That night was a weird one because firstly I went to bed pissed off and uspet about what the people at the van park obviously thought of me but also because of the gazillion bugs that had made their way into my tent during my absence.The little buggers weren't all that agressive nor were trying to eat me alive but man were they annoying,crawling all over me they way they were.It seems that the mesh of my tent was just a little too widely spaced to keep the little critters out and they came and went as they pleased.To combat the situation all I could do was put on my tights,long sleeve top,balaclava and gloves which left nothing uncovered and the bugs no longer a worry.
The next morning I was all psyched to get going and at 6:30am I was in the restaurant having a coffee and studying the map of the route that would take me the 130 kilometers to Watson Lake by just after mid-day that day.I swallowed my coffee,said my goodbyes to the folks at the lodge and rolled out into the fog that was shrouding the mountains around me.Not to worry though as it wasn't that thick and it did show promise of breaking up in the not too distant future.
I quickly climbed the only hill I had to face that morning and began the long descent down the other side of the great divide.At this rate I would be in Watson Lake by lunch and my mood was brightening morre every minute.I sped through the first 18 kilometers like it was nothing and reached Racheria Lodge around 7:45 am but that was all for nothing as the familiar feeling under my saddle hit me again.The unmistakeable rumble of a tyre without any air.Damn!!I pulled over and slowy rode the short few hundred meters through past the campground entrance and on to the restaurant and stopped to survey the wheel.First though it was inside for a take out coffee to get me through the wheel fixing process.Can't keep a devout addict down!
I changed the tube and patched the old one but it became obvious that these tubes were all pretty much shot and any more punctures and it would be all over red rover until I bought some new ones and finally figured out what was wrong.It didn't take long to change the tyre and drink my coffee and I was soon off again riding along the gradual downhill that follows the Rancheria River towards Watson Lake.It was a great ride and the kilometers were ticking along nicely for the next two hours until the inevitable happened,yet another flat.That was it,I was done!There was no point going on like this and so I stuck the thumb out and started hitching.
I stood on the side of the highway for about ninety minutes before someone pulled over but the problem was he was going in the wrong direction.The good thing was that he was the roadworker that I had met a few days earlier when my trouble with my tyres had just begun.It had started to rain and although he wasn't going to Watson lake he would take me back to Rancheria Lodge where I would at least have shelter and a chance at a ride.I gave up and agreed and so by lunch I was back where I was around breakfast time.This time,there was no choice,I needed a ride.
I went into the lodge and ordered some lunch and then went about making enquiries about rides to Watson Lake.The general consesus was that I had little chance of hitching in this weather but I was determined and after lunch headed out onto the highway and tried my luck.After an hour or so I went back inside to get out of the rain and the lodge co-owner Linda asked me if I wanted a room for the night.After spending the last week camping in the rain I said yes and she gave me some keys and showed me to my room.I asked her what the rate was and she smiled and said we have special rates for some cyclists and told me to worry about that in the morning.The first thing I did was have a nice long,hot bath.It was bliss!!
After handwashing all my bike gear and hanging it up near the radiator I went over to the lounge and set up my laptop and got to work again on my blog ( this bloody thing takes work folks!!!!).I uploaded a bunch of photo's to Facebook and wrote some more of my blog before the guys from around the lodge stopped work for the day.They bought me a beer and we started chatting away about my trip and what it was like riding the ALCAN.Pretty soon we were joined by a trucker and two young backpackers who he had picked up at Laird Hot Springs erlier that day.Our little group grew and so did the laughter as we all solved the worlds problems one by one.The classic was when a girl from the National Census Dept came in and aske for Dennis the lodge owner and Lindas'husband,he pointed straight at me and said "that is Dennis".She laughed and said,"I know that isn't Dennis"and turned her attention back to him."If you know that he isn't Dennis" he barked " and you obviously know that I am then why don't you fill out the damn form yourself?" and then it went all to hell.The poor girl didn't know what hit her after he launched into a tirade about government watchdogs and big brother and all that,I thought it was pretty funny as some of the stuff he was coming out with was so backward that I figured he must play the banjo with his brothers by the river in his spare time.Holy cow he was a hillbilly but a damn funny one.
