The Adventures of Mitey Miss

Help me find a casual job between now and October 1?

I'll be making a longstanding wish come true by leaving for Goa, India on October 15 to live there for six months on my savings to dedicate myself to researching and writing a book. Unfortunately, my usual work contract has been very slow this summer and not working has been eating up my savings faster than I'd planned.

If you or someone you know could use some help between now and then, would you please contact me? I can do data entry, retail, bike-stuff, graphic design, even write ... just ask!

Here's my resume, in case that helps:

Ulrike Rodrigues resume PDF

Contact me at: mail at ulrike dot com

The province of Alberta is the largest per capita donator to Canada's nation-wide, multi-use Trans Canada Trail, and perhaps as a result it boasts not one but four Alberta TCT routes.

I was invited to explore two sections of the trail by very different means: by bicycle on Edmonton's River Valley Parks, and by all-terrain vehicle (ATV) on northeastern Alberta's Iron Horse rail trail.


Edmonton's River Valley Parks

With 460 parks, the city of Edmonton boasts the largest expanse of urban parkland in North America. Twenty-two parks comprise the "ribbon of green" that lines the North Saskatchewan river, and the Trans Canada Trail joins over 150 kilometres of total urban bike trails.

Accordingly, Edmonton's bike community is active and ardent. Visit Alberta's capital city for their annual Bikeology festival every June; drop by the Edmonton Bicycle Commuter Society's non-profit Bike Works shop; or join a "Show N Go" ride with the friendly members of the Edmonton Bicycling and Touring Club.

View photos of Edmonton City Cycling: River Valley Trail, North Saskatchewan bridges, Bike Works, Earth's General Store, and Bikeology's "mocktails on the bridge" event (20 images).


Alberta's Iron Horse Trail

It's taken 10 municipalities more than 3 decades to transform almost 300 kilometers of abandoned rail bed into a visitor-friendly section of the Trans Canada Trail, but they did it.

Thanks to the grassroots efforts of individuals (Riverland Recreational Trail Society) and communities (Muni-Corr), Alberta's Iron Horse Trail (AIHT) now passes through boreal forest, farmland, and wild animal habitat to connect 15 historic towns in the province's northeastern "Lakeland" region.

Still in progress and partly a wilderness trail, the Iron Horse caters primarily towards equestrians, snowmobilers and ATV'rs at the moment. That may go against the Trans Canada Trail's non-motorized use philosophy, but bear in mind that it's these community users who have maintained the trails over the years and worked so passionately to preserve it. In conversation with the townspeople along the route (in Heinsburg, Elk Point, St. Paul, Bonnyville, Fort Kent and Cold Lake) I was convinced that they are very excited about welcoming hikers and bikers as the trail moves towards completion.

All of the trail's staging areas now provide water and toilets for example; and food and accommodations are not far away. I was particularly impressed by the tiny town of Elk Point which has blue prints for an off-the-grid "green" visitor and community centre.

View photos of Alberta's Iron Horse Trail: Heinsburg, Elk Point, St. Paul, Bonnyville, Glendon, Fort Kent, Cold Lake (40 images).

Published in the July/August 2008 issue of Momentum Magazine



View snapshots of 2007's Kokanee Crankworx bike festival in Whistler, BC. The daytime dual slalom, slopestyle and downhill events were followed by nighttime film and industry events (30 images).

Whistler, BC -- It's the end of July and Bel, Colin and I are in a Subaru, heading south into the village. It's a bike village: every time we stop for a light, a stop sign or a pedestrian crossing; bikes swirl around and in front of us. They hang off the front of public buses, the backs of overwhelmed hatchbacks and from the rafters of bars. Just about everyone in this car-free village rides, owns, sells or services bikes, and I am high on the energy of this.

Some of the energy, I have to admit, is the pure sinfulness of it. For the last few days we've driven the five or so kilometres from Bel's home into the village proper when it would have taken about ten minutes to ride on paved bike trails. I allow the mixture of guilt and titilation to wash over me.

Add to that that these are not metrosexual hipsters in sneakers and hip-hugging skinny jeans, but mountain bikers seeking the excess and artifice of Whistler's Kokanee Crankworx mountain bike festival and ~ I feel like I'm in dreamy, evil Las Vegas again.

At Vegas's yearly Interbike industry trade show, mostly male retailers and manufacturers populate booths, tents and "work the golf course" ~ Colin's phrase for networking amidst the knobbies. Interbike divides the on-site conventioneering from the off-site dirt demos, but at Crankworx, it's all mashed up. Here, the industry pros move a step backwards to make room for the reason they're there in the first place: people who ride bikes. Men who ride bikes. Men. Lots of them.

There's testoserone in the air, and I feel it. Before leaving Bel's house I tarted myself up for the "sausage-fest" (as my male colleagues disgruntingly call it) of bikers cruising the expo tents, slopeside bars and the slopes themselves. Warriors are everywhere ~ big, burly, dual-suspension-riding men in full-face helmets and body armour.

We arrive, and Colin takes off to stake out photo platforms along the dual slalom course. Bel and I giddily stroll the booths of disk brakes, hydration packs and bike frames. We gather up bouquets of promo brochures, temporary tattoos, and party invitations and then settle in at the Garibaldi Lift Company for a drink before the event.

We join a couple of barely-legal lads on a viewing platform next to the Boneyard ~ Whistler's amped mountain bike park. Tomorrow, riders will complete its freestyle course by delivering "air packaged goods" off the top of its five-storey jumbotron TV. Today, all eyes are on the Kokanee Girls working their way through the tables and offering free bottles of blue-labelled beer for acts of beer-patio bravery.

One of our table-mates, Ben, takes the bait and allows one of the gals to paste a sasquatch tattoo on his forehead. She wets the paper and holds her hand to his forehead while it sets. She's wearing roller-girl white terry shorts, and I can see a V of white panty underneath. When I ask for a photo, both she and the other marketeer lean in close to Ben's face.

Ben is nonplussed. He's got a new, cold bottle in his hand but his eyes are scanning the jumps, berms and drop-offs of the Boneyard. "Do you ride?" he asks, his eyes flickering briefly in my direction.

I think about my bike. It's a plain model that I ride to and from work every day. It's a bike I've packed and ridden in Cuba, Belize, Mexico, New Zealand, Canada, the U.S. and four solo months in Thailand. It's the bike I've loaded with books, groceries, camping equipment and people. And it's a bike that has sat ~ unridden ~ in Bel's hallway for four days.

"Nope," I tell him, "I don't ride."

Bel heads off for a quick stint of guiding tourists from their tour bus doors to the Gondola gate. I aim for the dual slalom course. Spectators line its parallel motocross-style tracks. I tuck in behind a junket of magazine photographers and wait for the "head-to-head high-speed action" the commentators are promising from the foot of the course. While the village awaits its warriors, I girlishly watch a couple of armoured downhillers at a nearby trail. They pull off their helmets and goggles and their fourteen-year-old faces are as dirty as their downtubes.

I feel momentarily sinful and guilty, then the first two riders break through the gate.

Bike camp on San Juan, Orcas, Shaw and Lopez Islands


Foot path to Shark Reef Park on Lopez Island

Shaw and Lopez Islands join San Juan and Orcas Islands as part of northwest Washington's San Juan Islands group. Seattle (WA), Victoria (BC) and Vancouver (BC) are nearby. Of the 172 islands in the Puget Sound area, these four are accessible by Washington State ferry and welcome visitors. All four islands are small, rural, bike-friendly and provide camping, bakeries and surprises.

Click here to view stories and images of bike-camping on San Juan and Orcas Islands, including the Washington State ferries, camels, art palm trees, and Doe Bay Resort.

Click here to view annotated images of Shaw and Lopez Islands.

Column published in the May/June 2008 Momentum Magazine.



Sometimes, I hate riding a bike. I do it every day, most days of the year and I hate the cold, I hate the routine, I hate how I look when I get off the bike. It's my dirty little secret.

I hate that my shoulders are rounded from years of hanging over a handlebar and I hate that my nose is always runny. I hate drivers who don't see me, I hate dogs off leash and I hate parents who jaywalk with their school kids without looking both ways.

Most of all I hate the smokers. Not the sociable ones puffing on cigarettes in building doorways, but the car-driving ones who idle at red lights. While they sip on fair-trade coffee and listen to public radio, their tail pipes blow carbon monoxide into my face. Every single car, every red light.

By the time I get to work I feel grumpy, smelly and unfeminine. My bike's heavy with rain gear, water, clothes and a U-lock and I have to haul it all up slippery stairs to the back room of my workplace.

Every day, I peel off a micro-fibre shirt, spandex tights, thick socks, and heavy shoes and hang it on hooks behind the door. And every day I must style my hair around helmet cowlicks, glide on lip gloss to hide dry lips, and pull on wrinkled clothes.

Sometimes, I wish I could be like the "normal" women -- the ones who wear shoes that won't rest on pedals, skirts that won't stretch over a top tube, and mascara that won't run when they're coasting downhill at 8am. They wear outfits that coordinate with car seats and office chairs. They look groomed. They look grown-up.

They look their age, come to think of it. When I walk pass them on my lunch hour I look into their faces and see cheeks blushed by make-up. Some of them carry dufflebags because they need to get exercise, lose weight, strengthen muscles. Some of them look hungry.

Come afternoon, my office warms with sun and my lungs crave fresh air. I stuff my work clothes into a pannier, pull on stretchy bike clothes and guide my bike down the stairs. I look both ways, throw my leg over the saddle and glide down the back alley, no brakes.

I squeeze the levers when the main road approaches and nod hello to the Italian gardener on the corner. He's been digging at the black earth of his yard for weeks already. Ravens follow his movements from a nearby fig tree, then flap up to a phone pole.

