The Cassiar Highway - where the really wild stuff lives


Advertisement
Published: July 13th 2007
Edit Blog Post

***CLICK ON PHOTOS TO ENLARGE***
***IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ MY PREVIOUS DIARY ENTRIES, THEN CLICK THE 'PREVIOUS JOURNALS' AT THE FOOT OF THIS ENTRY***
***PLEASE FEEL FREE TO FORWARD ME ANY EMAIL ADDRESSES THAT WOULD LIKE TO RECEIVE MY DIARY ENTRIES AUTOMATICALLY***
***PLEASE NOTE THERE ARE TWO PAGES OF PHOTOS - TO VIEW PAGE 2 SIMPLY CLICK ON '2' AT THE FOOT OF THIS***

Apologies to everyone that has been patiently awaiting my next blog, but I simply haven't had any internet access for weeks. I am currently in Whitehorse and will be publishing a number of journals (not necessarily in the right order, but there you go). if you RECEIVE a number of emails, they will be different so don't delete any of them thinking they are duplicates. The internet access in Whitehorse is poor as well as being $12 per hour so I am not too sure how many blog's I can afford to get publish.


Okay, it was time to move on from the wonderful town of Stewart and start my way down the remote, ruggedly beautiful Cassiar Highway.

If God was a landscape painter then he has certainly put all of his clichés in one place. The Cassiar is quite simply stunning from start to finish, with glorious snow capped mountains intruding into the sky like giant jagged teeth. Deep lakes of green and turquoise blue shimmer like a million diamonds, each one with carpeted edges of moss and every shade of green.

When I was in Vancouver I visited the art gallery and they were exhibiting a collection of paintings by Emily Carr, probably Canada’s most famous First Nations artist. In all of her paintings she uses the most amazing green and blue colours and this is how the Cassiar appeared to me, particularly when the sun was shining.

For the first few days the sun didn’t shine. In fact quite the opposite. I was never far from a downpour and didn’t have the chance to dry out until well into the Cassiar. Pretty much everything was squelching all the time and you begin to feel as though you are some sort of sea urchin. However, I have learnt on this trip that just around the corner will be something that makes you forget all your troubles, like another beautiful natural painting, or wonderful people or amazing wildlife.

The first part of my journey took me from Meziadin Junction to Bell 2 and I very nearly turned my bike around and headed back to the Junction. Not because I wanted to mind, but because I must have seen 15 bears along the roadside in the first two hours or so. Many of them had cubs. It was like a nursery and I admit that I was really, really nervous. If the rest of the Cassiar was like this then perhaps I should reconsider my situation.

The bears with cubs were mainly Black & Brown bears. These bears and especially their cubs were so cute. Great big balls of fluff, playing with each other in the long grass and without a care in the world.

I was singing loudly to my mini-disk player and when they realise you are there they immediately stop wwhatever they are doing and go up on their hind legs. This is often a standard response. As they are higher from the ground it increases their range of vision and allows them to get a good sniff of you. It is not an aggressive response, but one where they are trying to assess who and what you are. They tend to run off as soon as they realise you are human.

The Grizzly bears are different in every way. Firstly they are twice as big. Upon my first sighting of a Grizzly I immediately knew what it was. They are enormous and you have immediate respect for them. I really would not want to mess with one, as you just wouldn’t stand any chance at all. If you can imagine stepping into a wrestling ring with Big Daddy in one corner and Giant Haystacks in the other, I think you will get the picture.

Secondly, unlike Black & Brown bears who run off into the forest at first sight of you, the Grizzly does not. They are very territorial and if they think you are muscling in on their patch they will protect what is theirs. They will sit like a brick wall in front of you, watching and assessing you whilst probably thinking "come and have a go if you think you are hard enough".

The only thing to do if you find yourself in this situation is to back off quickly (but slowly), no sudden movements as this can often trigger a reaction to chase you. Bear mace or indeed anything other than a gun is not an option, as it would probably just piss it off. In fact a gun would also probably just annoy it as well.

I had seen a few Grizzlies en-route, but these seemed to be far less common than their Black/Brown cousins. Most of them didn’t know I was there until I had gone passed them. However, I was about to have an encounter that I will never ever forget.