The census girl gave up and told him that it was compulsory for him to fill it in and that someone would be back again and again until he did and with that she left.He looked at me and asked if I thought he had been too harsh and I said "Mate, you could at least have given her a drink for her trouble"and he asked "why would I give her a drink?"to which I simply replied "because the beers would taste a damn sight better if we were drinking them with a cute chick like her around than having nothing but your ugly mugs to look at".The rest of the guys fell apart laughing and Dennis got me a beer from the fridge and handed it to me saying "man I gotta get me down to Australia!"It was a classic evening with some very funny,uncomplicated,hardworking people and I loved hanging out with them,even if it was only for a couple of hours.These days though, three or four beers is a big night so it was off to the room for me.A nice warm bed and twenty satellite movie channels were waiting.
The next morning it was off up the highway for a quick run and a reminder that my knee was still trashed before heading back for a hot bath followed by a coffee.Linda told me that I might as well catch the bus and I agreed.I did some calculations and with the help of Yahoo Maps decided that as time was running out and that I would catch the bus to Dawson Creek which would leave me only 780 kilometers to ride between the 19th and the 25th which would mean three full days off before being picked up by my crew in Lake Louise on the 28th and driven to Penticton.No worries,so I called Greyhound and confirmed that they would be stopping that afternoon around 5:55 and that they would have no problems with my bike.Excellent,so now it was back to my room to pack and sneak another movie in before checkout.
At around noon I emerged from my room and continued with some blogging and had some lunch afterwhich I wanted to settle my tab with Linda,Shhe charged me the full price for lunch but when I asked about the room she just wondered out loud to herself "Mmm,how much should we charge you? How about $20?".I was stunned!The rack rate for her rooms is $80 but she just told me not to worry and that it was her plaesure.Man what could I say but "thank you so much".Country kindness at it's very best!!
I went back into the lounge and within ten minutes who should I see walk throught the restaurant doors but old Jack himself looking just a little bit trimmer than I had seen him last,over 800 kilometers before.I got stariaght up and gave him a big hug and told him to join me in the lounge while I waited to hop the bus out of there.He did just that and we caught up on all the gossip of each others trips and just as we thought we couldn't talk about the road anymore two young German cyclists walked through the door to join us.This young couple knew Jack and had met some of the others down the road and surprisingly had heard aout me as well.We passed the next couple of hours chatting and drinking beer that Jack kindly bought and all the while I kept my eye on my watch.Linda had tld me that the bus would stop and that they drivers used this place as a smoke break stop but I was concerned after my last bus stranding incident and went outside to watch the highway for the approaching coach.I saw it alright,I saw it as it drove straight past the lodge,straight past me and straight down the highway towards Watson Lake.You have to be fucking kidding me,I was stuck again!!
Monday, July 18, 2011
On top of the Great Divide..
The rest of that evening at the Great Divide Lodge was spent socialising,waiting for a chance to have a hot shower and watching the boys cook themselves some dinner.One major event on the schedule though was the unofficial Great Divide Beach Volleyball Championships which was played with so much gusto that it rendered our nice hot, cleansing showers totally useless.Sadly for us the beach part of the volleyball court had closer resemblance to a dustbowl than that of Copacabana Beach but no matter we sacrificed cleanliness for the cause.The dust and dirt got in eveything and I even had to retire one pair of my beloved Injinji toe socks to the garbage as they were now well beyond anything close to hygenic rescue.
That nights sleep was pleasant and warmer than the last few but it was the sound of raindrops on my tarp that made me wonder just how far I would get that day.I woke at my usual 4am and promptly went back to sleep for another two hours while I waited for the weather to make up its mind.At 6am I emerged from nylon cocoon and went of a walk run along the highway to fill in the time until the restaurant opened and I could have my coffee fix for the morning.At 7am I was sat firmly at a table in the restaurant full of amusement at the firemaking skills of one of the girls who worked there.I watched her load a few big logs into the large potbelly stove sitting to one side of the room and wondered how she was going to light the damned thing without and paper or kindling.She soon solved that mystery when she left the room and came back holding a propane tank with a huge blowtorch attached.One flick of the ligher and away she went,those logs were toast."Instant Indian" she said and laughed as she walked away with the fire blazing behind her..
