After setting up camp in a perfectly still evening, the wind roars in off the water by morning along with misty rain. I hope it turns out to be a tailwind.

I have a nice simple late breakfast at Harmonie’s Place. The only coffee shop in town. All natural all wonderful. I am delighted to warm up next to a fired up wood stove. But how can this be needed in June? Life at 54 degrees north latitude I guess.

The partner to Harmonie, Kaz, is effusively proud of her. So much do that he pens a quick resume about her for my blog. Here it is in his own writing.

Heading out from Port Clements I am tested. Do I really have the mental mettle for this trip? The wind is blowing straight on at about 35 km per hour with gusts to 64 km per hour. There is nothing more challenging to a cyclist. When I crest a ridge sometimes the wind blows me to a stop. I cannot reef my panniers, which provide lots of real estate for the wind to push me backwards. In addition to the tough slog through the wind, sometimes mixed with rain, the sound and fury of it can be deafening. The wind rips loudly through the helmet and the rain jacket flaps like a jib that has come loose in a storm. Thwap, thwap, thwap.

It takes almost two hours to go 25 kilometers. How sweet that there is a coffee shop at the end of it.

When in The Crows Nest coffee shop in Tlell I see a Mars Bar and I am reminded of the deep fried food in Masset. Yes, they fry these things there. Here is the menu to prove it.

Before continuing south, I return north to the Tlell Volunteer Fire Department, from which there is a trail leading to an old growth forest. Most of Haida Gwai has been logged and this is one remaining spot along a riverbed. Like much of British Columbia, most accessible trees have been harvested. Now, even those that are hard to get at are being plucked away by helicopter as an 800 year old tree can be worth $50,000 or more.

After the walk in the old growth forest, it is back on the bike to Skidegate. The wind is still howling now as I am next to the ocean the roar of the waves are added too. Normally with my friction shifters I can tell if it is on gear smoothly by ear but the all the other sounds drown that out too.

I manage to arrive in Skidegate in time for a wonderful meal of crab – crab quiche, crab claws – harvested and prepared by Rachel, PC year 35. She took advantage of the negative June tide to pick the crabs by hand at low tide. And she baked a mean rhubarb pie too.

It was a slog of a day against wind and rain and I would have changed plans if I I did not have to catch the 11:59pm ferry back to Prince Rupert. So, after going north, northwest for ten days and nearly 1,000 kilometers, tomorrow I turn north west to begin finally the continental crossing.

Stats

Start: Port Clements
End: Skidegate
Distance: 67 km
Time on Bike: 4:15 estimate
Average Speed: 15 km per hr estimate
Distance to Date: 834

Having already cycled all the paved roads of the island, I take a slow pace today to unpack and repack, do a bit of laundry then head south.

In just a week, I seem to have accumulated a lot of food. Enough for a few hundred kilometers.

A few unusual things include Labrador tea given to me from a barber and amateur ethnobotanist. A few chocolate covered coffee beans from Becky, which I will save when I need the energy and a round of nearly pure cacao from Mexico for the same purpose.

As promised, I pedal around Masset and Old Masset to photograph the signs of protest. These appeals against the planned pipeline and the tankers that would come with it are clearly done by many different people. This is not like forwarding an email or mailing a form letter someone else wrote. You can see the creative hands at work.

The return trip to Port Clements, halfway between Masset and Skidegate, is blissful bicycling. Early evening light, no cars and a tailwind. Cyclists coming from other parts of Canada should be aware that the road shoulders on Haida Gwai look firm but they are deep sand. A strong wind gust pushed my front tire in and it immediately sank and I barely recovered. My wider tires, Schwalbe Marathon Supremes 42mm saved me.

The early evening light is so vivid.

And back at the dock, to be named Rainbow Pier, in Port Clements as the sun goes down.

My little experience in Port Clements is one of those moments that make you feel good all over. Not because of anything I accomplished but because of plain human kindness. Why? I arrived very late into Port Clements even by my standards – the ride down from Old Masset was too beautiful at dusk to take quickly and I got caught up in taking lots of photographs. Before leaving Masset, I bought the best steak the Co-op had for sale with the plan of cooking it over an open fire at a campsite in Port Clements. Getting into Port Clements approaching 10pm with fading light and seeing that the campground was another 4km past the town, I knew it would be cheese and crackers for dinner.

But what to do with the steak? Actually two of them as that is how they were sold. There was one thing open in Port Clements, the Yacoun River Inn, but there were no cars in the parking lot but there was a neon light glowing that said “Open”. Upon entering, I am greeted by about five people, each one knew exactly where I had been and when as apparently they had been passing me on the road for the past two days. I compliment them for the way they pass, moving all the way to the other lane. They reveal that it is because many local cyclists ride drunk and so drivers never want to get close to a cyclist.

I ask if they are serving any food. The bartender, Lynn, tells me everything has long been closed up in the kitchen. I then ask around if anyone wants two steaks to take home as I fear the meat would go bad overnight. A woman at the bar, Chloe, tells me to go get the steak. I come back and she has opened the kitchen. After being critical of the choice of meat, a cheap, tough cut, she takes it, goes into the kitchen and pounds away at it to make it more tender. About 30 minutes later she comes out with two perfectly cooked steaks, a pile of penne pasta and buttered carrots. Turns out she was once a cook at the Inn. A cook, she points out, not a chef. She says chefs can’t cook.

My cook, Chloe.

