Doing the Circle Route - Sunshine Coast/Vancouver Island

On September 26th, 2006 I took a solo bike tour on the "Circle Route" from Vancouver, Sunshine Coast, Vancouver Island and back to Vancouver. The route consisted of numerous ferry rides, encounters with several cops on bikes, the worst breakfast in the world and a large late model Oldsmobile. Here is my account of the excursion.....

DAY 1

I left home withe a wave from Heather at 7.20am. I arrived downtown to catch the 257 Express bus to Horseshoe Bay at around 8am. Getting to the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal is a challenge even without traffic, in order to bypass it, one has to take the Horseshoe Bay Express bus from downtown Vancouver to the terminal. I arrived at 8.50, well in time for the 9.20am ferry to Langdale.

After I got my ticket, I sat patiently at the loading area, fully expecting to be the only bike on the ferry. However, within a few minutes about 20 cyclists turned up on the "Cops Against Cancer" tour; turns out they were heading up to Powell River just like me; albeit at a much faster pace and more direct route. After chatting with a few of them on the 50 minute ferry ride it was time to off load and head on in to Gibsons for my first rendezvous with Green Party leader Adriane Carr and husband Paul George.


Rather than taking the highway out of the ferry, I took an immediate left and took the less challenging road in to Gibsons [approx 4km] Arriving at the GPBC office at around 11am I found Adriane and Paul hard at work stuffing envelopes, aaah the Green Party. I doubt Gordon Campbell stuffs his own ! Adriane was busy fielding phone calls, as she had just announced her retirement as leader effective as of the November AGM. Lots of people had said great things to say about her, except for one CBC radio panel, but that had Moe Sihota and he casts a long shadow over any party.

I then headed out of Gibsons along scenic Gower Point Rd and then right on Pratt Rd that took me back to the highway. After a short stint on the highway, I went left at Lower Road/cemetery and took the long hill down into Roberts Creek. On such long hills, one hopes the hill back is far less, in this case it was true, but it would not always be so. I dined at the highly recommended Gumboot Cafe. Roberts Creek is true Green Party country and just about everyone looked like the perfect Green Party voter. I even received suggestions on how to take the less hilly route back to the highway from the owner of the local Backpackers hostel. From the Gumboot I headed towards the water and along Beach Rd and then right on to Marlene and back up to the highway.


From then on it was an easy ride in to Sechelt, except for one hilly spot just before the town at Selma Park Rd, the hill was short, steep and had no shoulder at all. For this trip it would constantly amaze me were the shoulder existed and were it did not; suprisingly more so in the built up areas and this was my first hill on the highway in these conditions.

Sechelt is a small town, with one of the largest gravel pits in the universe as its main industry. I popped in at a local bike store on Cowrie Street, mainly to ask for perceptions of the hill on my way out of town. The local techies looked a little uncomfortable and said they never rode out that way much at least on the highway. After picking up some sunscreen and a bite to eat from my pack, I headed down the water front for a photo op at a local park and then back on to the highway.


It was gentle climb out of Sechelt, the kind of climb that lulls you in to a fall sense of security, so when I did arrive at the bottom of the Redroofs Rd hill I wasn't prepared for the full shock of it. This was my first test; it was at this point I would either conquer the hill or turn back and head back to the ferry. I was hot and sweaty at this point, I decided that no mere hill would stop me. Now most touring cyclists would not really consider this hill significantly challenging. However, as I was laden with 20kgs of gear, first time on tour and missing a leg, I hard my work cut out for me on this hill. It was about halfway up this hill that I realised I really missed my granny gear from my previous bike, it would have been very handy. With self pity in full gear and cuss words spewing forth, I climbed the hill in 3 [meaning 3 stops]. The climb was more than physical and for the first time on the trip a feeling of accomplishment swept me down the leeward side of the hill and northwards.


The road then consisted of numerous ups and downs but nothing challenging. The traffic had died off after Sechelt as expected and I began to get off on being the only human in sight; just me, the bike and the road, this is what bike touring is all about. I also started getting in to the "zone", the "zone" is a small place, you cannot be too tired and the traffic cannot be too heavy for you to be in it. My zone was filled with the Northern Soul songs I had been practising prior to leaving, it was all I could hear for most of the trip to Powell River, not a bad accompaniment in the wilds of the BC's Sunshine Coast.


I stopped to take a photo of the "Entering Pender Harbour" sign. Little did I know how far it actually was to my destination of the Pender Harbour Hotel. I was getting tired and sore at this point. It seemed to take forever and in frustration stopped at the local lumber yard to ask how far. "About 5 minutes" translates in to half an hour to this overly grumpy 44 year old with a point to prove. The Pender Harbour Hotel turned out to be on top of a point, which took every last gram of effort and will power out of me. I could not even make it up the steep driveway of the hotel, I could barely walk in to the lobby, let alone lift my bike up the steps in from the front door, but I did.


