Here’s another video. (Last one for a while, promise!) Following on from the last post, where Visual Collective and I teamed up, this time around we had a quirky conversation about:
Check out the video on YouTube here
At the end of a very long day a week or two ago, dear homies Visual Collective and I teamed up to record a piece about Vague Direction when we possibly maybe probably definitely should’ve been doing other things. They’re very nice.
348 – 355: Sault St Marie to Toronto.
Spooky moments. There’ve been a few over the last few days. It snowed a lot leaving Sault St Marie, and several hours into the slowest ride ever it was obvious that rather than make minimal ground and camp in the open, it would be wise to seek shelter if any became obvious.
Being in farmland there weren’t many options, other than a single barn on a side road. It looked like it didn’t see much action so I resorted to the age old tactic of – ‘as long as you pack up early enough it’ll probably be fine’. Luckily it worked and the combine harvesters didn’t slip.
It snowed on and off for a couple of days, but other than that the ride was pretty much plain sailing (except for a bizarre night in the town of Espanola which is a story for a separate post coming soon). To make up some of the lost snow time, I opted for a train ride again to increase the chances of being able to cycle into NYC to finish up. It would suck after so long to finish by train or hitchhiking. As always seems to happen, it’s the time off the bike that provides most of the stories. Fittingly, being halloween and all, what happened next wouldn’t be out of place as an introduction to a horror movie.
The train was scheduled to leave a small station on the outskirts of Sudbury at 1.30am, and looking at the map, there was a 24 hour Tim Hortons a few km away. Seemed like as good a place as any to wait until the early hours, so I left downtown Sudbury and began cycling to Tim’s. It was late, and at a traffic crossing I very briefly bumped into an older gentleman out for a walk. Then a few minutes later in the cue at TH, he was there too.
“Are you travelling somewhere?”, he said.
We chatted for a while and it turns out he’s a friendly chap called Bruce who’s been based in Sudbury his entire life, except for a 10 day hitchhiking trip he took around the Great Lakes as a 24 year old. Since then he’s been living with his wife and they’re content in the city, scratching any travel cravings with online photos and by chatting to people who are passing through town. He’d been working night shifts so this was his afternoon, and he generously offered to go get his van and then drive me to the station as it’s hard to find. We started walking to the his house to pick up the van and somehow the conversation turned to movies and axes.
“You know, I gave my daughters boyfriend a fright a few months ago. We watched a movie, and the main character is sent a message from God that he has to remove some evil souls from the Earth. One day he’s driving along a country lane and see’s a beam of light land on a barn. He goes in and it’s shining on an axe. The movie is about the guy’s task to kill various people.”
It’s 12.30am. We’ve just met and are walking back to Bruce’s house, where he’s going to pick up his van and drive me to a train station on the outskirts of town. He’s explaining the plot to a movie where a man is tasked to kill people with an axe. Anything suspicious going on here? Then came the kicker.
“Oh, by the way I’m not an axe murderer or anything. Although I could be. You’ve just met me. Or you could be a murderer. It’s hard to tell.”
Hmmm, where’s that bear spray? Should I just leg it? Had a moment of woah-this-is-a-bit-intense, which is laughable now because it turns out Bruce is a truly awesome dude, with a lovely wife called Brenda, crazy kindness, a real van, a knowledge of out of town train stations, and no axe in sight – you had me there for a second Bruce!
The train showed up at 3am. On at Sudbury, quick snooze, off at Toronto. Magic. Quite convenient timing as far as trains go because it meant waking up and starting the day in the city, instead of arriving at night with no time to explore properly. And what a place. Incredible downtown architecture and amazing graffiti dotted around. Had a fun morning getting lost and then stumbled across a park where there was a bunch of people walking dogs and taking lunch breaks, and in the corner there was a guy doing insane tricks with a frisbee.
Jolan Canrinus is a freestyle frisbee expert, and in this Vague Direction People video we chat about how he ended up learning such a unique skill. It was frickin’ cool. (If you’re reading this in your email browser, click here to watch the video)
‘Sup from Winnipeg!
“I guess I went through a little bit of a period when I was younger of wishing that I could have had a normal teenage life. Which I didn’t have at all because I was on tour all the time. But that was my normal, and looking back on it, I wouldn’t trade a single thing to go to one party on a weekend.”
