vancouver, the ocean, the future awaits

After blogging in Revelstoke I went to bed early. 7 PM and I was completely exhausted. I awoke early and tried to shower. Someone else was using the upstairs bathroom so I went downstairs. I walked through the lobby where some girl was sleeping on the couch in a sleeping bag. I was shirtless, but this didn't seem to phase her. She was pretty cool and she was from Vancouver, a city I was about to ride to. We exchanged info, then I finally got to brushing my teeth. i got my bike out of the shed and headed out.

riding that day was uneventful. the elevation was lower, so the riding was sweatier but easier. i rode to kamloops, where i had a choice to make. i could take bc 5 south over the koka hala or i could follow highway 1 through a canyon to vancouver. both would take me to vancouver. the koka hala was 30 miles shorter and went over two mountains, which i like. its also heat exhaustion sweaty right now, so mountains would be a better daytime climate. however, the directions are more complicated and the nights would be cold. i stopped in a timmy ho's to poop, then i went to lee's music to get directions, as i had lost the highway in my frantic poop search. the folks at lee's were really chill, and they were so impressed with me that they gave me a pin for the 2011 kamloops summer games. they said it was a western canada mini-olympics. i said sure, whatever, and left. i charged up a short, steep hill. it was only 2 kilometers, but it was much steeper than the rockies i was used to. my left butt cheek was feelin pretty sore, i like climbing because its painful, it makes you stronger, and im faster up hills then almost everyone ive ever met. i saw a cineplex movie theater. i decided i had been biking all day, there's possibly a canadian rugby tournament in this town in the morning, so i should see a movie and kill time until the pubs get hoppin'. i had another choice to make: captain america or cowboys vs. aliens. cowboys vs. aliens was filmed in digital and it sounded super corny, i had no choice. the choice was cowboys vs. aliens, and it was such an awesome movie. the girl in the movie was the same actress who played 13 in house, that show about a sarcastic narcissistic doctor with a limp. i wouldn't trust a doctor who claimed her name was a number and whose face looked like an alien, and now she was pretending to be a cowgirl or something. the opening scene was daniel craig waking up in the desert with a weird metal bracelet. i was like awesome! james bond is way more badass than jack bauer, casino royale was awesome. so these three guys ride up to huim to ask directions then decide to capture him, so he kills these armed cowboys on horseback with his bare hands. then he dresses up in dead men's clothes and accidentally meets harrison ford. the idiot preacher from there will be blood gets drunk and shoots a bunch of things, so he gets arrested alongside daniel craig, who turns out to be a bank robber with amnesia. that's when the aliens fly in and capture people by lassoing them with metal cables that come out of flying saucers. so after a bunch of people die and get captured daniel craig and harrison ford round up a posse and Doctor Number Girl comes along. i still think her face looks like an alien, i think it's the weird eyes and how the cheekbones come out then the jaw comes out again, almost as if she had no teeth. she's like an alien keira knightley. so a war party of native americans captures them all and kills alien face doctor number girl and throws her into the fire. then she comes back alive! you know why? she was an alien the whole time! i totally called that one, like way back when she came onto the show house. anyways, long story short, they fight aliens and stuff and she dies again and they all get rich.