I had decided to persevere with my trip onto Bell 2 and make my judgment call there. That way at least I could make this based on the full distance of the section, rather than just a potential bear 'hot-spot'.

As much as I have tried to subtly encourage Diana (my bike) to lose weight, she is still very heavy when fully loaded. Once you have struggled to the top of a steep climb, you really want to enjoy the free-wheel down as much as possible, because you know that around the corner there will be another, even steeper hill. This was a big mistake and one that could have had serious consequences to my health.

I was steaming down a hill that I had climbed up and was rather enjoying the cooling breeze that blew the sweat from my brow. I turned a 90 degree corner only to come face to face with a large Grizzly and two cubs, plumb in the middle of the road.

Normally I would have sped right on by them with no harm done other than a severe cleaning job being required for my lycra shorts, but there was no way through without hitting something. My breaks squealed as Diana came to a shuddering halt, leaving me no more than ¾ of a road length apart (probably about 4 or 5 meters). Fortunately for me, the way we had all ended up positioned, mum still had the cubs on her side with her, otherwise I may not be writing this now.

There was a split second where we all just looked at each other in silence. I didn’t dismount from Diana but put her sideways to mum, so she could see the full size of me and if necessary put Diana between us. It never once crossed my mind to pull out the bear mace as it all happened so quickly.

Mum (and cubs) had now backed up an 8ft bank on the edge of the road behind her and was still facing me head on, but with the cubs now to her rear. She was grunting and making clicking noises with her jaw and when I saw her lowering herself I could see that she was preparing for an aggressive encounter.

I had skimmed through a book on bear behavior and all these signs had been noted as being aggressive. Believe me, when a circa 500 - 600lb Grizzly is grunting at you, you don’t take this as anything other than aggression.

Mum had the higher ground and a way out behind her. I too had a way out as I slowly maneuvered Diana to face down hill and I took my escape.

This incident really upset me. I pulled onto a bridge where I stopped to compose myself and took some deep breaths. I went to the toilet and urinated all over my shoes, I was shaking that much. I also felt quite sick.

Oh my God! I replayed the encounter over and over again in my mind, which helped me put things into perspective. It was understandable that the bear had reacted in such a way. After all, you would expect a mother to protect her cubs. The mistake I had made was forgetting where I was and free-wheeling down a hill blindly.

I had learnt a serious lesson. NEVER forget where you are. I convinced myself that this was actually a good omen and that the chances of having another similar encounter must be minimal.

I proceeded onto Bell 2. I was a bit paranoid at first, continually scanning the edges of the road for signs of any movement. After half and hour or so I began to relax again. I didn’t see any other bears before I rolled into Bell 2.

The rest of the Cassiar Highway was far less bear intensive and I perhaps saw 3 or 4 at most each day, none of which had cubs and none being Grizzlies. You were always reminded of the Grizzlies omnipotent presence though, particularly when you answered the call of nature.

I only ever went to the toilet when there were steep rock faces on either side of the road, so you are protected from getting caught literally with your pants down. One-time I pulled over for a ‘number one’ only to find the largest set of paw prints I had ever seen. There isn’t many things that make you lose the need to go, but I suddenly found myself quickly tucking man’s best friend back into my shorts and cycling on rather quickly.

The Cassiar contains some of the toughest sections of riding I have ever cycled. The hills are mercilessly steep and this is often made doubly difficult by the 4 sections of gravel road, each about 25 - 40 km in length. I had read before the trip that these sections were not a problem, but I can only assume that this was written by someone on a mountain bike or who was blind. Believe me, I could hardly push my bike up some of this, let alone ride up it.

The gravel was like walking on a shingle beach at times and like a dried up river bed at others. Fortunately it hadn’t rained on these sections otherwise I would probably not have been able to pass them at all. I sweated buckets to get through these as quickly as possible, before it did rain.

Having navigated the gravel I was then met by the monstrous Gnat Pass. This I knew was the steepest part of my Canadian ride.