Sierra Noble is a singer-songwriter from Winnipeg and one of Canada’s leading fiddle players. On Saturday in the city centre, she was headlining the Concert For Peace – which is based around the UN’s International Day of Peace.
We caught up on the streets of her hometown before the show (and during) to record a live gritty session and chat about her path into music, growing up on the road, finding inspiration, ignoring haters, and the lessons she’s picked up along the way. Wicked fun. Got 5 minutes? It was a blast to make.
Here’s the direct YouTube link. You can keep up with Sierra and listen to more at www.sierranoble.ca.
This weekend it was the close of the Edmonton Fringe Festival, so the south side of the city was bustling with street performers / singers / comedians / artists. Quite a culture shock from the recent remote weeks and it did take a little adapting to, but there’s some amazing acts (one of my favourites was from Maggie, an elderly lady who told me a poem about how she genuinely thinks we’re all from the moon), and it’s a very inviting atmosphere.
Whilst pottering about for a day, I bumped into Tim Koslo who was selling T-shirts on the street. He sells his work during the summer and is a standup comedian throughout the rest of the year. It became obvious fairly soon into talking to him, that like Brad, he’d been through more than his fair share of tough times, battling with addiction as a young adult.
Tim was open to talking about his struggles, so the conversation ended up being steered down a rabbit hole of addiction, recovery, complacency, finding what your calling is and how focusing on that can, as a convenient by-product, fix the other problems in life.
We can get caught up in the best way to do something most effectively, with the least resistance, the biggest impact and the loudest noise, but time and time again it seems like the most important and longest lasting changes come about simply by making the decision to just start.
Hope you enjoy this quick snippet video:
Moose, big days and Independence Day. It’s been another wet week, most days providing torrential rain sessions. Not unbearable, but kind of frustrating as Denali is totally invisible in the heavy grey clouds. Quiet week in terms of meeting anyone and filming with them – that’s Alaska though I guess. Hoping to backtrack a little bit and head back into the National Park and to Healy in a day or so on a slightly different mission which could result in material. Rather than post about the rain too much, here’s a few highlights.
235: 20m N of Trapper Creek – Cantwell, AK (80 miles)
Face to face with a moose. Holy smokes. Not many places in the world where you find yourself making eye contact with a moose. 11PM in Cantwell, working up and down Denali highway trying to find a place to setup camp. And there it was, maybe 50 metres away, stumbling across the road with the most unusual walk. It paused. I paused. It moved. I moved. It was awesome in the literal sense of the word.
A few people so far have talked about moose as their primary food source. They say a moose’s meat can last a family a year or more. It’s hard to picture from photographs, but seeing the scale of the animal – it instantly made sense. Still amazed, I couldn’t find a suitable place to camp, so might’ve slept on the floor in a post office. Not sure if that’s strictly allowed but it might have been / was warm, dry and mosquito-free.
236: Cantwell – Healy, AK (40 miles)
It was about 10.30am and I was sat at a table in the corner of a Cantwell gas station. Firing off some emails before setting out for the day. A brief look up every now and then to see whether the drizzle had ceased. Current mileage, zero.
“That your bike outside?” asked Jeff, an Alaskan native cycling from Anchorage to Fairbanks. A super positive guy who was travelling light, on a racing bike and having a friend following him in a van providing support.
“How far have you gone today?”. Nowhere yet, Jeff! How far have you gone?
“I’ve done 77 miles this morning. Been pretty grim on the road though in this weather.”
77 miles and he was only just stopping for breakfast/lunch. As you do. I was inspired by Jeff’s pre-breakfast epic mission and positive mentality, and left eager to hit the road. And minutes later Jeff overtook me, with ease, on his carbon fibre bike with speed bars.
“Have a good ride!”, he shouted back. You too Lance. Sorry I mean Jeff.
237: Healy – Fairbanks, AK (113 miles)
The longest day so far, by a single mile. And certainly the most arduous for a long time. There are days that look ‘big’ on paper but aren’t. One that comes to mind is the stretch from Van Horn – El Paso, TX. It’s basically 106 miles of downhill with minimal pedalling, and it’s over really quickly. Then you get some 50 miles days that take forever because of the terrain. Today was more like the latter – a long and gruelling hilly day.