I ride in the same direction and it gets quiet again. A helmeted mum chats with her daughter riding in a trailer behind her. Speed bumps near the school force a car's brake lights, while cyclists behind it continue rolling without a pause.

I scan the next block for a yellow jacket, then see him: the happy mailman. Months ago he caught my eye because -- well, he has fabulous legs -- but also because he always looks happy. We started off just nodding to each other. I guess he recognized me by my equally bright orange jacket. His happy look made me smile, and he saw my goofy grin and returned it with a wave. A few more weeks, and I waved back, also smiling. Lately, he looks delighted when we pass. I laugh and wave, and he bellows "Have a great weekend!"

Sometimes, I grin for kilometres after that and shake my head at the thrill of it. Sometimes, I feel like I'm in love -- not with him, but with the part of the day that he's a part of. I love that the trees on that block are white with blossoms and I love that I can smell them. I love that I can feel air in my throat and I love that my legs are strong with blood and oxygen.

I love that I can pass long lines of cars stopped for a red light that I can ride right up to. I love nodding hi to the squeegee kids who grin and shrug at my bike.

I love that when I get home there's a room especially for my and my housemates' bikes, and I love that I can eat cheesecake. I love that my home, my body and my life are all about riding a bike, and I love that I do it every day, most days of the year.

Review published in the May/June 2008 Momentum Magazine.



It's not something you should watch by yourself, Klunkerz. The independently written and produced DVD by fat-tire aficionado Billy Savage recounts mountain biking's California days in the '70's and takes you there so vividly -- with tons of footage, still photos, and interviews with a bunch of guys (and a couple of girls) who drank beer, smoked pot and then got on their damned bikes -- that you and your friends will want to join in.

Wendell, Karen, Ian, Paul, Andrew and I didn't light up, but we did crack a few beers in my living room one Friday night as we gathered to watch Savage's flick. Finally on disk, Klunkerz has sold out theatres, won awards, and no doubt brought tears to a few MTBer's eyes as it screened in the film, bike and sport circuits.

Filmmaker Savage demonstrates a genuine knowledge of the bikes, and rapport with the people who first dragged their heavy '40's and '50's-era Schwinns up a San Francisco-area mountain for kicks. Not only do many of the Mount Tamalpais riders -- Joe Breeze, Gary Fisher, Tom Ritchey et al. -- do screen time, but they share their stories and video footage with him in a way that feels trusted and intimate.

Not just talking heads, the film lingers on the stuff us riders love: the bikes, the parties and the trails that made Marin County famous. You actually see the 1.8 miles of fire road that the riders ate up (or ate them up, as injuries were frequent), the grease smoke coming off the hubs, and the keg-parties that fuelled the whole thing.

The editing is so sharp that the riders practically finish each others' sentences. You get a real sense of their excitement and you're reminded that at mountain biking's heart, the message is universal: riding a bike is super fun, and you ought to try it.

Our gang really picked up on that. In discussion afterwards, Ian was stoked to see how how fun -- rather than equipment -- created the scene. Wendell liked seeing the riders' passion turn into something huge, and Paul (an MTB Hall-of-Famer himself) was impressed by the amount of history that the film dug up that he hadn't heard before. And I felt affirmed by how writers and photographers like Wende Cragg, Jacquie Phelan and Dogtown's Ray Flores can play an important part in recording a movement and spreading the word.

Visit the Klunkerz web site at www.klunkerz.com to chat with Savage and order your own copy. For more on the history, I recommend the Mountain Bike Hall of Fame web site.

"One of the perfect fits for blogs and blogging is travel. There have been travelogues online since the early to mid-1990's. The blogging format is well suited for travelers who want to share their day-to-day travel diaries and post photographs of their destinations...The Adventures of Mitey Miss is a woman's take on solo and adventure travel and travel writing."

The Everything Blogging Book: publish your ideas, get feedback, and create your own worldwide network. Aliza Sherman Risdahl, Adams Media, Avon, Mass. 2006.

Published in the Mar/Apr 2008 issue of Momentum Magazine.

Click here to view the entire journey (186 photos).

Click here to view the Icefields Parkway cycling section (65 photos).

What is it about trains? And what was it about a train journey into western Canada that yanked on my heart hard enough to make my eyes water? That wasn't the idea. When we first batted the idea around, Momentum editor Amy Walker and I played with a "gonzo car-free road trip" that would see me, a buddy, and a couple of bikes onto a few trains and into a few communities for laffs and blog stories.

To select a route I pored over road atlases and train brochures and happily found that, not only can you circle the region by train (as opposed to just going across), but that two rail providers ~ Rocky Mountaineer Vacations and VIA Rail Canada ~ are wowing the tourists doing just that.

Now, I've travelled by bike and train in Thailand, New Zealand and the U.S.; but it wasn't until California-based Dahon put a couple of tour-ready folding bikes into my hands that I even considered doing it at home.

Why? Imagine you're on a train in Thailand ~ a culture where a bike is just a bike. Like suitcases, sacks of rice and butchered pigs, it's something you bungy into the luggage car. Here in Canada your bike is something precious that must be boxed, marked "FRAGILE", and charged extra for. If you're a North American urban cyclist like me, you run out of energy after you've done that few times.

My friend Michelle feels the pain from both sides: she's a fellow bike traveller who also drives public transit buses for a living, including a past stint with Grayhound Canada. She's the one who ~ when I put an email call-out to my bike-friends that I was looking for someone to join me on a no-guarantees, multi-modal trip into the mountains ~ the "Reply" button the fastest.

I described the journey's "gonzo" mission to her and presented an intinerary: we would board the "Whistler Mountaineer" from Vancouver to Whistler, pedal around Whistler valley for a couple of days, then board Rocky Mountaineer's "Fraser Discovery Route" to head north and east to Jasper, Alberta via Quesnel. After a few days in Jasper, we could swap trains and step aboard VIA Rail's "Canadian" and head east to Saskatoon (in Saskatchewan), then Winnipeg (Manitoba). We'd spent a couple of days cycling around in each city and then take VIA Rail back to Jasper.

I warned her that in Jasper we'd go hardcore: we would clip panniers onto the Dahons and road-test the bikes on the 300-kilometer stretch of mountainous highway between Jasper to Banff. We'd leave our sleeping bags at home and stay at yet-to-be-confirmed Hostelling International wildernous cabins along the way. Once in Banff we'd get back on track and complete the rail circle almost a month later by climbing on Rocky Mountaineer's "Kicking Horse Route" to return to Vancouver via Kamloops.

What happened? Well, we did go somewhat gonzo: we rebelliously nibbled handmade chocolates in Rocky Mountaineer's dining car and sloppily sipped bubbly in VIA Rail's lounge. And we did get chided about our bikes by a tired station staffer who'd just come back from vacation.

I dutifully blogged it all en route and was keyboarding an edgy moment involving marinated chicken, coconut shrimp and Mount Robson when... I felt it happen. A tweak that signaled that something had climbed aboard, knocked aside my cynicism, softened my heart and would now make me go misty over mountains and renditions of "What a wonderful world."

My gonzo had gone sentimental. Traveller's magic ~ something I'd only ever experienced in faraway countries ~ had kicked in here, in my own country. I was grinning stupidly, trusting strangers, learning life lessons.

I realized, for example, that much of the landscape we were travelling through cannot be experienced by car or a bike and because of that, it is rare and gorgeous.

A dawn rose amidst rain forests and golden capped mountain peaks and lit jade lakes that seemed impossibly green. Jasper sandbars, spruce trees and a mink-gray range of mountains framed a frost-blue Athabasca River. Eagles, bears and big-horn sheep came into view just metres from my train window, lingered, then continued their foraging.

How is it that ~ when slowed to twenty clickety-clack kilometres an hour ~ time could swirl and pause and then begin to tell tales backwards, like a Martin Amis novel? The train revealed the landscape that way: riding on steel rails, it could pull us back into rural, then rugged, then wild terrain. Canadian history slipped by the curved glass as quietly as the lodgepole pine and white spruce. It also gleamed elegantly in the panelling of a vintage dining car, or the polished steel of a 1950's era knob detail.

I realized that trains connect us to that, our coasts and communities; but they also connect us to what's inside. Inside the train, inside the heart.

The stories of a couple of Rocky Mountaineer attendants pricked my eyes, for different reasons. Sophie had invited her parents onboard for a treat because her mum was donating a kidney to Sophie's 17-year old son. When the train company heard about the procedure it told her that they'd treat her parents . Rob did commentary, and one afternoon I watched his face and hand gestures become soft as he talked about Canada's Chinese rail workers, their working conditions and the head taxes they were obliged to pay to bring their families here to join them. The story resounded for him and as a Canadian, he felt that it was important to share with the train's tourists how ours is a country of many cultures and connections.

On VIA Rail's westbound train out of Winnipeg, Dennis brought a car of passenger to tears as he sang and told us that this would be his very last trip as a VIA Rail attendant as he was retiring after 35 years of service. He and Karim had joined VIA as college students and even more than thirty years later, they still loved the train and the people they worked with.

I learned that when you step off a train with a folding bike under your arm, you can connect with a community and its bike culture within hours. The bike identifies you, and people will point you to the places you want to go almost without asking.

In Saskatoon, staff at the Senator Hotel connected us with the 50-kilometre Meewasin Trail and the cafes it led to on Broadway Avenue. In Winnipeg , hostel staff directed us the Mondragon Bookstore, where members of the collective were preparing for the next day's World Car-Free Day festivities.

On the Icefields Parkway, proprietors of the Hostelling International cabins went out of their way to make sure there was a hot fire and extra blankets ready for the two snow-covered cyclists.

What is it about trains? I learned that like bikes, trains bring out kindness. They're slow and social and can tweak your heart when you least expect it. When you ride a bike or a train, you become historic and rebellious. You tell stories, you cause stories, and you write stories.