so after the movie i went to duffy's pub to carbo load. beer is good carbs, its got oats. i had a beer, met some people, found out about a good park to sleep in up another hill, and listened to a drunk ex-biker repeat himself that highway 1 is absolutely "go-jus" for about half an hour. so i found a playground, strung up my hammock, and slept. at 3 am every sprinkler in the park went off and they soaked me to shit. i was like damn! so i went back down the hill to mcdonalds, read my boring book until about 5 am, then rode off into the sunrise. by 9:30 i was in a town and a cafe was open. i got a hearty breakfast and inquired the waitress as to the whereabouts of a nearby laundromat or library. i rode to the library, found it was closed on fridays, and went to the laundromat. i spent hours there. it took forever to get looneys and canadian quarters, but finally i was trimuphant and i cleaned my clothes. while waiting in the laundromat i met a really cool yoga teacher from san francisco. i met an even cooler one year old and his hyper older brothers. their parents were appreciative that i was good with kids, but i was most appreciative of the fact that this yoga instructor was so beautiful and i didn't even notice she was balding. i was like whoa, bald girls can be hot! it's an inspiration to the balding young everywhere. unfortunately i think she accidentally took one of my bike gloves, so i just let my ulnar nerve pinch that much extra and my palms blister. to this day i haven't gotten a new pair, life is easier with less items to maintain. i rode on through the midday heat. riding highway 1 i rode through a windy canyon. strong wind slows me down more than the steepest mountains, and unfortunately for me the holes in my bike shorts were chafing me raw. i stopped in a fruit stand. the girls who worked there offered me water. they could tell i was suffering from the heat more than i could. being an endurance athlete helps you learn about your body so well, but you get so used to pushing through the same kind of pain that oftentimes you don't realize you're toughing it out when you're putting yourself in danger. if i let my fears stop me from living my life i wouldn't have gone on this trip in the first place. i don't think i would have made most of my best memories. rugby, football, scout camp, hiking trips, they all entail risks of death and disability. i have spent a lifetime educating myself about my body, yet random strangers knew i had heat exhaustion before i did. muchas gracias, chicas. i rode on once again, eventually i stopped to change behind a store in the middle of nowhere. i threw away my bike shorts, they were causing me too much skin pain to not be unhealthy. i would wear underarmour while riding, and that's it. as i kept riding my cable snapped. without control of my rear derailler i was stuck on the smallest cog in my cassette, the one that skips the most. i could go on flats and downhill, but i had to walk up mountains. eventually i got back to civilization. kumsheen rafting, a resort with very cool staff people. i asked the waiter if i could just sit down and change my cable. as usual, he was awesome, because in general people are totally awesome. as i walked to my chair these two girls kept staring at my legs, or maybe what was in between my legs, i couldn't tell, i just knew this is why i usually wore bike shorts. the waiter took me back to the shop. here i met a bunch of staff people and was able to work on my bike. once again my cable snapped in the shifter, so basically i had to randomly mess with it until i could get the cable head out. it took me two hours. no skill involved, just shifting until you find the head and then trying to pull it out then shifting again and hoping you don't lose it again, which usually happens. a blessing in disguise, because the staff people at this rafting resort were so incredibly cool. this aussie basically convinced me to start playing australian football. my neck wont like it if i start playing rugby again, but theres not too much neck work in footy apparently. im skinny, im quick, im wild, im intense, im fearless, and i gotta hit something soon or im gonna go nuts. bike riding is amazing, but i cant release aggression too well via bike. at a certain point i just gotta get exhausted quick and beat up even quicker. its been too many a fortnight since my last mosh pit. the last good mosh i was in was back in ithaca. there was this tuesday afternoon punk fest thingy at the haunt. the queers headlined, this excellent old skool punk band. the pit was awesome, i started my trip with a million bruises. not a rib was spared. if i was raised better i wouldn't need to get my ass kicked so much, but alas, this is how i must release aggression and move forward with life. australian football sounds perfect, i will seek it out whenever and wherever i can. as the staff left for a kayaking adventure me and this one guy alex hung out for a bit. he offered me to sleep in the outside hammock. i met phillipe, a hilarious french chef full of stories. i also met alana, a totally awesome nurse/waitress/maneater. the other 22 staff were also awesome. unfortunately, the boss came over and said i couldn't stay. i said i understood, but he repeated himself five times for about ten minutes, it gave me the impression someone complained. apparently no one complained, but these two girls always looked kinda worried around me. whatever, that always happens in big groups. i got some chinese food up the road because it was the last thing open. intending to sleep in a park, i changed my mind when i realized every motel had a bouncer and there were cops everywhere. i checked into a motel and laid back and watched friends. ross and rachel hooked up in the museum of natural history. when they woke up a catholic school field trip was watching them. rachel rolled over onto a juice box and thought ross came in his pants. i forgot how funny that show was. i woke up and was just as tired as i was the previous night when i fell asleep. i got some pop tarts then went to a cafe. for the first time in canada i found a mountain of food for cheap. i took full advantage. my stomach can handle a lot, thankfully. this lifestyle requires gorging and fasting.