It’s the height of Alaskan summer, so there’s plenty of light. Really the days can be as long as you like. It was a typical groggy morning waking up on a patch of grass near Healy’s only gas station. I cycled up to the centre of town (it’s a tiny town so ‘centre’ is a loose term). It was only then that the celebrations made sense. 4th of July – the USA’s birthday. There was going to be a bunch of floats driving down the main street at 11am, celebrating the day. Not going to miss this. I wondered over to the street and waited, along with maybe 20 locals lining the side of the street. It wasn’t a big do, amusingly small even – a few horses, a fire engine, someone getting pulled along in a kayak by a bicycle, a gorilla mascot – and it was over in about 5 minutes. A late start but worth the wait to celebrate the 4th. Everyone was happy and got free candyfloss. No one was complaining. Sweets for breakfast? Go on then.
It was a national day off so most people were staying home. Empty roads. The start of the ride was fast. A strong tailwind and mainly downhill for 30 miles. Even on the uphills, the wind would keep you going in top gear. Get in. Then the wind died down, the climbs became consistent, and it started to pour down. It can be alright riding in the rain for a bit. Then it starts to suck. There was maybe an hour or so of heavy rain riding, before cycling through Nenana and finding shelter at the gas station, where these folks all had the same idea.
For a while there was an inpromptu bike party, everyone sitting out the torrential rain. It eased off after a while though, and it was great to ride with Julia and Hannes from Germany who were heading the same way (see their website). Seems like the majority of other cyclists on long trips aren’t from the US and have been drawn by a grass-is-always-greener thirst for a North American adventure. Thinking back, it’s probably a ratio close to 5:1 International / USA.
At this point it had been a long day, but there was still 44 miles or so to go. On one hand knowing how much you have left is a good thing, the countdown keeps you pedalling. “1 mile down. 43 left.” etc. On the other, it just can seem never ending. There were so many times, getting to the top of a hill and seeing another hill coming up. It’s torture. But eventually the climbs turned to downhills, and there was a 3 mile full-speed-ahead blast into town. Nice way to end. I pulled into Fairbanks at 11.15pm, dizzy and drowsy, set up the tent near a community centre and that was that.
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Just throwing this out there – what kind of people sum up America & Canada in your mind? There are no pre-arranged Vague Direction People meetings for a while, so I’d love to hear any thoughts you have as to who might be interesting to feature and talk to about their lifestyle. (For example – a clown, ice hockey coach, gold prospector etc). Love to hear your suggestions if you have them in the comment section below.
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Huge thanks to Best Western Chena River Lodge for their amazing hospitality on a rest day in Fairbanks, what a place! Worth a look if you’re in the area.
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Here’s the last week, plus quick map.
230: Whittier – Anchorage (60 miles)
231: Anchorage – Palmer (42 miles)
232: Palmer – Willow (48 miles)
233: Willow – Trapper Creek (52 miles)
234: Trapper Creek – McKinley View Lodge (20 miles)
235: McKinley View Lodge – Cantwell (80 miles)
236: Cantwell – Healy, AK (40 miles)
237: Healy – Fairbanks, AK (113 miles)
The ferry hopping is in it’s final stages. One more 42 hour stint to go, dodging perfectly blue iceberg sculptures. There’ve been a couple of notable moments, both announced over the PA in between Petersburg and Juneau.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you look to the port side you’ll see a killer whale. I repeat, killer whale on the port side”.
Not an everyday phrase! There was a massive killer whale a few hundred metres off the boat. It was moving fast, and even from a distance it was clear to make out the spray. A jaw-on-the-ground moment to see something like that first-hand and not through the eyes of the BBC. It emphasised just how much big life is in the water up here. Definitely a “pinch me” moment for all viewers judging by the gasps and air of excitement. A downside to travelling light is only carrying a small selection of camera gear (no telephoto lenses), so here’s blurry pixels.
There’s been a high pressure spell recently too, so it’s been hot. The perfect weather for hanging out on the sun deck on the boat and taking a nap. When you get woken up mid-nap with an announcement over the PA that says “Welcome to Cake!”, it’s really exciting. Cake? Where? Unfortunately it had nothing to do with cake at all – we were just pulling into a port in Kake to drop some passengers off.
