Short days and long nights: a brief stint in the Pacific North West.
January 27, 2012
It might seem like I’ve lost some of my southerly focus… Over the last few weeks, I’ve been bouncing around the Pacific North West, visiting friends and acquiring a new US visa – with plans to perhaps stall my onward travels until after the North American Handbuilt Bike Show.
To be honest, the depths of winter probably isn’t the best time to be biking the infamously wet northern reaches of the Pacific Coast. Short days and long nights make life under a tarp a frigid and lonely existence. Then there’s the rain, which falls hard and steady, and the accompanying damp air, persistent and lingering… Perhaps I’m getting carried away, or I’ve gone soft in Arizona and California, and now I’m just grumbling too much. Certainly, the conditions I experienced were positively mild compared to this incredible northerly ride, and won’t discourage me from returning for a more thorough exploration – when daylight hours are longer. With further detective work, it could well be that a web of forest tracks would make an enticing alternative to the more mainstream – and busy – Pacific Coast Highway, so often used to link Canada to Mexico. I’ll be back one day for sure.
In any case, whatever time of the year, the natural beauty of the Pacific North West is undeniable. The coastal, temperate rainforest is an enchanting world straight from the pages of a fairytale. There’s a sense of ancient wisdom. Sitka Spruce, Hemlock and Redwoods grow thick and tall; their voices might well be heard in the deep, resonant creaking that carries in the wind. They tower so high it makes my neck sore to look up at them, casting dappled light shows through intermingling branches.
Down below on the forest floor, any hope for sunshine is smothered by a tight canopy of tree tops. Branches are dressed in lichen, and a fabric of moss embalms fallen trees. Bizarre epiphytes find their homes in nooks and crannies, and ferns sprout from a sea of green mulch. When the air isn’t heavy with drizzle, it’s a still, eery and a timeless place.
During my brief stay in Victoria, British Colombia, I made the most of a cold but dry snap to explore a small corner of Vancouver Island: Juan de Fuca National Park. Here, the rainforest creeps right down to the seashore. Raging surf draws hardy, wetsuit-clad surfers the length of this beautiful coastline and you can see the US' Olympic Mountains across the waters.
A totem pole at Port Renfrew, carved in Western Red Cedar, the provincial tree of the BC First Nations People.
Typical Pacific North Coast scenery; wild, abandoned, unspoilt.
In Botany Bay, lichen hangs like tufts of hair from the trees, absorbing moisture from the air. Rather than being a parasite, it produces its own food through photosynthesis.
Over these weeks, I've whittled my gear down to the bare minimum, and left excess baggage in Los Angeles. Here's the Surly Troll, sporting a full Porcelain Rocket framekit. My latest setup evolution is a pair of 120g Salsa Anything Cages that have added extra capacity, without undue weight.
These adaptable cages can be hose clamped around suspension forks, and are perfect for light, bulky items, like a Thermarest. Incidentally, many Salsa and Surly rigid forks these days are sporting triple eyelets, especially for the Anythings.
This two-nighter was also a chance to test out my new Porcelain Rocket framepack, with its extra wide flare.
My ride took me from Port Renfrew through balding mountains to Lake Cowichan. I'd hoped this logging route would be gravel, but it had been paved in recent years. Enticing tracks turned off in every direction. With a GPS and a stash of food, there's a world of off-pavement exploration to be experienced out here.
Where the forest hadn't been cleared, I strained to see much further than a few metres through thick groves of deadfall trees, ferns and moss on either side of the road.
In Lake Cawichan, I turned off pavement to join a 122km section of the Trans Canada Trail. When this project is finished, it will cover 16 500km of inter-connected trails from coast to coast.
As always, it felt good to be away from traffic, even if this former converted railway trail could have done with the odd turn here and there...
Four railway trestle bridges span gaping chasms along the route, the last of which was only renovated last year.
Each affords views of clear, torrid waters and lush forest far below. Too cold for a dip at this time of the year, though...
Almost claustrophobic in places, parts of the trail run straight as an arrow...
... along - appropriately enough for Canada in winter - a bed of frozen Maple leaves.
I camped on my second night at the foot of the most impressive of these, the 188m Kinsol Trestle, built in 1920. Back then, the railway was used to transport old growth timber.
Home for the night. A perfect spot, beside the Koksilah River, that some walkers had told me about.
That night, my entire wardrobe doubled up as pijamas. A single skin tarp doesn't provide much insulation and by morning, everything was frozen solid, including me, my water bottles and my food.
Loading up the bike again, with claw-fingered hands. Running such a light setup makes hiking down to inaccesible spots far easier than lugging a bike with a trailer or panniers.
I put my extra wide framepack to good use, stuffing it with a few days of provisions. I'd overlooked the fact that Vancouver Island has the highest concentration of bears and cougars in BC, and forgotten to bring any cord to hang my food...
Shrouded behind a veil of mist, the warming beams of sunshine took a couple of hours to finally thaw me out.
Finding uses for my framepacks's see-through sleeve.
Crossing the glassy Saanich inlet, from Mill Bay to Brentwood Bay. Budget traveller's take note. Buy your ticket in advance at Thrifty's supermarket for a two dollar discount.
From here, the Lochside Trail runs parallel to the Salish Sea, all the way to Victoria. It passes by Roy, dedicated to the farmers of Blenkinsop Valley.
I made it back to Scott and Naomi's just in time to grab my stuff and hop on the ferry to the Olympic Peninsula's Port Angeles, over the pond in the US.
Taking the shortcut south... As it happened, Caleb, with whom I'd rideshared north from California, was also headed back down the coast. I caught up with his art-packed Audi in Portland, for the 12 hour, night drive to San Francisco...
