Kranking the Ks:
Pushing the Pedals in
One’s 60th Year ...
For just over a year now,
I've been enjoying a baby blue bike from Brodie, my beloved 2015 Romax. At age 59, I'm beginning to experience a few lower
leg tendon issues, stemming mainly from a life-time of running. As a result,
time on the bike has been my “go-to” exercise regime, with most days seeing
20-30 km rides in and around the city of Vancouver.
These have been punctuated
with occasional 55-65 km excursions and even one 100+ ride to Bellingham,
Washington, from my home in Vancouver's Kitsilano neighbourhood. That was a
one-way roll, with Amtrak conveniently providing the return, late in the
evening. Bikes are only levied a USD $5 surcharge on the train (the fare itself
is $20), so if an out-and-back isn't your desire, you can make the return via
the rails.
Another time, a friend and
I put bikes on the Skytrain, taking it to the outskirts of Metro Vancouver’s
urban areas to Surrey's King George Station, thus shortening the ride to
Bellingham to a very manageable 65 km. Skytrain cost on the weekend: CAD $2.75,
with no surcharge.
As I've grown more
comfortable with the Romax - an exquisite cyclocross machine (essentially a
beefed up road bike with disc brakes) - I've yearned to go a little further
afield, hearkening back to my twenties, when I managed a Vancouver-to-Calgary
trip (10 days, with camping gear) and a Surrey-Whistler out-and-back (over 2
days, covering 340 km). However, work and not riding regularly have been easy
excuses for deferral, until recently, when I embarked on a leave from my job.
Without the 9-5 strictures, impromptu rides have been easier to accomplish,
owing to more weather windows and schedule flexibility.
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| Riding to Calgary, 1983 |
So it was that on a Friday
in mid-April, I got on my bike at 6 AM, thinking I might do another ride to
West Vancouver's Horseshoe Bay and back (about 65 km), but in the recesses of
my mind entertaining the possibility of continuing on to Lion's Bay, or maybe
even Squamish ... or possibly (shudder) Whistler!
I rode light, carrying only
a flimsy windbreaker in addition to removable arm and leg sleeves, a couple of
Cliff bars, a water bottle, and an iPhone. I knew that I had the option of
bailing out en route and taking
public transit back from Horseshoe Bay or Lion's Bay, with my bike, for the
cost of a local bus ticket.
I enjoyed the quiet, scenic
undulations of Marine Drive in West Vancouver and found myself above Horseshoe
Bay, contemplating going on. That decision point led to another at Lion's Bay,
where I refueled at the General Store with a date bar and hot chocolate. I continued
north, now committed to Squamish. Timing myself on the nasty hill at Furry
Creek, I noted that I was able to vanquish the incline in 7 minutes, bolstering
my confidence. North of Squamish, more food and water at a local Tim Horton's
in Garibaldi Highlands and then the slightly scary resolution to take on the
challenging climbs between there and Whistler for my first time in over thirty
years.
At noon, I was approaching
Whistler's Creekside, by now on the sedate Valley Trail, but by this time also
definitely "bonking" and groggily anticipating more food in Whistler
Village, which would represent about 130 km of riding and cumulative elevation
gains of close to 2000 m. I was doing the Squamish-Whistler stretch (675 metres
of climbing over 53 km) with one Cliff bar and a bottle of water. Fortunately,
the coolish weather helped to prevent overheating and too much water loss, but
the engine was sputtering, nonetheless.
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| Whistler Village, this April 2016 |
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Emboldened by what had been
my longest, toughest ride in decades, I immediately wondered - with
some trepidation - about the feasibility of another trek, this time a
southerly one-day "jaunt" from Vancouver to Seattle, downtown-to-downtown. A quick calculation via Google Maps suggested that
this endeavour would involve about 265 km and almost 1400 metres uphill over 15
hours. Pretty daunting!
In spite of misgivings, my
schedule and the weather were both looking good for just four days later, on
the Wednesday following my Friday Whistler ride. Over the weekend, I did a
couple of light rides (40 km and 20 km respectively). On Monday, my wife and I
went skiing at Blackcomb and on Tuesday we did the Sea-to-Summit hike near Squamish.
My right calf was sore, as was my left Achilles. I didn't feel confident that I
could even do half the ride to Seattle, the next day.
The night before, I put
fresh oil on the bike chain and pumped up my Continental Gatorskin tires,
hitting the sack somewhat restless. My alarm was set for 5AM but I was amped
and woke up at 3:30. By 4:10, I was out the door, beginning my roll through the
dark streets of the city.
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| On the Patullo Bridge, New Westminster, 5:20 AM |
One nice feature of an
early morning start on the bike, in the city, is that red lights can
essentially be ignored, in the absence of traffic. By 5:20, I had shed my
windbreaker, and was standing on the Patullo Bridge sidewalk in New
Westminster, watching the Skytrain slide over the muddy Fraser, in a moonlit,
pre-dawn, riverscape tableau. I briefly got out my iPhone to capture the scene
and to record my location and time. I didn't want to carry a separate camera or
GPS device, but I also wanted to document the "where and when." I had
no roaming plan for my phone, so once I crossed the border, my intention was to
turn off my cel data, but continue to take occasional photos. Navigation would be
via paper maps I had printed out and the good graces of strangers whom I would
consult to fine-tune directions.
