Hare and Tortoise 1000k Day 2: Woss to Port Hardy and return
I woke at 6:30 in the morning, rising with my alarm and the sliver of a solstice sun that sliced through a gap in the curtain. I had gone to bed about four hours ago, feeling tired and depleted, and while sleep had restored some of my energy, the deferred aches and soreness of yesterday had caught up to me overnight. "It'll be better once you're moving again," I thought to myself, "it always suck before you get warmed up."
I roused Mark, and we got down to business, quickly and quietly repacking our belongings and getting ready to go again. I pulled a Clif bar out and snacked on this for breakfast, but almost spat it out as my stomach seized up. I sipped some water to wash down the remainder and realized that I was down to about a liter of water. We still had 100k to go, and a liter would last me only half that distance, maybe 75km if I stretched it out. Mark was refilling his bottles from the taps, but given the fragile nature of my stomach, I didn't feel like taking a chance with the local plumbing. I stepped outside to use the hotel vending machine, but soon discovered that it was empty. Completely empty. It looked like birds were nesting in the dispenser tray.
Oh. That's going to be a problem.
It wasn't even seven yet on a Sunday morning and the nearby general store was still closed. As near as we could tell, nothing was going to be open for a couple of hours, so we set out, realizing that we were now running behind schedule. The control closed at 12:17. If we were going to make it, we needed to maintain a 12 mph overall average. Our most recent segment, from Sayward to Woss, had an average speed of only 10.5 mph. The inflexible logic was plain, and I said so to Mark.
"Look," I said, "I don't want to hold you back and jeopardize your chances. I really appreciate you stopping for me yesterday, but I don't know if I can make it to the controle in time."
"Well," he replied, "let's not be hasty. I'll keep a steady pace that'll get us there. Just stay on me. If you can keep up, I'll bring us all the way in."
I didn't even last ten seconds before I lost him, and as another headwind picked up, I was helpless to watch Mark pull away and vanish into the distance.
I stopped.
I walked to the side of the road, and set my bike down. I looked back the way we came, towards Woss and Campbell River and Victoria and thought about what it would take to quit. Even if I gave up here, I still needed to ride back over those mountains we crossed last night, and return to Campbell River before having a chance of getting a bus ride back to Victoria.
"Might as well keep going," I thought to myself, "Port Hardy's a decent sized town, supposedly. If there isn't bus service, maybe there's a ferry or a train."
The keys to success are sometimes wrapped in the lies we give to ourselves.
I took a look at the bike once more, determined to rule it out as a culprit in any future failure that I might have. The rear wheel was a little out of true and rubbing the brakes intermittently. I loosened the brakes to give it more freedom while still having some stopping power to use when I needed it. Tires looked fine. Chain seemed fine. This was not going to be my excuse.
There was a small collection of energy gels that I had in my saddlebag -- a stash of swag and giveaways that I had accumulated from various rides and events, all for energy products in flavors that I didn't particularly enjoy or for brands that just sounded silly, like Vanilla Gu and Raspberry Carb-Boom. I figured that this was probably the best time to tap this reserve, and so moved the whole lot into my jersey pockets.
I got back on and kept going.
The computer was being spotty and intermittent. I had misplaced a shim for the sensor when rebuilding the bike in Comox, so it was having a hard time reading my wheel and giving accurate speed readouts. Still, there were distance markers by the side of the road, indicating our distance from Campbell River. The last one that I passed was 150, so I quickly worked out that I was about 85km from Port Hardy, which meant that I'd pass 17 more of these markers. I turned off my speedometer, switched to the clock, and did some math. If I was going to get to the checkpoint in time, I had to hit each of the distance markers within 15 minutes of each other. If I could do that, I should stay on the ride. That's the promise that I gave myself.
155 km ... 14 minutes ... ahead of time
160 km ... 12 minutes ... even better.
165 km ... 15 minutes ... ok.
My muscles had warmed up by this point and my mood had improved. The weather had turned out nicely, with clear blue skies replacing yesterday's intermittently grey gloom. The morning sun still hadn't risen high enough to clear the trees around me, so I was still riding in mostly chily shade, but it was looking to be a good day.
