Playing Telephone

Peter, Trish, Amy, and Scott with a BC Ambulance Driver

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On day 50, we biked 97 miles from Smithers to Kitwanga, British Columbia. Midway through, some of the teammates pictured above were involved in a minor accident. We were traveling on Highway 16, a road nicknamed the "Trail of Tears" for the several deaths that occurred just off the road: three female hitchhikers were picked up and killed along the highway. We saw several signs announcing it a crime to pick up hitchhikers, and such accidents are one of several influences. This is kept quiet, but during last year's Texas 4000 ride, a driver attempted to abduct a female Rockies rider along that road. She managed to escape from the car as a fellow teammate caught up to the car, and she was unscathed. The experience was, nonetheless, surely traumatic for her.

Anyhow, on day 50 Peter, Trish, Amy, Ivan, and Scott were traveling ahead of my group. Some kids in a black coupe were pretty ticked off about us being on the road: when they passed us, they shook their fists and yelled at us from an open car window, but when they passed Peter's group they threw an open soda can. Even though we were clearly in the shoulder and out of the lane, we somehow managed to make them angry (a lot of drivers get mad with us, but we're used to it).

The soda can didn't hit anyone, but Amy swerved in her surprise, touched wheels with Peter, and collided with Trish. Both Amy and Trish fell off of their bikes and had minor scrapes, but were shaken nonetheless. A passing motorist stopped to check that everyone was okay and offered to help by catching up with the black coupe, taking note of its license plate number, and reporting that number to the police.

When the Samaritan retrieved the license plate number, she turned around and caught up with Mike, who was driving the 15 passenger van that drags our trailer (the transport vessel for our food, personal duffel bags, tents, and all additional supplies). In her excitement, she relayed a concise message that was entirely true, but entirely misleading to Mike: "six of your cyclists were involved in an accident; I just reported it to the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police)." Mike interpreted the worst case scenario.

Mike, in his panic, caught up with Peter's group and was relieved to find that the accident was minor and that everyone was okay. Unfortunately, he hit a culvert and the trailer got a flat in its right wheel.

Four miles from our campsite in Kitwanga, four ambulances from surrounding towns caught up with our biking group expecting to find a large accident—which was actually our minor one. The ambulance drivers were surprised to find that everything was good and fine, because the message they heard was, "six motorists were hit by a car." We all laughed about the mix-up, and Amy was silly enough to take a picture at the end of the day.

The wheel took hours to fix because we were in the middle of nowhere, and the worst part of our day was only an hourlong wait at the RV Park for the trailer to arrive. But, waiting really wasn't bad at all: we made a great curry dinner that night and slept warmly in our tents as a soft rain lulled us to sleep.

Pictures from Canada!

Crossing in to Canada, with Alberta being our first stop (I'm in the white!)



Peter and me, in Banff National Park

The ladies, at Lake Louise in Banff

Geoff and me, enjoying a morning at Lake Morraine (also in Banff)

Long hair!

Short hair!

(It's Rockies team tradition to do drastic things to your hair once you reach Prince George, AB. All 10 of our boys got either mohawks or uncle haircuts; the girls either shaved their heads or cut their hair significantly shorter. Dorrie, our host, cut our hair--in the dark night and in rain. Dorrie claims that she only cuts the hair of dogs and Texas 4000 cyclists; we nevertheless entrusted her).

Day 54: Dease Lake, BC, Canada

It's been a month since my last post, and a lot has happened since then. My legs are becoming more tired and worn as each day passes--mainly because we've been on the road for almost two months, and we're still 1,000 miles away! These past few days have definitely been the hardest, emotionally, because my mind is ready for rest, but my body needs to continue pedaling.

We crossed the Canadian border on July 11. My first response to the Canadian landscape was that the scenery seemed a lot more pastoral than I had expected. The hills were rolling and green, and every so often they were dappled by brown dots--grazing cattle. In retrospect, the landscapes weren't much different from those of Montana, but for some reason I wanted the change to be drastic, so that my surroundings would constantly remind me, "You've made it thus far."

My first days in Canada were hard and on several occasions I was brought to tears. I began to think more of my mother and how little memory I have of her. I was amidst the mountains and glacial rivers, and I couldn't remember the faintest details of her existence: the way her voice sounded, the texture of her skin, or her mannerisms of speech. I would try to talk to her as I pedaled through the hills, but the only audible response was the sound of wind rushing through my ears.

Banff and Jasper, national parks in Alberta, have been by far the most beautiful, and I am sad that my mother couldn't see the beauty that I witnessed. The morning that we left Jasper, I cried so hard that I couldn't breathe. I tried to pedal faster, but my lungs couldn't take it, and the headwind was so strong that I couldn't move too quickly. My teammates, MJ and Ivan, pedaled next to me, quietly. That was all I really needed, and they somehow understood.

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Some of our most gracious hosts have been in Alberta and British Columbia, and most of the people we've met have been laid back and easy going. A Canadian once told me, "Americans say that we don't have a back bone, but I don't care. I just live comfortably and take my time!"

Since my last post, three teammates have returned home: one, for a non-cycling related leg injury, and two others for disregarding Texas 4000 policies. They are all in good health, but I am sad to miss the rest of the summer with them.

I'm on a tight internet schedule right now, and there is a lot more that I would like to share, but I'll have to tell you more the next time around! Please know that you all are in my heart and that you are giving me warmth and strength during this last and challening stretch of my summer journey. Alaska is 15 days away, and I'm looking forward to seeing Anchorage.