As the morning wore on the cyclists joined me in dribs and drabs until around 11am when the room was full of chilled cyclotourists escaping the dreadfull weather that had presented itself to us.I knew there was no bloody way I was going out in that squall and my decision was set in stone when the two Swiss,the Greman couple and English Brian rode up to the lodge and joined us looking like drowned rats.The mood among the toasty warm rabble who had camped that night with me turned to a sad resignation that they were in for a shitty day out on the highway and one by one the herd thinned in the restaurant as each individual and then each group summoned the courage to face the worst weather I'd seen on this trip.
I sat in the restaurant for most of the day chatting and writing in my blog and then set about doing some more research into the offending rear wheel that had caused me so much trouble.For the life of me I couldn't work it out but I had four tubes hanging on a tree that were now fully inflated and ready for service as well as the one in the rear tyre that was holding firm to the touch.Now maybe all would be well and I would be in Watson Lake at the end of the next day in time to catch up to the guys in front of me.In two days they would make their turn down the Cassiar Hwy and away from my chosen path which was down the ALCAN down to Dawson Creek,chances are I would never see any of them again after that.
One sad and frustrating turn of events happened during my stay on the second night at Continental Divide.After fixing my wheel I set about making a nice warm fire and was taking some photos when a young girl of about ten years approached the community woodpile that was very close to where I was camped and as soon as she said hello to me her mother called her away.The same thing happened with the young daughter of a guy camping nearby and again with two boys who were playing in the campground area where I was camped alone.I thought,what the hell is wrong with me?I know those of you who ae parents will say that they were being protective but really,am I guilty until proven innocent just because I am male?That is just not fair!Would the same assumption be made of me if I were female or as part of a couple or a group?It is just bullshit and something that I really hate as it has happened to me a few times before.I know it shouldn't bother me but it just does and it really gets to me every time.As a result I went to bed feeling very down and dejected and a shadow had been cast over what was otherwise a pretty great day..
That nights sleep was pleasant and warmer than the last few but it was the sound of raindrops on my tarp that made me wonder just how far I would get that day.I woke at my usual 4am and promptly went back to sleep for another two hours while I waited for the weather to make up its mind.At 6am I emerged from nylon cocoon and went of a walk run along the highway to fill in the time until the restaurant opened and I could have my coffee fix for the morning.At 7am I was sat firmly at a table in the restaurant full of amusement at the firemaking skills of one of the girls who worked there.I watched her load a few big logs into the large potbelly stove sitting to one side of the room and wondered how she was going to light the damned thing without and paper or kindling.She soon solved that mystery when she left the room and came back holding a propane tank with a huge blowtorch attached.One flick of the ligher and away she went,those logs were toast."Instant Indian" she said and laughed as she walked away with the fire blazing behind her..
As the morning wore on the cyclists joined me in dribs and drabs until around 11am when the room was full of chilled cyclotourists escaping the dreadfull weather that had presented itself to us.I knew there was no bloody way I was going out in that squall and my decision was set in stone when the two Swiss,the Greman couple and English Brian rode up to the lodge and joined us looking like drowned rats.The mood among the toasty warm rabble who had camped that night with me turned to a sad resignation that they were in for a shitty day out on the highway and one by one the herd thinned in the restaurant as each individual and then each group summoned the courage to face the worst weather I'd seen on this trip.
I sat in the restaurant for most of the day chatting and writing in my blog and then set about doing some more research into the offending rear wheel that had caused me so much trouble.For the life of me I couldn't work it out but I had four tubes hanging on a tree that were now fully inflated and ready for service as well as the one in the rear tyre that was holding firm to the touch.Now maybe all would be well and I would be in Watson Lake at the end of the next day in time to catch up to the guys in front of me.In two days they would make their turn down the Cassiar Hwy and away from my chosen path which was down the ALCAN down to Dawson Creek,chances are I would never see any of them again after that.
One sad and frustrating turn of events happened during my stay on the second night at Continental Divide.After fixing my wheel I set about making a nice warm fire and was taking some photos when a young girl of about ten years approached the community woodpile that was very close to where I was camped and as soon as she said hello to me her mother called her away.The same thing happened with the young daughter of a guy camping nearby and again with two boys who were playing in the campground area where I was camped alone.I thought,what the hell is wrong with me?I know those of you who ae parents will say that they were being protective but really,am I guilty until proven innocent just because I am male?That is just not fair!Would the same assumption be made of me if I were female or as part of a couple or a group?It is just bullshit and something that I really hate as it has happened to me a few times before.I know it shouldn't bother me but it just does and it really gets to me every time.As a result I went to bed feeling very down and dejected and a shadow had been cast over what was otherwise a pretty great day..
