A Numbers Game

I left Saskatoon full of energy, revitalised after my early break, and my cold finally waning. The weather was on the up, and, although the magical tailwind was still yet to make its presence known, I was happy to pedal along as before.

The next chunk of my journey took me southeast towards Winnipeg. It was, in theory, effortless cycling: long flat straight roads, undulating at worst, downhill at best. And yet I would say it has been some of the toughest since I've been here.

 

Maybe it's because the initial novelty of cycling daily has worn off, and that buzz of excitement that comes with starting a new trip has faded a little: cycling, after all, has essentially become my full time job for the time being.

Or it could be because everything looks the same and I feel like I've been pedalling the same 10km on a continual loop! The landscape and surroundings of unbroken fields stretching into the distance, the railway line running parallel to the road, the odd pocket of reed-ridden wetland providing the only change over hundreds of kilometres.

I really don't want to sound ungrateful for having the opportunity to complete this trip, and I always knew this section would be tough (enough people, cyclists and others had told me about the mind numbing dullness of this part of the country) but this was making cycling really hard work.

I have found myself racing between every small town, counting telegraph poles to pass the time, and refusing to look at my odometer more than once an hour to stop myself from going insane as every mile crept by.

The 'visitor centre' at Sheho, which apparently is the native meaning for prairie chicken, so the lady told me in the general store...

My poor pasty upper arms have had a (nearly literal) baptism of fire. Until this week they had been covered by my base layer, but with each day getting warmer, I thought it was high time they had a bit of exposure. Five killer hot days later, they are now permanently pink no matter how much suncream I slather on. Another great tan line to add to the growing collection...

Hot work and no shade in sight

I crossed the border into Manitoba and expected (I don't really know why) to be heading back into a more familiar world with bigger towns and better roads. Indeed I was lulled into this by my stop at Russell - a subway, pizza hut and Tim Horton's all at one service stop!

New province!!

My excitement was short lived. The next day I rolled out to of town to find that Manitoba, having such a small population, can't afford to pave a lot of the hard shoulders beyond highway 1. So for the best part of the next two days I had to share a single lane highway with all the traffic for the first time on my trip. There was a good half foot drop off the tarmac onto the gravel hard shoulder, but hey, at least there was no rumble zone to deal with!

A change in gradient I felt was worth a photo. It was possibly the first since Saskatoon!

Hurray for new scenery!

I was constantly alert, listening out for traffic approaching from behind. It's interesting how people react differently to cyclists: some of the smaller cars pulling right over to the other side of the road to pass me, waving jovially as they did so. Yet I've also had two opposing trucks decide that there was plenty of room to pass me whilst passing each other at the same time...luckily this has only happened twice... exhilarating for all the wrong reasons!

Enjoying the view with a brew 

Perked up my morning no end!

The crossroad with highway 1 was an important moment for me: it signified my rejoining of the more traditional cross Canada route. As I bid a fond farewell to highway 16 (we've been through a lot together!) I half expected to be inundated by a bunch of fellow tourers, at last finding some people as crazy as myself to chat weather, bicycles and food with. But alas, it's still just me. I've heard rumours of one tourer who has been ahead of me on a trip from Edmonton to Montreal, but I've yet to catch up with him yet...

Highway 1, it's been a while since I saw you

So I've made it to Winnipeg! It feels like a significant landmark in my trip, although that could simply be because this was the point I had reached in terms of planning...the east of Canada felt so far into the future it seemed pointless to plan for it, the western fringe of Ontario being the furthest east I could picture on a map before it places and distances grew indistinct in my head.

I've tried to be productive with my time in a big city: I've had my bike checked over at the wonderful Alter Ego Sports. They pushed other bikes aside when I told them about my trip and gave her a free service, so grateful for that! I've spent time number crunching for the next leg of my trip, and replenished my food stocks ready for the next section of my trip.

This is me done with the West of Canada. I've covered roughly 1700 miles so far, crossed three time zones and four provinces. I hear winding roads actually exist in Ontario...I can't wait to see what's around the corner!

