Change happens quickly on the crow

Give me an “OY.”

Entering Osoyoos, the once torrential downpour was no more than intermittent drops bouncing off of the windshield. We did not know what to expect. Change happens quickly on the Crow. We learned that this small resort town would be expensive for even the most basic amenities. Riding around, we could not find a suitable (affordable) campground.

Ape or Ap?

Riding down a narrow driveway of an apricot orchard, we came upon what looked like a security hut. It was the market shed, where produce was sold. Knocking on the side of the building, we were greeted by a woman in her late thirties. She was of medium height, dark hair wearing jeans and a white apron. Her stunning blue eyes pierced through you like a scalpel cutting away tissue-not easily forgettable. She must have thought we were customers. At first, we enquired about work- it was not picking season. Then we asked if she knew of a place where we could camp for the evening. She said we could camp in the orchard and eat as many apricots as we wanted. She insisted that we do not create a fire. We thanked her and found a beautiful dry spot surrounded by acres of apricot trees. Tonight’s dinner. Apricots.

Couriers

We had made arrangements when we were in Alberta to have any mail or provisions sent to Osoyoos. Arriving two days earlier than expected,  our parcels may not have arrived. Riding into the middle of the town to find the post office. Our packages were not there, and our options were slim. We might need to stay here until it comes, and that would mean going back to the orchard (the best option) or spending shocking amounts of money for an old campground. The postal clerk indicated there would be a second drop off later today. We would come back then.

And we waited

Finding a cafe, we took our breakfast to the beach shore of Lake Okanagan. Making ourselves comfortable and keeping an eye open for Ogopogo ( the legendary lake monster). Some of the citizens gave us some very awkward looks as they passed by. We were road rugged and looked the part. We met a Mexican fellow- Acilino, we shared some food with him. He, in turn, smoked a couple of joints with us. Time passed slowly. Returning for the second postal drop. The small package had arrived, we could not believe our luck. Enclosed was a couple of letters, some cash and some “weed.” We still had time to leave Osoyoos and make our way down the road toward Princeton. Change happens quickly on the crow. Mounting our trusty machines, the unthinkable occurred. Smash, Andrew was lying face down on the road.

There are that many curse words?

More angry and surprised than hurt, he was catapulted from his bike. The motorist felt that focusing her attention on the road was less critical than searching for something in her purse. Andrew was furious, and I was in disbelief. His bike was only partially mangled, soon we were surrounded by people that were not there a few seconds prior. Many corroborated our story, while another went back for a first aid kit. Andrew, I and the angry hoard of people demand she pay for the damages to his bike and person. It was like a scene from “Lord of the flies.” She spent a handsome sum and drove off- obviously shaken. After tending to his wounds, we broke out the tools to get his bike back into riding condition. More time lost.

A Cowards Cry

Climbing out of Osoyoos was like climbing out a desert. The terrain was rugged and inhospitable. The sun was high in the sky and not a cloud to be seen. Beyond Andrews’s cuts and bruises, we were moving along “The wings of The Crow” reasonably well. The background reminded me of an old “Coyote and Roadrunner” cartoon. I yelled, “Beep! Beep!” on a couple of occasions just to keep the rest of the day light-hearted.

Too preoccupied with the mail delivery and the accident, we neglected to have lunch. Not far along the road, we dropped into a chain restaurant-not the one with the “M.” Andrew ordered the Shrimp dinner platter that came with a salad. He was not going to eat the salad, generously past it on to me. Within seconds the manager was all over us. He must have been spying on us since we entered.

“You can’t share!” he yelled at us. The restaurant filled with families grew silent. He was out of control, “telling us he had met our type before,” and calling us “transients and beggars.” I began to understand what the early “minorities” or “hippies” must have felt like. We argued back and forth, we were paying for this meal so he could “blow himself” for all we cared. He had no right to respond in this manner. Soon the words “I will call the police”-the last recourse of the cowardly- were uttered. All he did was succeed in making the other diners feel very uncomfortable. We left when we were finished dining. Needless to say, there was no tip. What a Goof!

Give me a K

As we rolled into Keremeos. The sun was still bright in the blue sky, and attempting to disappear behind the mountains in the west. Giving us ample time to find a purveyor of beer and spirits. Locating a campground on the shores of the Similkameen river that was at the base of a low lying mountain range. A few people were casting their lines into the water in an attempt to catch dinner. Starting a fire and setting up camp, we created another feast of spaghetti and entertained ourselves in the spectacular scenery. Andrew began to complain that his shoulder was dislocated. A joint later, he would be fine. Slowly the sun’s rays cascaded down the mountainside and slowly vanished, and light for our fire began to glow ominously. A camper’s paradise.