I ended up writing more than thirty-five stories about the trip. I hope you read them online, but more importantly, I hope you get your self and your bike on a train line and try it for yourself. I'll meet you in the lounge car.

Click here to view images of the entire trip (186 photos).

Click here to view images of the Icefields Parkway cycling section (65 photos).

Labels: train rail cycling western canada

Published in the Jan/Feb 2008 issue of Momentum Magazine.




"Hey!" bellowed a voice across the Jasper train platform, "Is that one of those collapsible bikes?" Michelle and I had just gotten off VIA Rail's westbound line and while she and her Dahon MU XL lounged at Freewheel Cycle, I was left to unfold my Dahon Speed TR surrounded by panniers, helmets and curious tourists the shadow of the station.

"Yes, it is," I said patiently over my shoulder. We were halfway through our four-week rail-and-bike exploration of western Canada, and our pair of tour-ready folding bikes never ceased to draw stares and questions.

"What's something like that cost?" the American asked, stepping closer.
"Folding bikes range in price from $200 to $2000," I replied. "Do you want to see me fold it?"
"Oh yeah!" he gushed.
"Great!" I straightened up, "That'll be ten bucks!"

I'll admit that part of the draw to travelling with a bike is the freak/rock-star treatment you get when you stop and mingle with the civilians. Ride a brand new 20" folder that you are test-riding with full tour racks and bags, and you are irresistible. The towering handlebar stem and seatpost suck them in, and then ~ when you explain that this little bike is actually capable of carrying a full-grown woman and all her gear up and over the snowline of the Canadian Rockies' 300km Icefields Parkway ~ they are yours to exploit for cash or laughs.

Seriously, though, I got a little goofy myself when I first laid eyes on the bikes in Vancouver's Dahon dealership, JV Bike. Owner Janko Veselinovic demonstrated the Speed TR's unique features: a 24-gear drivetrain comprised of a 8-speed rear derailleur working with a 3-speed internal rear hub rather than a front derailleur; a floor pump integrated inside the oversized seat tube; and of course, a hinge in the handlebar stem and chro-moly frame that enables the beast to fold in 15 seconds flat.

The MU XL is more of an amped-up 8-speed city bike than a touring bike, but N.A. Dahon representative Steve Cuomo suggested we include it in the trip because ~ like the Speed TR ~ it comes with a heavy-duty rear rack; a comfy cutaway saddle and flared handlebar grips; and the 15 second rule.

Both bikes weigh about the same (a chro-moly frame, hefty seat tube and dynamo/internal gear hubs add up to about 13kg or 28lbs), provide illumination with hub-generated front lights and battery-powered rear, and ride on high quality Schwalbe tires; but the difference is in the details.

While the Speed cushions your ride with fat two-inch wide tires, the MU slims down the rubber and sucks up the bumps with a suspension seatpost. The Speed requires you tweak your handlebar position with an allen key; while the MU quick-releases it for instant rotation then telescopes the handlebar post up or down. Both bikes shift with a turn of the wrist, but the Speed adds a thumb shifter for its hub gears and a couple of surprisingly useful bar-end stubbies. Snappy V-brakes, pull-out pedals and full fenders are standard on both bikes; and bottle cage braze-ons and "KlickFix" luggage mounts complete their tour-readiness.

I rode each bike around the city for a couple of weeks before venturing onto a highway and funnily, all the things I liked about them had nothing to do with their foldability: the super-low horizontal frame allowed me to easily mount and ride the bikes in a tight skirt. The small wheels made them very manoeuvrable when steering around pedestrians on the sidewalk. The kickstand took the challenge out of resting the bike when chatting with friends, and the onboard lighting system made the dark ride home from the bar a no-brainer.

That said, the bikes did need some adjustments to make them trip-worthy. I put a front rack (extra), and bottle cage on the Speed, and Michelle added a cage and swapped the quick-release flat pedals with her own clipless. My Ortlieb bags fit the fat-tubed aluminium racks fine, but Michelle's Axiom panniers didn't have adjustable hooks, so she had to rest the rear hooks on the rear light casing to avoid heel strike. The handlebar stem configurations on both bikes made it impossible to mount our current handlebar bags, so I stored my purse in a front pannier, and Michelle jury-rigged a MEC drybag and a couple of reflective leg bands.

At rest, the bikes folded in three easy movements and a magnetic clip system generally prevented the frame from splaying when lifted and loaded. A former Greyhound driver, Michelle suggested that the folded bikes' size might still be excessive for some carriers, but we agreed that if craftily bagged, they could pass for regular luggage.

In motion, the bikes were a revelation. The smaller wheel size meant that not only did the bikes feel nimble when fully loaded, but stable as well. Steering, braking, stops and starts were agile yet safe. Rather than perform an acrobatic leg swing over a fully loaded bike to get started, you could simply step over the low frame. The fold hinges felt secure. Pedalling efficiency on the smaller wheels seemed fine ~ I normally travel with a 26" wheel bike, so I don't get anal about weight, distance and wheel revolutions per pedal stroke. What we did both notice is that the combination of ergonomic saddle, grips and bar ends kept us pain-free through the whole trip.

Complaints? We had a couple. We were gob-smacked by Dahon's decision to put oversized light-and-motion-sensitive battery-powered lights on the rear. They cracked easily, they didn't come on in low-light conditions, they didn't stay on when stopped when riding or when stopped at an intersection, and they didn't have manual settings to override these shortcomings. This was quite a concern when descending from Bow Summit in a high-altitude snow fall. At dusk.

On the ascent, Michelle reported that her 8-speed MU was a few gears short of ideal, especially when fully loaded on a mountain climb. Go figure. On the downhill her high-pressure tires allowed her to go like spit, but neither of us had travelled with the bikes long enough to trust them full-bore on the mountain drops. I could have used another uphill gear or two more on the 24-gear Speed, but I blame that on operator issues.

Dahon's website (www.dahon.com) tags the Speed TR at $925.99 and the MU XL at $899.95 USD. It's a newsy and appealing site balancing tech-and-spec's with "one of the friendliest bike forums on the web." According to the site, California-based Dahon strives "to convince more people, organisations and governments to use more environmentally-sustainable forms of transport". They support cycling organisations such as Bike to Work Day, Trips for Kids and the Mobile HIV/AIDS Clinic. And, they say, they've been supporting "green mobility" since 1982.

I support green mobility too ~ and if you give me ten bucks, I'll show you how.

Some cautious thoughts on Vancouver's emerging cafe culture

SoMa is three things: a neighbourhood in east Vancouver (where I've alternately lived and hung out for the past fifteen years); a coffee shop in the neighbourhood, and ~ if you want to believe the condo hoarding along Main Street ~ a new kind of lifestyle.

Before it became "SOMA" ~ south of Main ~ this area was always known as Mount Pleasant. It grew then declined as one of Vancouver's earliest residential districts. Immigrants, artists and Ontario refugees (like me) moved into the modest tree-lined area southeast of downtown Vancouver, and staked a place amongst the johns and pushers who circled the blocks.

I can't say what exactly started the "trendification" of Mount Pleasant, but I believe it started with The Whip. Sometime in the 1990's, a few artists started selling coffee and toasted bagels from a gallery at 5th and Main. Starved for good americanos and neighbourhood gossip, we materialized at the space and hung out. Over time, The Whip (as it became known) grew and succeeded. Lava lamps lit the walls. Patio tables lined the sidewalk. Beer poured from taps. Sports teams came for brunch.

It was clear The Whip's owners believed in the community, and so expanded their involvement by opening a bistro up at Main and Broadway, then a coffee shop right next to it. I think half tongue-in-cheek, one of the guys named the new cafe "SOMA". It caught on. It still didn't make it to onto any of the tourist maps, but there is was ~ for us, anyways.

I mention SOMA because today ~ for the first time in several years ~ I had a coffee at SOMA - the coffee shop. Only, it's not a coffee shop anymore, and it's not on Main. About four months ago, the little-brother cafe wandered up Main, took a left at 8th Avenue, and turned into a restaurant.

I'd been shopping and prepping for my bike-and-train trip on Broadway: a 20" spare tube for the Dahon at The Bike Doctor, a travel-towel from MEC across the street, a drop-off of used ink cartridges at the Office Depot and ~ something about the way the fall sun bounced off the brick and leaves and car windows made me decide that I needed just one more patio-cafe iced coffee.

I was test-riding one of two folding bikes that Michelle and I would be taking on the trip and marvelled in its nimbleness in steering around pedestrians on the sidewalk. I rounded the corner from Broadway to Main, then Main to 8th and there ~ opposite The Nice Cafe and just as I suspected ~ SOMA's patio was bathed in full sunshine.

Rather than create a crowd of little cafe tables on the sidewalk, the bistro designed a huge, butcher-block table on wheels that they could roll out onto the sidewalk. If you wanted to sit outside, you slid in on a bench beside the patrons already at the table. Introductions would naturally follow, then perhaps even shared conversation.

I was momentarily intimidated by the set-up, but decided to jump right in with my brilliantly-tiered iced americano. I sipped it neutrally, made eye contact with a dapper older fellow to my right and soon learned that he was Rod and that he had lived in Kitsilano when it went through the same changes that Mount Pleasant is going through now. He introduced me to Diana, a young blonde woman with milky skin, a retro dress, and an indifferent demeanor.

Next to her, Avril adjusted her dime-store sunglasses, flicked her hair continuously and laughed uproariously when the other three people at the table made a joke. It struck me that Avril, Diana and Rod represented my idea of eclectic East Vancouverites. They weren't a particular type - their differentness made them blend in.

