Commuting continued

I’m continuing to cycle to work despite daily 10-15 centimeter forecasts of snow in the B.C. Peace.  It’s not pleasant, enjoyable, pleasurable or any other synonym of the aforementioned three kilometer commute.  Chilly; slippery; scary-mask wearing; uphill; dodging pickups spinning out and confused motorists; winter cycling is turning into an extreme sport. 

Would I love to remote start a vehicle and hop into its waiting warmth instead of layering up and taking to two wheels?  A loud YES! But I choose to be car free this summer and am unwilling to pay for the convenience, ahem silliness, of owning a car in a small town.  Pedestrian and bike friendly it is not – there’s an overwhelming lack of sidewalks, never mind bike lanes in Chetwynd – but I maintain it’s better, or at least less bad, than owning a vehicle. 

As the handful of trails paralleling creeks that link schools and subdivisions are better suited for dog walking, nature strolls and midnight meanders than commuting I’m relegated to the road.  A road which, throughout much of the province is a bustling highway that briefly slows to 50 km/h, carries transports, log and coal trucks and motorists baffled at sharing a lane with cyclists.  Add in some concealed-by-the-snow ice and equally hidden holes and it truly is a recipe for a deadly spill. 

Sure, I’ve been offered rides but some lingering sense of pride, stubbornness, or a desire not to be an inconvenience prevents me from accepting.  No longer employed in the vicious, demanding and ultimately unforgiving forest industry, I still feel there’s something to prove and a toughness that can only be cultivated in the boreal to maintain.  I recognize it’s absolutely ridiculous to jump onto an exposed bicycle and slip around alongside one-ton pickups yet I continue to do it – at least twice a day.  

Fall snow

Nervously glancing at the forecast, I grudgingly changed into my winter cycling tires.  Man! Am I ever slow!  Accustomed to city slicks for far too long, the new mountain bike tires feel like clown shoes on my otherwise speedy steed. 

My three kilometer journey to my still-new-to-me part-time job lengthened to 16 minutes from 12, I couldn't comfortably use high gear, the sound from the tires was deafening.  With pre, and in all likelihood real, winter so hard in the north, it’s no great mystery why it’s barely populated by a smattering of small towns. 

Comfortably care and car free, I’ve been zooming around Chetwynd on a borrowed bicycle for the sunny summer and now frosty fall.  It's a slower, ponderous pace well suited to northern living.  Constantly conscious of how much I buy at the shops, the spacing of my appointments and the highly volatile weather, I've embraced my commute.  In addition to light (now moderate) exercise, caffeinated teas are pretty much a thing of the past for me as I arrive clear headed, smiling and rosy cheeked.  

  

"Good for you!" I'm practically knocked over from a high five upon arriving somewhere slightly sweaty and disheveled.  "I could have picked you up," as I carry my dripping bike into the back room at work on a soggy morning.  I continue to stand by my decision to take to my feet, pedals, and crazed car shares in a town where one truck per person is viewed as not enough.  

Mummies and puppies

Charged with a friend's high energy Golden Doodle while he was in the Lower Mainland and Okanagan, my visiting mother and I were often accompanied on journeys around Chetwynd.

Up Baldy with Mizuno and Wednesday.

Twice daily strolls around the neighbourhood and beyond.  Backyard guest at a BBQ.

Mom and I managed a solo half day hike to Bergeron Cliffs to see the Murray Valley in all her fall splendor. What a view! 

Baldy summit romp

These aspen haven't turned yet

North of Hudson's Hope

Half way up Baldy

Mom arriving at the  Bergeron Cliffs lookout

Looking out

Looking towards the wind farm

Rupert, Stewart, George and other Highway 16 stops in between

En route to Stewart

Bear viewing in Hyder
 

Near Fraser Lake

Fishing on Dennis Lake near Smithers

Natives fishing

Note safety system

Bear viewing in Hyder

Roadworks rainbow!

En route to Salmon Glacier

Salmon Glacier and Dan!

Wide angle attempt

Leaving Stewart

I found the ocean! 

Scenic road bypassing Smithers

Parting Prince Rupert sunset

Westward ho(e)!

