Tuesday June 27, 2006

Spencer Bridge
Distance: 144km
Temperature 46 degrees

Very tired this evening-had a hell of a ride in oppressive 46 degree heat (measured on route by one of the Ozzi’s bike mounted thermometer.

We knew it was going to be a scorcher when we left at 7:30 this morning with warm air already swirling around our legs as we set off.
We’re very slow to get going in the morning, as we were the last to leave, before the galley crew who has to clean everything up before heading out.

Again, we rode beside and towards mountains that were cloaked in an early morning blue mist which seemed to evaporate near mid-morning.
The geography of the ride was noticeably different, as although it started off lush and green, the landscape gradually changed to a dryer, craggy-rock.
Our ride started off with a glorious descent, that had us wind through various canyons.
To get through the mountains, they have blasted through the rock, resulting in numerous, nerve wracking tunnels-seven of which we had to go through today; ranging up to about 600 meters in length.

For much of the early morning ride the only sound we heard was the wind in our ears, occasionally interrupted by a nearby train’s whistle echoing through the canyons.
As the day progressed, so did the traffic, which got pretty hairy in parts; most of the ride was on the Trans-Canada Highway, which hosts most of the massive logging trucks, and other ‘road trains;’ some were considerate and gave us room, but some didn’t seem to acknowledge our presence.
Since we’re riding in such remote areas these trucks are moving massive amounts of everything imaginable to far away places, often in a big rush to get there.

Usually there is a shoulder on which one can ride, but sometimes the shoulder has partially eroded, or is too full of road debris for us to ride on, forcing us onto the road where often it is a single lane.
A couple of times today I thought it was curtains as one of these trucks came screaming by; we could always tell they were coming by the high pitched whine of the engine, but judging the distance away wasn’t always easy.

The temperature kept climbing, hitting the 30’s by 10:30am.
Since we were in canyon country the climbs were very long 2-3 km, with spectacular descents-although sometimes the wind was blowing in our faces, ripping us off of our prized high-speed descents.
Cycling is a lot like investing, usually whatever you invest in (a hill climb) is rewarded with a downhill, however, much like investing sometimes the markets don’t work according to the plan and you end up losing out-that is how it felt today-not all of our work paid off.
Lewis and I kept thinking that our brakes were rubbing on our tires, or that we’d gotten a flat tire, as we were pedaling and pedaling, and didn’t feel like we were moving.

One climb; Jack-ass pass was a long 3 km climb, with the heat was bearing down on us, almost as if weighted-- the black asphalt although smooth, acts like a mirror and just throws the heat right back up at you, so you’re getting the oppressive heat from all angles.
I felt like I was in an oven; that blast of hot air you get when opening an oven door is the sensation I had all over me-near the top of the climb I was feeling quite dizzy and disorientated, and I was out of water.
Luckily this climb did pay back with a nice descent, although not quite long enough.

We stopped at Hell’s Gate (on the Fraser River) and took a cable-car across the gorge (a bit of a rip off) where we raided the café’s free sample offerings of smoked salmon and bannock.
I feigned interest in the bannock, commenting that bannock is from Newfoundland, so that I could have a second sampling to confirm my suspicions of its origins-- although I think the kid was onto my plan.
It was there we learned that a recently drowned cow had just gone by, I’m glad I missed that, but it is apparently a common occurrence, as there are cows up stream.
Apparently they don’t swim too good-the poor buggers.
Some good news was posted from 1996 when a blind cow survived the white water, and made local news.
Apparently the volume of water surging through Hell’s Gate kicks Niagara Fall’s ass.

At about this point, the scenery started to change quite dramatically; although we were riding beside the Fraser River, the landscape was noticeably starting to lose its treed quality, and was replaced by a very dry, rocky, desert like terrain.
The feeling of isolation again intensified, especially since we came through very few towns (the one town we passed through is a one-road town, with some very odd neglected stores.)
There didn’t seem to be much going on, but they did have an RCMP station, which is odd, as I can’t imagine what for.)
We briefly stopped to see where the Thompson and Fraser rivers converge, but couldn’t stay too long, as I could literally feel myself cooking.

I have developed a charming heat rash, mixed in with the symphony of bugs bites; mozzies have been having feeding frenzies on our group-securing the future generations of mozzies to come.
Lewis’ right leg is noticeably more chewed that his left, not sure why-maybe it’s a light meat/dark meat thing-me they don’t seem to mind. I think I have bites on top of bites, making me look like a join-the-dots map.
I think if I look closely enough I can see Orion on my leg.

The rest of the ride was a blur, as I seriously think I was starting to suffer from heat stroke, the rash on my legs looked angrier, and I was starting to hallucinate and see things-I swear I saw Mrs. Jerrett from The Facts of Life on the side of the road at some point.
After what seemed an endless ride in this oppressive heat we eventually arrived at our Shangri-La campsite ay 3:30 (second ones’ in, not that it’s a race, plus they left way earlier than us-but anyhow, who’s counting?), where we briefly rested, only to have to start preparing dinner for 29 hungry people (we picked up a straggler.)
Our galley crew consists of 4 people, however one of our members rolled into camp at 9:30pm, and the other one made the salad and buggered off, leaving Lewis and I to do the work.
A team meeting is definitely in order; we’re on breakfast tomorrow morning too, so we’re earlier to rise.

We’re staying beside the train tracks, so every hour or so a train come barreling through our camp site-I hope my earplugs are train-proof.
Ok, off to slather myself in goop to take away the incessant itching.

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