The unnamed, un-introduced other three went completely against type. Two men and a woman, they were perfectly coiffed and groomed. They had almost-empty glasses of white wine in front of them, and some eaves-dropping on my part revealed: that despite their extreme attractiveness and manliness, the two men were actually straight; that they were voraciously flirting with with the gorgeous woman to their left; and that she was unknown to them before they met at this very table. Oh, and that this was their second bottle of wine.

Really, they were stunning. I drank it in and became inspired and cowed at the same time. So this is what manicures, hair product and tooth-whitening strips can achieve, I mused. I surveyed my own shabby East Van bike-chic: wind-mussed hair-do, smeared eyeliner, thrift-shop T-shirt, Sporty-Spice skirt, dusty feet, unpainted toenails.

I wanted so badly to know who they were and why they were here, but there were no gaps in their banter, and no breaks in their gaze. Did they live in the neighbourhood? Did they represent what Mount Pleasant had become? Or ~ like the Saabs and BMW's that now park on Commercial Drive on a Saturday night ~ were they just "doing East Vancouver" for the day... a little inter-urban, east-west cultural exchange, as it were?

When the sun slouched into shadow, Rod and Diana stole away on old mountain bikes. Avril ordered another glass of white wine and continued to believe she was a fourth member of the threesome. I finished my coffee and went inside to pay. The bistro was filling up and a staff member in a black T-shirt chalked that evening's specials on the blackboard.

The space that SOMA now occupies used to be Bain's chocolates. Rod told me that towards the end, "Mr. Bain" used to sit in front of The Nice Cafe and smoke cigarettes until someone wandered onto 8th looking for a hand-dipped lemon cream, cherry nougat or hard caramel chocolate. He's jump out of his chair and rush into the store, greeting the visitor with a "How can I help you today, madam?"

As I unlocked the folding bike from a parking meter, I wondered where Mr. Bain is now, and would he ever walk up to SOMA for a coffee? I glanced over at the bistro and felt a bittersweet pang. I'm glad that the rest of the world is learning to love Mount Pleasant. I just hope they leave their Saabs and BMWs at home.

Newcastle and Gabriola Islands are small islands less than 5km off east coast Vancouver Island's city of Nanaimo. They're part of a group of islands in the Strait of Georgia locally known as the "southern Gulf Islands". Both are accessible by ferry.



Newcastle Island has been home to Coast Salish First Nations villages, a sandstone quarry, and a resort. It is now a car-free parkland with trails and a campground. Gabriola Island is an island village of 50 square kilometres and 4,500 residents. It has a seaside campground, nearby pubs and cafes, a farmer's market, and small deer.

Click here to view images of the Nanaimo Harbour Ferries, Nanaimo's car-free Newcastle Island camping and trails, and the Gabriola Island ferry pier.

Click here to view Gabriola Cycle and Kayak's bike festival, Descanso Bay Regional Park and Campground, the Silva Bay pub, rain-soaked cyclists, sandstone sunsets, and a broken plastic knife.

Published in the April/May 2007 issue of Momentum Magazine.



It's not unusual for a few of us at Momentum to gather around a table at Gastown's Irish Heather, order some meat pies and Kilkennies, and brainstorm on cures for the common car. What made it unusual one rainy night last November was that the most fervent ideas came from Gary Fisher.

Fisher was in town for the weekend to help Cap's Bicycle Shop celebrate their 75th birthday (they were the first shop in Canada to carry Gary Fisher's fledgling line of mountain bikes back in 1980) and as he put it, "I picked up a copy of Momentum at a bike shop, read it, and went "wow!"

"It felt really good," relates the bike industry veteran on why he requested a meet-up, "It was people who had the right attitude ~ and I thought I'd just try to investigate." Being "investigated" by Gary Fisher is kind of like being offered a drink by a Sony Music A&R rep. The man's talking your language and you're charmed by the attention, but you kind of wonder where his hands have been.

Same place as yours, it turns out: wrapped around bicycle grips and bullhorns. Only, he's Gary Fisher and he literally invented the term "mountain bike". He's very successfully sold the mountain bike lifestyle to the world-at-large, and now he says he's wants to do the same for urban cycling.

"Okay," you say as the waiter slides a fresh pint in front of you, "I'm listening."

~ ~ ~

By the time Gary Fisher dragged his Shelby Traveler up Mount Tam to join Joe Breeze and the rest of the dirt-racing gang in 1973 (see Momentum #23, Aug/Sept 2006), he'd already competed in road, track and cyclocross and had already been suspended for wearing his hair too long. You could say that his intense dedication to ~ and defiance of ~ traditional bike infrastructure gave Fisher the "king or kook" reputation that follows him today.

"Bike people get used to that," he says of himself and others, "not fitting in, being the outcast and doing what they do because it's the right thing to do." He reflects, "It seems the way things get done in society is when they become popular."

Take mountain biking. Neither he nor his Bay area buddies could have dreamed back in the 70's that their retrofitted clunker bikes would create a mountain biking industry. Fisher was only 29 when he started building bikes under the name "MountainBikes" but he made sure he sustained the sport as it grew. He helped found the National Off-Road Bicycle Association, sponsored winning women's and men's teams, racked up a shelf of awards and titles, and by the time he sold the "Gary Fisher" name to Trek Bicycles in 1993, he had created one of the most recognized brands in recreational cycling.

With Trek taking over day-to-day business, Fisher could let his hair down again and think up new things to do to bikes. Commented Bicycling magazine on Fisher's relaxed style at the time, "The guy makes a living just being Gary Fisher. I mean, how many people can say that they get paid to drive a purple Lexus with flames, wear Paul Smith suits and ride all over the world? One."

And one of the ways Fisher continues to make a living is by scouting fresh bike. "I'm the eyes and ears for the big boat, the big corporation, Trek," explained Fisher dryly on the phone from his Marin county home. "I'm known for that within the company and I try to give a realistic assessment of what's going on, what's going to happen and what we need to do."

In Vancouver, what he saw going on was something he hadn't seen for a while: "An attitude of fun overall. In the major bike world ~ with the big numbers and the big players, you forget. The next thing you know, you lose your charm and it's not easy selling anything when you've lost your charm."

It's as incongruous hearing Fisher discuss bike fun and bottom line in the same sentence as it is riding with a chain-smoker. "It's a dichotomy that I'm in," he admits, "I'm a bike person and bike people try to believe that we don't trade in the seven deadly sins all the time..." But he does, and that doesn't have to be a bad thing. "A lot more people in this world could really profit by riding a bike and I don't shy away from that... but replacing that thing that sits on the driveway ~ now, that's a huge undertaking I think we're capable of."

Ask what it would take to make that happen, and Fisher gets downright practical. To start, support bike activism. "Encourage activists to start asking for more, and knowing what 'more' is. Things get done because they have big plans, but plans need money". Second, maintain bike paths. "It's simple things like keeping bike riders to a certain portion of the street. Keep it the smoothest and most debris-free part and run a street cleaner over it once in a while." Third, initiate route programs. "You have to be able to find your way around as a bike rider. There are dozens of [programs], and someone is doing it somewhere else in the world ~ look at what might work for you."

Fourth, keep it simple. "The idea is to get out of 'the guys in the know' and more into 'anybody can ride a bike and it will function for you.'" Fifth, don't preach to the choir. "The real growth is in convincing people who don't ride bikes, to ride bikes."

If you believe Mr. Fisher is stating the obvious, then please open your hymnbooks to page 160. According a recent study commissioned by Shimano to increase their market share (translation: create more cyclists), 160 million Americans who hadn't been on bikes since they were kids admitted that they loved cycling ~ or more accurately, writes Catherine Fredman in Hemispheres Magazine (February 2007), "They loved their memory of it."

The subjects in the study connected cycling with simple pleasure and enjoyment, but got a wake-up when they walked into the gear-and-performance environment of a bike shop. Writes Fredman, "these people were just turned off by cycling. They weren't seeing a way to enjoy a bike the way they used to." In response, Shimano has captained a fleet of simple but modern Coasting bikes, ordered training videos for bike shop staff, and partnered with the bike industry and communities to promote cycling.

And what will Gary Fisher do? Pretty well what he's always done: influence, persuade, and consult. At Trek, he says he'll influence the company and show how things can be changed. In the bike industry, he'll persuade dealers that everyday cyclists can create "a real scene change." In communities, he'll consult with activists and help cross-pollinate programs.

"There needs to more of us to say, 'Here's what you do on these bikes, and how they can liberate you.' That's where you guys comes in," he suggests of Momentum, "It's a big responsibility, but it's a wonderful opportunity too. The times are right, it's starting to light on fire, and people want that freedom."

Is it odd discussing change, liberation and freedom with Gary Fisher? You bet. You feel like you've both pushed clunker bikes up a Mount Tamalpais fire road, but then you realize he's been up there a while. He's standing over his bike, hands wrapped around plastic handlebar grips, and he's motioning down the road. "C'mon," he says, "Follow me ~ I've done this before." He pushes down on a pedal and you follow, hoping he really is out to start a revolution, again.

Labels: interview

Published in the March 8, 2007 Spring Adventure issue of the Georgia Straight



Chris Keam is a single parent who'd like to introduce his daughter to the joys of skiing—gently. "I'd really just play it by ear and see how she is responding to it," the Vancouver video editor says. "If it wasn't going well, I'd probably want to explore other things too…like tobogganing, which is easier with a five-year-old than skiing all day, every day."

Four ski destinations in B.C.'s Interior have just the thing. Sun Peaks Resort (near Kamloops), Silver Star Mountain Resort (near Vernon), Big White Ski Resort (near Kelowna), and Apex Mountain Resort (near Penticton) serve up some very inventive programs that don't require skis for kids, youth, and grownups. Read Story ->

Interested in cycling New Zealand? I travelled a bit of the North Island in January 2007. Click here for highlights, or click below for a tour of the North Island from a cyclist's point of view.



