9. The American Dream

My final night in Canada was spent at the home of Gail and Garry in the delightful little town of Fernie. I couldn't have asked for better hosts and they epitomised all that was great about the Canadians I had met - generous, hospitable, open and welcoming. The beer, wine and conversation flowed, Garry only fell silent when watching the women's Olympic beach volleyball. I arrived looking like a beaten down hobo, the next day I left refreshed and reinvigorated, the Prince of Fernie!

Shortly before reaching the border the Americans put on a sound and light show for me - rumbling thunder and sharp cracks of lightening forking out of the angry sky. I was about to get a soaking at the crossing...

 Watch out Spielberg, there's a new filmmaker in town. Here is a video of me shortly after crossing the border: Border crossing

Chanced across this deserted campsite for a wonderful first nights camp in America. A great end to a slightly tough day on the bike. I had an owl for company hooting outside my tent for much of the night. Ospreys are a common sight, often nesting on bespoke  roadside poles.

Border crossing

8. The Great Divide Trail

This run of the mill forest track actually represents something rather spectacular - the beginning of The Great Divide Trail. Over 2700 miles long, this will take me to the border of the USA, right through the States down into Mexico. 

My steel framed bike is super sturdy so should cope with the demands of the trail well. I've put on extra chunky tyres which, though slower on the roads, stick to the gravely trails like glue.

The threat of bears is taken really seriously here and, especially when wild camping, any noises through the night can be a bit unsettling. As you can see trails are closed off and park officers drive around the campsites warning people to be vigilant. The park officer I spoke to had a peculiar accent; he was from Manchester!

While my bike is tough not all the components are up to scratch. My front pannier rack snapped and will be replaced as soon as I can get to a bike shop. Another Great Divide cyclist has helped me patch it up so I can continue for the moment. To add insult to injury, a couple of miles after the 'snap' I got my first puncture. Fortunately, my bike repair kit, courtesy of 9DPM, came to the rescue.

The track had been washed away so I had to unload the bike and carry everything across separately; exhausting and stressful! But also part of the adventure I came looking for. Finally, I don't know if I write this with pride or shame, but I've not showered for a week now! Lots of wild camping and basic campsites means I've made do with rivers and lakes for washing. I am staying with cyclists in Fernie tonight, cannot wait to get clean.

7. 7000 ft high and rising

Crossed the border from British Columbia into Alberta. On the advice of other cyclists I took a little diversion up north along Highway 93 to explore the Icefields Parkway. What a spectacular stretch of road!

I climbed two 2000m passes in a day, ouch, the scenery took some of the sting out of it. As did the 12 hour sleep. Never before has the tent felt so comfortable.

This was my furthest point north, the Athabasca Glacier. As striking as its appearance was its rate of retreat. Come and see it before it melts away.

Proof that I really have made 7000 ft. Was glad of my sleeping bag liner at night as the temperature plummeted. As you can see below, I've had my first bear sighting. Spray not needed, it was much more interested in eating berries than me! (more meat on a berry)

6. Golden Days

This terrible photo shows my lodgings just outside Vernon.  At 4pm I had nowhere to stay so I made a speculative phone call to the Krofts, Warm Showers hosts. Two hours later I was tucking into burgers and sipping berry ciders while shooting the breeze with this delightful family. They let me sleep in their gazebo, went to bed very contented!

A typical evening's camp - fairly rubbish food, noodles, peanut butter sandwiches, just to get some fuel in the tank. If camping alone I bring out my secret weapon, my special luxury of a speaker. Mazzy Star, Dexter Gordan and Kendrick Lamar have helped stave away the loneliness!

Preparing to ride through a snow shelter on the way up to Roger's Pass. Back light attached and a prayer that I won't encounter too many huge trucks/RVs!

Staying in a hostel in Golden, right next to the railroad. Woken a few times by the rumbling of passing trains but, in yet another great act of Canadian hospitality, cycle tourists camp for free in the garden. Fantastic conversations with other travellers and useful advice picked up for the road ahead. Current plan is to divert north to the Icefields Parkway and take a look at the glacial landscapes.

5. Plodding on

I have passed so many spectacular lakes in the past few days, this is Lake Chute. I've done more swimming in the last week than the last year! They also make great spots for camping and you're pretty much guaranteed good company and conversation from fellow campers. Common themes of conversation have been the lunacy of Trump and Buddhism! (Buddhism generally, not the lunacy of it.)

I haven't encountered any snakes yet but I continue to proceed with caution. Camping in the woods makes me a little jumpy but sleeping with bear spray at my side is some comfort. Hope I won't need to use it...

Friendly Canadian folk on a trestle at the Myra Canyon on the Kettle Valley Railway. Lots of loose gravel tracks make for a tiring ride but if the alternative is the hard shoulder of a highway, I'll suffer on the gravel.

The Okanagan region is akin to the Mediterranean; hot, dry and intensively farmed. There are roadside stalls everywhere selling the abundance of soft fruits of the region - apricots, cherries and peaches dominate. They soon turn to pulp as they crash around in my bar bag. I'll just have to eat them up quicker...

4. Free at last

After months of planning and preparation I've finally got going. Part of my meticulous preparation meant never fully loading the bike before. The first few miles pedalling out of Vancouver were tentative at best, the frame of my poor bike flexing furiously below me. Soon man and machine were in harmony and we covered 78 miles in day one. First stop was the dairy farm of Anna Gouwenberg.

(by the way, I'm writing this blog with my iPhone, so fiddly! I hope to hone my skills in the coming weeks)

I camped in her orchard but, otherwise, was treated like one of the family; I could have been her eleventh child. Learnt lots on the farm, highlight was the artificial insemination demonstration, a much more hands-on process than I'd realised.

Further meticulous planning meant I had no idea that I was tackling this mighty pass until my burning legs and wheezing lungs told me. At some points I could hardly shift a mile without pausing for breath. What goes up must come down and, on the other side, I cruised the next 20 miles effortlessly. 

I got off the highway to join the Kettle Valley Railway, now disused and opened up to cyclists and hikers. Can't get the picture to upload but I spent the night in a cabin if some locals who took pity on poor, beleaguered me. The hospitality of Canadians had been astonishing so far and any fears of loneliness have been dispelled by their friendliness. Just be aware that, when you embark on a conversation with a Canadian, you may need to fight to get a word in edgeways.

I camped by the aptly named Osprey Lake, adjacent to the KVR. There were ospreys fishing and, more excitingly, my sleep was broken by the distant howling of what must of been coyotes. Though they must have been miles away their cries echoed off the valley walls to create an eerie sensation. Spending time in the hills you feel close to nature.

3. School's out for summer

After months of anticipation it's proving a bit of a wrench to leave. I had a wonderful send off from my fabulous tutor group, help and kind words from colleagues and friends and on-going, unwavering support from my dear family. The pain of separation...

The optical illusion of photography gives the impression that this cyclist is prepared for a cycle tour. He is not.

The guidebook said it would take an hour to box up my bike. Give or take two hours it was right. Trying to get my bike into the box was about as much fun as a visit from OFSTED. As the sun beat down the box seemed to shrink and the frame seemed to grow.










Whatever else happens this year, this will be my greatest achievement, getting the bike into the bloody box! Stressful. And then I've got to put it back together in Vancouver. Never taking a bike on a plane again...