Killer Bike

When I was a teenager, I went to visit my brother Trevor in Calgary. We went to an Indian buffet one day and watched a thin woman in athletic attire down three heaping plates of food in the time I ate one. Trevor is no slacker in the eating department, but even he couldn't keep up to this woman. We searched for explanations, but at the time we could not fathom how such a small and fit-looking person could consume so many calories in one sitting. Well, mystery revealed, Trevor. I'll bet good money that woman was a cyclist!

Running is physically intense, but you don't generally do it for 5 hours a day; and hiking takes you too far away from civilization to really pig out (you have to carry whatever you eat, after all). Cycling, on the other hand, is a foodie with a small appetite's dream sport. Never before have I been truly concerned that my body might simply run out of fuel. I don't normally need to eat a whole lot, but staying properly nourished on the road is serious business.  I'm not sure Trevor could even afford it.

I decided at the last minute to bring along a stove and pot set for this trip, and I think that was a good move. I'm not exactly cooking gourmet, but it's nice to have a hot dinner and tea at the end of the day. I've also been able to cook over an open fire as the campsites in the area all have grills attached to the firepits.

Also, while the islands may not have much in the way of restaurants and markets, what they do offer is generally excellent - fresh, local, organic and made with love. The best meal I've had so far was lunch on Orcas Island yesterday at Mia's Cafe. The atmosphere was as charming as the name, and the food - sweet potato curry soup and a black bean and beet burger with cous cous salad on the side - was DELCIOUS.  With friends and regulars dropping in and out to chat, the place had such a homey feeling it made me want to join the island book club and just stay put. Sooner or later one of these islands is gonna catch me...

Once again my travel diary is all about food. Of course, culinary adventures were not the only kind to be had on Orcas.  The island isn't all that big, but what it lacks in length, it makes up for in height. After riding a hilly 8 miles into town, I sipped a London fog at a cutesy cafe and braced myself for the steady climb up to Moran State Park.  The park has several trails, lakes, waterfalls etc. but the main point of attraction is Mount Constitution, the highest peak on the San Juans. The local challenge, said the park officer, is to bike to the summit in the same number of minutes as your age (hardly fair for a ten year old!). Apparently a 17-year old and a 90 year-old have both done it.

I couldn't believe anybody expected me to bike any more uphill, let alone up a mountain. Unfortunately I have a hard time backing down from a challenge, and after an hour of setting up camp and chatting with the neighbours (more about them later) I was refreshed and ready to tackle the beast.

And beast it was. Holy crap.  I pumped up that mountain in my lowest gear, cardio system in overdrive, like my life depended on it. About 20 minutes in, I began to feel faint. This was a problem. Not in that I didn't have food, but that I was afraid to stop.  Earlier in the day I had discovered that starting uphill on a bike with clipless pedals is nearly impossible. I pined for the sesame snap just out of reach in my handlebar bag, but forged ahead. My heart sunk at the sight of every switch back above me. Obscenities would have flowed from me had I had enough breath to shout them. Finally, after 35 of the most grueling minutes of my life, I saw one of the park signs ahead. "Yes! Finally, I made it!"

I couldn't believe my eyes. "Little Summit," the sign said. Little? As in, the first, lower peak?
Am I really that old?

 At this point it was getting on in the day, and extreme exhaustion combined with my increasing terror at the thought of riding back down the mountain knocked some sense into me. I set out along the trail, hoping to see the viewpoint from Little Summit before heading back down.

 And then I ran into Iris and Jeff from Philadelphia. Iris with her New York accent and boldness of opinion was a carbon copy of my Aunt Margaret in voice and mannerism. Their luxury style of travel and incredulity at what I was doing felt strangely familiar. In the end, they offered to put my bike in their rental car and drive me the rest of the way up, and then back down, the mountain. (I quickly realized that I was in fact not far from the summit. Too bad!) The view from the top was truly astounding. Mount Baker, Mount Reiner, the Cascades, Vancouver, Victoria, Seattle, and the San Juans were all visible, though nobody could quite agree on what was what.

 Unfortunately, when I replaced my wheel at the bottom of the hill, my brakes went a little wonky.  This was nothing new, and I knew I could fix it with a little tinkering, but poor Jeff and Iris were quite concerned. Eventually I convinced them to let me go and work on it in camp while they got on with their vacation (funny how worried people can be more of an obstruction than a help sometimes).  I walked away with Iris still beckoning behind me, offering me bananas.

Back in camp and free of pressure, I was able to fix the problem in no time.  Later I shared a fire with Adam and Sarah, a couple from Toronto who I had met earlier in the day. It turned out that Adam was from Victoria and Sarah was from...you guessed it! London, Ontario. I guess we all end up on the West Coast...In any case, they were super friendly and gave me some great tips for Lopez Island. Jerry and Veronica had also recommended a visit to Lopez, so I decided to make an extra San Juan stop, despite the fact that the island was glossed over in my guidebook.

Yesterday morning, after an early breakfast I hiked to a nearby waterfall and back around to Cascade Lake for a glorious swim (I was feeling pretty sticky).  I came back to the campsite to pack up just as Sarah and Adam were setting out to hike Mount Constitution (smart move).

The downhill roll back into town would have been good fun but for a strange clicking noise that gained volume every time I gained speed. This led me to stop at every turnout to remove/readjust something on my bike in hopes of fixing the problem, with no luck.  I headed to the bike shop in town and discovered that my front hub needed readjusting. The guy working there was very knowledgeable and a good sport about letting me pick his brain in an attempt to become slightly more handy.  The hub adjustment did the trick, and after lunch at Mia's I was back on my way to catch the 3pm ferry over to Lopez.

Will have to save the Tour de Lopez for my next post, as I need to grab my stuff in camp and catch another ferry. Here's hoping my clothes are dry...

 Love,

Dana