Diversion….to Metchosin

This QEhardrock has long used a bicycle for transportation – not all the time, but much of the time. It started seriously back in my mid twenties. My younger brother had ordered a bicycle he was unable to pay for on delivery. He asked me to take it. The bike was a cheap model of a Pugeot ten speed. The brand name had a good rep, and since I had recently arrived in Vancouver from Saskatchewan, and was wheel-less, I did take delivery of his order. As it happens, my brother was able to get another bike not long after. I made very good use of that machine he had ordered, and kept it running well. Eventually it was stolen from me, in Montreal, more than a decade later. 

For over thirty years now, I have had two bicycles, one for getting around town, and another for getting out of it. Early on I outfitted myself with the appropriate tools and learned how to fix my machines. As various bits broke or wore out, they got replaced, sometimes with new parts, sometimes with used parts. Just the same, over the years I have bought a total of five bicycles brand new, so my bicycles have not not always been old beaters. But the two I have now certainly are, with nary a single original part left on either. Nevertheless, one has ten speeds, with a frame and front forks configured in the manner of a racing bike. The other has fifteen speeds, with frame and front forks configured in the manner of a touring bike. When they are in operation, they both roll well. I use the former for daily transportation around Vancouver, and the latter for longer trips beyond the city limits. At least, that is the Master Plan.

In fact, I have not taken a bicycle trip out of town for ages. It has been too attractive to simply cycle to the tennis courts to get recreation and exercise. A further discouragement to long trip cycling has been the fact that my touring bike was taken out of commission a couple of years ago after hitting a huge pothole in Strathcona. The impact bent the frame beyond usability. 

Still having the ten speed to ride, I did not rush to fix or replace the touring bike. Maybe a year and a half ago I found a good used frame in Cheapskates, on Dunbar.  But I was lazy in remounting parts and pieces to the replacement frame, and soon the weather turned too cool to continue the work, out on my balcony. The bike remained a partially assembled hulk until we got our current late summer stretch of good weather. I finally got it reassembled in mid August. 

Having now resuscitated my touring bike, it occurred to me that giving it a good test ride would be in order. Camping was not in the cards….did not want to lug a lot of gear. But I have a pal who divides his time between a home in Kitsilano, and a family home in Metchosin, on Vancouver Island. I had never been to Metchosin. I knew my friend had two acres there, and a small “hobby” sawmill. I was curious to see it. Knowing he was over there last week, I gave him a call to see if I could stay over one night. He said, “Sure, you can have the spare bedroom. Come on over”. The dye was cast. (Click on images below to enlarge) 

Passed by a well lit and reflected cyclist on Heather, in the wee hours.

I had been warned by an acquaintance that there were few daily crossings of the Dease tunnel bicycle shuttle. That was misinformation, which I reinforced by misreading the official web posting of schedule. I thought I had only three chances to catch the shuttle in the morning, the last being at 8 am. In fact I had read a schedule for the winter off season (after October 10).  Not realising my mistake, I was terrified of possibly missing a morning ride through the Dease tunnel.

So, aiming for Metchosin, and fretting needlessly about the tunnel ride,  I pedaled out from home in the dark, on the morning of Tuesday, August 23, around 5:15 am.  Good Grief!!!! From my place I followed my usual route to the QE tennis courts, which took me up Heather Street to the top of the ridge. From there: Cambie, the skytrain bridge across the Fraser, Shell Road to the Steveston Highway and on to the bike shuttle pick-up. I did not make great time, stopping several times along the way – adjustments to my bike and gear, find a bathroom, have a milkshake as sole early customer in the Burger King in the mall at Steveston Highway and No. 5 Road (my first choice had been coffee and a pastry in Tim Horton’s, but there was a big line-up). After my milkshake it took just a few minutes to get to the bike shuttle loading spot, around 7:30.  As I arrived, the driver was leaving. He hollered “Eight o’clock!” at me, and pedaled away towards the shopping centre from whence I had come.

QEhardrock bicycle patiently awaits driver's return.