The Pender Harbour Hotel had been recently rebuilt, turns out it's prior decor was not exactly the greatest. But the new ownership had put some money in to the place. I lugged bike and paniers up the stair to my 2nd floor room and it was worth the climb for a stunning view overlooking the bay. However, before I could appreciate it I had to strip naked and run a hot bath; this would turn out to be my daily ritual. Spending long periods on a bike may sound healthy, but there are certain unhealthy aspects of it that need mention. For me it was wrists and butt, both sore and painful and after the first 75kms in need of a good nights rest.

My dinner at the Grasshopper Pub was pasta, accompanied by a few lagers. The bar was decent with a decent sized stage and PA and I decided it would be a good spot for my new band to play once it was ready to emerge. The bar manager Carl was most interested in the band and we decided keep in contact as to when the band would be ready to play.

One would think falling to sleep would be easy after a hard day on the road. But it is as if your muscles are still out on the there pedalling away, even with a great view of the night sky, it was hard to get to sleep.


DAY 2


I awoke around 7.30am and packed up ready to leave. Turns out no breakfast was available so I headed out the door by about 8.15am. After asking around the only solution was to head back down the last hill I climbed the night before and down the road in to Madeira Park village. It is both frustrating and psychologically challenging for a cyclist to go "back" on a route only to have to ride back on it less than an hour later. But I had no choice as breakfast sounded like it was 5 minutes one way and 30 minutes the other; I should have waited the 30 minutes.

The first place I spotted looked new and located across from the IGA parking lot. "Urban Ecelectics" looked ok, the coffee was decent, a paper cup but ok. I sat outside only to have my peace spoiled by a backhoe working the lot next door. As if the noise was not bad enough, every time it turned around I got a cloud full of carbon monoxide, PCB's and general stink from its exhaust. I'm not sure if this contributed to my deteriorating perception, it was certainly not enhanced by the arrival of my breakfast on a paper plate with plastic knives and forks. This had to be the worst breakfast I ever had, any where. The meat was unidentifiable and over cooked, the food tasted like seconds from MacDonalds. In the time I was there I saw two people arrive and leave, none with food. After my Gumboot experience in Roberts Creek this was a big let down, obviously not everyone on the Sunshine Coast puts care and attention in to their food prep. The morning was barely saved by crossing the street and heading in to the IGA for some bottled water, banana's and a variety of organic Quinoa Bar's. Yesterday I had run out of gas, I was going to make sure I would not make the same mistake twice.

Heading back up the hill out of Madeira Park at 9.20am was easier than I thought and certainly easier than the previous night. I rounded the corner at the Pender Harour Hotel, which still showed no signs of activity apart from the roofer that had sent me down the hill in the first place; so I was off again towards the Earl's Cove ferry.


The 25km to the ferry was undulating and quiet beyond compare and probably one of my favourite stretches of road. About 5km from the ferry I passed the "Cops against Cancer" heading back south toward Pender Harbour for a noon gathering at the local school. There is a significant down hill heading in to Earls Cove, the tour was resting at the bottom prior to the climb, as I passed them doing about 40k. I gave them a wave and they called my name and returned the gesture, I must have left an impression on them. I arrived in Earl's Cove at about 11.40am, the next ferry was at 12.20pm.

The ferry trip is about 90 minutes to Saltery Bay. Jervis Inlet is a huge stretch of fjord that reaches well in to the Coast Mountains. From the ferry you can see great swathes of forest clear cut, these clear cuts are an absolute eyesore and an embarrassment to all British Columbian's. If Wigan can turn the Wigan Alps [mountains of coal slag] in to something practical, surely British Columbian's can do something about these clear cuts. Looking in the opposite direction towards Saltery Bay from the ferry you can see a cut in the mountain side, that is where the road and power cables run. It looked so high from sea level, surely no way was that the road I was about to ride on. I arrived at Saltery Bay and let the ferry traffic make its way ahead of me. I phoned and left a message with Heather to let her know I was ok. I was ok at that point, but I was soon to be faced with another hill challenge.

With the provincial campground on your left, the hill about 2km outside Saltery Bay is significant. However, because of the break on the ferry, one's legs are well rested. This was another 3 stop hill for me and once again the view from the top of it was magnificent as was the ride down the other side; turns out it was the hill I could see from the ferry after all.