off i rode west. i started from a town called hope, bc. immediately i rode up jackass mountain, which is only a 1000 feet high. was the guy who thought it was a mountain the jackass or was i a jackass for thinking i was climbing a mountain? who knows, i just took a picture and went on my way. i rode highway 1, and the kilometers just flew by. i was going 18-25 mph the whole way, i could tell i was riding an imperceivable downhill. and I LIKED IT! i tucked the whole way, pedaling was just the difference between 20 mph and 26 mph. i stopped for food and to patch a flat in the wildcat grill. i struck up a covnersation with surrounding tables. i rode on, stopped in a tim horton's to poop. on my way to the toilet a family from the wildcat grill recognized me. they told me wow, i got there fast, they left twenty minutes ago. apparently 20 mph is even more impressive in kilometers. i love how people think im a fast rider when i do the least work. when i climb mountains and go a hundred plus miles anyway people aren't as impressed. anyways, i shat and rode on. i met these amazing people at a smoothie place. as usual i didnt realize i had heat exhaustion until i was inside for a few minutes. they made me protein smoothies, inquired about my trip, gave me hugs, and basically were just really awesome. i pressed on. a roadworker crew told me to get off highway 1 or theyll call the cops, so i got off the highway. i took loughheed highway to megabite pizza, where i downed a medium pizza in about five minutes. then i rode through the night to broadway in vancouver. i met some really cool staff people in the holiday inn who helped me call hostels. i went across the street, got some wine, then rode across the bridge to downtown. somewhere in the middle of the bridge it hit me. this was the pacific ocean. i rode all the way across north america on a bicycle! im at the pacific fucking ocean! excitement didnt overwhelm me, i was overwhelmingly relaxed. tired, yes. exhausted, always. proud, fond, positive in every way. 2 months, 5000 miles, overcoming so many obstacles and never giving up. always pushing hard, always being smart, always being prepared, always meeting amazing new people all over the continent. this feeling was incredible. this incredible feeling is the plateau of what i've been feeling every day for months. ive done something by myself for myself with no one but myself to help me or to blame, and its an incredible accomplishment. how many people can even start to try to do something like this, much less finish? even those who start have the instinct to ride too far, then get injured or break down and hitch a ride. i never pussied out this whole trip. i made it across north america without a motor. my legs pushed my wheels, and when my wheels wouldnt turn i fixed them. if i couldnt fix them on my own i walked. people would offer rides, i turned them down. i did this my way. i got the job at a bike shop and earned those discounts and all that maintenance knowledge. i earned my eagle scout award, i earned all that survival skill knowledge. i worked my ass off three jobs at a time for months and months and months to save money so i could do this. the guy who recruited me, the friends i recruited, none of them left. two had legitimate excuses, bodily injuries and illnesses that would make it unsafe and deadly to ride a long distance. the rest made excuses borne from laziness. one friend volunteered for a week at a yoga retreat, as if thats what prevented her from saving money, as if there werent eleven more weeks of summer anyway. another friend said he couldnt do it this summer because he was promoted to be the supervisor of a parking lot. compared to a cross continental bike tour thats no excuse for a life accomplishment. others who vowed to ride gave no excuse, simply said "i wish i could do that." the riders ive met along the way in this journey are a special breed of person. theyre not racers, they arent born with mountains of money which give them an advantage in the bikes they ride and the free time to train. they usually are not athletes, oftentimes they arent strong. they get strong, and they keep going. they open their minds and they keep them open. they see the good in others, and others see the good in them. they inspire themselves in so many ways, and they inspire others by what they can accomplish.

this trip is something no one can ever take from me. i earned this form step one. i accomplished everything on my own. i overcame a tornado, countless mechanical breakdowns, vicious farm dogs, countless cold, wet nights, thunderstorms, 2 mile high mountains, and so much more to finish what i started. after all this the journey is what i will remember. you can't learn this in school, you can't learn this from friends, i am an eyewitness to my home continent. every crevice, every little pocket is for my eyes in the most intimate way; by bicycle.

i am still in vancouver, i will stay for a few more days with some new friends i met. i will rest my legs, then i will head south. what else is there to prove? the future holds mystery. every day will provide my mind with something new.

A completed journey. Mystery awaits.

Alberta to British Columbia

Riding out of Alberta off of my only true rest period in the last two months started painfully. In Calgary I rested for a few days until I could walk somewhat without limping again. I rejoiced in the partial return of sub-human flexibility; what I did not realize was that my muscle groups bundled together and pinched my nerves, which is a big reason why I ride 100-150 miles every single day, usually only sleeping for a few hours until the wet morning cold wakes me up, then doing it again anyway. Finding my way out of the city was confusing. Calgary is broken into four quadrants, each with independently numbered avenues and streets. I had to get to 14th avenue, but I got it wrong three times. Alas, the more I get lost the more I discover. My goal was to ride an easy day to Banff, only 80 miles. I am exploring another country, the last thing I want to do is rush through it. The miles pass quickly because the road signs measure distance in kilometers. I like kilometers. 150 kilometers registers in my mind as 150 miles, a full day of hard riding. Shortly thereafter I come upon another sign telling me I've already gone 50 kilometers. Kilometers are awesome, I wish the states would use them. The cover of Canadian Cycling magazine read: "How to train for your first century (100 km)." I thought to myself wow, I do double that many times a week by accident. I can't help it, I just love riding, every second in the saddle I'm awestruck at a new beautiful mountain I've never seen or a hill to challenge myself and conquer. It's the greatest.

About twenty kilometers prior to Canmore my left pedal broke. I pulled into a small village playground to examine it when it started to rain. The spring snapped in half. I used a tube patch, tons of adhesive glue, and duct tape to try to keep the remaining half of the spring from sliding backward, but it was no use. I rode to Canmore using just my right leg. I saw a sign for a hostel. I rode a few kilometers off the highway and found it buried in the woods underneath a beautiful mountain range. I rode in, found the office was closed, so i read my book in the living room. After the thunderstorm began I decided I wasn't sleeping outside, so I waited for the other travellers to leave and I went back to the meeting room; a room connecting the lobby and the patio. There were huge tables in this room, and they were arranged in a manner that could hide me from people walking by the door. I locked my bike up outside, set my cell phone to wake me up at 5 AM, and went to sleep. People kept walking by, shutting lights off, but no one bothered me.