A very frustrating day to the Divide!!
I awoke the next morning dawned to blues skies above and a bright sun shining through the thin mist hovering above the lake.There was a distict smell of smoke in the air and off into the distant west I could see a plume of smoke rising from the lakeside forest.I was in no doubt that the fire had been started by the previous nights storm and my guess was confimed by the assembled mass of firefighting humanity that jammed the motel restaurant.The place was overflowing with tired looking men dressed in fithy,ash-stained overalls ravenously inhaling anything edible that was placed in front of them.The placed smelled like an old untened hearth and I could almost taste the charcoal in the air.
It turns out that these men had just ended a shift quelling one of the many fires that had started overnight and were having a well earned breakfast break before heading out to contain the fire that I could see across the lake from town.It would be another full days work in the woods until they were expected to be done and back working again at their real jobs but for the moment their lives were on hold until the danger was past.It was very cool to see these guys just dropping everything for the sake of the town and equally cool to see how the appreciation the management and staff had for these ordinary guys who were just doing what needed to be done.I felt kind of small and insignificant comapred to these guys and envied the sense of community that they had.
Once they firefighters had left in their convoy of trucks I sat down to breakfast and watched the remaining minutes of that days stage of the Tour de Fance before going back to my camp to see how eveything was drying out.Really all I needed to worry about was my tarp and some clothes but it gave me a chance to do some work on my bike and get it ready for the 140 kilometer day that I had planned.It was my intention to ride up and over the Great Divide and camp that night at Racheria Creek Lodge which would leave me an easy 120 kilometers to ride the next morning to Watson Lake.This was kind of the plan I had heard from the others already further down the road so I was hoping that we would all end up in the same place together.
The Korean was the first out of the starting blocks that day followed by John then myself and the Swiss.For me it was a chance to have some fun and try to catch those guys who had camped further up the road.I figured that it would be a pretty easy task and catching John easily after the first long climb out of Teslin showed me that my riding was getting stronger,my bike however had other ideas.Almost as soon as I passed john I got my first flat of the day.He stopped to help but I waived him on telling him that I would be fine and went about fixing the offending tyre.With the tyre fixed I was off again,in hot pursuit of the peleton I felt was riding up the road before me.
The next hour or so passed without incident but I was wondering where John was.I was riding very hard and fast and hadn't seen him at all which I though odd.Before I could come up with a plausible reason.I saw,climbing a hill ahead of me,four cyclists.They were lumbering up the steep hill like a quartet of small elephants,totally loaded down and wobbling in an ungainly manner up the road.I caught up to them very quickly and sat up for a chat as I passed first the young German couple and then Brian.Just as I told them I would meet them at the top my tyre blew for the second time.Damn!!
The three cyclists all stopped and chatted while I unhitched my trailer and took my rear wheel off.They told me that th Korean was just ahead and I said that I would be fine and that they should ride on and I'd see them a little later on.With that they wished me well and I went about fixing my tyre,again.
Back on the road again I made great time and was soon wondering where everyone was.I had not passed the Greman nor the Englishman Brian but was now closing fast on a very tired looking Korean.I blew by him with a wave and soon passed a sign that told me I was crossing into British Columbia.I knew we would duck into BC for a few kilometers that day and knew exactly where I was and even with my two flats was looking forward to maing it to Rancheria Creek by around 3pm.That was until my third flat.
I was getting pretty frustrated by this time as the flats were not caused by road debris but by something wrong with my wheels rim.All the punctures were on the underside of the tubes and for the life of me I could not find the cause.I laid new tape on the inside of the rim and put in a new tube hopefull that the problems were done for the day but about two kilometers up the road it happend again.This time I pulled completely off the side of the highway and went about overhauling my rear wheel and having a little tyre patching party on the side of the road.It was at that stage that Pierre passed me and asked if I was okay.He told me that everyone was behind me and that they were al thinking of stopping at Continental Divide due to the late start.I said I'd meet him there and off he went while I finished my repair duties.