View photos of the Coromandel Peninsula: Miranda Road, Pipiroa, Thames, Tararu, Pauanui, Tairua, Whitianga, Kuaotunu, Coromandel Town and the Kawau Kat ferry into Auckland (50 photos).

View photos of the Central region: Auckland, Papakura, Pukehohe, Tuakau, Pukekawa, Huntly, Waingaro Hot Springs, Raglan, Hamilton, Cambridge, Lake Karapiro, Tirau, Mamaku, Rotorua, Murupara, Galatea, Taupo, Tarawera, Te Pohue, Eskdale, Napier, Wellington, and a Tranz Scenic train to Auckland (200 photos).

Click here to view photos of Mitey Miss, Stephanie and their friends as they visit a couple of film screening parties (Kranked and New World Disorder), a punk rock bar, a Fetish night, Red Rock Canyon, and a two very nice pomengranates. Interbike is the bicycle industry's annual trade show and attracts manufacturers, retailers, riders and writers from across the world.

Published in the August/September 2006 issue of Momentum Magazine.



It's not even lunch time yet and Joe Breeze has already blown my mind. Breeze ~ who with Gary Fisher, Tom Ritchey, and other Mountain Bike Hall-of-Famers basically invented the sport ~ has just admitted over the phone that if he hadn't been so distracted by that whole fat-tire repack thing, he might have gotten down to what he really wanted to do a whole lot sooner: design commuter bicycles.

"The off-road thing was a diversion from my plan," admits the creator of Breezer Bikes from his Marin County work space, "It wasn't part of the script. It just happened...like life."

"My interest in city bikes came long before mountain bikes," he explains. "My father commuted to his job in the 1950's by bike, so I grew up aware of that aspect of bikes." Breeze rode to school and around his neighbourhood as a kid, but it wasn't until the 17-year-old bike-toured in Europe that his eyes opened to bike transportation culture.

Says Breeze, "Nowhere was this so pronounced as in Holland with their extensive bicycle thoroughfares, cloverleaf interchanges and bicycle traffic signals....I thought, 'We’ve got to do this in America!'"

Joe returned home inspired, and got involved in the beginnings of the region's bicycling infrastructure. Perhaps more significant to the history of cycling, he also paid five bucks for a beat-up 1941 Schwinn Excelsior and turned it into what would eventually be called a "mountain bike".

As Joe puts it, "One thing led to another and soon I was flying down a Mount Tamalpais fire road thinking 'a-ha!'". Breeze's refurbished cruiser, then the series of "Breezers" he built after that, begat a sport that put Marin County on the map and North Americans on their bikes. Breeze continued to build off-road bikes through the 1990's.

"For me, the diversion essentially lasted twenty years. By that point, the mountain bike was well on its way and I kept coming back to city bikes as a way to get more people on bikes." The trouble was, there weren't a lot of non-mountain bikes that fit the bill so Breezer created the Ignaz X: a cruiser tribute to Schwinn's founder. "I know it got style points," admits Joe, "But I wasn't particularly happy with that bike because it was designed after a cruiser, and cruisers will never be very ergonomically efficient."

Joe uses the word "efficient" surprisingly often when he describes bikes. "Bicycling is the most efficient method of transport ever born or devised," states Joe matter-of-factly. "Maybe I wasn’t aware of that when I first learned to ride at age five, but I soon was entranced with how far I could get down the road with so little effort." He also learned that a better pedal stroke and a better bike made biking even ~ better. Jokes the still-ardent commuter cyclist, "it was a self-propelling prophecy."

It was Breeze's love of efficiency ~ as well as his advocacy efforts with the Marin County Bicycle Coalition and proddings from his new business partner John Doidge ~ that prompted his next step. "[John] had been to many bike shops expressing his desire for a purpose-built bike with fenders, a rack, lights, kick-stand, et cetera ~ and the common response was, 'why would you want a bike like that?'"

Joe's answer? Given the choice of a reasonably-priced town bike that is efficient and fun to ride; or an expensive car that is frustrating to drive, why wouldn't you want a bike like that? Breeze created what he calls a "civilised vehicle" ~ a ready-to-go bike that shares the basic features of a car: "...fenders for grimy roads, lights in case it gets dark, ways to carry stuff things and protect your clothes; and the ability to stay upright when parked."

"They're like a European town bike," says Joe of his new Town and Range models, "but I tailored them to my view of the North American market which requires a sportier bike." Unlike the boutique Dutch-style bikes becoming popular with Yaletown flat-landers, a Breezer's geometry and lightness make it agile enough to sprint up Vancouver hills. And unlike the bare-bones mountain-bike styles you find everywhere else, a Breezer is not naked.

"We've been selling naked bikes for decades!" exclaims Joe with exasperation and just a hint of confession. He explains that while experienced bike owners know they have to add after-market accessories to a recreational bike to make it useful in the city ~ novice riders (and the majority of the population) don't. "I've run into people over the years who have said to me, 'why can't bikes be useful?'"

If the Joe Breeze of twenty-five years ago is guilty of denuding bikes of their useful accessories, he's now making amends. Today Breezer's motto is "Transportation for a healthier planet" and the company has officially switched from recreation to transportation bicycles. "It is time to unite cyclists, environmentalists, and health and cycling advocates," Breezer proclaims, "so that bicycles will be fully appreciated as the wonderful vehicles that they are."

Now that sounds like a self-propelling prophecy.

I recommend...
As well as providing links to his favourite cycling advocacy and education organisations, Breeze's web site www.breezerbikes.com also describes the birth of mountain biking in his own words.

Labels: interview

Published in the July/August 2006 Road Trips issue of Outpost Magazine.



To view a photo gallery of this trip, click here -->

Distance: 250kms one-way
Roads: Paved with shoulders. Watch for narrower shoulders and trucks in Strathcona Provincial Park.
Season: June to October

Ask an adventure cyclist how they decide on a bike trip, and they'll likely tell you it begins with a really cool map. Backroad Mapbook's new Vancouver Island edition, for example, shows ~ in full-colour, topographic, map-porn glory ~ that by following an old island highway (19A) up the east coast of the 450-kilometre-long B.C. island and by swinging west onto Highway 28 at Campbell River, you can cross the island's 80-km wide mountain range quicker and easier than the oh-so-popular Nanaimo-to-Tofino route further to the south.

The payoff? Well, not only does the old highway route gently sweep you along a sandy coast of oyster bays and salmon shacks, but it takes you right through the vast acreage of Strathcona Provincial Park: one of B.C.'s oldest and largest. You'll ride along the Campbell lakes and behind the island's massive Mount Washington. You'll also end up on the opposite side of the island at the village of Gold River where you can book passage on a historic cargo vessel and continue your journey by sea.

The M.V. Uchuck heads west towards the village of Yuquot, then curls around Nootka Island to head northwards into long, fingerly inlets with names like Tahsis, Esperanza and Zeballos before returning to Gold River. Like its predecessors, the year round, open-to-the-public M.V. Uchuck has been supplying these coastal outposts for over 40 years. Best of all, it can carry 100 tons of cargo and 100 passengers, but 0 cars.



Every summer the Uchuck adds Yuquot (Friendly Cove) day trips to its regular schedule so visitors can walk around its lighthouse, museum church, and gardens. Yuquot is considered so significant to the history of B.C. that it was named a National Historic Site. It was the location of the province’s first European footfall (Captain Cook, no less), and its surrounding area is considered the ancestral home of the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nations. It’s their chief Maquinna who paddled out to meet the strangers, and it’s his descendants who still live and work there.

If you decide to pass on the Uchuck and end your trip in Gold River, you’ve got hot showers at the Gold River Chalet, cheap tenting at the Lions Campsite, and enthusiastic-but-flawed advice at the Visitor Info Centre. “Oh, don’t worry about your food,” a staff member may gush in response to a question about bears, “Just put it into your tent ~ it’ll be fine there.” If a local doesn't offer you a ride back to Nanaimo, try this: position yourself by the side of the road, flip your bike upside down and look woebegone; one of those roomy SUVs or pickup trucks is bound to find some space for you on their way back south.

The Route:
From Horseshoe Bay (30km north of Vancouver), roll onto a B.C. Ferry bound for Departure Bay in Nanaimo. Follow Bike Route signs north until they join with Highway 19, then continue along the busy but shouldered roadway to the outskirts of Parksville. Look out a Highway 19A turnoff. You'll be able to stay on the older, quieter 19A for most of the rest of the trip northwest into Campbell River. Turn onto Highway 28 a few kilometres north out of Campbell River and continue west into Gold River.

Highlights:
1. Rathtrevor Provincial Park - A great place to spend your first night: hike-and-bike camp spots, old-growth Douglas Fir, rabbits and deer galore just south of Parksville.
2. Fanny Bay Trading Company - Landscape supplies, yard art, gift shop, and excellent ice coffee south of Fanny Bay
3. Riding Fool Hostel - Other travellers may head into the B'n'B preciousness that are the towns of Courtney and Comox, but savvy cyclists make a westward detour into Cumberland to hang with their own
4. Strathcona Park Lodge - Hot showers, cold beer, bistro food and bike-friendly staff in the middle of Strathcona Provincial Park. Whodda thunk?

Splurge:
While you're in the neighbourhood, book a kayak trip into Nuchatlitz Provincial Park out of Zeballos. Gabriola Cycle and Kayak is one of several tour companies that offers supported tours. Zebellos Kayaks provides rentals, water taxi and support for self-guided paddlers.

I recommend...
A Traveller’s Guide to Aboriginal B.C. by Cheryl Coull, Whitecap Books

Interested in cycling this tiny Central American country? I travelled in Belize for three weeks in January 2006 to sightsee as well as participate in an adventure race called Temple To Temple (see the "Cycling Belize's temple-to-temple tour" story below). Click a link to tour Belize from a cyclist's point of view.

Like a photo? Order a print!