Floatplanes are cool. Ever since first seeing a floatplane land on water, it’s been something that I’ve longed to try. Seaplane docks seem to be a part of every small town in South East Alaska – they’re used to drop people off in remote places, to search for schools of fish so the locals know where to go for maximum success, or simply for commuting between islands. Whilst in Petersburg I bumped into Doug from Nordic Air, who was in between flying jobs. He didn’t have any time for a proper interview but there was time to make a 5 minute flight from water to land, catch a few brief words and capture some aerial footage. It was a ton of fun. Hope you enjoy it.
(If you’re reading this in your email browser, click here to view the video)
Leaving One Hundred Mile House was wet – really wet. There hasn’t been any significant rain for weeks, so in many ways it provided a forgotten type of riding and one where you are more ‘in it’ – getting blasted by the elements is good at that. It was a fast ride over to Williams Lake, in the spray of passing trucks, being mostly flat and ever-so-slightly downhill.
This trip has a way of teaching you stuff fast. Back in California, I thought I’d learnt the hard way never to sleep near sprinklers again. So how I ended up getting absolutely drenched by sprinklers in Williams Lake and having the coldest, dampest and overall most miserable nights sleep so far, was confusing, hard to take and more than a little frustrating. The moment was captured in video-form, so at some point you’ll get to see how ‘effin far those things can reach. Maybe twice is a charm, and the same mistake won’t be made again, or perhaps hidden sprinklers that rise out of the grass will continue to be a nemesis until the end.
Williams Lake to Quesnel was a challenge. Purely because of the previous nights sleep. It’s not often you’re woken up with a dog headbutting the sleeping bag. Tell you what, that’s a bit of a fright. Everything was soaking wet and it was freezing, and it was inevitably a slow, unenthusiastic start to the day. Hot drink please. After some liquid warmth the rest of the day went OK, as soon as the sun decided to show it was actually really warm, funny how that works. Ended up in Quesnel where the Billy Barker Casino & Hotel provided a room, which was incredible after last night. Out like a light.
Leaving Quesnel was a bit intimidating. I half expected Will Smith, Jeff Goldblum and Bill Pullman to show up. Seeing this on display and knowing that the route to Prince George was through it wasn’t that appealing.
It unsurprisingly started to pour down and there were some super sketchy drivers on the roads cutting it really fine. The rain eased for a while, maybe an hour or so, and then the mother of all dark clouds showed up. All of a sudden it became really dark, there was an instant drop in temperature, and the first car to appear out of the cloud had its fog lights and wipers on. You can imagine what happened next – there’s a rain theme. It wasn’t pleasant but didn’t last too long before getting in to Prince George, the capital of Northern BC. I arrived late not knowing what was what, so shout out to City Centre Inn for their hospitality on the first night in town.
I’ve been using the cycling-equivalent of Couchsurfing, called Warmshowers, which can be really useful especially in built up areas, and was invited to crash at the house of PG locals, Barb and Les, who have been amazingly kind with their hospitality and amazing home-cooked dinners. It wasn’t long before Les mentioned he was into fishing, which is something that’s been on the Vague Direction list since the earliest iteration of the project, so when he mentioned there was an opportunity to go out on his boat, it was an instant yes. Here’s a snippet video of an afternoon fishing with the man himself.
(If you’re reading this in your email browser, click here to watch the video)
I’ve been in Prince George for a while now, and with more days to wait it will end up being the longest stint of stillness on the entire trip. The bike is currently rocking a rear wheel that’s about as round as a square, has several loose spokes and a snapped derailleur, so I’m waiting for a new wheelset to arrive from pals over at Velocity which’ll arrive next week. Being able to ride without the near-hourly issues that my current wheel has been providing is a happy thought to say the least. There’s been yet more good natured and generous people in town, a good example being Les and Barb, who are letting me stay in their camper van until the wheel shows up. So in the meantime, whilst staying in PG, there’s time to explore, tick off some to-do’s, and try hard to avoid the thousands of caterpillars that dangle from the trees in Prince George – what’s that about, any locals know?
There’s a weird constant battle on a project like this. It has a destination, and a time limit, so whilst constant movement is sometimes frustrating, it’s also necessary. But I heard this saying from a fellow cyclist the other day – “Smiles, not miles”. Cheeseball as that is, there’s something in it.