The ride in to Powell River becomes less and less undulating the closer one gets to the town. The 38km from the ferry is pleasant with a medium amount of traffic, increasing as you get closer to the town. A great rest stop is the Nimh Organic Farmers Market, about halfway between the town and ferry terminal. The owners recently arrived from Ontario having had their son run the place for the previous two years. Sadly, they had just lost their sheep to a cougar the day before, their Llama had been injured also. The event had made the local paper, so had Adriane Carr's announcement; we had a great chat about the Green Party, turns out they had voted Green in the Ontario elections for years. A few km down the road I stopped off at Sunshine Bikes, they had a good deal on helmets, so I scrapped my ageing lid and replaced it with a brand new Trek Vapor 3, bright yellow in colour. After checking out the Town Centre Hotel, which was full and overly expensive, I dropped in to the harbour area of Powell River and booked in to the Marine Inn.


The Marine is a fine old hotel, with a 50's style diner, although the false roof kind of spoiled the decor. No elevator, so once again I lugged my bike upstairs, taking the paniers off first helped. The room was decent, the view was looking toward the pulp mill and up the coast toward Lund. Turns out the road below my room was the road off the ferry, but it didn't seem to bother me. I ate my pasta dinner at Westview Pizza on Marine Ave. The food was fine as was the view, as the name suggests.

Powell River is an industrial town, it is home to one of the largest pulp mills in the world. It was traditionally working class and not a Green Party town as much as others along the Sunshine Coast. The name of Gordon Wilson still holds sway; in my conversations his name came up several times. However, even as the dependence on pulp decreases, the population of PR is on the rise resulting in the doubling and tripling of house prices. It looks like people are moving to the area in droves, with lots of Americans moving north. The town is a mixture of working class and new agers, so there is hope for the Green Party still.


DAY 3

Since the first Comox ferry was at noon I had a few hours to check out Powell River's Marine Avenue. Breakfast at the Marine was decent, however I seem to have lost the taste for [since the day before] a "cooked" breakfast, especially when it comes to cooking bacon to a crisp as is the great Canadian tradition. I took a stroll down Marine Ave., once again and checked out the local music store. One can tell the cultural health of a community by the existence or size of its music store. In Powell River's case, having a larger population than Nelson but a having a smaller music store speaks to some degree about the town's cultural diversity. A town the size of Powell River should be able to support at least two stores of this size, although according to the store's owner things were on the up. Powell River hosts numerous festivals some of which foster local talent, but they still have a way to go to catch up to a town like Nelson.

The noon ferry was only partially filled, it was a quiet 90 minute trip over to Vancouver Island, I took the opportunity to catch some zzz's only to wake up as we were about dock and then having to rush down to the car deck to be the first off the ferry with a handful of pedestrians.

The trek in to the Comox and Courtenay area was a bit of a culture shock after the relative peace of the Sunshine Coast. The traffic started to build after the turn on to Ryan Road and down the long hill past the Stuperstore. For some unknown reason I found myself in between two rows of solid traffic, I don't know if I was more pissed off with the traffic or my own lack of commuter ridership skills. Highway 19A as it now known was terribly busy even for a Thursday afternoon, the presence of a large box store such as Stuperstore cannot help but make traffic worse. I wasted no time in getting on to the Island highway and out of Courtenay, a town that has certainly changed for the worse in the last few years since I had been there.

Within about a half hour I was back on to some quiet stretches of the Island Highway, although this stretch would remain fairly constant in its traffic flow all the way to Parksville. Passing through the village of Royston I pulled over for a lemonade and organic date bar at a roadside eats. From then on the road runs along side the beach and is flat. I made good speed for the 35km trek south to the Qualicum area. I had originally planned to stay in Union Bay. However, I found myself passing through Union Bay too early and leaving me with too much distance to travel for Day 4 and the ferry terminal in Naniamo.


However, flat road does not translate in to an easy road. I found myself speeding along between 25 and 35 kmph and then finding myself pooped and having to rest backing off to 20k or less on the same flat stretches. However, as 4.30 - 5pm came around I found myself in the village of Qualicum Bay some 18km north of Qualicum Beach. With some direction from a young gas station attendant I went in search of the Lighthouse Motel which turned out to the my most pleasant rest on the whole trip. The motel is located right on the beach at Qualicum Bay right across from the Lighthouse vet building. I guess they must have had a lighthouse at some point, gone now. The Lighthouse motel is small with only four suites with kitchen and living room. I had number four located at the end of the row and nothing between me and the water except for the rocks.