View photos of independent bike travel in: Belize City, Caye Caulker, Belize Zoo, the Coastal Highway, Gales Point, Dangriga, Hopkins village and the Placencia Peninsula.

View photos of the Temple to Temple bike race including: Placencia village, The Placencia hotel (race start), the Toledo district (Conejo, Bella Vista, Lubaantun temple), Hopkins village, the Coastal Highway, Jaguar Paw, Mountain Pine Ridge, Caracol temple, San Ignacio, Western Highway, Caves Branch, Hummingbird Highway, and the race finish.

Published in the February 25, 2006 Travel section of The Globe and Mail




To view a photo gallery of the 2006 Temple To Temple tour, click here -->.

Caracol, Belize — Eight cyclists scrambled up the moonlit stone steps of Caana, Caracol's tallest temple, to assemble under its curved ceiling of night sky, contemplate its 1,300-year-old ghosts, and practise the Downward Facing Dog. Yellow, our group's bike mechanic, sits a few steps above us with four headlamps strapped to his head. He illuminates Taj's movements as she patiently guides our wisecracking group from one yoga pose to another.

At the beginning of the eighth century, about 150,000 people, 30,000 structures and 88 square kilometres of bustling Mayan civilization would have surrounded us. Now, only howler monkeys and the dark, tropical jungle of Belize bear witness to our awkward attempts to raise our tail bones. It's taken five days and almost 500 kilometres of pedalling to get to this remote mountain plateau and we're goofy and giddy, but not untouched by the sacredness of this place. The ghosts will make sure of that.

"Did any of you sleep up there?" asks a groundskeeper the next morning, sternly motioning up at the pyramid's site. This is a touchy topic for Michael de Jong, the Toronto-based organizer of this Temple To Temple bike event. He negotiated for six months with the archeology department of Belize's National Institute of Culture and History to gain permission for our group of 30 cyclists and support staff to camp here.

Two riders, Anthony and Stephanie, pause in their packing, and the groundskeeper shakes his head. "If you sleep up there," he warns, "your parts will fall off!" Everyone cracks up, though Anthony looks as if he's not sure if t

Published in the February 2006 issue of Shared Vision




Local entrepreneurs bring you a environmentally virtuous way to put some healthy lovin' into your healthy living.

Designer Christi York was thinking about her organic lifestyle one day, when she had a naughty thought. “I’m really into organic foods and the learning process of what we put into our bodies,” says the founder of Vancouver-based Buenostyle, “so the idea for this graphic just popped into my head.” That idea was a bright, stylish response to the “granola-coloured boring styles” and “depressing environmental messages” she saw on store shelves: a line of sassy, organic cotton panties emblazoned with a just-try-me challenge... Read Story -->

Published in the August 29 2005 Adventure section of The Province, a CanWest Global publication.


Sea otters, bears show sea kayakers the West Coast way. View Photos ->

NOOTKA ISLAND -- The afternoon sun glints sharply off the rolling blue swell south of Rosa Island and it's difficult to follow Brad's finger to where the glistening bulbs of ocean kelp end and the glossy heads of sea otters begin.

We squint from our kayaks' cautious distance to take in the fragile "raft" that the otters have created on a bed of seaweed.

Brad Comeau -- one of two Gabriola Cycle and Kayak guides who've accompanied this group of six paddlers to the edges of Nuchatlitz provincial park -- describes how twenty or so otters will float together on their backs to groom their thick, insulating fur and feed on sea urchins they have gathered on their belly.

Paddling a wide swath past other relaxed-looking rafts, it's hard to believe that it was the sea otter's famously luxuriant coat that led to this creature's near extinction.

A couple of century's worth of fur industry and oil spills diminished their numbers so thoroughly that conservationalists had to bring 89 down from Alaska thirty years ago. Only 3,200 of the threatened species now exist along the Pacific Coast and a few hundred find protection in this 2,135-hectare foreshore park.

Encompassing the northwestern tip of Nootka Island and a number of small island groups, Nuchatlitz provincial park was established in 1996 to do just that: protect significant natural and cultural features that -- like the sea otter rafts -- find refuge in its islets, reefs and coves.

The mostly coastal preserve hosts other threatened species such as the migrating grey whale and the marbled murrelet -- a shy sea bird that lays just one egg a year in high, old-growth trees.

Moist pairs of seal eyes follow us along Nootka Island's irregular shore as we, in turn, watch a black bear beachcomb at low tide. Bald eagles and oyster-catchers dot the sky overhead and they occasionally drop to investigate morsels in the basalt tidal pools.



With its sandal-shredding reefs and sky-high trees, Nuchatlitz initially seems a typical burly West Coast park. But after a few days, its delicate elements emerge: the percolating burble of a retreating tide, the shell-like sheen of a polished bone, the wet echo of a grotto waterfall and the silence of an abandoned homestead.

The Nuu-chah-nulth people have inhabited this part of the coast for thousands of years. In fact, it was Chief Maquinna of the neighbouring Mowachaht band who paddled up to Captain Cook when he rounded Nootka Island's southernmost point in 1778 and "discovered" B.C.

Today, Nuchatlitz provincial park quietly guards a number of archaeological sites that mark the First Nations' earlier presence. Pockets of communities adjoining the park remain their homes today. It's at Nuchatl -- an abandoned settlement that now acts as a water taxi liaison point -- where our group of resting paddlers catches sight of what will become a theme for our six-day trip.

The air is quiet except for the slap of dry bags over beach pebbles and suntan lotion over skin. At the end of the point about 500 metres away, a black bear picks an unhurried path across the wet sand and slippery kelp. It reaches the channel, sniffs it, then leisurely descends into the clear water like a matron into a tub.

"That is one relaxed-looking bear," someone comments as it swims to a nearby island.

We pack the kayaks -- and when it comes time to set out for Belmont Point -- we take a hint from the seals, sea otters and bears that surround us. We dip our paddles into the sparkling ocean and keep our strokes slow and serene.


GOING NUCHATLITZ
Nuchatlitz provincial park is on the west coast of Vancouver Island, approximately 110 km northwest of Tofino and 18 km southwest of Zeballos. Access is by water or air only. To learn more about the park, visit the BC Parks web site at wlapwww.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/nuchatli.htm. Gabriola Cycle and Kayak is one of several tour companies that offers supported tours: www.gck.ca. Zeballos Kayaks provides rentals, water taxi and support for self-guided paddlers: www.zeballoskayaks.com

Coming soon in Adventure West Magazine.


Forests of spruce, cedar and hemlock line the fiord-like walls of Tahsis Inlet View Photos ->

When people ask why I go where I go, I tell them it's "part curiosity and part stubbornness". The curiosity part is usually prompted by a map. My Vancouver Island Backroads Mapbook, for example, shows an east-west Highway 28 between Campbell River and Gold River that ~ by following a river valley ~ allows a shorter and more level crossing of the mountainous island than Tofino's trafficked Highway further south.

More intriguing still, when the solid line of highway ends at Gold River’s pier, a dashed line takes up the roadway's westerly route and continues into the water! It heads west towards the village of Yuquot, then curls around Nootka Island to head northwards into long, fingerly inlets with names like Tahsis, Esperanza and Zeballos.


Vancouver Island is off the western coast of British Columbia, Canada. Nootka Sound is about 110km NW of Tofino.

A bit of digging revealed that the "dashed line" is the route of a cargo vessel that has been supplying these remote coastal outposts for over 40 years. Like its predecessors, the M.V. Uchuck is a year round freight service that can carry 100 tons of cargo and 100 passengers, but 0 cars.

The "stubbornness" part kicked in when I tried to actually get into Gold River to join the Uchuck. I learned that while B.C. Ferries is more than accommodating for multi-modal travellers to the island, Via Rail Canada does not allow bicycles on their Victoria-to-Courtney railway up the island, and Greyhound Canada does not go west into Gold River. "Fine," I told myself as I dug out my panniers, "I'll ride my damned bike."

The road from Nanaimo to Gold River is lovely and well-appointed, but cycling its 250 kilometer distance on a fully-loaded bicycle is definitely not an "adventure lite". As an alternative, I suggest you beg, borrow or hitch a ride to Gold River. If you do bring a bike, flip it upside down by the side of the road and look woebegone; one of those roomy SUVs or pickup trucks is bound to offer you a ride.

Once you get to the mill town, you've got hot showers at the Gold River Chalet, cheap tenting at the Lions Campsite, and enthusiastic-but-flawed advice at the Visitor Info Centre. "Oh, don't worry about your food," the staff member may gush in response to a question about bears, "Just put it into your tent ~ it'll be fine there."

If "Gold River" sounds familiar, you may recall that it's one of the favourite stomping grounds of "Luna" ~ the solitary orca that got separated from its pod a few years ago. I asked Alberto Girotto, manager or the Uchuck if he'd seen the killer whale around the vessel recently and ~ like other area residents ~ he gave a relieved "No". Luna had gotten into the habit of nudging boats and floatplanes in past years, and everyone concerned wanted the orca out of the Sound and back with his family.

The day I set out on the Uchuck, it was all so darned B.C. postcard-perfect, I almost couldn't take it. Ho-hum, I thought as we passed Grieg Seafood BC, just another salmon farm with nets over the pens to prevent the fish from jumping out or the eagles from flying in. Oh right, I tsked as we unloaded a propane tank at a logging camp, ye olde tugboat rounding up cedars in a log boom with a fellow ~ er ~ balancing on the end of a 40 foot log to help it along. Gosh, I paused: a floating resort called the Nootka Wilderness Lodge where American tourists pay thousands of dollars to ~ ahem ~ be in the exact place that I had the priviledge of being via this reasonably-priced public-access boat ride.

