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Published: June 22nd 2007
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Cache Creek - possibly the friendliest place in British Columbia?
What can I say about the hospitality of this little town in the middle of the B.C. desert? It all started with Lynne who owns and runs the Cache Creek B&B. From the moment I had rang her doorbell looking tired, frazzled and somewhat sweaty she made me feel so welcome. I think most people would have thought twice about allowing such an individual into their house, but perhaps Lynne could see that I had had a tough day and that I would 'scrub up well' (this is a saying my mum often uses).
Having heard about my tales of woe the night before, I was welcomed in the morning with a fabulous breakfast made by not one, but two people! The wonderful 'mum' also helped provide the racks of toast, bacon, sausages, fruit and other such temptations.
This was just too much for me to take in (I usually only have one person make me breakfast - ha ha); surely I had died and gone to heaven. Oh well, I suppose it must be heaven on earth. Although
The Dynamic Duo
Fantastic people, just don't get on the wrong side of them - they know Kung Fu.I felt a little awkward having two wonderful women making me breakfast, it would have been rude to intervene (honest).
I had a few problems with my bike 'Diana' so I decided to pay a visit to Neil the owner of Cache Creek Cycle Parts. Neil had recently set up CCCP and was really helpful in resolving the problems with Diana. Neil also kindly invited me to a BBQ that evening, where I was 'forcibly' introduced to the entire neighbourhood. I was made to feel so welcome and was overfed (again) on all manner of BBQ delights. To finish the evening, both Neil and his brother Gary kindly provided a tour of the neighbouring village Ashcroft, where they both grew up. The finale was driving up into the hills to a fantastic view of the entire horizon and surrounding environs. Absolutely brilliant!
I can honestly say from the bottom of my heart, this was a truly memorable evening and the people of Cache Creek should be very proud of their community and how they made a complete stranger passing through on a bicycle feel so part of it all.
So a BIG thanks to both Lynne (I
Wild horses
Lot's of wild horses roaming freely across the prairie will miss your amazing laugh) and her family and Neil and his brother Gary for making my time in Cache Creek such a memorable one.
However, as much as I wanted to stay in Cache Creek longer, my trip must move onwards and it was with a heavy heart that I said a fond farewell and headed out for Lac La Hache.
Cache Creek to Lac La Hache - 170 km
9hrs in the saddle
The weather today was horrendous and it absolutely tipped down with rain all the way. Within 30 minutes of leaving Cache Creek I couldn't get any wetter. Just at that moment a truck came passed and showered me with even more water. It reminded me of those old black and white TV comedies, where a bucket of water comes in from the side. At this point I just burst out laughing, because when you are up against it, for me the best reaction is to just laugh and start singing.
So there I was, in the middle of nowhere, with my feet squelching in my pedals and cloud blowing across the road in front of me, singing out loud as if I
There is always a clue in the name
Unfortunately I haven't come across 'Flat as Holland all the way Road' was appearing in the final of Canadian Idol.
After some pretty steep and long hills the terrain eventually plateaued and suddenly I was purring along at +30km/h. What a difference some flat ground makes and I suddenly realised how steep the hills were I had experienced on my trip so far, because I could only manage and average of 8km/h.
When I finally squelched into Lac La Hache the rain had abated for a while and I holed myself up in a motel and immediately set about drying everything out on the 2 heaters in my room. This made the entire room feel and smell like a cross between a sauna and a launderette. When I took my sodden cycling shoes off the 'ambience' was complete.
In the morning I got a strange look from the cleaner as she entered my room. I just smiled a hurriedly scooted off on my bike.
Lac La Hache to Williams Lake - 76 km
5hrs in the saddle
This section was pretty ordinary, but with two saving graces. Firstly it was relatively flat and secondly it was dry (but for the final 10km into Williams Lake).
Upon
arriving in Williams Lake, I met my first other cyclist en-route, namely Paul. Paul was cycling from Bella Coola back to his hometown of Nelson, which is a great ride, but unfortunately in the opposite direction.
Within 5 minutes we struck an accord and decided to share a room. Normally I am cautious about such 'blitzkrieg' friendships (as I am sure is Paul), but we immediately got on and you can usually tell that cyclists are likeminded people.
