Happy Flat

Why would anyone be happy about a flat? Here are the several reasons why----Flat tires are a part of cycling, no way around that. Some years it seems I have 2 per week, and other years I might have only one during the entire season, but flats happen. Today I had my first of this journey . . . a small very sharp shard of rock lodged in the tread, and slowly worked it's way through the Kevlar belt, finally rubbing a pin hole in the tube. Wa la ---flat tire. Why happy???Reason #1 was it was not raining when the tire went flat. It is not only miserable but difficult to change a flat in the rain. Also, it did not happen on a hill, but on a flat area, with a wide shoulder and plenty of area to work. Next, I was able to see "for sure" what caused the flat (many times this is not the case, and often if you are unable to determine cause, it simply repeats until you figure it out). All told, in 20 minutes or so I was happily back on my way, thanking my lucky stars that it had not happened on the fast descent (possible ruined tire) or during a rain squall.

I had a caribou trot along side me today for maybe 50 yards! I could almost touch him, and kept hoping he wouldn't turn my way.

Met three Japanese men on a road trip----they were stopped by the side of the road taking pictures, and took several shots of me as I approached. I stopped and chatted, and asked if they would email the pictures to me, whereupon each of them had their picture with me, and they said they would email them at the first chance!

The two stooges were at breakfast----two really funny guys who had been up in the Northwest Territories gathering crystals and fossils that they sell on ebay!

Torrential rain in the afternoon the last 2 days, but I am sleeping inside again tonight, glad to find a real grocery store to stock up a bit, and a laundry to get stuff clean and dry.

Oh, yes, I am in Fort Nelson. Definitely past the 1/2 way mark, and less that 300 miles from completing the "Alaska Highway" which is Dawson Creek to Delta Junction.

Morning update

The kind folks here at "Toad River Lodge" have informed me that the lodge at the Tetsa river, about 50 miles distant, is open, and for the first time on this journey, I have called ahead and made a reservation. It is raining this morning, and it will probably take me all of 7 hours or more to get there.....and the thought of being cold, tired and wet and having to camp didn't sound so good----

Off and climbing I go!!

Small

Small is how I felt much of the morning. I covered almost exactly 25 miles in 4 hard hours of riding . . . very hilly, very mountainous terrain. I suppose the terrain (by which I mean the road I am riding) had a good deal to do with the feeling of insignificance I had much of the day. I have never been a good climber on a bike, and it was a daunting day. Looking about me at the northern terminus of the Rocky Mountains surrounding me made me feel pretty puny. It did get better, and after another grueling 5 mile climb after lunch, the rest of the day was more down than up, and a pretty east go. I chatted with the contractor who is doing road work, and he assured me that the worst is yet to come . . . "Steamboat"---that crusher of mere men! I understand that it is at least a 2 1/2 mile long 8% grade, and that is only a portion of the days climb. In addition, I am about 120 miles from Ft. Nelson, and as near as I am able to determine, there is not much in the way of services between here and there. Stay tuned for where I land tomorrow, as I am not capable of that many miles in this terrain!

Wildlife sightings for the day

I saw the buffalo! There were about 15 of them on the left side of the road, and as I approached they stampeded across the road in front of me and continued to trot along the shoulder of the road beside me for quite a distance. After a bit they veered into the distance on my right, and immediately I saw that there were 50 or more in a grassy area next to the road on my left! They are big----really big! I kept hoping they wouldn't decide to storm across the road, and as I drew even with them, the big bull looked right at me and started to stir. My heart also started to stir, but at that point I was going a little faster (go figure) and they stayed put.

Later I saw mountain sheep (4), caribou---maybe 15, and for the second time in my life saw a Lynx, an animal that few people ever see at all.

Wild high mountain Juniper---for the Gin connoisseurs among you, and I happen to know there are some. I have always wondered how they made anything drinkable out of the Juniper berries I know. Well, today I picked a few wild high mountain Juniper berries, a very blue berry, not green as I would have thought, and when squished they made my mouth water! What an aroma, pungent yet sweet---I have never smelled the like. If a person could gather enough of those buggers to distill into some Gin, I think it would be worth about $1000 per pint.

