Uff Da!

"Uff Da", Norwegian for 'darn', 'blast', 'doh!', 'oops', 'bugger'... I'm learning new things everyday...

Yes, time to leave again. Breaking free of the Malakoff family hospitality is no easy thing, first in Kaslo and now in Naramata, but after two days of indulging and the final stretch to Vancouver had to be tackled. I had eaten peaches, plums and mulberries straight off trees, got treated to giant 'seaside' icecreams, bbq, takeout pizza, games of monopoly, ran around crazy with Eric and Mackenzie, visited local wineries, star gazed, gawped at iron men & women (Penticton hosts an Ironman every summer, which Kristi has completed), discovered woodturning, watched the olympics and got accosted by a nutter in the supermarket. Life was fine in Naramata and Penticton and the people even better.






The mind is good at disguising, and it's not until you have the luxury of hindsight that you realise that perhaps you are more fragile than you think. My emotions fluctuated too easily. Feeling the smooth tarmac roll easily beneath me set me off eager to gobble up more road. But on the second day the climbing started straight out of Princeton and didn't end for the rest of the day. It was the first time i really, really hated climbing and wished Vancouver was just around every next bend. Even at nine in the morning, momentum died in a instant, the buff under my helmet keeping salty sweat out of my eyes was saturated in minutes and the handlebars became slippery with perspiration. There was brief respite as i held onto the back of a very slow moving truck but it soon sped up revealing a dead straight continuous 3km at 8% with no shoulder. Led Zep and lots of shouting got me up.

Hiding out under trees at lunch, every contrail across the sky had me dreaming of the moment of stepping on the plane home. Afternoon: felt the heat radiating off the rock walls, rode inconsistent shoulders, watched other cyclists struggling, walking up the other side, raced cars down the beautiful descents and loathed the inevitable up that followed.






Despite plenty of opportunity to wild camp, i spent my dollars on a provincial park and the last night of camping felt amazing. An icy pool in the stream meant a quick but refreshing wash. I watched the sun creep slowly lower over the carpet of pines, relaxing to the sounds of the water confidently bubbling over rocks. The full moon shone like a spot light, stars shot across the darkness and i lit my first and last wood fire of the trip.

The penultimate morning to Chilliwack rewarded the previous days uphill slog with amazing descending. After two and half hours of riding, my average speed was 17.1mph, max speed was 48mph and i had done 40 miles down empty roads. It paid to be out early. Later i learned a motorcyclist was killed just a few hours behind me, careering too fast round the tight bends, crashing and catapulting into the ravine below.





My Rapha bottle had split, the reflective piping on my jacket pealed away, shoes splitting, socks full of holes, tyre walls cracking, the honey jar empty, plums bruised, knees creaking and thighs protesting, the mountains gone. I was loving it.

The air got wetter as i took a recommended detour to the Othello Tunnels, the final part of the KVR, an incredible series of perfectly aligned rail tunnels carved through seemingly impassable walls of rock. I felt the journey didn't want to end, revealing surprises even so close to completion. Walking through the damp tunnels was quite an experience, every entrance revealing more fantastic gorge scenery. I stood with Chad and Susana, exchanging photos and watching salmon leap up the raging waterfalls before riding the the remaining, very smooth and shaded KVR to Hope.






Excellent directions from my kind warmshowers hosts, Char and John led me to their home Chilliwack and onward to Vancouver through pleasant farmland and thankfully flat roads! I can't thank them enough again for their hospitality, sharing their inspiring journeys and mapping a safe route into the bustle of the city that only comes from being a local. So after two and a half thousand miles i rolled to Lana's front door in Vancouver. We celebrated in style by hitting the chinese midnight market, a culinary eye opener for my friends and a delicious end to the journey.