Driver locks up his own bike, before loading for the 8 am crossing.

The driver returned at eight, and actually pedaled past the shuttle, to the end of the side road and back, presumably to get the most exercise possible out of his break. Like all the tunnel shuttle drivers I have ever seen, he was an East Indian, though not a bearded, turbaned Sikh, as I had been used to in earlier decades. He seemed a pleasant fellow. But his English was minimal enough not to invite much conversation.

There was only one other customer for our journey through the tunnel: a very pretty, twenty something blonde, who, I must say, looked absolutely smashing in her skin-tight cycle shorts and tunic. “Going to the ferry?”, I asked hopefully. She replied that no, she was going to her job, near Ladner. She had her work clothes in her small backpack. When we unloaded near the Delta Town and Country, she pedaled off as I was securing my bags to my bike, and I did not see her again….sigh.

The ride along highway 17 to the Tsawassen ferry terminal has become a cyclist’s ride through hell.* I say that largely because of the relatively recent addition of semi-trailer traffic to and from the Roberts Bank Superport. It is not simply a coal port any more. Container ships dock there, and you would not believe that there was anything like an economic slowdown to judge by the traffic to Roberts Bank that Tuesday morning. The noise, the diesel fumes, the backwash from speeding tractor trailers that threatened on several occasions to drag me off the bike, had me in terror for most of the ride. The Roberts Bank traffic turns off highway 17, about half way to the ferry dock, so the last mile or two are less ferocious, as far as traffic goes. One only has the sadly neglected paved shoulder, where cyclists must travel if they value their lives, to deal with. There are piles of sand, the occasional dead gull, shards of glass, and mysterious metal parts fallen from who knows what sort of vehicle or machinery, littering the way. Not an inviting ride for cyclists. Not at all.

Had to wait for a ferry. Saw other older cyclists waiting, with really nifty bicycles, and the best gear and panniers. One guy had a Marinoni. That is a bicycle made by an Italian maker who imigrated to Quebec years ago. They are very good machines, and costly. When I lived in Montreal (1980s), Marinoni’s were slavered over by cyclists who wanted THE best. One fellow I knew had a second hand one….he worshipped it. Another acquaintance of mine stenciled the word , “Macaroni”, onto the frame of his own old beater ten speed as a satire on the Marinoni cachet. The style of font used on Marinoni frames is easy to copy, and my friend’s bike looked like the real thing, at first glance. The joke was subtle. Some of us thought it the soul of wit. When I saw the guy at the ferry had a Marinoni leaning on his hip, I blurted out, “Oh wow, a Macaroni! Haven’t seen one of those in years.” The owner seemed to take it in good humour. 

Between the early morning start, and the adrenalin rush of the final half hour race through cyclist hell to the ferry, I had arrived at the terminal as one tuckered out QEhardrock. Our boat had seats with moulded headrests at the top of the back, at a height good for children and tiny adults. Nevertheless, I managed to slouch down, hang the edge of my bum off the seat, and lay my head against the headrest. Our passage through the glorious marine scenery of Georgia Strait and the Gulf Islands was spent trying to snooze, slumped thus, in the quietest corner I could find.

Coming in to the ferry terminal at Swartz Bay.

From Swartz Bay onward, there was no need for me to stray off bicycle paths until I was two blocks from my friend’s house in Metchosin. The Lochside Regional Trail begins at the southwest edge of the ferry terminal. There are some hilly bits near the terminal, but very soon the trail follows an old railway right of way to very near Victoria, where there is a turn onto the Galloping Goose Trail, which follows another old railway bed all the way to Sooke. The charm of old railway beds is that they do not rise or fall at a grade larger than three degrees. They make truly cycle friendly roadways.

Catching up to my German couple, Lochside Regional Trail.