On the road again and I was a happy for about twenty minutes when my fourth flat of the day stopped me.I repeated the process and then a further four kilometers away a fifth and then a sixth.By this time I'd had enough and stopped for a late lunch during which time the Mexicans and Andy passed me.During repairs to my seventh flat,the Korean and old John passed me and I was at the point of no loner caring about the flats,it was too much of a joke.I hung out,ate some food,chatted to a nice roadworker who stopped to see if I was okay and generally killed time walking around in the woods.I had to get going though and thankfully I found a tyre that would hold.I pushed hard those next thirty kilometers and started passing everyone again until I met up with a couple of the guys at Swift River who convinced me to keep riding until Continental Divide.I didn't want to ride anymore as the day had drained the enthusiasm out of me but hey insisted and I'm glad they did.The next 20 kilometers flew by and before I knew it I was rolling up to The Continental Divide Lodge to greet the three Mexicans who had arrived before me.This was it for the day,time to make camp.
First though I needed to eat and quickly went into the restaurant to order with five minute to spare before closing.I was given an awesome beef stew which lasted all of one minute before downing a very cold can of ginger ale which topped me off nicely.The lady in the restaurant could not believe how quickly I finished dinner but what I couldn't belive was that when I went outside to ride my bike over to the camping area I found waiting for me yet another flat tyre...WTF!!!
It turns out that these men had just ended a shift quelling one of the many fires that had started overnight and were having a well earned breakfast break before heading out to contain the fire that I could see across the lake from town.It would be another full days work in the woods until they were expected to be done and back working again at their real jobs but for the moment their lives were on hold until the danger was past.It was very cool to see these guys just dropping everything for the sake of the town and equally cool to see how the appreciation the management and staff had for these ordinary guys who were just doing what needed to be done.I felt kind of small and insignificant comapred to these guys and envied the sense of community that they had.
Once they firefighters had left in their convoy of trucks I sat down to breakfast and watched the remaining minutes of that days stage of the Tour de Fance before going back to my camp to see how eveything was drying out.Really all I needed to worry about was my tarp and some clothes but it gave me a chance to do some work on my bike and get it ready for the 140 kilometer day that I had planned.It was my intention to ride up and over the Great Divide and camp that night at Racheria Creek Lodge which would leave me an easy 120 kilometers to ride the next morning to Watson Lake.This was kind of the plan I had heard from the others already further down the road so I was hoping that we would all end up in the same place together.
The Korean was the first out of the starting blocks that day followed by John then myself and the Swiss.For me it was a chance to have some fun and try to catch those guys who had camped further up the road.I figured that it would be a pretty easy task and catching John easily after the first long climb out of Teslin showed me that my riding was getting stronger,my bike however had other ideas.Almost as soon as I passed john I got my first flat of the day.He stopped to help but I waived him on telling him that I would be fine and went about fixing the offending tyre.With the tyre fixed I was off again,in hot pursuit of the peleton I felt was riding up the road before me.
The next hour or so passed without incident but I was wondering where John was.I was riding very hard and fast and hadn't seen him at all which I though odd.Before I could come up with a plausible reason.I saw,climbing a hill ahead of me,four cyclists.They were lumbering up the steep hill like a quartet of small elephants,totally loaded down and wobbling in an ungainly manner up the road.I caught up to them very quickly and sat up for a chat as I passed first the young German couple and then Brian.Just as I told them I would meet them at the top my tyre blew for the second time.Damn!!
The three cyclists all stopped and chatted while I unhitched my trailer and took my rear wheel off.They told me that th Korean was just ahead and I said that I would be fine and that they should ride on and I'd see them a little later on.With that they wished me well and I went about fixing my tyre,again.
Back on the road again I made great time and was soon wondering where everyone was.I had not passed the Greman nor the Englishman Brian but was now closing fast on a very tired looking Korean.I blew by him with a wave and soon passed a sign that told me I was crossing into British Columbia.I knew we would duck into BC for a few kilometers that day and knew exactly where I was and even with my two flats was looking forward to maing it to Rancheria Creek by around 3pm.That was until my third flat.