The final section of California riding ended in Eureka, which is where the mayhem ensued. Not got long to write this so it’s more like a photo timeline.
For the last few weeks there’s been a looming whisper attached to the journey – the Canadian border. Much more time was spent in California than first anticipated so the project was way behind track for a while, and crossing in to Canada would make all visa concerns vanish. Ah.
It means I’ve skipped cycling through Oregon entirely, and most of Washington state too. I don’t mind jumping ahead too much though, as there’s new plans in momentum that will provide much more of an adventure than the original route. So anyway, the looming deadline. The start of May means being in Canada. It just wasn’t going to be possible by cycling. After some googling, the most suitable option from Eureka was the bus. Not just one bus though. It went: Eureka, CA – Oakland, CA – Sacramento, CA – Portland, OR – Seattle, WA. That should have raised alarm bells. And it took an entire millennium (not 100% accurate but that’s how it seemed).
It was a truly awful bus journey – in hindsight I’d have tried hitchhiking instead, or crawling for that matter. Putting a bike on the bus shouldn’t be that complicated – but for whatever reason (Jeremy Jobsworth’s who enjoy making life difficult) the ‘policy’ is a nightmare for bikes, and maybe it was just a bad stroke of luck, but the staff at the terminals were the worst people to deal with. Probably ever, but certainly on this trip.
Anyway after jumping through the most absurd hoops, getting in to a ‘heated discussion’ with a staff member at Sacramento who proclaimed that he ‘ain’t gonna pull no fucking dollars out of his ass’, dismantling the bike, shoddily boxing it up, and sitting down for a 32 hour bus ride, we pulled in to Seattle. And at that exact moment I vowed never to ride the Greyhound ever again. Is that a vent? Because just writing that down felt great.
On a more positive note, Seattle was brilliant. I stayed on Emily and John’s couch for a couple of nights, who live up in the Wallingford area (they also make High Above Designs bags). It was quite a novelty to be able to leave the bike and explore the city on feet, free of the heavy weight for a while and without burden. Also, there’s a neat bike shop called Recycled Cycles who did a stellar job servicing the stead.
Numerous people in Seattle suggested avoiding the mainly-urban mainland route up into Canada, and taking the ferry-hopping San Juan Islands route instead. It was great advice. From Seattle it was a quick hop over to Bainbridge Island and an amazing bivvy overlooking the downtown Seattle skyline.
The ferry hopping and island riding was in some jaw dropping areas. Hopping a couple of states means that the geography has changed significantly, and now it’s very much a snow-topped and serious-looking mountain landscape. It’s the first indication of the remote nature that’s to come over the next couple of months.
After several ferries and some awesome riding, I boarded the ferry which would mark the end of the US section of the trip (for now). Getting on at Friday Harbor on San Juan Island, and docking in Sidney, BC a couple of hours later. I always find border crossings a little intimidating, until that wonderful stamp hits the passport and puts ink on the page. Welcome to Canada, eh! And breathe.
I hung out in Sidney (which is on Vancouver Island, a bit north of Victoria) for a few hours and got the last boat from there to Vancouver proper. Although where it actually drops you off is actually 40 miles from Vancouver. Damn. Maybe being in a new country acted as a catalyst, but at the stealth camp (behind a concrete bollard by the highway – luxurious) this morning I had a sort out of gear and all the unnecessary weight that has accumulated in the pannier bags over the last couple of months. There was loads, so I sent a package to a buddies house back in California, and holy smokes the bike felt great. It was lighter than ever before, and it had just been serviced. It was the best the bike has felt for months. And then two spokes snapped. Of course they did. Is that sods law? Luckily they were both non-drive side so were easy to replace on the fly.
I was lacing the new spokes in a park when a red pickup truck pulled over. It was a local couple from Richmond, Gary and Wendy. “You know you can’t cycle under that tunnel, right? You need to go back to the service station. Bikes are put on a shuttle through the tunnel.”
Several people have mentioned Canadian friendliness and generosity, but I didn’t think it’d happen so fast. Gary and Wendy ended up acting as the shuttle, we piled the bike in to the back, and drove over to their house where I could finish fixing the wheel, do laundry, take a shower, have some lunch, and all that good stuff. The first full day in Canada and the rumors are true.