A friend indeed

A solitary figure was not far into the distance. A fellow traveller and we invited him over to knosh for some food and have a beer. He looked like he had transitioned from traveller to homeless, and hygiene was not a high priority. The three of us chatted, and the conversation intriguing, if not weird. He started to become a little too aggressive and started to take our food. We cast him out like a fly on a hook. We would need to keep an eye on our equipment throughout the evening. A shame really, for all the goodwill that had occurred to us, it only seems correct to reciprocate. We did, but this guy was too far down the road. He was no longer living with “The Crow.”

It was the end of another exciting day, pulling the tent’s flaps closed as the fire slowly extinguished. A light breeze blew against the tent’s side. While the sound of the river lapped against the shore.

Ivy League

Waking while the sun began to rise gently over the mountain tops, enveloping the surrounding area with a magnificent hue of gold. The water was boiling, and the instant coffee awaited its scalding. Pancakes were well digested, cleaned and packed and we were well on the road by 8 am. The location was difficult to leave, we lingered, and it took us longer to get back on “The Crow.”

The day started off well as the sun had not reached its zenith allowing us to get to Hedley earlier than we anticipated. Pulling into the Stemwinder Provincial Park for a lunch break, placing the bikes against the nearest trees, and occupying a picnic table for the next half hour. Most of the time, we did not sit during these brief stops, just a chance to get off the saddle and stretch the legs and posterior. Blue skies overhead the heat began to increase. It was time to remount and continue our journey to Princeton BC. 

Change Happens Quickly

The traffic began to intensify. Without warning, sirens and flashing blue lights sped passed us. We had been on the road for weeks, this was the first time we encountered any emergency vehicles. The traffic stopped. We continued along the paved shoulder. By the time we neared the accident site, the cleanup crews were left to clear the tarmac. Enquiring with a crew member, we were informed that this had been a fatal accident. Carefree, most of the time on the road, brought us back to a well-needed reality check.

The remainder of the afternoon, we rode a little more cautiously, with headphones on. There was not much to say to each other. Pulling into Princeton, we arrived earlier than usual. We needed to be prepared for a well deserved day off. Finding the “off sales” and the food market. Soon it would be time to rest and party.  Andrews’s Birthday was the planned stop.

Many Rivers to Cross

Groceries and alcohol at the ready, it was time to find a place that we could call home for the next couple of days. Across the river, there was a secluded section of land that would be ideal. The only issue is that we would have to cross the Simiikamee River that was moving swiftly. Scouting the river, we found the narrowest spot to navigate, it was no more than 200 meters across. There was no way to gauge its depth, and we would need to make many trips each. The location was breathtaking, and we decided that it was worth the chance.

Removing all the equipment off of the bikes, individually, we start to portage our gear across the icy river. Crossing the river was more difficult than we had imagined. The base was slippery with many jagged rocks, the current was more forceful than we initially suspected. On a couple of occasions, waist-deep in glacier water, I thought I had lost my testicles for good. Nothing more than two ice cubes dangling in a dermis rucksack. Finally, the portage was complete. The camp set up, the extra work was well worth it. This was an ideal location. Home, for now. Most importantly, I had life below the belt.

Time to appreciate

Watching the river rush by from the shore, we assumed that this was crown land. Creating a cache of firewood, and finding some larger rocks, we built a perimeter for our fire to ensure that it would be safe and manageable. We were both conscientious campers and having a great deal of respect for the environment. Fire perfect, the first bottle of wine cracked. While the meat cooked on a scorching hot rock that we used as a grill. Lighting up a joint from the care package in Osoyoos and began reminiscing about our journey, under the warm blanket of stars. Drinking to it many times. Not Athletes.

The next morning, we explored the banks of the river and walked deep into the forest, the day was meant to be wasted. Serene and carefree, relaxing and amazing how fast the day had ended and cross faded into the night. Our perfect fire once again the forest entertainment system as our ancient ancestors must have done before us. Dinner completed…

Suddenly a voice for the other side of the River. “This is the BC provincial Police.” Did the weasel from  earlier actually call the police and we were now the subjects of a province wide manhunt? “ You have to put out your fire. There is no fire warning in effect.” We did what he asked, although we did have a 200-meter river between him and us. We complied, kind of. Going to bed that night, we doused our fire to ensure that not a single ember could ignite anything. Oh, the stars.

“Do not complain beneath the stars about the lack of bright spots in your life.” 

 ― Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson.

The variables of change are constant

We had encountered some very odd situations and some that actually worked to our favor. Life on the wings of the crow change constantly and often. On many occasions, we almost did not make it. We would like to thank all of the people that helped us through this part of BC. Without you, the situation could turn out much differently. We were still a few days from our destination, if all goes well we would be in Vancouver very soon. If all goes well. You learn that change is a constant variable.

Have you decided to ride through British Columbia  by two wheels, naturally aspirated? There are many that have ridden this exact route. Is this you? Please let us know your thoughts and insight into cycling the interior of B.C. by leaving a comment below. If you are considering taking this type of challenge, please leave your queries in the comments section below. We would be happy to answer any questions.

As always, it is our privilege.

Its Your Vacation, Your Escape.

VTE