Nonetheless, I couldn't help but think about an exit plan. While my body seemed to be recovering from last night's nadir, my water situation was looking rather dire. I had two bottles on my bike, one with pure water, and another with water mixed with Nuun electrolyte tablets. The pure water bottle was nearly empty, and the Nuun bottle was well past halfway. My right knee was also hurting even more now, despite the adjustments that I made to my saddle earlier. I was maybe 60km away from Port Hardy, and I figured that I'd be out of water in 30. I didn't know what would happen then, especially if the midday sun warmed up the day. I expected and imagined that the dehydration would probably get to me about 20km out of Port Hardy, making me weak and dizzy and possibly affecting my ability to continue. What would I do then? I hadn't seen a bus yet or any form of public transportation. Hitch-hike, maybe? I wasn't sure.
A little while later, I finally saw Ken again, who had arrived in Port Hardy last night and was now on his way back. We chatted briefly and he told me that Mark was only a little further ahead of me, but that we both had to hustle to make it to the checkpoint in time. We swapped notes on the ride so far, and I mentioned my water situation. He reminded me that there was a store in Port McNeill, about 15 km before Port Hardy, but it was going to be a detour and I may not have had the time to spare. Nonetheless, he wished me luck and we parted ways.
As 10am approached, I could see more cars and trucks on the highway, as the rest of the island roused themselves to a Sunday morning. My primary water bottle was now empty, and the Nuun bottle had, maybe, an inch left in it. I started waving at the logging trucks and camper vans as they passed me, hoping that one of them would slow down, but many of them blew past on whatever errand had them on the road this morning. Finally, I waved at an RV and was almost shocked when they slowed down and pulled over in the opposite side of the road.
Dismounting, I walked myself and my bike over and explained my circumstances. The camper was being driven by a couple from San Diego, and they were happy to refill my water bottles, using the filtered water that they had stored in their RV. I thanked them for the favor and we wished each other well on our respective journeys. The water itself tasted really, really sweet.
Newly encouraged with this stroke of luck, I put in all of my energy to get to Port Hardy as quickly as possible and make up time from these last two stops. My knee was still bothering me, which throttled the amount of effort that I could throw into pedaling, as a certain amount of strain was starting to feel painful, but I still felt confident about getting in to the checkpoint. Finishing the rest of the ride was still a little up-in-the-air, as I wasn't sure if I'd have anything left for the return, but I figured that I'd worry about that after the checkpoint.
A little further on, I crossed a small bridge and saw, on the other side of the bridge that there was another cyclist stopped in the shade of a tree. It was Mark, stopped to fix another flat tire. He greeted me cheerily as I rolled up, glad to see that I caught up, and I was glad to have his company as well. We rode in together to Port Hardy and arrived about five minutes short of the cut-off.
The checkpoint was a Mobil station near a shopping plaza. I had been eating trail mix and processed energy gels for the entire morning and my body was now ravenous for some real food. We found an A&W to sit in for lunch, then Mark went out to a nearby Walmart to hunt for some spare tubes since his flats so far had depleted his supply, while I went back to the Mobil station for coffee, food and water for the road. Ooh ... macadamia nuts.
As I sat and waited for Mark to return, I tried to be mindful of stretching to keep my muscles limber, but my right knee was still feeling rather tender, and my legs in general were feeling the strain of the last 325 miles. I thought to myself that if I had to quit, this would be the best time for it. This was the biggest town in the area, and the most likely hub for any sort of public transportation. As Mark re-appeared, he encouraged us to get on the road and stay on schedule, but we weren't more than a few kilometres out of the Port Hardy city limits before I started fading from lack of sleep, and my speed dropped again. I rode up to Mark and said that I was thinking of abandoning because of my knee. I wasn't sure if I could do another 325 miles on it, and I was going to look into an alternate way back in Campbell River.
Mark looked disappointed and dispirited as I think he believed that we were past the worst of it, but he quietly nodded and accepted my decision. "Well, then," he said, "if that's how it is, do what's best for yourself."
"Ok, thanks."
"... but would you mind selling me a couple of your spare tubes now that you might not need them?"
I chuckled and fished a couple from my bag and handed them over. Then I watched Mark fade into the distance while I turned around and headed back to Port Hardy. I pulled over near the airport, where there was a big map of town, but the map didn't indicate any sort of ferry or rail terminal. I had cell signal here and tried to call silentq to inform her of my plans, but she didn't answer. I checked the BC Transit site and noted that there was a bus that ran from Port Hardy to Port McNeill, but nothing that connected the northern towns to Campbell River. There was a ferry in Port McNeill, but it only ran back to the mainland. The only option left to me was the airport, which wasn't likely to take my bike.