Okay, I'm done with this headwind now...no seriously, get out of my face already!!!

So it's been a mixed week. The Rockies are well and truly behind me as I venture East into the wide expanse of the prairies in Alberta and Saskatchewan; a big positive in my life being that I can finally pronounce Saskatchewan correctly, instead of referring to it simply as 'that province between Alberta and Manitoba'.

I had a wonderful day off in Edmonton, catching up with old university friends, wandering the city, shoe shopping (one of my cycle shoes broke in my clumsy tumble last week, so I had to suffer the nightmare of shopping for a new pair...I know, what a travesty that was!) and enjoying the glorious weather that comes with Canadian springtime. Everything is finally turning a lush green, the river valley parks were positively blooming in the growing sunshine.

A breezy wander around Edmonton

Shoe issues

Beautiful evening on the outskirts of Edmonton

I had a solid ride out of the city, heading southeast on highway 14 when the inevitable happened: I got rained on, good and proper, for the first time in the trip. It was the sort of rain that caused several drivers to pull over at the side of the highway to offer me a lift. I was very appreciative, but naturally declined; I could deal with a bit of rain, being a British cyclist very much used to these conditions!

The weather cleared eventually, allowing me to dry out in time to arrive at Viking relatively dry. I was looking for a campground when a small car pulled up beside me. Gerard and Dolly, went above and beyond the call of duty, giving me directions for the campground and a good place to eat, before then returning to the campground with small memorabilia from Alberta, and an offer of dinner on them! A wonderful evening was spent eating Chinese food and being introduced to all the locals who were curious about Gerard and Dolly's new friend.

Drying out after getting soaked!

However, the next day I suffered a huge dip in confidence, as the wind continued to blow ferociously against me. Despite a stop at the Hitching Post cafe in Kinsella, where I was once again a talking point for everyone in the place, with some great words of encouragement, I called it a day at Wainwright, after my lowest day's mileage for the whole trip so far. I tried to be realistic about the situation: I was coming down with a cold and there was no point battling when I what I needed more than anything was sleep! It was fairly demoralising, and I won't deny that I was feeling disappointed with my apparent lack of resilience.

Finishing up at Wainwright

I had a house stay organised at North Battleford the following night, and although it was a tall order, I was determined to reach it by the evening. The wind had dropped slightly, and I set off early with purpose. The road peaked and troughed like waves on the ocean, continuously undulating through the wide expansive fields home to cows and horses.

The rolling prairies

Being a bank holiday, the road was my own, and the small towns I passed were dusty and deserted, everyone enjoying a peaceful Sunday. Pedalling through Cut Knife at 80 miles in, I finally found an open restaurant, and dived in gratefully to refill on water. I found a group of people enjoying a coffee and before I knew what was happening, I was among them, chatting away about my trip and finding out about the local area. Apparently the town is home to the world's largest tomahawk, and I wasn't allowed to leave until someone had taken me to see it. So off I hopped with a lady in her massive truck, and indeed, the tomahawk was quite something to behold.

I made it to North Battleford eventually, after a long tiring day in the saddle, and I was met by Tyler (a friend of a friend) and his family, who had all been enjoying the long weekend together. And what a great group of people! So welcoming to a complete stranger, and incredibly understanding of my basic needs for food (which there was in abundance!) and sleep, which was effortless in such a comfortable bed.

The bank holiday Monday dawned warm and sunny. With a belly full of porridge and toast, I left this marvellous family to hit the road, rejoining that old favourite, the Yellowhead Highway. And what a day to cycle! It just got warmer and warmer, the wind finally abating after days of being my constant cruel companion.

A chilly but bright start

A beautiful moment in any cyclist's day: seeing a fresh stretch of tarmac reaching the hard shoulder

And boy did it feel good! To pedal with such ease, to hold a decent pace with little conceivable effort, cycling became a joy rather than a chore as I raced through the miles. I took a lunch break after a mere three hours, and sat back to enjoy the glorious sunshine while I ate my lunch at a roadside service.