Have a listen to Sarah Hepola's interview with CBC on traveling alone.

With too many waxing on about how travel has reordered lives and given them new found direction, travel has, in too many ways, unshaped me.

I was willingly and quickly pulled out of the "go to university, spend money you don't have studying something vague very few give a rat's arse about, meet a partner, get married, spend way too much money again, buy a house, make lots of body wrecking babies that will drain your time, income and energy for the next 18 years while eking out a career from an expensive liberal arts university that no one's heard of and you're still paying for."

Blah.  Twenty-seven, debt free and recently re-unemployed, I couldn't be more pleased.  A mild uncertainty accompanies me like a case of lice as I pour over provincial and world maps while anxiously glancing at my bank account.

While I don't have sponsors like similarly named Sherri I take great pleasure that we're doing it simply because we can.

Where ever we can.  Tonight I'm leaving for a 10-ish day tour with the fella westward along Highway 16.  Fishing, hiking, hanging out, grizz bear spotting and cheap American beer await!

Hepola's full essay here.

Booners and berry creations

Thomas, Chris, Dan and I and bulging suitcases enroute to G.P. 

Just as I'm getting used to surprise weekend day(s) off, my exit is coming up. Usually the first one out, summer gems Thomas and Angie have already (and grudgingly, I think) left the north for school in southern locales.  Final night celebrations and ultimately tear-filled goodbyes around the fire, dessert table, sushi bar, and orgasmic Alberta pub served as a tiny tribute to true friends.  Their genuine East Coast hearts, smiles and kindness will be sorely missed.

Keen to show Dan a smattering of what I do, I packed him into my pickup for a journey down to one of my favourite areas, the Murray.  A Chetwynd resident for three years, Dan had yet to make the trip into Monkman Provincial Park to see Kineuso Falls.  Blown away by their late season volume, jealous of the river boaters at the base of the falls and curious about the fishing downstream assured me there'll be further visits.  

Dan's blueberry haul

While I zipped around the blocks checking for lammas growth, Dan grabbed an empty water bottle and collected as many blueberries as he could on the sandy pine flats.  Cleaned and sorted the following morning, he whipped up knock-out blueberry pancakes - nearly as good as my Saskatoon berry muffins.  

Saskatoon muffins turned out fabulous!

Rounding up another boat and another angler, The Mink made another appearance in a northern lake.  

Shaun captains while Colin fishes

A bit of running around on puzzle-like hydro roads eventually delivered us to Pete Lake, 38 kilometers up the Moberly.  Constrained my another engagement in town, it was a fast fish, but a good one!  Dan hooked up with a Rainbow but the wiley fella jumped the hook.  

Stern man Dan with the catch

I hooked into another, larger cousin of the escapee and was able to maneuver it into the waiting net.  My first trout as far as I know!

My Ragin Rainbow! 

Summer score: Sheri 8, Dan :0

Baldy's berries

Finally a bumper berry crop after two consecutive years of disappointing yields pulled Dan, Angie, her Mom and I onto Baldy's slopes to fill any available vessel with my personal favourite, Saskatoon berries.  

A mere hour of picking yielded 4.5 liters destined for the freezer for future baking and breakfast projects.    

I've spotted an orange oat Saskatoon berry muffins recipe that I'm keen to to try these days off.   



Dan's parents popped up for the August Long weekend for a northern visit.  BBQs lasted long into the night as friends new, and newly old dropped by for a beer, burger or a twilight giggle.  Popping in to Bulter Ridge Provincial Park hopping to cruise up to its namesake ridge for views of Williston Reservoir and surrounding Rocky Mountains, we spent the entire time in the trees along ATV trails catching up and marveling at nature's wonders.

My own mother will be visiting the north next month as I wave farewell to a summer job I've been keen to see in the rearview mirror since July.   

                            

                                     At the lookout                                           Cleaning our bumper berries!

Purple mouth

  

Clearly accustomed to the Ruiters' new Edge, Wednesday was at ease in the trunk after an afternoon jaunt into the woods.  We were easily able to persuade her out in to the car.  

Mystery schrooms dotting the path