I quickly made like a tourist and snapped some photos, then actually read what an on-board newspaper called The Nootka Sounder had to say. Thick with photos and stories, it told how a village just across the inlet by the name of Yuquot (Friendly Cove) was considered so significant to the history of B.C. that it was named a National Historic Site. It was the location of the province's first European footfall (Captain Cook, no less), first non-native settlement (Russians and Spaniards), and first non-native industry (sea otter fur trading).

As important, Yuquot and its surrounding area is also considered the ancestral home of the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nations. It's their chief Maquinna who paddled out to meet the strangers, and it's his descendants who still live and work in here. Every summer the Uchuck adds Yuquot day trips to its regular schedule so visitors can walk around its lighthouse, museum church, and gardens; or stay overnight in a MMFN campground.

Bound for Zeballos, I put the paper down and contented myself on the sun-warmed upper deck by lazily watching the passing forests of spruce, cedar and hemlock that lined the fiord-like walls of the inlets. The scent of oven-warm gingersnaps drifted up from the homey coffee shop.

When we arrived at the old gold mining town, I waited while the crew helped a tour group of senor adventurers unload their suitcases. They would spend the night in Zeballos, then drop in on Yuquot on the way back to Gold River. I found myself admiring their willingness to forgo more conventional destinations for this tour of remote villages, camps and outposts. It probably took a lot of curiosity, I decided as I hoisted my bike on the gangplank, and a little bit of stubbornness.


INFO LITE:

- Vancouver Island Cycle Tourism Alliance - www.cyclevancouverisland.ca
- M.V. Uchuck schedule, fares & info - 250-283-2325 - www.mvuchuck.com
- Nootka Sound history - www.mvuchuck/historic.htm
- Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nations - www.yuquot.ca
- Luna the Orca news & sightings - www.reuniteluna.com
- Gold River tourist information - 250-283-2202 - www.village.goldriver.bc.ca
- Vancouver Island Backroad Mapbook - www.backroadmapbooks.com
- A Traveller's Guide to Aboriginal B.C. - Cheryl Coull, Whitecap Books

Published in the July 29 2005 issue of the Georgia Straight


Photo by Luke Moloney

Thinking of hauling your out-of-town visitors to Tofino for some whale-watching? Think again. This summer, four local tour operators are guaranteeing sightings with departures right out of the Lower Mainland. Vancouver Whale Watch and Steveston Seabreeze Adventures (both departing from Steveston), Wild Whales Vancouver (from Granville Island), and Pier’s End Adventure Centre (from White Rock) are all offering boat tours across the Strait of Georgia and down to the Gulf and San Juan islands to watch the whale pods play. Read Story ->

Got two weeks for a holiday? Sit on a bike instead of a barstool! As I discovered in March, fourteen days is plenty of time to explore Cuba's Circuito Norte by bike. From resort-town Varadero, through Havana, to the peaceful Vinales valley, it's a perfect, paved, almost-flat view of the island's less known northwestern coast. View Photos ->

Georgia Straight writer Andrew Scott's experiences with casa particulars Read Story ->

I Recommend...

MAP:
The Rough Guide Map: Cuba - excellent 1:850,000 scale with contours & distance markers
GUIDEBOOK:
Lonely Planet "Cycling Cuba" - a bit out of date (2002) and the routes are a bit picky, but good overall touring info and maps
WEBSITES:
- Cuba's version of inexpensive B&B's: www.casaparticular.info
- Hotels in a variety of price ranges: www.particularcuba.com
- Bike-friendly Skyquest flies economic direct flights from Vancouver to Cuba with no charge for bikes, and no need to box them (they provide a $5.00 plastic bag) www.sunquest.net
- Bicycles Crossing Borders: a Toronto-based organization that ships used bikes and parts to Cuba. www.bikestocuba.org

Published in the July/August 2005 Road Trips issue of Outpost Magazine.



Length: 360km loop
Duration: 2 weeks by bicycle, less by car or if you bypass the unpaved portions
Roads: 143 km of rental-car-repelling hard-packed sand/dirt ~ rolling except for continuous drops into arroyos (dry river beds) on the East Cape Road; 217km of pavement ~ equal parts isolated blacktop and shared highway.
Season: November to April (May to October are the worst for heatand rainfall)

""

Mexico’s Baja peninsula has a reputation for banditos, buzzards and bad water; and a road trip down its arid 1,300km length would certainly seem to earn you bad-ass points. The trouble is, thousands of RV-drivin’ retirees are taking the same route down Mexico 1, and if you want to see more than the backend of a Winnebago, you’re going to have to take it where they can’t go: off the grid.

At the peninsula’s southernmost tip, that isn’t such an intimidating idea. A perfect loop of multi-surfaced roads circles the popular Cabo region and offers up a backroads perspective of its Mexi-gringo nature and culture that ~ if you’ve got the cajones to try it ~ is better on a bike.

Traditionally, "bicycling Baja" involved a paved-surface trip down Mexico 1 or singletrack day-rides into its trails. This intermediate-level tour combines the best of both. Arroyos make the East Cape and El Carrizal roads unpleasant for most vehicles but on fat tires they offer up days of unhurried coastal cruising and secluded beach camping.

From Cabo Pulmo to Los Barriles the road is smooth and untrafficked. The towns’ scuba and wind-surfing scenes are low-key touristy and supply road trip luxuries like hot showers, cold beer and fresh fish tacos.

West of Los Barriles the Mexico 1 leaves the Sea of Cortez to tackle the bracing job of crossing the Sierra de la Laguna range. Historic mining towns, village fruit stands and rancho campgrounds appear along the way and the cooler mountain landscape is forested by cacti and conifers.



Traffic is steady but courteous on Mexico 19 south and a quick turn-off back onto dirt leads to serene stretches of agricultural ejidos and Pacific Coast beachfront. In Todos Santos, surf lessons, eco-tours, and wine bars mark the return of full-fledged tourist amenities in the corridor of all-exclusive resorts between Cabo San Lucas and San José del Cabo.

Baja serves up a warmer, cheaper and spicier road trip adventure than anything north of Tijuana; and it doesn’t take much get your bad-ass self off the beaten track and onto a tasty circuit of cardons and coastlines.

THE ROUTE
Start in San José del Cabo; head east on East Cape Road and north along the Sea of Cortez to Los Barriles, northwest on Hwy 1 across the Sierra de la Laguna mountains on to Hwy 19 junction, south on Hwy 19 to El Crucero (unsigned, approx. 26km south of Hwy 1 & 19 junctions), west on an unmarked road to "Agua Blanca" sign then west to the Pacific Ocean, south into Todos Santos, south on Hwy 19 into Cabo San Lucas, then east back into San José del Cabo.

HIGHLIGHTS
1. Cacti Mundo Botancial Garden - Tour rare and endangered cacti in an environmentally sensitive habitat (San José del Cabo)
2. East Cape Road – Camp backcountry-style on secluded white sand beaches (San José del Cabo to Cabo Pulmo)
3. Parque Marino Naçional Cabo Pulmo – Snorkel the only coral reef on North America’s west coast (Cabo Pulmo)
4. Rancho Verde RV Park – Sleep under tree-tall cardon cacti on a lush family-run acreage (Kilometre 141, Hwy 1)
5. Art and Beer – Sip a hippie freshy at this roadside art installation, funky residence and kickass juice bar (Kilometre 69, south of Todos Santos, Hwy 19)

BEST DIGS
In Los Barriles, a $10US/night camp fee buys you full pool, palapa and party privileges with the resident kite-surfers and marlin-fishers at Martin Verdugo’s Beach Resort.

OFF THE MAP
Once a parcel of speculation land, "Agua Blanca" is now a grid of dirt roads that square off endless acres of rolling land, deserted beach, and wandering cows. Rusty street signs inconguously mark each corner. The road can be rough, steep and sandy, but if you’re on a bike your seclusion is guaranteed. (El Carrizal, about 22km west of El Crucero)

Published in the May 5 2005 Health issue of the Georgia Straight

If you're not tied up this weekend, the kink community would like to tell you a thing or two about safe, sane, consensual sex. Enthusiasts of the Lower Mainland's BDSM, swinger, polyamory, and erotica scenes will be joining up with sexologists, politicians, filmmakers, and self-professed "perverts" at the Sex Conference to overcome what they see as the biggest threat to healthy sex: ignorance. Read Story ->

Published in the May/June 2005 Outpost Magazine.

Looking for a tougher than normal back-country excursion this summer? How about 1,600 kilometres by kayak, on foot and bicycle through B.C.'s north?


"It was Day Two of a ten day hike. There was no trail and no turning back." VIEW PHOTOS ->


Gregg Drury is a Minnesota-raised outdoorsman, social activist and eco-entrepreneur who ~ I discovered ~ has a lot to say about menstrual products.

I’d agreed to join him on an exploratory section of his 60-day self-propelled "The Odyssey Tour," and inquired ahead of time ~ as any inexperienced gal about to go hiking through northern B.C.’s grizzly country might ~ if it was okay to bring "Aunt Flow" along.

"Well," I could hear him deliberate over the phone, "There is no doubt in my mind that a woman who is menstruating while on a wilderness trip increases the risk associated with a bear attack ~ both for herself and her travelling companions." He went on to describe the dangers of conventional disposable tampons, the benefits of reusable menstrual cups and where in Vancouver I could get one.

Simultaneously terrified and impressed, I made the necessary gear adjustments and met Gregg, assistant guide Fiona Brodie and fellow guinea pig John Harrison over topographic maps in Gregg’s Iskut, B.C. base about 320 kilometers south of the Yukon border. We’d be helped along by Tahltan elder Pat Etzerza, his nephew Clarence Quock, and five of their pack horses.

Long before "amazing", "extreme", and "adventure" races became a reality, Pat’s ancestors regularly migrated between their winter hunting grounds in the Cassiar region’s Spatzizi Plateau and the summer fish camps at the confluence of the Tahltan and Stikine River. A 100-kilometer portion of this trail still exists, and Gregg lives about ten minutes away from its easternmost trailhead.