It was an amazing hill. It just went on and on and on like the Yellow Brick Road disappearing over ridge after ridge. Up and up and up. I lost count of how many times I thought I had got to the summit only to find another straight-up hill to follow. In the end I was laughing each time I saw a new hill, because each one was worse than the last. “Come on, take me to heaven” I shouted. My voice echoed its way around before coming back to me in a seemingly 360 degree circle.

I had cycled over 30 km before I reached the summit sign post and then as befitting for such a hill, it continued up at least another 500m, before I started my descent.

It had taken me best part of 4 hours to get up to the top. I had listened to the entire performance of Phantom of the Opera 3 times on my mini-disk by the time it was over. I can never tire of hearing Michael Crawford’s voice, but that was stretching things even for me. I believe I can now play any part in the musical apart from Christine, as I would need to have a certain genital operation, for which I would not be prepared to undergo (I always wince at a pair of nutcrackers!).

The Cassiar is so beautiful you almost don’t know where to look at times. In addition to this, I saw pretty much every creature you could associate with the wilds of Canada. In addition to the bears I saw mountain goats, fox, coyote, deer, otters, beavers and I spent 20 minutes observing a moose.

The moose was standing waist deep in a lake, cooling off on the first hot day I had had for an age. It was a large, gangly looking creature, without any antlers. Moose apparently can grow antlers annually and lose them annually also.

It is hard to believe how a big, bulky animal like that could make its way through the tight tangle of trees, but they are quite agile. Just like the Grizzlies though, you would not want to get on the wrong side of one, as they too are not renowned for their friendliness. They are however quite rare, so to watch it through my telescope was a real privilege.

I pulled into the Dease River Crossing campsite in glorious sunshine and set my tent up at the lakeside. This is what camping is all about. No rushing around tripping over things trying to get out of the rain. No annoying tent trying its best to vex me. Just relaxed and leisurely - nice.

Shortly after setting my tent up, I got talking to Art, who owned the largest Recreational Vehicle (RV) I had seen in a while. It was parked next to my tent and made it look as though it was the latrine.

Art was on a tour with his wife Lorna and his friend Ernie and his wife Linda and they kindly invited me to join them for dinner. The food and company was marvelous. I explained that my cooking abilities were quite limited, so if they had brought out peanut butter on toast it would have been a banquet. This was not the case however, as plate after plate of glorious food came out. My eyes came out on storks…. Mmmm Chops, sausages, salads. This is what camping is all about I thought.

The rain was coming down again by morning and it was back to the usual battalion of mosquitoes fighting each other over my blood in my tent. Two large puddles had formed on my ground sheet and most of my gear was soaked as a result. I knew the tent would have to add its two-penneth into the proceedings - I swear I am going to give it a good going over with a tent pole one of these days.

The luxury of the previous night was well and truly gone. That was of course until Art came to the rescue and I joined them in the RV for breakfast.

I was sad to see them leave the campsite. No, not just because they had fed me and kept me out of my wet tent, but for their company. When you are cycling on your own you can get a bit lonely. I have found myself literally running at the first human I see just to talk and say hello. This has proved rather disconcerting for many of the individuals concerned as I feverishly chatter at them.

Thank you so much to Art, Lorna, Ernie and Linda for their generous hospitality and great company. I am truly very grateful and I hope that you have a fantastic and safe journey home.

At the same time as the RV leaving, Steve, who was staying in a log cabin with his wife Shannon and his mother Merry, came over to the tent.

“Hi Col. We’ve been thinking. How about you dry out your tent and gear out in our cabin? We have lots of room and you can sleep in one of the bunk beds for tonight.”

This again was a fantastically generous gesture. I looked back at the tent and watched a mosquito fly majestically in to join the large throng already awaiting my flesh. Having agreed with all concerned that it was ok, I began to move my gear into the cabin, much to the disappointment of the mosquito congregation.

Soon I had wet stuff hanging on every available nail in the log cabin - socks, cycling shorts, bed lined and pants, you name. It was a large cabin (I think it slept 10 people), but I was concerned that I was taking it over. Steve, Shannon and Merry couldn’t have been more accommodating and they are really laid back, cool people. Nothing was too much trouble - even my musty socks and pants didn't put them off!

We had some great discussions where we put the world’s troubles to rights. We played cards into the evening. I was introduced to toasted marshmallows and the wonderful world of Jiffy Pop.