I was getting pretty frustrated by this time as the flats were not caused by road debris but by something wrong with my wheels rim.All the punctures were on the underside of the tubes and for the life of me I could not find the cause.I laid new tape on the inside of the rim and put in a new tube hopefull that the problems were done for the day but about two kilometers up the road it happend again.This time I pulled completely off the side of the highway and went about overhauling my rear wheel and having a little tyre patching party on the side of the road.It was at that stage that Pierre passed me and asked if I was okay.He told me that everyone was behind me and that they were al thinking of stopping at Continental Divide due to the late start.I said I'd meet him there and off he went while I finished my repair duties.
On the road again and I was a happy for about twenty minutes when my fourth flat of the day stopped me.I repeated the process and then a further four kilometers away a fifth and then a sixth.By this time I'd had enough and stopped for a late lunch during which time the Mexicans and Andy passed me.During repairs to my seventh flat,the Korean and old John passed me and I was at the point of no loner caring about the flats,it was too much of a joke.I hung out,ate some food,chatted to a nice roadworker who stopped to see if I was okay and generally killed time walking around in the woods.I had to get going though and thankfully I found a tyre that would hold.I pushed hard those next thirty kilometers and started passing everyone again until I met up with a couple of the guys at Swift River who convinced me to keep riding until Continental Divide.I didn't want to ride anymore as the day had drained the enthusiasm out of me but hey insisted and I'm glad they did.The next 20 kilometers flew by and before I knew it I was rolling up to The Continental Divide Lodge to greet the three Mexicans who had arrived before me.This was it for the day,time to make camp.
First though I needed to eat and quickly went into the restaurant to order with five minute to spare before closing.I was given an awesome beef stew which lasted all of one minute before downing a very cold can of ginger ale which topped me off nicely.The lady in the restaurant could not believe how quickly I finished dinner but what I couldn't belive was that when I went outside to ride my bike over to the camping area I found waiting for me yet another flat tyre...WTF!!!
In good company..
I managed to keep away from the early morning beer in the lounge fridge and drowned my sorrows in copious amount of coffee instead.I really didn't know what I was going to do for the day as I was still feeling a bit down but that soon changed.After spending time doing the rounds of the social media circles I grabbed all my gear and walked outside into the mid-morning heat.That's right I said heat.Finally!
The heat wasn't what changed my mood though,it was seeing a familiar face sitting at a table on the motels' verandah.It was Andy,one of the cyclists whom I had met in Beaver Creek some six hundred kilometers earlier.I was amazed that we had bumped into each other again and even more amazed when he told me that the rest of the guys would be along at some stage in the next little while.I sat with him and we chatted enthusiastically about each others trips and he filled me in on what the others were up to and what they were planning to do for the next few days.He was originally planning to leave straight away and camp alone but as the cyclists arrived one by one the group spirit took hold and he decided to hang out and find out what everyone wanted to do that night.For me it was just the tonic I needed to lift me out of my funk and get me smiling and happy with life.
Someone asked me recently if I was on any medication for my depression and I replied that no I wasn't and that the best medication for me was for me to be around friends or people who were positive and happy.Well this situation proved exactly that.One moment I was sitting alone in a motel lounge exchanging pleasantries with the passing crowd, hating the fact that I didn't have anyone to share this trip with and then suddenly I'm surrounded by a group of guys who were,so happy,so positive and most importantly happy to see me.As stupid as it sounds,I felt like I was part of something again.
These are the kinds of weird feelings that wash through me from time to time.It is like a tide of irrational emotions that ebb and flow through my head at regular intervals but with different depths and varying intensities.It is the feeling that I don't belong or that I don't matter to those who matter to me that leaves me feeling that I an living a disjointed life.Like all the other irrational thoughts that,from time to time, creep in to cloud actual reality,they are fleeting and common sense eventually prevails.I know others have experienced this as well as I have discussed it at length and figured out that one of the main reasons we tend to feel alone or ignored or abandoned by those who are important to us is that we obsess about it.While everyone else is out living their lives,working, looking after families and going through the day to day drudgeries of life we tend to wonder why nobody is calling,why nobody is knocking on the door,why nobody cares.The fact is that for the most part,they do care,it is just that they can't be "care-givers" twenty-four hours a day.We need to understand the huge toll that helping people through depression can take on those friends who try to undestand but can't.We need to understand how much our affliction can negatively affect others and we need to honour those who are there trying to help us by trying to help ourselves as well.We need to give back to them.We owe them that and that is why I try to give so much of myself to others so openly.It is my way of saying thank you but in all honesty I think the sentiment is lost on most.What can you do?
