Cycle Touring is great.
Here I was thinking it was going to be one of those things involving that thing I really hate (you know,
effort), but it ended up being easy-peasy. 'Course, I took a few shortcuts.
Firstly, we strapped the bikes on the car and drove to very near the ferry, parking on a side street that was about half-a-klick away. Then we rode through the car entrance, which was a little weird, and found a nice sunny bench where we could eat our delicious supper of sandwiches and surreptitious beer and watch some guy's dog try to savage a small child.
The ferry was quite late, which wasn't really a surprise as the BC Ferries gulf island service regards timetables with the sort of laid-back disdain you might expect from a bunch of Rastafarian Teamsters. So, we left around an hour late, but the sky was blue, and the islands were emerald, and the sea was indigo, and the sun was warm and the stiff breeze made the ferry's flags stand straight out, and it was impossible not to feel patriotic in such a jewel of a setting. The ship's horn sounded, a sort of cross between trodden-on-emphysematous-goose and leaky church organ, and we steamed across to Pender at some knots, and then got stuck in Sturdies Bay, waiting for another ferry to clear the docks.
While we were waiting to disembark, one of the Ferry guys came over and started asking us how far we were going, warning of Galiano's hilliness. This made me nervous. I don't like hills. Downhill's fine, but uphill and I aren't friends.
Luckily, I was already reaping the fruits of an earlier brainwave, which was to not bother to put any racks on my bicycle, nor to carry any bags with me. Where's the genius, you ask? Well, my inability to carry anything meant that Katie had to be the pack mule, or, as I thought was slightly less insulting, the sherpa.
"Come, Tenzing!" I cried as we ascended the first of several hills (which turned out not to be too bad). Then of course I fell behind and had to struggle to keep up. I don't often notice the relative disparity of fitness levels between myself and my wife, but it's fairly embarrassing to be wheezing away behind as she chugs up the hill like the Little Engine That Could. Luckily, I'm taller, so she still needs me around to reach things off of shelves. The truth of the matter is I could be easily replaced by a stool, a hot-water bottle and a cat.
Note to self: appreciate wife more. Again.
We had a lovely time with our friends, the Beavers, who are also avid cyclists, and have actually done some serious cycle touring. Canada day was perfect for a BBQ and lazing around in someone else's garden, although bouncing on the trampoline after three beers and an ice-cream is
not recommended, if you can possibly avoid it, and before we knew it, it was time to head back.
Overall, a successful weekend, and at a round-trip cost of $22 for both of us, it certainly makes nearly no sense to take a car.
Unless, that is, Katie tries to get me to buy panniers.
