Gliding on the wings of the crow

Creston was no more than 10km’s from our horror show accommodations at the gas station. Gliding on “the wings of The Crow,” we searched for the nearest shop. Loading up on water and other supplies. Today was going to be one of our most challenging rides to date. The Creston-Salmo summit or the Kootenay pass, in Stag Leap park. It is one of the highest road passes in North America, and we were not sure as to what to expect. Carbed up and feet locked into the pedals, we were back on the road again. It was not long until the demands of this day would become apparent.

Yodeling Time.

Although gradual at first, the incline became very evident. We would be in for a very long day of climbing. The sun decided, it too would like to see what we were made of, blue skies, not a cloud in sight. We would either do this or, as Dante wrote: “abandon all hope Ye who enters here.” The temperature escalated faster than our progress up the mountainside. Thirty degrees Celsius and climbing. Slowly the incline increased, creating the confrontation that we had been dreading. Pushing 200 kilograms up a mountain road in the hot sun. There was no turning back now.

Occasionally the odd vehicle would pass to encourage us on or to mock us. It was difficult to distinguish one from the other. The landscape’s beauty intensified with each turn of the pedals. Feeling like the explorers of a new world that had been undisturbed for millennia. Unfortunately mixed in with the romantic notions was the steady climb. The flow of sweat cascading from us like raindrops onto the hot asphalt. We brought extra water, but it was dwindling as the hours went by. Alone in the high country, rationing the best we could and seeing no other vehicles for hours. Beautiful and hot, we continued to climb. Overhead a bald eagle circled in the air, or a vulture knowing a meal was on the horizon. Legs burning, the water running scarce, we were being consumed by our environment.

Tracks on the shoulder

Frequently stoppings, seeking to find any type of escape from the heat, we had to continue. There was no respite. During one of these stops, Andrew noticed animal tracks on “The Crows” shoulder. We believed them to be caribou, elk or deer. Something hooved and significant. Grinding it out, we were making progress. The grade of the road consistently inclined, and we were struggling, in pursuit of the still elusive summit. A glacier stream appeared magically from between the rocks, beyond the unpaved shoulder. A sign that the vulture should find another carrion for today’s meal. The ice-cold water ran down in a torrent. We filled our bottles, bathed ourselves in it and drenched our clothing all in an attempt to thwart the intense sunshine and heat.

As more km’s passed, we began to hear something substantial trudging through the forest, sticks were breaking and the occasional grunt. It became louder, we were in grizzly bear country, it had the qualities of something stalking us. Perhaps it was our imagination- delusional from the heat. We started to yell at the would-be predator. Apparently, it is more afraid of us than we are of it. If the truth ever got out…The sign ahead read summit 5 km’s, we were close, so was the bear. With the knowledge that Yogi was perhaps in pursuit forced us to dig down further and push more intensely. Without notice, the inclined seem to double. Can you ride a thirty-degree angle? We realized we could not, we tried to zig-zag across the road. With the last bit of energy we could muster, we pushed both man and machine to the summit at Stag leap park and collapsed. 

What goes up must come down.

Almost alone on top of the world. With only small shelter- for those that become stranded, a rest area and a couple of picnic benches. Enjoying the backcountry’s vastness, we were able to see the km’s that we had just climbed. Peering into the valley below, we sat down for a well-deserved lunch.

Occupying, one of the other benches, was a solitary figure, he enjoyed the scenery as he ate. We started talking and mentioned our imaginary bear. He did not discount our saga. Although unlikely that we were being stalked by a bear, it was not impossible. It seems that he has been coming into this area for years. His name was Dick and regaled us in half-truths of his experience of the wilderness. He was on his way to Vancouver and asked if we wanted to accompany him to the coast. We did entertain the idea, yet we were only a few days into the interior portion of our journey. We declined. His truck would not start, so we gave him a push, and bid him farewell as it rolled down the mountainside. 

Being the wings of the crow

We worked very hard to get here, and we knew that the ride down would be fast and exhilarating. Lunch done, it was our turn to indulge in the reward of our labours. Bike packed, helmets on it was time to descend. Andrew went first, in case there was a speed wobble we would not crash into one another. After no more than ten rotations of the pedals, the machines like dogs that were born to run leapt off the ground to maximize their full potential. Peddling was pointless, you held on for the ride. We were gliding on the wings of the crow.

 Placing yourself into a “tuck” position to maximize your speed. The sound was deafening, the blasts of air brushed by your ears, and your clothing fluttered fiercely in the wind. Occasionally speed wobbling, and you would touch your brakes slightly to correct and enjoy the ride. Rating the road as you slammed down the side of the Kootenay pass. It was both invigorating and terrifying.

 Our seven hours affair to the summit had culminated into a 60 minute descend into Salmo. Like riding a roller coaster, after it was done, the idea of doing it again was at the forefront of our thoughts. This would not be an option, only an enduring memory.

Don’t dream it, become it.

Packing up that morning, we were very enthusiastic about continuing on the next leg of the journey. Yesterday’s accomplishment may seem trite to some, but to us, it was an opportunity to bring belief and hope to what we were doing. Just two city guys, entirely out of our element, trying to attain something that many said was impossible. The riding was good as we held onto “The wings of the Crow,” and made our way to Castlegar. We pulled into a strip mall to get out of the sun. Sitting on the adjacent grass, we found a tree that offered much-needed shade. We simply lounged there, without a care in the world. 