Sitting in the dry,blazing heat watching the happily wearly travellers peddle their way back into my life was something that was not lost on me.I realised that I so needed to be around people who were interested in being adventurous and fun and happy with life.It kept me interested in life as well it made me want to share mine with others.It made me want to carry on.
As the group grew over the passing hour or so I saw that there were some new additions and found out that there was Phillipe, a French guy,two Swiss guys(whose names sadly escape me) and one remarkable old guy from Victoria, BC who was fast becoming something of a legend on the Alaska highway,he was 71 year old John Crouch.When he rolled up to the motel I,at first, thought what is this old guy doing out here,but then I saw his shirt and realised he was on an awareness raising ride for Parkinsons disease.I thought,good on him and then spent the next little while checking out his bike,which is pretty much the first thing any of us does when we meet a new cyclist on the road.While I was doing that the rest of the group were decideing what they were going to do and were they were going to stay for the night.I had already paid for another night at the campground and John,the Swiss and the Korean decided to join me.The Mexican foursome and Andy decided that they would ride on further up the highway to join Phillipe who had already left to find the next government campground some 16 kilometers away.The young German couple and English Brian decided not to pay for camping but didn't want to ride any further so instead opted to bandit camp(or rough camp) in a small park on the other side of the bridge leading out of town.I knew that I could catch all of the guys heading out of town so I didn't say my goodbyes but as they left intheir groups just said "I'll see you out there tomorrow."It felt great to be part of the group again.
That evening I sat again at my little lounge table and tried to catch up with my blog and social correspondence on Facebook.I ordered a beer and chatted to some of the locals before spying the four cyclists who had stayed in town for the night.They grabbed a table across the lounge from me and drank beer while swapping stories of the road and life in general.The Swiss and the Korean sat entranced as old John passed on the wisdom of the ages,regalling them with countless tales of a life well lived and amazing them with his feats of apparently ageless athleticism.I packed up my computer and moved over to join them and it wasn't long before John and I realised that we had quite a lot in common.He,like me,was a keen triathlete and had participated in the Ironman Canada triathlon in Penticton and upon further discussion,was coincidently friends with a number of my triathlon buddies in that town.I further learned,once he opened up the full page write-up in the local Yukon newspaper,that he was also a past World Duathon Champion for his age group.I thought that was awesome and we got along famously.
It was a fun night drinking a few beers and talking tall tales with people from four separate continents but as always all good things must come to an end and we were soon cast out of the lounge and out into what we surpirsingly found to be the wildest of weather.While we were inside a huge storm front had moved in and the rain was dumping down in volumes.Luckily for me I had already covered my tent and gear with my big tarp but the other were not so lucky and after the deluge had subsided had found their tents swamped by the flooded campground.There wasnt too much damage done but we all knew there would be no early departure the next day.There would be some serious drying out to be done first.
I wandered around for a while taking pictures post flood and sometime soon after midnight crawled into my little dry oasis in the drenched campground.I had never slept on a campground waterbed before and thanked the lord for the highwalled plastic floor that came standárd in my cheap-ass $20 Mexican Walmart tent.
The heat wasn't what changed my mood though,it was seeing a familiar face sitting at a table on the motels' verandah.It was Andy,one of the cyclists whom I had met in Beaver Creek some six hundred kilometers earlier.I was amazed that we had bumped into each other again and even more amazed when he told me that the rest of the guys would be along at some stage in the next little while.I sat with him and we chatted enthusiastically about each others trips and he filled me in on what the others were up to and what they were planning to do for the next few days.He was originally planning to leave straight away and camp alone but as the cyclists arrived one by one the group spirit took hold and he decided to hang out and find out what everyone wanted to do that night.For me it was just the tonic I needed to lift me out of my funk and get me smiling and happy with life.
Someone asked me recently if I was on any medication for my depression and I replied that no I wasn't and that the best medication for me was for me to be around friends or people who were positive and happy.Well this situation proved exactly that.One moment I was sitting alone in a motel lounge exchanging pleasantries with the passing crowd, hating the fact that I didn't have anyone to share this trip with and then suddenly I'm surrounded by a group of guys who were,so happy,so positive and most importantly happy to see me.As stupid as it sounds,I felt like I was part of something again.