When I sleep on the floor my legs don't recover, so I awoke just as tired and rode off to Canmore. I got there super early, but to my luck there were several bike shops that would be open in just a few hours. I rode around and saw people camping ina  line by a park. I spoke with some of the line campers, and they said a folk festival was about to start. I met some great people, but sadly I didn't want to pay 40 dollars. I wandered some more and found a coffee shop. I got apple cider, read my book (which is really friggin' boring) and discovered that next door the food pantry was making a free pancake sausage breakfast for the whole town. Woohoo! Never pass up on free food. There was a pretty good old timey folk band playing, and the pancakes were delicious. I got thirds, then rode off to a bike shop. The first to open was a general sporting goods store. I talked to the bike mechanic, and he said he needed to get rid of some crank brothers pedals. Delighted to find out I didn't have to pay for expensive spd's, I negotiated to fifteen dollars. Woohoo I got new pedals! I rode to the laundromat, ran my clothes, then rode over to another bike shop to hopefully get fitted. As I've become a stronger and stronger rider I lean forward more into a racing position, making me more aerodynamic and using my ass and lower back more. Unfortunately, this means I give myself numb nuts sometimes. I want my nuts to live! The bike fitter was on vacation, so a mechanic just did it for me for free. He also let me use the stand out back so I could tune my bike. Another mechanic needed the stand, so he just applied chain cleaner and sprayed it down for me. These guys were awesome, my drive train was spick and span. I trued my wheels, pumped my tires, re-lubed my chain, and hit the road. My progress was slow, even though the winds were only medium. I rodeto Lake Luoise then pulled over to find some food. I found food, and I also found a really awesome Australian girl. She's gonna take a car trip that will go through all the states I've been through. Weirdly awesome. As always, I said my goodbyes, a traveller must press on. I didn't press on so much as pass out on a park bench while eating a banana, but at least I got some rest. Then I got back on the bike. I rode to Golden, Alberta. I stopped here because it was about dark and 150 kilometers to the next place to find food. Out of curiosity I asked a hotel clerk how much a room was. 97 looneys, or Canadian dollars, and that was standard in this town due to its remote location and beauty. Most of the continent is beautiful, to me that hot tub looked friggin' beautiful! Alas, I got a burger then slept in a bulldozer. As I rode away from the hotel my tire skidded out on a series of round metal bars that took place for the road. Apparently this fends off big horn sheep as well as humans on bikes. I saw a construction site, locked my bike up in a bulldozer, climbed up to the cockpit, tried the door, opened it, and passed out on the steering wheel of a big ass earth mover. A special badass sleepiness took over.

Around 4:30 AM the wetness and coldness woke me, as usual. I rode to McDonalds, got some food, and read my book (which really friggin' sucks) until the light shown and it was warm enough to ride. The ride was real easy. I rode about 60 kilometers and got to a cafe/hotel by about 9:30. Two and a half hours, 30 plus miles, I must be going downhill. The waitress was English and super intrigued by what i was doing. she got me free coffee and introduced me to other equally awesome staff people. One showed me the hot tub, and said I was welcome to use it. We both recently saw the decemberists, we both went on adventures all the time, and just like the english and welch staff girls, this girl was pretty awesome. So I jumped in the hot tub naked. In just a few minutes my legs felt soooo relaxed. Then a helicopter practically landed right on top of me. Apparently they're looking for gold witha  giant metal detector. The wind blew a bunch of leaves into the tub, so I cleaned it up, naked of course. Respecting the extreme opposites of my pale torso and tanned extremities, a gold surveyor decided he was gonna show me the best spot in vancouver island. And it looks pretty awesome. Unfortunately the girls had to work and couldnt party in the hot tub, but such is life. This is literally the worst of my problems, at least they all told me I looked hot in ski pants. So I continued to ride. Rolling hills, downhill mostly, all the way to Canada's Glacier National Park. Galcier National Park in Montana was gorgeous, but this one had its own charm. I had to ride through many dark tunnels, but I didnt get hit by a car, so I just kept climbing Rogue's Pass. After summiting the mountain it was, once again, mostly downhill. I am now blogging from a hostel in British Columbia. Once I got west of the mountains torrential downpours turned to drizzles, and the towns got closer together. Finally I get to sleep in a bed. Not a bulldozer, not the floor, not illegally, just a bed. TV is a pretty cool invention for a tired athlete like me :)