to Edgewood, a supposedly beautiful, secluded little town that I was encouraged to visit. It was 10k out of my way though, which makes for at least 2 hours, so screw that. After that, I started the gradual, but steady uphill climb toward the pass. After doing this for about 1.5 hours, I was feeling pretty confident that I’d make it all the way to the top without too much trouble. I even thought, “I could do this all day.” Which of course was mere moments before the mountain had its say. The road got very narrow, very windy, and very steep. Not quite as steep as leaving the ferry, but a great deal longer. I soldiered on, weary, winded, and worn out, and eventually I had no choice.

I had to stop.

Just to rest.

I would’ve been more disappointed if I hadn’t been so damn beat, but I was still a bit annoying about losing out on the one pass that I hadn’t figured on being too much of a problem when I was planning the trip. But in due time I climbed back aboard and continued on, making it to the top without another rest.

What was most surprising throughout this day were all the deer that I came across; I stopped counting but there were at least a dozen over the course of the day. They were all over the place up there, and fortunately, no roadkill that I could see. I did see, however, a great deal of clearcutting, evidence of the longtime logging history that the Lumby area has. It was a bit graphic, but there was a good deal of rain up the pass and across the platform at the top, and I didn’t want to pull out the camera. Partway down the far side, though, I came across this one stretch that shows the landscape I rode through for most of the day.


Actually the weather was pretty much perfect for the entire day. It was chilly when I left and stayed cool until I reached the top of the pass. I was burning so much energy getting up there that it would have been a much harder day if the weather hadn’t kept me cool. And it really only rained for about half an hour when I was up at the top.

Then the rain was nice enough to let up for the ride downhill. At the top, 4.5 hours had passed, and I was a little bit concerned that I wasn’t going to make it for dinner. I needn’t have worried, though, as I had a lot more downhill than I realized. I pretty much flew downhill for about 30k all the way to Cherryville, where I stopped for and ice cream. This campsite where I stopped also had a lot of neat old tractors on display, so I snapped a few shots before moving on.

And then, just when I was feeling cocky about cruising onward to Lumby, I found a mini mountain pass that somebody had viciously placed between Cherryville and Lumby. Seriously, I don’t remember this being here when I was growing up. I didn’t come out this way all that often, but still. After dragging my beaten ass up that bloody steep hill, I did get my triumphant cruise for the rest of the day. I stopped off to snap a shot that’s characteristic of the Lumby area.

The ride the rest of the way was truly nice. I had energy, it had turned into a hot day, I was going to be in time for dinner, the road was getting more and more familiar, and I was flying. I was in super high spirits as I pulled into the Hinz homestead, half expecting a few relatives there to greet me. Good thing I was only half expecting because Grandma wasn’t expecting me until tomorrow. I’d called a few days back to let her know I was going to be a day late, but somewhere during that conversation we got our days mixed up, so she ended up with a pleasant surprise. Which really was just fine, because who needs a grand welcome when you’ve got your Grandma?

Oldest home in Lumby (1915 I think?)

Because she wasn’t expecting me she hadn’t cooked a dinner for me, but she’d just finished her own and had ample leftovers with which to sate me. Aunt Hilda showed up after work, and we all had a really nice evening. I found out just how few of my relatives were still in Lumby, and Grandma had to get past the confusion as to why I wanted to sleep outside when she had several nice beds to use. Beds that were upstairs. On a hot, hot day. With windows that don’t open. I was headed outside for sure.

I also made a phone call to Linda Stuchberry, who’s the mom of my best friend Fred when growing up in Lumby. She lives in Vernon now and we made plans to meet up in two days in Vernon. I haven’t seen her in maybe 15 years maybe?

I set up the tent, and am now turning in, looking very much forward to a day basically free of cycling. Not sure what I’ll do with myself.

Minesweeper: The Movie.

Arm-wrestling robot recalled for breaking arms.

Look, when you have a story about thieves carrying away 22 pigs in a compact car, how can you leave out the model of the car?

Can’t you see the ad copy — “Roomy interior, comfortably fits 22 pigs” ??