He’s discovered that if you hike the old trading route to the Stikine and then paddle to its mouth, you can ocean kayak south down Alaska’s Inside Passage past Wrangell and Ketchikan, tuck into the Portland Inlet and paddle northeast up into Stewart. From there you can access Highway 37; cycle back into Iskut and have yourself one hell of a tour. He’s completed the 1,600-kilometer circle route a couple of times and can’t see why others wouldn’t want to try it too.

Gregg must have warned Pat of my tenderfoot status because he shot me a conspiratory look. "I’ll be your packer," Pat grinned, "I’ll throw you on top of one of the horses if you get tired."

"With all that gear?" I asked, half joking.

"Oh, those horses are strong, full of vinegar!" he said by way of reassurance, "They can carry moose meat, horns and cape ~ 500 pounds worth".

One of the reasons Gregg brought Pat and Clarence on board, he told me later on the trail, was to offer them a different way to make a living than catering to fly-in trophy hunters.

"If you pick a flower, a berry, or a plant in a provincial park," Gregg fumed, "That’s illegal. But if a trophy hunter wants to shoot any animal ~ moose, bear, lynx ~ they can do it." He shakes his head. "These are protected and managed wilderness areas?"

Since Pat and the horses could travel faster than us, we got a head start out of Kluachon Lake and set camp on a small beaver-dammed lake with just a minimum of supplies. The sky was still light at 11pm when I approached the green fly of Gregg’s tent and broke the bad news. "Gregg," I hesitated, "I’m gonna need to get into your first aid kit."



Despite our earlier efforts to surround ourselves with the grizzly-repelling smell of smoke and fire, I was oozing the scent of blood with no freakin’ menstrual cup to stopper it. I managed to macgyver two safety pins and a Kendall "Tendersorb" bandage into a makeshift sanitary pad, but I was not feeling solid about the 19 kilometers slated for the next day.

Pat had warned us that there was "a little trouble with beavers" in the area and as we joined the side of the Klastline River, it became clear that our trail was in fact completely washed out. Smooth beaver chutes dropped into the wide river terraced by serpentine, 150-meter long dams. We were obliged to traverse a steep slope of scrub willow and birch. As towering poplars gave way to lichen-covered pillows of wet, spongy moss the terrain became flatter but denser.

Feeble with menstrual cramps, I was losing a battle to push through the dense webs of stunted willow branches. I called out to Gregg, Fiona and John and we formed a huddle as the gloomy skies opened to a cold rain.

"I’ve got my period," I admitted wearily, "The cramps are pretty bad and I’m running about 75 per cent power right now. Plus…" I held up my foot, "My soles are falling off." The rubber soles of my ten-year-old Raichles had peeled away from the toes like a ridiculous clown shoe.

It was Day Two of a ten-day hike. There was no duct tape, no trail and no turning back.

~~~~

"So, if you don’t mind me asking, how’s that Diva Cup working out for you?"

Gregg had been hanging back, either to offer moral support because I’d gotten repeatedly stung by wasps plodding over stump roots in his oversized gumboots; or because I was still a bleeding liability at the back of his herd.

As euphemistically as I could, I explained that I was "having challenges" with the menstrual cup and had fallen back on a stash of O.B.s. When I confessed that I had been burying the used ones, he looked betrayed. He said something about burning them in the Trekstov ~ the one we cooked our meals on ~ but my mind was elsewhere.

With each sloppy step, coin-sized blisters burned between my toes. The horses had passed and were hours ahead of us, and sheer stubbornness pushed me forward. I began to imagine myself loaded on one of them ~ not astride, like a human being ~ but draped, like one of those moose carcasses.







In the next four days, we navigated two derelict bridges, zip-lined one swollen river, and walked endless buckling, boggy, mosquito-thick kilometers. During the day Gregg, Fiona, and John offered mute support while I stumbled clumsily. In the evenings Pat and Clarence served up warm solace by their barrel stove.

"Do ya think you could ride one of them horses?" Pat asked me one day over Spam and chicken soup. We were sitting at Creykes Camp, a cached clearing carved out of the Buckley Lake shoreline by Pat’s "relatives", as he put it. Beyond the warm green glisten of the lake, the volcanic cone of Mount Edziza ~ named after Pat’s family ~ glinted white against the warm, rustling July sky.



Gregg, Fiona and John had gone up to the mountain’s nearby Eve Cone for a day hike and Clarence was down at the dock fishing for rainbow trout. I was left with Pat to recuperate and prepare for the last portion of the trip.

I looked up at him, and for the first time in a long time, I started to laugh.

Except for the few months that the Iskut band brought them in for hunting trips, it turns out the the half-Clydesdale, half-wild "pack horses" usually ran unfettered in the boreal forest. Those animals were so smart, I’d seen them work their tethers loose and ~ hobbled and cow-belled ~ silently sneak away from Pat’s wall tent. A day with the horses meant I’d be expected to sit on the back of one of these beasts and help keep it from bolting the pack line when it had half a chance.

It also meant I’d share the last 25 kilometers of the Tahltan’s ancestral trail with Pat, Clarence, and all their relatives before us.

"Hey!" I hollered in Pat’s best horse-whooping voice, " ‘Smarten up, why don’t ya?!’ "

Published in the March 2005 Adventure West Magazine.


"Take a moment to enjoy the simple pleasures that surround you every day".

The Canadian customs line was moving slowly. Most of the passengers coming up from Seattle on the Greyhound waited sleepily in line, but I was curious about the unusual baggage of a couple of travellers in front of me.

Gurney-style, they'd carried a couple of beaten-up and duct-taped cardboard boxes out of the bus's luggage compartment. They also unloaded two old canvas backpacks, a milk crate with a wire basket bungyed inside it, and a plastic Chinatown-style shopping bag. The tip of a bike's front fork peeked out of one torn-up corner of one of the cardboard boxes.

Standing behind them in the line, I helped push their considerable pile of gear forward each time a passenger stepped forward to be questioned by a customs officer. I turned to one of them and asked if they were in the middle of journey. Her eyes shone as she explained that they'd just biked down the Baja Peninsula and would be finishing their trip in Coquitlam.

She was in her late twenties, with a light tan and French-braided ponytail. She wore a beige hoody and cargo pants. The fellow with her seemed a bit older: also tanned, he wore his salt-and-pepper hair close cropped, and ~ when he wasn't bustling to move the boxes forward ~ kept his hands in his Mexican sweater and listened as she spoke.

While we were comparing notes, I watched her boyfriend and noticed that although he listened and participated actively, he didn't say much. I got a sense that he was comfortable stepping back and not feeling obliged to do all the talking, and remembered how important an attribute that is when travelling with someone; the ability to perform a silent kind of dance so that you take turns at standard tasks like dealing with curious conversation-makers.

He reminded me of my last boyfriend. P.H. was arguably the best person I'd ever travelleded with ~ and that's saying a lot, because I usually biked solo.

Pierre-Henri was a consummate cyclist who'd grown up surrounded by the Tour de France. On weekdays he spent the entire time on his single-speed as a bike messenger, and on weekends he road raced to Richmond with the UBC clubs or track raced in Burnaby. I'd never ridden with a man who regularly cycled with a heart monitor. I was duly intimidated when I joined him on the Oregon Coast portion of his own Vancouver-to-Baja bike tour.

I wasn't stressed about the ride or the distance…I'd cycled solo in southeast Asia for four months and knew I could handle weight, kilometers and culture shock if I had to. I was more worried about the delicate dance of our own interactions. I feared he'd either ride faster and further than me and ask ~ as one boyfriend did ~ if I was riding this slow on purpose; or he'd hang over me and ~ as another boyfriend did ~ continuously ask if I was okay, did I need a break, was I hungry and was this hill too big?

P.H. did neither. He followed his own pace and allowed the distance between us to naturally lengthen. Then he'd pause for a drink, photo or contemplative moment so that I could eventually catch up and share it with him. P.H. simply trusted that I was fine and capable and would let him know if I needed him.



As I learned to trust him, I discovered I could gently tuck my independent feminist rhetoric away into a pannier side pocket. I was happy to let him tune up our bikes before each day's ride, and he was happy to let me deal with the 20 Questions we regularly played with head-shaking car campers.

After two weeks of letting the Pacific breezes push us southwards down the coast, P.H. and I had had enough funny, scary, wet, wonderful cycling days together that we could boast a confident beginner's understanding of the travel companion dance. In Florence, Oregon, he boxed my bike at a cyclist-friendly hotel room as I booked a seat on a Vancouver-bound Greyhound bus. P.H. figured out a way to bungy my panniers and bike box onto his B.O.B. trailer, and I figured a way to double on his Surly and get both of us to the station without a cab.

Unlike the couple at the border, our adventures would end in different places: I'd return to my bike shop job in Vancouver, and P.H. would continue south to Baja Norte, then return to Vancouver just long enough to die suddenly and break my heart.

At the Coquitlam bus station, I peered out the tinted glass and watched the bicycle couple efficiently unload their gear and backpacks. As she pulled them out from the bus's belly and stacked them on the asphalt, he carried them to the platform and leaned them against a bench. "I'll get that, sweetheart," I heard him call to her as she tugged on one of the bike boxes.

I could see him pull strips of duct tape off the smaller box and get ready to reassemble a bike. I waved to them through the glass, and as the coach backed out of the loading bay, watched them continue their practical dance under the depot’s warm yellow light.

Published in the February 10, 2005 Single In The City issue of the Georgia Straight

Would you like a good spanking? Would you? Because if you're single and like to travel, expect to get spanked hard when you go to pay for that fabulous all-inclusive holiday. In addition to the taxes, surcharges, and