The last chunk of cycling down into Saskatoon flew by, and I found myself at my destination just after 4pm.

Over the Borden bridge

As my cold hadn't been shaken, I decided it would make sense to take an early rest day in the city, rather than push on. My hosts Edward and Sara have gone above and beyond, feeding wonderful food, putting me in touch with more friends further along my route, and allowed me to stay in their lovely house to snooze and stretch and slurp tea (Sara has a marvellous collection of loose leafs!) as much as I like.

The Tardis meeting new teas

Wandering through Saskatoon, the city of bridges

As a result, my body and mind feel much rested, the cold is starting to shrink away, and I feel ready to roll onwards.

Every time I look at google maps, I'm amazed to see that little blue dot way out in the middle of that expanse of green. Technically I'm behind schedule. And I couldn't care less right now. I taken a big chunk out of this country already and I'm all set to take a crack at the next bit. Just spinning it out, one day at a time.

Hills and Headwinds

After being placed on the McTaggart carb loading programme for two days, I bid farewell to my newly-met relatives and pedalled away from Revelstoke laden with a plentiful supply of homemade cookies (big thanks to Dorothy!!).

The tardis says goodbye to the cousins

I was set for a long day in the saddle, as the next town was a hefty 92 miles away, with nothing but a healthy mountain climb in the way. The rest day and carbs clearly worked wonders, as somehow I managed to reach the summit by 1130, so I thought I would enjoy an early lunch break in the sunshine outside the closed discovery centre, surrounded by a few remaining snow banks.

At the summit of Rogers Pass

And then for the hair raising descent, using my brakes to hold a comfortable 30mph, so as not to overdo it going round the tight bends in the road.

When I reached my warmshowers stay for the night in Golden (the Kicking Horse Hostel), I was delighted to find the wonderfully Scottish Tanya greeting me, and introducing me to an almost entirely British-occupied hostel - definitely another home from home! It was great to chat to other people so far about their travels so far, and to share my own experiences of British Columbia.

The road East I'd been told was a difficult one, and sure enough, the climbing once again prevailed as I cut through the mountains on Highway 1. I took a lunch break at Field, and popped into the visitor centre to get some information on the icefields parkway. They gave me a map which I feel could be one of the best tourist maps I've EVER received...almost tempted to frame it I love it so much...anyway, I digress...

Lunch break at Field

The lady strongly suggested that despite it only being 27km to lake Louise, she strongly recommended I stop there for the night, due the length and gradient of the hill ahead. Well that immediately turned into a challenge for me: could I make it and further???

The answer was an emphatic YES! I laughed in the face of my doubting friend, and happily spun my way over the border into Alberta, across the continental divide, right to the start of the Icefields parkway. This was something I had been looking forward to before I got to Canada, and I set off from the permit office with high expectations of difficult but rewarding cycling.

Bye bye British Columbia!

I had a final uphill 25km to the hostel I had fixed on for the night, and made it in good time to meet the manager François and get myself sorted with a bed for the night.

First few km of the Icefields parkway

Mosquito Creek wilderness hostel, complete with snow!

It turned out that I was lucky I hadn't arrived any earlier, as the hostel had only just opened for the season that weekend. And being so early in the season, although the private dorms were taken by two families, I had the wonderful luxury of choosing which of the 12 bed dormitories I would prefer, being the only other guest that night! Although there were no showers (being a wilderness hostel it had neither electricity nor showers, you took a 'refreshing dip in the creek!') I was lucky to have such a comfortable sleep and some brilliant chats with François over dinner and breakfast: he had just started this new job after ten years of working in IT in Quebec, had uprooted from his stable career in search of something that was more meaningful for him: what a wonderful inspiration!

Anyone fancy a quick dip?!

There were a number of books in the communal area in the hostel, and I found myself doing something I never thought would ever happen beyond the realms of my degree: I flicked, almost subconsciously, to the section on geology, and began swatting up on the Rockies! I can't remember much, but it was definitely interesting at the time!!