At the border, I walked
into the U.S. Customs and Border Security office and produced my Nexus card.
Again, thanks to the early start, there were no waits or hassles. By about
7:15, I was having my breakfast wrap and a coffee at Woods in Birch Bay
Village near I-5, on Portal Way. The sun had risen and was slowly warming.
Thankfully, there was no wind.
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| Bellingham |
I continued to pedal across
the Fraser Delta toward Bellingham, via quiet farm roads that first led to
Ferndale. There, I crossed the freeway and rode a straight shot down Northwest
Avenue to downtown Bellingham. At 8:45, I conscripted someone to take my
picture at the U.S. Post Office in the heart of the city and then continued
south below Western Washington University and through Old Fairhaven, to the
start of the famous coastal route on Chuckanut Drive. This winding, wooded road
can be somewhat dicey for cyclists, owing to its popularity with sight-seeing
motorists and the narrow to non-existent shoulder. Between 9 and 10 AM on a
sunny, dry weekday morning, however, it was quiet and exhilarating, with its
banked turns and gorgeous ocean glimpses.
After the hills and woods,
I was spit out into the flats of the Skagit Valley and I moseyed in behind a
group of serious older guys in their Lycra, one of whom invited me to
"tuck into the back" and hang on. I spent a couple of quick
kilometres with them before they peeled off east, leaving me alone on my push
to the south.
By 10:30 AM, I was
roughly half way to Seattle, rolling down the picturesque main street of Mount
Vernon. With no noticeable wind, and perfect temperatures, I was beginning to
feel mildly optimistic that my Romax and I could do this!
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| Mount Vernon |
Three-quarters of an our
later, my stomache was growling, my palate was dry, and was I anticipating the
next 45 km with little ready opportunity for refueling. So, when I came across
a gem of a general store at Conway - a modified barn with “Skagit
River Produce” boldly painted on its brown siding - I gratefully
pulled into the gravel parking lot and leaned my bike up against storage
shelves on the veranda. Inside, there was all manner of replenishment
available, so I scarfed down a pesto pasta salad and some water, before
undertaking a minor climb on Route 534 on my way to the northern trailhead of
the 50 km-long Centennial Trail, a wonderful paved bike path that has origins as a
rail bed.
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| Skagit River Produce store |
I reached the path at
exactly noon, coincidentally watching my odometer turn over to 160 km,
signifying the achievement of my first imperial century since my early twenties.
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| Historic Nakashima Farm, north end Centennial Trail |
Whoo-hoo! The distances continued to fly by, especially as by now -
miracle of miracles - I had a slight northerly assist from
the wind. On the virtually level Centennial Trail, I could keep up averages of
29-32 kph, occasionally easing off with hands leaving the bars to stretch out
and adjust creaky limbs. The pavement was so smooth that I could even sit up
with one hand on my water bottle and the other wrapped around a hefty oat bar,
munching and slurping away, while still keeping the pedals turning.
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| On the Centennial Trail, north of Arlington |
|
At the town of Arlington,
the trail crosses the Stillaguamish River. Once on the main street and
near the old train station, I took time for a brief stop and a photo-op at
rusty sculpture of a bicycle, then it was on to more rustic trail meandering,
gliding by Lake Cassidy and near Lake Stevens, finally ending up in another
classic American small town, Snohomish.
It was 2:45 PM, I
was flagging and reckoned I was still 60 km from my goal of making the
Amtrak, in Seattle. That doesn't sound like much, but when you've already
cracked 200 km, another 60 clicks in warm weather, with wind that appears to be
switching, looms pretty large ...
A quick consultation with
the friendly guys at Snohomish Bicycles, and some energy goop and
chews, helped me decide to eschew the closer stations in Everett and
Edmonds and continue on to King Street. There was some debate as to which roads
to choose, but I ended up taking Route 9 to Woodinville, an ugly thoroughfare
with the most challenging climb of the entire ride and hot, fast, rush-hour
traffic. Thankfully, the paved shoulder is huge!
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| On the Burke-Gilman Tail |
Woodinville saw one last
coffee/wifi break and then a dash for the nearby paved Sammamish River Trail. This is another bucolic path, skirting river vistas
and leading fairly directly to a connection with the Burke-Gilman Trail. Together, these two paths take you to the University
of Washington, over 25 glorious kilometres. As I left the Sammamish River for
the western shores of Lake Washington, I experienced the happy counterflow of
scores of bicycle commuters and runners, all leaving UW for home, in the late
afternoon.
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| Portage Bay, from University Bridge, Seattle |
At 5:20, I crossed over my
last body of water via University Bridge, with Portage Bay on my left and Lake
Union on the right, watching the college rowers rhythmically sculling below,
during their afternoon training. That put me on East Lake Avenue, in Seattle
proper, in the thick of the rush hour traffic madness.
At this point, I improvised
my way doggedly between cars, on sidewalks, too spent to dig out my rough maps,
opting instead to periodically ask directions from helpful citizens.
Eventually, at 6:00 PM, I pushed open the doors of the train station and wheeled
my Romax over to the ticket counter, tired but happy. With a payment of
$42 and the $5 bike surcharge, an hour later I was rolling north to Canada, on
the rails, gazing out at the coastal sunset and already re-living through
memory, my one-day adventure.
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| King Street Station, Seattle |
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Contents of my jersey pockets, end of the ride.
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