These are the kinds of weird feelings that wash through me from time to time.It is like a tide of irrational emotions that ebb and flow through my head at regular intervals but with different depths and varying intensities.It is the feeling that I don't belong or that I don't matter to those who matter to me that leaves me feeling that I an living a disjointed life.Like all the other irrational thoughts that,from time to time, creep in to cloud actual reality,they are fleeting and common sense eventually prevails.I know others have experienced this as well as I have discussed it at length and figured out that one of the main reasons we tend to feel alone or ignored or abandoned by those who are important to us is that we obsess about it.While everyone else is out living their lives,working, looking after families and going through the day to day drudgeries of life we tend to wonder why nobody is calling,why nobody is knocking on the door,why nobody cares.The fact is that for the most part,they do care,it is just that they can't be "care-givers" twenty-four hours a day.We need to understand the huge toll that helping people through depression can take on those friends who try to undestand but can't.We need to understand how much our affliction can negatively affect others and we need to honour those who are there trying to help us by trying to help ourselves as well.We need to give back to them.We owe them that and that is why I try to give so much of myself to others so openly.It is my way of saying thank you but in all honesty I think the sentiment is lost on most.What can you do?
Sitting in the dry,blazing heat watching the happily wearly travellers peddle their way back into my life was something that was not lost on me.I realised that I so needed to be around people who were interested in being adventurous and fun and happy with life.It kept me interested in life as well it made me want to share mine with others.It made me want to carry on.
As the group grew over the passing hour or so I saw that there were some new additions and found out that there was Phillipe, a French guy,two Swiss guys(whose names sadly escape me) and one remarkable old guy from Victoria, BC who was fast becoming something of a legend on the Alaska highway,he was 71 year old John Crouch.When he rolled up to the motel I,at first, thought what is this old guy doing out here,but then I saw his shirt and realised he was on an awareness raising ride for Parkinsons disease.I thought,good on him and then spent the next little while checking out his bike,which is pretty much the first thing any of us does when we meet a new cyclist on the road.While I was doing that the rest of the group were decideing what they were going to do and were they were going to stay for the night.I had already paid for another night at the campground and John,the Swiss and the Korean decided to join me.The Mexican foursome and Andy decided that they would ride on further up the highway to join Phillipe who had already left to find the next government campground some 16 kilometers away.The young German couple and English Brian decided not to pay for camping but didn't want to ride any further so instead opted to bandit camp(or rough camp) in a small park on the other side of the bridge leading out of town.I knew that I could catch all of the guys heading out of town so I didn't say my goodbyes but as they left intheir groups just said "I'll see you out there tomorrow."It felt great to be part of the group again.
That evening I sat again at my little lounge table and tried to catch up with my blog and social correspondence on Facebook.I ordered a beer and chatted to some of the locals before spying the four cyclists who had stayed in town for the night.They grabbed a table across the lounge from me and drank beer while swapping stories of the road and life in general.The Swiss and the Korean sat entranced as old John passed on the wisdom of the ages,regalling them with countless tales of a life well lived and amazing them with his feats of apparently ageless athleticism.I packed up my computer and moved over to join them and it wasn't long before John and I realised that we had quite a lot in common.He,like me,was a keen triathlete and had participated in the Ironman Canada triathlon in Penticton and upon further discussion,was coincidently friends with a number of my triathlon buddies in that town.I further learned,once he opened up the full page write-up in the local Yukon newspaper,that he was also a past World Duathon Champion for his age group.I thought that was awesome and we got along famously.
It was a fun night drinking a few beers and talking tall tales with people from four separate continents but as always all good things must come to an end and we were soon cast out of the lounge and out into what we surpirsingly found to be the wildest of weather.While we were inside a huge storm front had moved in and the rain was dumping down in volumes.Luckily for me I had already covered my tent and gear with my big tarp but the other were not so lucky and after the deluge had subsided had found their tents swamped by the flooded campground.There wasnt too much damage done but we all knew there would be no early departure the next day.There would be some serious drying out to be done first.
I wandered around for a while taking pictures post flood and sometime soon after midnight crawled into my little dry oasis in the drenched campground.I had never slept on a campground waterbed before and thanked the lord for the highwalled plastic floor that came standárd in my cheap-ass $20 Mexican Walmart tent.
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