Mini geology nerd out!

My next day on the parkway proved eventful, full of glorious scenery, the weather crisp to begin with but the sun shone ever brightly throughout the day. The real climbing began after lunch, the road cutting steeply skyward. My legs screamed in dismay, as ever questioning my judgement, but no motivational speeches were made on this climb, the most that left my mouth were gasps and grunts as I inched closer to the summit. Just short of the top the gradient eased, and I was cheered on by a jolly group of hikers who had stopped walking and were clearly getting ready to catch should I go any slower and stop moving altogether.

Reaching the top was breathtaking, I was surrounded by the tips of mountains, glaciers spilling towards the road and the Icefields centre, where I took a much needed breather. I was instantly the curious spectacle for whole groups of asian tourists, an extra attraction for the mildly interested. Always intrigued as to why I travel alone, and how far I'd cycled that day.

The skies were becoming ominous as I raced down the other side of the mountain, a rare tailwind picked up my pace and had me cruising to my final destination on a high. My hopes of a warm shower and a cosy bed however were instantly dampened by the large 'closed' sign on the hostel door. With no camping available (the deep scratches in the trees made sure that I would not be wild camping that night!) I pedalled on into the fading light.

Fortunately, a camper van pulled over at the side of the highway, and after I asked them about nearby hostels, they simply said they would give me a lift the final 50km to Jasper! A lovely newly-wed couple, Genevieve and Evan were taking an extended honeymoon, travelling for three months in South America, and now Canada. On our way to Jasper, we were all mourning the lack of wildlife we'd seen, when suddenly Evan spots a black bear grazing at the side of the road!! Perfect timing!!! We saw two more further down the road, all of them completely uninterested in the csrs piling up on the side of the highway, tourists frantically taking photos.

We celebrated our good luck with a pint, and bid each other safe travels as we went our separate ways.

So after a spontaneous rest day involving a lot of snoozing and ice cream, I knuckled down to a couple of longs days in a bid to reach Edmonton.

The first was another chilly start, a beautifully still and peaceful morning that had me pedalling through the northern part of Jasper national park. Two wolves hopped across the road, and watched me keenly from a distance as I drifted past them into the growing sunshine. My climbing days were over, and I turned East away from the Rockies.

A few elk wandering through Jasper

Last few moments in the Rockies

I had managed to organise a couchsurfing stay at last minute about 25km west of Edson. I was relieved to get out of the growing headwind, and hopped over the railway line onto a dirt track which led to Gary and Judy's house. And what a stay, I was welcomed into their beautiful home, offered a comfortable bed and a hot shower with the promise of venison stew and more company in the form of a Dutch trumpet-playing hitch hiker called Lars (he even travels with a pocket trumpet!) who had just arrived in Canada for a work and travel year. A fantastic evening was had with talk of previous travels and wildlife, and I left the next day with homemade banana muffins and big hugs from everyone.

And what a final day to round off my second week of cycling. This was one of those days that nearly broke me, the headwinds of the day before had returned with a vengeance, and I could nothing more than grind away on the straight, never-ending road, screaming expletives, pleading with the wind to take a break. It simply replied with stronger gusts, the trees frantically waving at me to go faster.

Hmmm maybe another time...

I had always known it was going to be a big day of cycling, even without the wind to factor into the equation, but as I paused for lunch I did genuinely wonder if I would make it to my organised meeting point that evening.

Turning back into the wind with some motivational music blasting in my ears, I battled on and, about half an hour in, felt like I'd overcome a massive hurdle, and my doubting thoughts slowly abated with every passing mile. The final 10 miles were beyond euphoric as the road peaked and troughed like waves on the open ocean, giving me glimpses of Edmonton's suburbs glittering in the distance. Such an incredible feeling of achievement, both physically and mentally, made me feel capable of anything!

So, it's safe to say that it has been a tough week for me. There have been extreme highs and lows, euphoria and despair, but I feel all the stronger for it. Definitely a memorable week!

200km: BOOM!!!!!!