Through all of this I got to know a few of the proud Port Clements locals, although all originally from elsewhere. They love raising their children in the town, where they know neighbors will take care of them, just like they did for me. If you want to live here, Jesse, a tree planter at the bar, says he has earned over $1 million in the past eleven years. The local historian, Jack, tells me that back in the 1940s and 1950s everyone was a racist. The people of Masset hated and fought the people from Skidegate, Canadians hated the Japanese and so on. He said people just didn’t know any better. Things are changing.

Eventually, approaching midnight I make my way to the local campground. And this is what is looks like in the morning. Another campsite where I was the only person there. With temperatures still in the single digits at night, I guess I understand.

Stats:

Start: Masset
End: Port Clements
Distance: 53 km
Time on the Bike: 2:40 estimate
Average Speed: 17 km/hr
Maximum Speed: 51 km/hr
Distance to Date: 767 km

The ferry run from Port Hardy to Prince Rupert is breathtaking. The boat stops its rolling once it tucks into the Inner Passage. Within the first hour we see a finback whale, lots of porpoises and a pod of Orcas. We are on a new ferry boat, a replacement of the one that struck a rock and sank a few years ago. As a result of that accident, procedures of accounting for passengers is like flying even more so: you have to show your identification to get on and to get off.

The stunning views as showers and sun play with each other all day long are better seen than described.

It has taken a whole week to finally meet two other bicycle tourers. Two young and happy carpenters from Switzerland. They are doing a circular route from Calgary to Vancouver then Victoria to Port Hardy to Prince Rupert to Jasper back to Calgary in two months. I neglect to get their names so if they read this, let us know.

The sun sets as we power out of Prince Rupert and shortly after the moon rises. The best place on earth?

Canada Day is coming.

And the moon rises but gets caught behind the clouds.

In a place known for rain, it was a glorious day to ride. The mind and the muscles are ready. But two things are screaming slow down: my neck and my butt. The bike frame and fit is optimized for touring but it just takes time to have whatever muscles hold the head back for hours a day get comfortable with their new job. And as for the two sit bones and my new Brooks B17 Special (extra thick leather for longevity) saddle, well, they just need a longer courtship.

So, instead of cycling from Sayward to Port McNeil, I listen to my two body parts, split the distance and head to Woss. Some fairly long stretches with no traffic and it looked like this for about three hours:

I have my first lunch in the wilderness. Another avid cyclist recommended this protein rich meal.

There is much to explore in the northern reaches of Vancouver island.

However, of all the many things to do, the tourist board does not think cycling is one of them.

There is not much in Woss. A general store and a cafe. The cafe was serving fresh halibut as a dinner special. Too bad it was ruined by being deep fried but it tasted good nonetheless. This is still logging country. I am the only non logger in the cafe. There are about a dozen men having dinner around me in the cafe. Each one of them weighs more than me and my full loaded bike together not counting their steel toed muddy boots. Not sure what they make of me in my wool knickers, black narrow Italian shoes with Velcro straps and my baby blue sweater. No one asks.

Stats:

Start: Sayward Junction 10:30 am
End: Woss 5:00 pm
Distance: 67 km
Time on the Bike: 3:45
Average Speed: 17.8 km/hr
Maximum Speed: 59 km/hr
Distance to Date: 438 km

Mariners have their telltales and expressions. Red Sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning. For cyclists, silver green leaves, cyclist’s delight.

All morning a strong north wind pushed me along with every gust exposing the silvery side of every leaf and blade of grass.

Started the day meeting three Pearson alumni: Alix Wilson, Andreas Conradi and David Pinel. Andreas and David joined me for a smooth ride on back roads out of Courtenay. After an hour together, Andreas had to return to his oral surgery practice and David to his work with his company, West Coast Expeditions.

Made it to Campbell River just before noon and found a Japanese / Korean restaurant for a fill of Udon noodle soup. Like many places, there was no place to park the bike so the owner had me wheel it into the restaurant. He rearranged his potted plants to make room.

In Campbell River there is what I think is called a glacial erratic. It is so massive it reminds us there is a lot of geological history that did not include us.

The journey from Campbell River to Sayward allowed me to test my stamina for long climbs and my rain gear. The rain was not pelting so it was a light test. The Shower Pass rain jacket worked well but I missed having at least one pocket. I will do equipment reviews later in the trip.

Lots of signs for Elk but I did not see one.

I did have two encounters with deer. In each case I was barreling down the road quietly and must have completely surprised them. In one case, the deer leaped up just parallel to my bike with his hoofs nearly as high as my handlebars. So today, instead of reaching out and touching a passing motor home, I could have touched the deer. I started paying much closer attention to the side of the road after that and realized I have to be completely alert of my surroundings at all times. It is not just cars and trucks i have to tune in. The road had a good shoulder to ride on, separated by rumble strips, which felt safe. But there were several kilometers where the shoulder was gravel and not very safe with passing logging trucks.

Many clear cut areas along the way. Is this the best we can do? For our streams and salmon? For a sustainable ecosystem?

These are early days but it seems like 5-8pm is a good time to ride. Traffic is light, the light is perfect for photography, the birds come alive before their bedtime and other animals begin to wander the sides of the highway. I think this is when most Canadians eat dinner. I like to eat much later but it means being the last one before closing or missing the option of a cooked dinner altogether.

Arrived at Sayward junction at 7pm and registered at Fisherboy Campground. They give a special rate for solo camping cyclists: $16 an it includes Internet so you get this blog as it is written. Very kind and new owners. They support crazyguyonabike. Google him.

Stats:

Start: Courtenay 9:30 am
End: Sayward Junction 7:00 pm
Distance: 119 km
Time on the Bike: 5:54
Average Speed: 20.0 km/hr
Maximum Speed: 44 km/hr
Distance to Date: 371 km