Yukon Ho!

August 4 – August 6: Prince Rupert to Sayward

We biked out to the ferry terminal the next day with an older couple named Doug and Gayle -teachers from Nelson, BC, who were cycling around the province on a Tandem. We ferried over to the tiny island airport, waited around in the super-70’s terminal, didn’t get searched at all, and boarded the plane potentially carrying all sorts of weapons and poison for all the airport security knew. I guess -perhaps taking a cue from Dawson City’s lax building maintenance laws?- charters are exempt from ordinary security measures in BC.
We landed in Port Hardy mid-afternoon and biked 40km to Port McNeill. Since the Nelson-ers were going the same way, we stuck together for the ride and shared a dinner of Subway and Corona by the waterfront before riding up to our favorite campsite -the Girl Guide lodge. We built a small fire, had some tea and popcorn and went to bed.
The next morning we had breakfast at Bo-Banee’s where I think we blew Doug and Gayle’s minds a little. They were huge gearheads, and firm believers that you need the appropriate tools and rules to tour. They couldn’t believe we didn’t wear bike shorts with chamois’, tried to convince us to buy a stainless steel platform with adjustable legs for our stove (so you can set it up on any surface!), woke up early every day, dressed in head-to-toe spandex, and ate light breakfasts of fat-free lattes and simple breakfast bagels. Sean and I woke up later than them, packed in ten minutes, rolled into the restaurant -minutes behind them- wearing shorts and hoodies, and each ordered The Breakfast Classic: two eggs, sausages, homefries, and toast smeared with peanut butter and (for me anyway) maple syrup. With coffee. And refills. They laughed that so much food would slow us waaaay down and I think it may have cracked the foundation of their belief structure when we passed them 20 minutes later.
We spent the night at a rest area on the south side of Woss (worst town name ever). Sean and I swam in the frigid water of Nimpkish Lake, then we sat around and shared some beer, brie and crackers. When it came time for dinner, there was an outback food-off: each couple cooked their favorite side-of-the-road meal. Doug and Gayle made quinoa with green onions and salmon, and sure, that got some style points, especially since they served it in collapsible bowls avec stainless steel utensils, but I don’t think anyone’s going to argue with the taste combination Burak and Kenny created -falafals and stovetop stuffing mixed with minute rice and..? Salt. Boo-ya.
It was an early night to bed for all of us since the day had been pretty hot and we were sunburned. We said our good-bye’s before heading into our respective tents because Doug and Gayle were leaving early the next morning in order to make the 140km to Campbell River. I heard them up and packing at 6am so when we woke at 8am and rolled out 25 minutes later I was sure they were long gone.
That day was only a 60km day, the last 10 of which we knew would be downhill (remember that deadly hill we climbed on our first day out of Sayward? Time to reign supreme). After three hours we ran into Doug and Gayle again -pulled over and talking to a Swiss couple on a tandem who were heading from Victoria up to Alaska. The Swiss assured us we were about to hit our downhill and indeed we did -the four of us sailed into Sayward whooping and waving. Doug and Gayle turned right and continued down the North Island Highway. Sean and I pulled into the parking lot of The Cedar Tree Restaurant and bought ourselves lunch, then rode our last 4km back to Lyle and Lorraine’s farm where the van was waiting.
The first order of business was to crank the stereo and play all the music we’d missed during the ride. Second was to try and figure out how mice had gotten into the van -that’s right. Little mouse poo’s were all over everything and what’s more -I have reason to believe that my Margaret Laurence House coffee mug was the hospital that saw a litter of mice into the world.
Anywhooooo we’re in Victoria now. We spent two frustrating weeks looking for an apartment, which is harder than finding a job here, came 12 hours from abandoning the island for Vancouver, and finally got a cal from our number one choice. On September first we’re moving into the “basement” (none of the basements here are more than half-sunk) of a nice house on Richmond Ave. The walls are all awesome 70’s wood panelling. The place has an old-school fireplace we’re allowed to use, and a wicked 1950’s fridge -in style, not condition.