I know, this is a long post and you can feel free to stop now if you want, but I must wax philosophical for a moment. It seems to me that doing something that makes a person feel small and insignificant (compared to the grandeur of nature, in my current case) is somehow very freeing and uplifting to the spirit. It really eliminates any feeling of control or self importance, for the moment at least. I'm sure it can be obtained in many and varied ways, but I do think a requirement is "putting yourself out there" in one way or another. Enough already.

Oh, yes, I am at the "Toad River Lodge" for the night. Curious point----the little packs of crackers that you get with soup have three crackers in them up here - how odd is that?

One Thousand Miles, A Poem for the Road

A thousand miles into the ride,
 Fifteen buffalo by the road's side,
Well met, strangers three,
 Nutty girls from Mississippi.
Three dips in the hot springs,
 Riding, flying, wheels are wings,
Alaska, Yukon, British Columbia,
 Road behind, road in front of you.

(for those following along, Dad's a thousand miles in today, feeling good! Three nutty girls from Mississippi shared food with him, and he told them about us, his virtual road crew. Now they are memorialized in poetry. Thanks for sharing with Dad!)

Wet Roads

"Wet roads," Dad told me, "are bliss. Means it rained when you weren't there."

I talked to Dad for a long time tonight, and he sounded like anything but a guy just shy of the thousand-mile mark on a long, long bike ride. He's staying at the Coal River Lodge, which he didn't think I'd find online, but I did. Testament to how popular this whole Internet thing seems to be getting these days. There's a map on the other side of that link that says he's on Mile 533.

Lots of fun to report today. Dad has been averaging around 95 miles for the past four days, which is close enough to a hundred that he had to round down at least twice. Today, he was riding in beautiful country, where the rain preceded him, and where the wild horses accompanied him. Apparently, these guys:


live nearby as well, but he didn't see any today. That's a Wood Bison, or Wood Buffalo. They were hunted down to near extinction in the eighteen-hundreds, but there are a few thousand of them now, thanks to our friendly neighbors to the north.

Tomorrow is a "short" ride to Liard River Hot Springs, which is the second-largest hot spring in Canada. Dad's planning to rest his weary legs a day or two, then a few more days to Dawson Creek, which is only a thousand miles from home. Stay tuned for more from beautiful British Columbia now that Dad has left the Yukon Territory behind him. Featured in upcoming episodes will be more of the poetry of Robert Service, the original chronicler of Dawson-trail-mushing manly-men.

Dad, enjoy your rest and have an extra soak for me. May winter continue to stay far enough behind you that you don't even feel it nipping at your heels.

Why??

Great morning, sun and blue sky, little chilly, but not too bad. 1 hour into the day I stop and peel off clothing, and am down to T shirt and cycling shorts----boy, does that feel good. Another hill---a big one---let's see, chose a gear that I can sustain---nope, not that one---there we go, 5.5 MPH, not fast, but this is a long steep puppy. Whoa, now that I see all the way to the top, it is close to 2 miles . . . just keep pedaling, 1234, 1234, 1234, counting helps concentrate sometimes . . . the brain, not the body wants to slow down, but no, I can hold this pace. A few hundred more yards, now the legs start to chime in---keep it up, almost there, at last, the top, and I held the pace! Now it looks like a long gentle grade for as far as I can see, and a slight tailwind. Feels really really good. 24, now 26, now 28 MPH! Big ring bliss! All I can hear is a little wind in my ears and the hum of my tires on the chip-seal. This is bicycle Nirvana, and for this moment, however briefly, all is well in the world.

Bears Bears Everywheres!

Paul just called from Watson Lake. While in the grocery store, he spoke with a Frenchman. This fella has been touring on bicycle for about 6 weeks and has had 3 encounters with bears including being chased by one! Hmmmm . . . I'm thinking cabins and roadhouses seem like a good choice whenever possible. Paul had a wonderful day of cycling with sunshine and fluffy clouds. Laird hotsprings is 135 miles away. It is unclear whether there is a roadhouse inbetween. Truckers seem to have the best information available.