Leaving the ferry terminal, I spoke with a German-speaking couple who were pedalling just ahead of me. The lady told me they were from Tsawassen, and heading for Victoria, to spend the night, then return. She said they knew the Lochside Trail well. I followed them. When one reassembles a bicycle at home, as I had done in the weeks before, the first long ride usually brings to light adjustments that should be made to brakes, and the bits that change gears. I made a couple of stops on that account, as I was following my German pair. But I kept catching up to them, and having to slow down considerably to match their pace. “Your bike is much faster than our bikes” the lady observed. My bike has thinner tires, larger wheels, and was rolling very well after having recently had all bearings and cones greased and finely adjusted for tension. She was right. Then she told me that the trail was very well marked all the way, that she and her husband had been able to follow it the first time they took it. I thanked her for their guidance, and pedaled ahead.

Blenkinsop Lake, from the trestle, Lochside Trail.

As I mentioned earlier, I was a bit tired by the time I made Tsawassen, and I am certainly not in good cycling shape. While the ride along the Lochside and Galloping Goose trails is not demanding, an hour or so after leaving Swartz Bay, I needed to find some energy to carry on. I recalled the advice of a touring cyclist I spoke with briefly south of Richmond many years ago. He said he found that fruit was the best stuff to eat for distance cycling. I have cycled many longish trips since then, largely ignoring that advice. But I was younger and fitter then. On this occasion, I gorged myself on blackberries, found trailside, and blueberries and bananas purchased from a farmer’s produce store along the route. It worked. My metabolism responded with the energy to pedal on. Fruit….highly recommended for the peripatetic cyclist, folks. I made my friend’s house just in time for supper.

A view from Galloping Goose Regional Trail.

For those who may not have visited the District of Metchosin, I can say that it is a rural municipality, situated a little bit south and west of Victoria. As the Galloping Goose Trail approaches the district and moves into it,  one cycles through mostly forest. On the bike path I saw a couple of rabbits, a deer, few people. My friend informs me that there is a bylaw in place that restricts residential lot sizes to no less than two acres. The terrain is mostly wooded, so those who live there have lots of trees, birds, deer, and smaller critters living with them, and can pee wherever they damn please, on their property. Rustic.

Cyclist amuses host with expert right camera hand.

It was interesting to see my friend’s family two acres in Metchosin, and his home-made sawmill and associated equipment. The big wind that blew down the trees in Stanley Park a few years ago also brought down many trees on my friend’s property. He has cut many good timbers from it, as well as a lot of firewood. He gave me a nice tour of the local area, and the beaches where he often gets logs. 

The following day my host offered to drive me to Swartz Bay. I gratefully accepted a ride into Saanich. I would have had to start very early had he not given me that lift. But I was not stiff, as I thought I would be, so was happy to cycle the Lochside trail from there. The ride home was uneventful, except for a flat tire along the cacophonous ride through hell, between the Tsawassen terminal, and the tunnel shuttle pick-up spot, at the Shell station beside highway 17 at highway 99.* What a terrible stretch along which to fix a flat – one finds leaks in inner tubes by listening for the escaping air! The tire took maybe half an hour. Once through the Dease tunnel, I did not rush. After having a  coffee and doughnuts at Tim Horton’s in the mall at Steveston and No. 5 Rd, I took Shell Road through Richmond and cut over to the Oak Street Bridge to get to Marpole, where I stopped to buy a few vegetables. Arrived home around seven in the evening. So ended QEhardrock’s Big Cycle Adventure. 

I had a whole pile of photos I had intended to insert into this post, as thumbnails readers could click on, if they were  interested. Unfortunately, this blog software makes a complete hash of layout for multiple photos. I have no answer for it. If I find one, I will add more images….not that they provide earth shaking insights….but it galls me that I cannot insert them!

* Note: Since taking this trip, and writing this post, I have discovered that one can actually avoid most of highway 17. From the tunnel shuttle drop-off, at the Shell station by the Town and Country, take Vasey Rd back toward the Fraser, cross highway 99 via an underpass and travel through Ladner. The route takes one to 52 St which intersects highway 17 not far from the ferry causeway. Its a little longer than the ride straight through hell, but much less intimidating.

Maps & shuttle schedule (click on them to enlarge):

 

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