I headed for my bath and rest before heading over to the recently renovated "Health by Nature" restaurant. Apparently the owners Detlef and Petra had run a 50's style diner, but had recently seen the light and turned it in to a fully organic place, complete with reiki, yoga and revitalisation sessions of this, that and the other. They even have a log cabin or two out back that you can surrender yourself to the universe in. It was the best food I had had on the whole trip, topped off by the best tasting Green tea ever, made locally to boot. Turns out Detlef is a trumpet player of long standing and played pro in Germany before moving to Canada. We shared woes of the North American music scene, but he seemed a little resistant to having a soul band play in his new age place for some reason.

It was so dark by the time [8.30pm] I left the restaurant, I had to go back to my room and find my 10watt BLT headlight to use the public phone across the street. After my call to Heather to let her know I had not been flattened by a semi trailer, I went back across the street and simply stood outside and marvelled at the universe. The stars were thick like custard and I could see the milky way, something I have not bothered to look up for far too long; something out on the water was making smacking sounds and nature did her thing all around me, I was at her pleasure. The chill of early fall air sent me inside, just in time for an episode of "Enterprinse" then off to bed at 10pm.

DAY 4

Knowing full well the bedroom window was in direct sight of a sunrise and with that same sunrise being at a reasonable hour [7.25am]. I left the curtains open in order to let the sun in as my alarm clock. Turns out the vibrancy of light from the pre-sunrise show was enough to wake me. A thick layer of cloud give me a mere 3 minutes of sunrise before dissapearing for another 20 minutes. I popped off a few shots on my camera and got ready to hit the road early for a change.

The air was cool enough for a long sleeve shirt and as a precaution I turned on my rear LED for 18kms I headed down the Island Hwy before breakfast. Having the ability to say "I did 18k before breakfast" has a certain ring to it, even if it is only to oneself !

QB has the reputation of being BC's retirement capital and in no way was the reputation tarnished by my breakfast at the Old Dutch Inn. To say the place had the demeanor of a retirement home was an understatement. The place was filled with old ladies laughing and telling tales of their younger relatives. It was a short breakfast and back on the road once again for the final stretch in to Naniamo.

As one cycles south, the villages become larger and the traffic gets less courteous as evident by an encounter with a late model Oldsmobile in Parksville. You can tell there is a lack courtesy in a driver as you swing your left hand and punch his [usually] passenger side windows and give the ubiquitous single finger salute with the same left hand. To embellish the gesture with a profanity or two is a mere courtesy on the part of the cyclist. It's a skill I've learned from decades of commuter cycling and it applies equally in semi-rural Parksville as it does in East Vancouver. Some drivers stop as if to find out where the loud noise originates, most carry on blissfully ignorant of their ability to make my children fatherless.

Just outside Parksville I met up with amputee cyclist Steve Middleton and his wife Anne for an escort in to Naniamo. Steve is organising a similar route bike tour next year to raise awareness for GF Strong Rehab Centre in Vancouver Out of A Limb Website. In fact Steve inspired me somewhat to do this tour of my own making after he contacted me several weeks back. Steve and Anne had just come back from touring in Italy and it was a great boost to me to have them take on the back roads to the ferry terminal. South of Parksville is where the 19A and 19 rejoin in to one horrendously unfriendly to cyclists mass of semi trailers, logging trucks and inexperienced camper drivers. The detour prior to Nanoose Bay was most welcome, however it is at Nanoose Bay where the only road is the highway for several kms and it was here were the most unpleasant and thankfully short part of the trip occurred. Thanks to Steve it was back off the highway, turning left on to Lantzville Road for an up and down route south. I have come to the conclusion it is better to do hills on quiet roads than it is to do flat stretches on busy highways.

Once through Lantzville and up one final hill it was on to the Naniamo bike path that runs parallel to the E and N railway and the 19A all the way down to the left turn down to the Departure Bay ferry terminal. Turns out I was just in time for the 12.30pm ferry back to Horseshoe Bay and although I would loved to have stayed and chatted with Steve about his future plans; an appointment with Billy Bragg at the Commodore required my presence. I bid farewell to Steve, Anne and Vancouver Island and rode the bike down to the ferry loading area one last time.

Once on board, it was yet another culture shock, as it seemed every kid from Vancouver Island was heading to Horseshoe Bay. It was odd to be around so many people after being out on the road alone for the last four days, upsetting even. All of a sudden there were too many cars and too many people. I had a nap on the ferry, when I awoke the feeling had gone and I had changed gear once again in preparation for the return to East Vancouver.

I caught the downtown Express bus from the terminal, I was home by 3.40pm. With 268.51km travelled and 15.37 hours of riding for an average of 17km per hour and an average of 3.8 hours ridden per day. This trip was certainly more than just statistics as it gave me the opportunity to test myself and push my own limits. I know I am capable of more if I ever chose to do so.