Having moved into a good B&B Paul cycled off to get some food and came back with a 6-pack of Canadian lager. We drank into the evening; swapping traveling tales & tips and it was a real shame that Paul wasn't traveling my way, because it would have been great spending some more time with him. However, he had to get back to his wife and child, whilst I got on with my uncomplicated bachelor lifestyle (I know that Paul will laugh at that one).
So in the morning, I bid farewell and safe journey to Paul and headed for Quesnel.
Williams Lake to Quesnel - 125km
7 hrs in the saddle
Nothing much to report on
Marshland
Due to the snow melt, there is plenty of this along the roadside. Don't stop too long unless you want to be attacked by flying things. this leg other than the fact I saw a Moose. I did also go to the cinema in the evening and met a chap who had brought his own torch, so he could find his seat in the dark. I told him that I had never met someone who brought a torch with them to the cinema before and he said that he liked to be prepared. He then proceeded to take a flask of coffee and an eggy sandwich out of his bag. I didn’t sit too near him for the film.
Quesnel to Prince George - 140km
7hrs in the saddle
Drowned again!
Prince George is not a particularly pretty place per-se. It lacks any real center to it and doesn’t seem to have much of a soul. The people are very friendly, but it is a city designed purely for car drivers and people drive everywhere, even just to the shop next door. The majority of the roads are 8 lanes across and many don’t have pavements, so you find yourself walking through massive car parks to get to places.
I have decided to lighten my load by buying some lightweight trousers, so
It's a long road ahead
Even I can't get lost on this road! that I can dump my heavy jeans.
“Why doesn’t anywhere sell short trousers? This is the 5th place that I have tried and all seem to only sell Regular trouser length”, I said to the Wal-Mart girl. Wal-Mart girl just shrugged her shoulders in reply.
“But surely not everyone in Prince George is a Regular leg size. What do other people do?” I asked, hoping for a more informed reply. “We only stock Regular”, said Wal-Mart slightly irritated by the fact that I had stopped her chewing her gum.
“I know that. I can see that. But what do you do if you have short stocky legs?” I was getting a little annoyed with Wal-Mart’s lack of enthusiasm in my problem. She huffed slightly and said “People just alter ‘em, it is kinda easy to do ya know”.
Okay I thought, I mean how difficult can it be? I had a chat with a more helpful Wal-Mart assistant who helped me purchase the tools for the job. This consisted of a needle and some black thread (she recommended black, as the trousers I had bought were black).
I advised her that I hadn’t actually stitched
My cat is famous
My cat Begbie, currently lazing around at home, blissfully unaware that there is a mountain named after him. anything before and she kindly demonstrated a short stitch, followed by a long stitch and so on. She said that it would fine for the type of material.
Back at the B&B I set to work by measuring the trouser leg and setting this to the correct length I required. This is easy I thought. Even easier was threading the cotton through the eye of the needle. I was now rather (over) confident about my mastery of such mundane tasks.
“All these years” I smirked to myself. “Why has mum always complained when she has had to alter any of my clothes?”
Okay, the first problem I encountered was the fact that the trousers I had bought had an inner lining, which seemed to be longer that the outer lining. I had better keep everything straight and in-line when I sew across.
That failed miserably because I had somehow sewn diagonally rather than horizontally. I had also inadvertently sewn part of the duvet to my trousers.
The second and third attempts were equally poor and by this time I was getting really annoyed. ¾ of an hour it had taken me to get absolutely bloody
nowhere! With Wal-Mart girl’s words “It is kinda easy to do ya know” echoing in my ears, I jabbed the needle through the material straight into my finger.
“*@!!*@#!!” I shouted, before sucking a drip of blood of my finger.
Why am I so utterly crap, I can’t do anything? I was forced to do Metalwork and Woodwork at school. Girls did needlework. Why has my mum always so selfishly just done my alterations, without ever actually showing me how to do it?
Okay - take a breather. 5 minutes later I was pumped up, I can do this, it’s easy.
1-½ hours later I had finished and I put the trousers on. “Hee hee, not bad” I thought. I jumped and danced around the room like a wild dervish. Now I thought, “Time to do the other leg”.
If you would like to send me an email, please do so to:
Colin.d.snowdon@hotmail.com
Take care, Col X
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Sarah
non-member comment
sewing is a tricky one
Oh love you did a great job!!! Maybe next time go to a dry cleaners they will do it for you, that way you cant possibily prick you finger!!