It’s all go from here. A new section of the adventure begins now, it’s getting wild and that’s super exciting. Eh.
It’s been an interesting few days; Bike parts have broken. Tornadoes have been active. Mileage has been minimal. Momentum has halted.
Day 47: Fort Walton Beach to Gulf Breeze, FL (35 miles)
Boxing day morning. “Just whatever you do, make sure you don’t head West”. That’s what Sue, the motel receptionist said, as I left FWB after Christmas. Sorry Sue, west is the way to California. Unfortunately there had been reports of various tornados, thunderstorms and generally extreme weather in nearby areas.
However, the adverse conditions hit on Christmas day, and other than high winds and cold temperatures, boxing day was clear and bright, and there were no more active weather warnings.
It was the coldest day so far for sure, and into the headwind it was tough. Sometimes the roads are conducive to pleasant / not-too-stressful night riding conditions. Today was in contrast to that, and with a constant and strong headwind, night riding wasn’t on the agenda. A super short day of riding, to end up at Gulf Breeze, and a camp on the waterfront.
Day 48: Gulf Breeze, FL to Daphne, AL (56 miles)
Faffed about with the stove to cook up some breakfast on the deserted waterfront, only to find out the lighter was knackered. No cooking breakfast then.
The riding was pretty good. Quickly over the bridge from Gulf Breeze into Pensacola. And soon outside of Pensacola were the first proper hills. A decent bit of leg burn. Days like this are always stand-out days, simply because of state line crossings. There’s usually a massive sign, a lot of the times even a ‘Welcome to’ Visitor Centre. No such thing here. The state line was marked by a river, and it wasn’t obvious at all. And finally it wasn’t ‘straight generally-flat roads through the woods’.
Entering Alabama meant vast farmland and rivers. A visual change, finally. That’s a relief. And then magic hour. Alabama has topped it – the most awesome sky so far. Here’s a cheesy photo.
Pulling in to the suburbs of Daphne, now in the dark, I ended up taking a short cut on what started out as a quality clay path through the woods. Very Blair Witch. It soon turned out to be what can only be described as a downhill mountain biking trail. Gotta admit, it was a lot of fun to be off-road and to add a bit of spice to the riding. Maybe not sensible or wise, though. But fun, definitely.
After that ridiculous endeavour I camped in the least subtle place so far. Essentially on a lawn about 5 metres off the main road. It’s funny how systems work themselves out. If you pitch up late, it’s generally safe to say no-one will bother you until the morning, so if you can be packed up early, well then you’re sorted.
Day 49 & 50: Daphne, AL
Very dark clouds looming over Daphne whilst packing up the tent. And a puncture on the back wheel. Sometimes it’s easy to tell if a day on the road isn’t gonna go to plan, and this was one of those times.
I’d passed a bike shop the previous night, which was probably less than a mile away, so decided seeing as the wheel was punctured, I may as well take this opportunity to get the bottom bracket replaced as it’s been playing up and is on it’s last legs, and the rear tyre replaced as it’s now about as thin as an inner tube.
In the bike shop, it was all going so well. The staff were awesome and the shop was great. Unfortunately we noticed that the rim had a crack in it. S**T! On closer inspection, it wasn’t just one crack, it was loads. Literally covered in cracks. Now last nights off-road escapades lasted all of ten minutes, so I’m doubtful that’s the cause. Perhaps though. I think in all likelihood it’s the toll of nearly two months of heavy weight loaded over the rear wheel. In any case, there was a days delay before having access to a new rim.
Conveniently, mother nature decided to POUR down. Welcome to Alabama. So being forced out-of-action, and in close proximity to the cinema, it seemed appropriate to catch up on films. Just a hint if you’re ever planning on doing something similar and solo stealth camping most of the time: Don’t watch The Hobbit before finding a spot to camp. Gollum will put you on edge. Well done CGI.
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So not the best of days, with not much progress made, and major bike problems, but these things happen. I’m way behind anticipated schedule, and the budget has taken a solid hit because of the fix, so fingers crossed the next few days go a little smoother. It’d be nice to boost the averages, make up some ground and generally get back into the swing of it.