A Canadian Icon

With much of the day ahead of us, we departed Castlegar and continued to the Nancy Greene Provincial Park. The roads here were very smooth and well-marked. Under the intense sun, the pavement seemed to absorb the heat, taking with it the tires and wheels at sections. Compared to the myriad of other things that could go wrong, this was only a slight inconvenience. Climbing into Nancy Greene Provincial Park, memories of the Kootenay pass lingered, but this ride was nowhere as severe.

Arriving at the campground in the late afternoon. There was ample time to set up camp, get provisions and even go for a swim in Nancy Green lake. Diving into the water, it was freezing. We did not care, laying on the beach and enjoying the warmth of the sunshine. As the sun set behind the jagged mountain peaks, creating a tapestry of amber and red in the western sky, we sat before our night’s fire with a can of beer and our last joint. We started with some Hash and marijuana and some stimulants- when the riding became impossible. We did pretty well rationing our “stash.” But it was now coming to an end. Lighting up, under the amber glow of the firelight, we knew Nancy Greene would not approve. She was an Athlete, us, not so much. Surely, she would have forgiven us.

Maybe she didn’t forgive us

The morning started with a climb out of the Nancy Greene Provincial Park. The air was fresh, the sky blue with the odd white cloud hovering overhead. The pavement was able to withstand our weight. We had become more durable, and our bodies had become able to withstand the daily rigours that we placed upon them. As we approached the foothills of Mt. Gladstone, the wind picked up, and the clouds moved across the once blue skies with force and engagement. We had seen this before and understood what was about to happen next. The most considerable difference is that we were now high into the rocky mountains.

Slowly at first, the rain started to trickle upon us. Pulling off the road and resting the bikes on a guard rail, we reached for the rainwear. We moved on quickly; there was no shelter here. Christina Lake was still 30 km’s away, and we were hoping we could find sanctuary there. We had attained the summit of the road, making it a downhill plunge. The rains intensified on the descent, the pavement greasy and very slippery. One wrong move, you would be an appetizer for a Peterbilt or any of the numerous trucks passing and creating that recognizable spray. 

Gliding on the crest of a storm

Not since Saskatchewan had we seen such barrage of rain and the visibility lessened as the clouds began to settle from Mt. Gladstone. The sky was dark and gray, the headlights of surrounding vehicles reflected off of the pavement. Slow and easy wins the race, not here, we wanted to get off the road as soon as possible- we let the bicycles go as fast as we dare. Fear spoke volumes in my eyes as the front end of my bike started to bounce on the slick mountain road. Lifting myself from the seat, I began to press down on the handlebars with all my strength to keep the cycle under control. Arriving at Christina Lake, we realized we’re not on the road very long. Nerves frazzled and soaking wet, we hit the first store/gas station for shelter.

Walking through the door, the proprietor looked at us and stated the obvious: “Not a good day for riding, is it?” Saying it with a smile, he was a good-hearted grey-haired fellow and offered us a free coffee. He was cordial enough to let us hang out and attempt to get dry. He mentioned that for the next two days, the weather report indicated more of the same-heavy rains and gusty winds. A cycling nightmare. 

Desperate times desperate actions

Vehicles of all varieties were stopping to fill up and to get provisions. If we looked pathetic enough, perhaps someone might give us a ride. In our current state, pathetic was what we were. The optimism and jubilation that we shared not long ago were no more than a memory- one we wanted back. We did not have the resources to sit still for a couple of days. The prospect of riding two days in mountain storms at varying elevations- was no one’s dream vacation. Unspoken, we knew the path we needed to take- it was the pathetic route. 

Perhaps we should have taken Dicks offers to take us to the coast. We would now be in a house with a shower and amusing strangers with our tales. The process was counterproductive, and we both knew it…

Pathetic it was. 

Within the hour, we were sitting in a white cargo van, moving along “The Crow” in a torrential rainstorm, semi-comfortable and semi-dry. Under the circumstances, we recognized this to be our best option, and two and a half hours later, we were in Osoyoos BC in the Okanagan valley.

Can Tomorrow ever know

One thing that is always certain that you can’t plan for all eventualities. As a traveler, you pack and hope that the holiday, Vacation or Escape that you envision goes just the way you plan. This is consistent no matter where you decide to create your memories in the world.

So please come back and read about the next exciting dilemma that we get ourselves into. The coast is closer than ever.

Have you considered getting aboard your bicycle and exploring your Town, City, Province, State or perhaps even your Country or someone else’s. The merits of this type of adventure are numerous and it does not need to cost very much.You begin to get a better understanding of your environment as you are not rocketing across the earth at 120 km per hour. There is more to a holiday than just viewing, become absorbed by it. 

Please leave a comment if you would like any information with regards to tour cycling, we would be glad to share what we know. Perhaps you are a tour cyclist and would like to share some of your adventures and knowledge with our audience. 

It has been a privilege bringing this to you.

Your Vacation, Your Escape.

VTE.