Jiffy Pop is probably the 7th wonder of the world and if it isn't then it should be. It comes in its own pan and you cook the popcorn in a sealed tin foil hood. After a few minutes the popcorn begins to crack and pop and everything starts expand. Before your very eyes the foil hood grows like some silver alien turban.

Why isn’t Jiffy Pop available in England? Even if you don’t like popcorn, just watching it grow is worth the money alone. I am going to start looking into making Jiffy Pop the UK's next big thing.

The following morning was Sunday. Lana the owner of the campsite had invited me to their church service, where she said it would be a good opportunity to meet some of her neighbours from the surrounding 50 km or so (neighbours are not just over the fence in Canada). She also mentioned that they have lots of food afterwards.

Those of you that know me, will know that I have always been a deeply religious person and the chance to meet similar, like-minded people was far too good to miss. I wasn’t going just for the food, although this was a (Godly) Brucy bonus.

Steve and Merry also came along to the service, they were shamefully only attending for the food. Ok, ok, I admit that I also only went for the food, but I was trying to justify my selfishness - I will probably be struck by a bolt lightening now.

The service was long and quite intense. Too much so for Steve, who left after 20 minutes or so, his desire for food was far outweighed by his desire to save himself from further mental torture.

Merry and I were still hanging on in there. Our desire for food far outweighed any mental torture we were enduring.

I didn’t know any of the songs that they sang, so I mumbled and mimed my way through, pretending to look at the hymn book at the right moments. The only song I did know was ‘Jesus loves the little children’. I joined in on this one whole heartedly until I realised that it was only the children in the congregation who were singing it.

I closed my eyes quickly to avoid any stares of disbelief from the adults and pretended to be thinking about something religious. All I could see however, were pies, pizza and chicken wraps slowly rotating around my minds eye. "Oh God am I hungry, please for God's sake hurry up" I thought.

The meeting went on longer than usual as one of the congregation wanted an explanation of John chapters 1 through to 28. I couldn't believe it.....come on.

I am truly sorry for my selfish, blasphemous behavior and I apologise to anyone who is religious who may read this. These people were good people and I could see that it meant a lot to them. I didn’t even say grace before I loaded my plate up and started troughing my way through it. Oh thank God!

In the afternoon Steve & I took a canoe out onto the lake. As we paddled through the calm water we both felt at ease with ourselves and kept taking deep breaths as we glided across the calm water. If only you could bottle that feeling.

Steve made me laugh by telling me that he had bought a mosquito knife up in the Yukon. I guess they get a lot bigger up there then.

The following morning I bid a sad farewell to Steve, Shannon & Merry. You are all absolute stars!

I cycled 180 km to the Alaska Highway, taking advantage of a strong tail wind. Goodbye to British Columbia, the Cassiar Highway and them bears and hello to the Yukon.

***CLICK ON PHOTOS TO ENLARGE***
***IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ MY PREVIOUS DIARY ENTRIES, THEN CLICK THE 'PREVIOUS JOURNALS' AT THE FOOT OF THIS ENTRY***
***PLEASE FEEL FREE TO FORWARD ME ANY EMAIL ADDRESSES THAT WOULD LIKE TO RECEIVE MY DIARY ENTRIES AUTOMATICALLY***
***PLEASE NOTE THERE ARE TWO PAGES OF PHOTOS - TO VIEW PAGE 2 SIMPLY CLICK ON '2' AT THE FOOT OF THIS***


Additional photos below
Photos: 30, Displayed: 30


Advertisement



21st July 2007

Good your ok
hi Colin glad to hear all is good your having quite the adventure we got to re live our Dease River experience through your blog .. thanks buddy ....hey we can get going on the jiffy pop imports to the UK if you want.... hows this sound ? Mountain Top Jiffy Pop Import Co. ......we're rootin for ya
15th August 2007

Great stories Colin I am enjoying your journey, Happy Birthday some time in Aug.can not remember date , You will love the Charelottes. Anne Vanderhoof B.C.

Tot: 0.08s; Tpl: 0.014s; cc: 10; qc: 51; dbt: 0.0445s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1; ; mem: 1.2mb