Over the great divide

We're through B.C. It's been eleven days since we left Vancouver, and we've cycled across one of the most physically challenging provinces of the country.

Ah, the mountains. So exciting, so dramatic, so unforgiving. A couple days ago, as I was grinding up yet another monstrous hill (only to reach the top, enjoy a brief downhill, and start up again), I became fully aware of where I was situated in space. To my right was a cliff, dropping prehaps 300m to the Colombia river, forming the base of the valley below. To my left was another cliff, this one looming straight up to a peak beyond my vision. A net-like wire contraption covered the rock surface to prevent tumbling shale from falling onto the road, and it was a good thing too, as I happened to witness a minor avalache during my ascent.

Such are the mountains. I have developed a love/hate relationship with their mysterious, powerful character: every climb I loathe, until I reach the top, when I realize that it was all worth it as I bask in the exhilaration of the downhill. But until yesterday, when we waved goodbye to B.C., the ups and downs didn't balance out. Since my last blog, our days have primarily been composed of ascents, as we got closer and closer to (literally) the highest point of our trip: the top of Kicking Horse Pass, the point where the streams either turn towards the Atlantic or the Pacific, and the border between B.C. and Alberta: the Continental Divide.

It was pretty anti-climatic, to tell you the truth. There was nothing to mark the great divide, to my dismay. Not even the passes did it for us - after so many horror stories of Rogers Pass, we were surprised to find a climb minor in comparison to others that receive no recognition. But as we rode past the sign that marked our entry into Alberta, I felt a kind of melancholy towards B.C. So sparsely-populated and full of wilderness, B.C. is a reminder of what Canada used to be, before humans came along, and what it can still be, if we remember what it means to live in harmony with nature.

Alberta is pretty cool, too, but just not the same. Almost instantly upon entering, you arrive in Lake Louise, a town built for tourists, and every town or city since than has seemed to be centered around the same thing. Nevertheless, we are still in wild country: already we have seen numerous mountain goat, elk, deer, and last night, a grizzly and two cubs, in frighteningly close proximity to our campsite.

After almost two weeks of riding, we have fallen into a daily rhythm that naturally carries us through our days. It goes like this: wake up, put away sleeping bags, pads, and tent; dress, eat, pack up bike. Ride for 5-8 hours, stopping periodically to eat, buy groceries, use toilet facilities. Begin to look for a campsite. Ride to get to campsite. Unpack, set up tent, eat. Cook if it's your night to do so, otherwise stretch, read, talk, wander. When dinner is ready, eat, drink tea, chat, read, go to bed. Get up, and do the same thing all over again.

It's the simplicity of our daily routine that I love the most. We spend all day, every day outside. I have a short, glove, t-shirt and sunglasses tan already, and they will only get darker as the summer goes on, a full body tattoo to prove our journey. As my legs get stronger, riding is getting easier. Hills are no longer the struggle they once were, and although I am still exhausted at the end of the day, I am always ready to get on the bike again in the morning, after sleep restores my energy...the deepest sleeps of my life.

Daily dose of adrenaline

Seven days ago, Rob and I left Vancouver with only a vague idea of what we were getting ourselves into. After a week of being on the bike, averaging 100km/day, having gone up and down two passes, the intensity and immensity of this trip has become apparant. Before I get into my feelings so far, here is a breakdown of our journey up to today:

Day 1: Vancouver to Agassiz, 150km

Day 2: Agassiz to Manning Provincial Park, 80km

Day 3: Manning Provincial Park to Princeton, 100km

Day 4: Princeton to Keremeos, 70km

Day 5: Keremeos to Chute Lake, 90km

Day 6: Chute Lake to Kelowna, 43km

Total: 533 km

We are currently taking a rest day in the Okanagan Valley, where the Okanagan Lake carves through mountains, fields of fruit trees and wineries, and a dry land that gets barely any rain (and lucky for us, we haven't had any so far).

It amazes me how much ground you can cover in a day on a bike, and how your legs alone can carry you so far. This trip is hard. Carrying 70+ pounds on your bike for 7 hours every day is physically challenging, but even moreso, emotionally and mentally trying. Because there's no one telling you to keep pushing up that hill that seems to never end; there's nothing to keep you going except your own will. So you need alot of it.

But this trip is also an insane, exhilarating adrenaline-rush that tests your limits. It exposes your weak spots, allowing you to learn so much about yourself that is always kept hidden in the simplicity of every day living. Essentially, this trip is a trip.

The generosity of people never ceases to amaze me. In Keremeos, after the rodeo (yes, a real rodeo, with everyone decked out in full cowboy gear), we were taken in to a family's farm for the night. We were entertained with beer, burgers, stories, laughter, and good old redneck comedy.