Links:
For affordable, social and relatively eco-friendly travel across the US, try ridesharing sites such as Craigs List, Zim Ride and Ride Joy.
Bike light with a finely crafted set of Porcelain Rocket framebags.
Salsa’s Anything Cages will carry, well, just about anything.
Porcelain Rocket: the making of a framebag
January 7, 2012
Somewhat at odds with my original plans, I now find myself in Victoria, the capital city of British Colombia that’s situated, a little confusingly, on Vancouver Island – not to be mistaken with nearby Vancouver, which isn’t…
What, back in Canada?
Er, yep. For now.
There’s a reason for my about turn, and it’s that I’ve decided to prolong my stay in North America. But for this, I’ll need to renew my US visa. In my usual style, this was a last minute decision, so with only a few days left before it expired, a helping hand was required to cover the 900 mile, triple-state traverse to the Canadian border. Enter the virtual bulletin board of Craigslist, where 75 bucks in gas money earned me a rideshare all the way to Port Angeles, a lonely harbour set dramatically at the foot of the Olympic Mountains. From there, it was just a short hop across the Salish Sea, from Washington’s Olympic peninsula to British Colombia, on a ferry that neatly depositing me in downtown Victoria.
From past experience, it seems that unusual company is all but guaranteed when ridesharing: on this occasion, the 20 hour road trip was shared with a chainsmoking student of Tibetan Buddhism, a girl with green hair, a Deadhead and, of course, my dismembered bicycle squeezed into the trunk of the Audi wagon. The journey itself proved interminably long but largely uneventful, most likely because it involved four wheels and a motor, rather than two and a pair of legs.
Still, making such an odyssey north did have other benefits. For one, it introduced me to the Pacific North West – a land of ancient, towering redwoods, giant ferns, moss-draped rainforests and, being the middle of winter, permadrizzle. It’s also given me the chance connect again with Scott and Naomi, who have moved to Victoria since I last stayed with them in Banff – back when they replenished me with food in readiness for the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, over two years ago.
During this time, Scott has begun a new business: Porcelain Rocket, fabricators of custom bicycle framebags. Just to recap, stowing gear within the frame of a bicycle makes great use of space and centers weight, allowing for a lighter, rack and pannier-less setup and more technical riding prowess. With the advent of this style of kit available commercially, dirt road touring, or bikepacking, as it’s becoming known, has been flourishing.
In fact, Scott’s distinctive rocket patches have festooned my muddy gear over the last 18 months, as he’s been kind enough to send me various prototypes to use and abuse. Which, in turn, has introduced me to a new world of more remote and challenging mountain bike travels.
While I’ve been out riding, Scott’s been honing his sewing skills… And he’s got pretty good…
Welcome to Porcelain Rocket, aka the Cave. A trained ceramic artist, and something of a rocket when out on his bicycle, Scott's unusual but aptly-named business has quietly grown within the bowels of a ramshackle Art Deco home, which itself is in midst of DIY upheaval.
The first step to building a framebag is to draw out a pattern of the bicycle frame in question, marking on details such as water bottle mounts and cable bosses. Inevitably each pattern is different, depending on the bicycle manufacturer, the frame's size, and the material it's made from.
The pattern is then cut out and laid over the fabric, its tracing forming the main panels of the framebag.
Depending on intended use and aesthetic whims, there are various fabrics and colours to choose from, from the burliest of Corduras for expedition riding to lightest of modern packclothes for ultra endurance racing.
Snip snip snip. Steadier hands than mine.
Just in case I might have had aspirations to rustle up my own framebag, I was told in no uncertain words that each pair of scissors has its own purpose. Of the four, these are the fabric shears. Woe betide anyone who confuses them with the snippers for cutting plastic.
Work begins by lamplight...
Scott's machines are all second hand - this one is an old straight stitcher from the '70s. His bartacker came out of the Dallas Cowboy's uniform shop - unfortunately not the Cheerleaders'.
Vrroooom, vrooom...
Time for some zips. These fellas are known as 'Number 10s', and they're the big daddies of the zip world.
One side completed. This one has a dual compartment and is built with extra tough fabric.
Each panel is lined with a piece of foam, to help provide structure and protect innards. Although these black and white shots don't show it, this particular liner is actually a tasteful shade of Hot Pink...
Take 5. Kaboom calls for a break.
Then it's back to the sewing machine to work on the other side, which features a shallow map sleeve and a see-through storage compartment.
This done, the spine of the bag is then traced out onto a ballistics fabric, chosen for its high abrasion resistance.
Velcro strips are sewn in, to secure the bag in place within the frame.
Each one is carefully positioned to avoid cable bosses and stops, which have been marked out by the frame's pattern.
Back to the machine once more...
Sewing in the main construction stitch - suddenly, it's starting to take shape.
Corner and intricate stitches require working the machine manually.
The framebag's still inside out, but almost there. Note the massive, padded flair at the front for extra storage capacity.
Excess fabric falls to the ground as the bag is trimmed, and then finished with seam ribbon.
And last but not least, the moment of truth: the 'rabbit out of the hat trick'. Scott grapples with the framebag to turn it the right way round.
Framepack builder cradles finished product. Job done.
A final splash of colour... The proof, as they say, is in the pudding. It's a perfect fit!
Notes:
For more details on Scott’s fantastic work, check out Porcelain Rocket and his Flickr page.
The images were taken using a Micro Four Thirds Lumix GH2, with 28 and 40mm pancake primes, at 800-1600 ISO. Scott’s little sweatshop is all but devoid of light, especially away from the work lamps, so I processed the images into black and light using Lightroom.
