Yesterday, incredibly long yesterday, sent the strong message that planning and preparation is essential yet also an exercise in futility. The Festival of Unforeseen Pitfalls commenced with our family breakfast, as it turned out all the streets within a ten block radius of the restaurant we had chosen had been barricaded for a triathlon. As a result, Kieran's mom had to park about fifteen minutes away and my sister-in-law had to lie to the traffic police in order to get my parents a parking spot that was not on the other side of town. To top it all off, once my family arrived, Kieran had to run out and retrieve them from the opposite side of the street where they had become trapped by the metal barricades set up for the triathlon. All of this was underscored by the irony that we had chosen a restaurant downtown as opposed to somewhere near where we were staying in Richmond because we had wanted to dip our tires in English Bay, which was now inaccessible. (This irony was refreshed several times in the hour it took to ride our bikes BACK to Richmond.)Over breakfast, we debated the merits of various backup beaches we could go to to dip our wheels in the Pacific and, in the end, reached a consensus on the beach on the opposite side of English Bay. Kieran and I biked over to the planetarium (via the Granville Street Bridge after a thwarted attempt to use the more direct Burrard Street Bridge), and it quickly became apparent that this beach was also inaccessible to bikes due to the enormous and inexplicable rubber pipe bisecting the park. We made our way over to where our families were waiting and, upon attempting to disembark, I promptly discovered that one of my SPD clips was malfunctioning and my leg appeared to be fused to my right pedal. With the help of three people who twisted my leg to and fro, I was able to detach my leg from my pedal's iron grip. This dramatic fight between man and machine was, in fact, a fight to the death, as several minutes later I discovered that our little wrestling match with my pedal had broken my SPD clip. And, hence, minutes before our official departure, I had already created the need for equipment repairs.
Having freed myself from my bike, we made our way down to remaining scrap of beach not barricaded by the Giant Pipe of Unknown Origins. It turned out to be a great spot, with a nice view of the Pacific and Stanley Park and it made for some great photos of our tire dipping ceremony (a moment nearly as well documented as our wedding), complete with a few sail boats slipping out to sea in the background. And then it was hugs and goodbyes all around and we were off on our great Canadian adventure!
Except, of course, we only went six blocks before stopping at the nearest bike store to buy me a new SPD clip. And then we were off on our great Canadian adventure!
What remained of the morning went relatively smoothly, except when we discovered that our BCAA road map is out of date by way of my biking into the industrial yard of a pulp mill and finding myself under a very noisy and rickety wood chipper. (Kieran was spared this fate due to a loose pannier holding him up while I went to find out the answer to "Where do you think that ramp goes?")
The worst of the day was on the Alex Fraser bridge, which I've always found to have an ominous and imposing vibe even in a car, so I was dreading going over it on our bikes. At the base of the bridge (yes base--the damn thing is STEEP), we found ourselves on the wrong side of the traffic/bike path divider and a cyclist on the other side had to help us lift our bikes over the cement barrier so that we could climb over to where we should be. We were then hit by torrential rains and vicious sugar crashes and the climb just...SUCKED. The view at the top was great, but I was cold and hungry and found the way the bridge shook every time a truck rumbled past to be disconcerting.
After some lunch and sunshine at Burns Bog, I was able to shake the feeling that the world was coming to an end. With our blood sugar stabilized, things went well again until Surrey when it suddenly started to feel harder to pedal and then I started to notice every pebble and grain of sand I rode over. I had a flat. A very flat flat. I seriously thought we'd be able to make it at least a week without a flat, but no. I couldn't even make it out of the GVRD. The culprit turned out to be a staple. A STAPLE. Never mind that earlier I couldn't avoid riding through a pile of GLASS and still nothing happened, but I get taken down by a STAPLE.
So, with all our setbacks and my numerous bathroom breaks resulting from my overzealous efforts to remain hydrated, we rolled into Kieran's mom's in Langley later than we expected. But she had a fantastic meal that involved prawns and FOUR CHEESE SAUCE (the woman knows her audience), Epsom salts for her soaker tub, and a king sized bed that was, wait for it, PRE-HEATED (yes). After our night of luxury and a sleep (in a pre-heated bed!) that was only slightly less restful than flat lining, we had to accept that we couldn't hit the road this morning. Too many little problems with our gear surfaced yesterday and they needed to be addressed before we left civilization. So, riding out to Kieran's mom's and then staying an extra day made it feel like our first day was something of a false start. But, tomorrow we'll be off and our great Canadian adventure will begin (again)!