Every where we go, people are eager to learn what we're doing, and wish us the best as they give us directions that (usually) guides us. In Kelowna, we are staying with a Servas host, a woman named Linda who has opened her doors and made us wonderful meals out of the goodness of her heart. We are accumulating karma, and will pay it forward in the course of our lives.

This trip is an adventure. From Princeton to Kelowna, we got inaccurate information about a "good trail" for bikers, and ended up traversing up a mountain and spending the night at the top with little food and water. We eventually made it to Kelowna the next day, having added in some mountain biking on our road bikes, a serious uphill, and spectacular views. Sometimes screw ups are necessary to keep things exciting. Atleast, that's one way of looking at it.

Today, rest. Tomorrow, we continue riding north to meet with Salmon's Arm, where we hop on the 1A to take us east through the Rockies. I curse the mountains going up, but love them going down. As my mood shifts various times during a day, there is always a constant backdrop to fall back on: my legs keep turning, turning, burning.

At the rodeo in Keremeos: a hundred kids try to pull a ribbon off the calves tail to win a prize.

The adventure begins

Hi from Vancouver!
After having arrived in BC on the 15th and meeting up with Rob at the airport, we are ready to embark on our adventure. The picture shows us dipping our bikes into the Pacific ocean, marking the beginning of a coast-to-coast ride across a country that has always been a part of who I am, and yet I barely know. For how many days in my life have I sung the national anthem in school and not considered what it means to be Canadian? This trip is about learning Canada: its history, landscape, and people; its culture, values, and vision. It is three and a half months of considering what Canada can contribute to the world in these uncertain times, and of me figuring out what exactly it means to be Canadian. As my best friend recently rightly pointed out, I've never been much of a patriot, reluctant to use national borders to determine who I am. But prehaps there's nothing wrong with pledging some allegiance to a country, with using the word 'Canadian' in a description of yourself - so long as you support the meaning behind that description. My hope is that, by the end of the summer, I will know what it means to be Canadian, and I will be able to say 'I'm Canadian' without hesitation.
This morning, Vancouver; this evening, about 120km from here, Harrison Hot Springs, BC. From this point and for the next three and a half months we are official nomads of Canada. Here goes!

We're biking across Canada!

Rob:
Hello and welcome to our blog for our bike trip across the worlds second largest country. There are four of us biking together, Brad, Steph, Meghan and myself, but this blog will primarily be for Meghan and I to tell our story. In this first post I'll explain why we're doing this, and how we're going to do it.

The idea came from being overseas and constantly being asked what Canada is like, and not really having a good answer. We're trying to gain an understanding of what it means to be Canadian by seeing the country, and meeting as many people as we can. It also agrees well with many things that we stand for, it's environmentally friendly, somewhat hippyish, and will have us enjoying the outdoors for almost 4 months.

We're leaving today for Victoria (except Meghan, who will join in Vancouver on the 15th) and we don't plan to return until September 1st, when we'll be picked up from St. John's. Our plan is to bike about 100km per day, which will leave us with about 30 extra non-biking days where we'll be able to hang out and get to know Canada. We've got our bikes all packed up with everything we need to fully support ourselves including cooking and camping! We've got a route mostly planned (see the link on the left) but we have enough freedom to make any last minute changes to follow our noses to any neat places.

Meghan and I have added some extra motivation that should help us make is across, as we're doing the trip to raise money for students in Kenya through the McMaster student run organization SEED (Students for Education Empowerment and Development). Both Meghan and I spent last summer in Africa, and each in our own way realized how important education is to ensure that developing countries can independently bring about their own desired change for the better. I met a number of people who were unable to afford the fees to write certain exams which were administered overseas, and thus had no credentials and could not get a decent job, even though they were very smart. I also met a number of rural families that could not afford to send their children to school because their help was needed on the farm, often due to illnesses of some of the family members. While Meghan was in Kenya she had the opportunity to visit the Humwend secondary school in Ukwala, which will be the specific cause for the money that we raise. For various reasons the 120 pupils at this school can not afford to continue to pay the school fees, and without help they will not be in school much longer. Although sending money to this cause is not a permanent solution to the problem of people being our of school in Africa, it is something that can be done now to make a positive difference for those 120 students, while we progress towards a real solution. The problem is very complex stemming from the Structural Adjustment forced by the World Bank, and currently from the limits that the World Bank places on a countries social spending. So we're doing what we can now, while we push the government to do what they can for long term change.

During the trip we're going to try to update the blog and the map below once a week, with some interesting pictures and stories. We'll also try to publish some videos whenever possible. Please keep checking the blog, and fire us feedback as we go!

I don't think any of us really know what to expect from this trip, or have any idea of how difficult it might be, but we're definitely determined to do it, and to enjoy it.