On the highway, a young deer crossed to the other side. It was the first real bit of wildlife that I'd seen that day.
Oh well, I guess I have to ride anyway. I checked the time and the closing schedule for Woss ... six hours to cover the distance. Now more time than I had this morning, and I have a tailwind. I opened my first aid kit, took out some ibuprofen to kill the pain and got back on my bike.
The few minutes off the bike did seem to revive my head and the sleepiness cleared just as the tailwind picked up and gave me new life. The forest blurred past as I pushed my speed higher, and my mood improved even further when I realized that it had just been hours since my stomach grumped at me. Perhaps I had turned a corner.
A few kilometres later, just before Port McNeill, I passed a guardrail that had a bike propped against it. As I approached it, I saw that Mark was lying on the other side, napping for a bit. He woke as I approached and said, "I thought you were quitting."
"I was, but I couldn't find anyone who would accept my surrender. So might as well keep going. Maybe I'll call silentq's folks when I get to Campbell River if my knee gets worse, but it seems a bit presumptuous to have them drive up all this way."
That didn't seem like the most sensible logic in retrospect, but neither of us quibbled. Mark got up from his catnap and we were on our way once again, riding together all the way to Woss, and getting to the checkpoint at 7:25, just in the nick of time. We got our controle cards signed at the general store, one of those all-in-one frontier shops that was, at once, gas station and grocery and post office and video rental shop. They had sandwiches for sale, but the sandwiches themselves looked fossilized. We asked if there was a restaurant in town, and the owner pointed back to the Rugged Mountain Motel and said the pub was the only restaurant open.
So, we dropped in on the Rugged Mountain Pub and were treated to the complete attention of the owner and chef. I think we both ordered the baked spaghetti and some water, as we discussed the plans for the next stages of our route.
"So," I said to Mark, "I know you've been wanting to sleep in Campbell River because your daughter's there, but I'm not so sure given the time."
I was ready for him to protest and encourage us to push on, but was a little surprised when he nodded. It was already 8, and we were about to start the hardest section of the route for us, the one that had given us so much grief yesterday. It would likely be close to midnight by the time we got to Sayward Junction. We would have to ride through the rest of the night to get to Campbell River and that seemed a pretty daunting prospect.
"I agree," he said, "I think stopping in Sayward is sensible. I wouldn't want to do that stretch again in the dark, especially alone. We need to stick together."
With that settled, we had to figure out where we'd sleep. Neither of us had made prior arrangements, so we asked the owner if they had a place to recommend in Sayward.
"You could stay at the Fisherboy," she said, "just off the main junction. They got rooms there, probably."
Our cell signal here was weak, but the proprietor was happy to put in a call for us on their landline and to make reservations. We told her that we'd likely be getting in after midnight, and she said that was fine. Just ring at the main office to check in. If it's really late, the owner will just leave the key out for us.
So, suitably fed and rested, we returned to our bikes and made ready for our final push of the day. It was past 8:30 now and evening was quick on its approach. We changed back into our cold weather gear, pulling on leggings and arm warmers, and then headed out once more into the dark. The tailwind that we had enjoyed earlier that afternoon had faded, but it had been replaced in the night by a grand and mellow sense of peace. Likewise, the turmoil and anxiety that I experienced earlier in the day had subsided, and I realized that I had passed the most trying parts of the ride. I still had to revisit all of the big climbs from the previous night, but it's always easier doing this after the halfway mark, where every pedal stroke brings one closer to the end, and the road ahead is not nearly as long the one just behind.
Traffic on the road had calmed down as well. It felt like there were hours where it was just Mark and I riding along silently. The cloudiness of yesterday passed, and the vast night sky with its tapestry of stars opened up overhead. Cresting a small rise, I saw a shooting star. Its luminous tail arced overhead, flying towards Vancouver. I saw that omen and wished that I would finish, that I had come this far and might as well complete the journey. I wished for victory.
We arrived in Sayward a little before 12:30 and knocked on the door of the main office in the Fisherboy Lodge to rouse the hotel keeper, a willowy lady in her 50s. She seemed wide awake, fully expecting our arrival. As she took a look at our clothes, helmets and lights, her first words to us were, "I suppose you've got some card or piece of paper for me to sign, testifying that you were here at some mad hour."
"Oh, well ... yes. I see you've been through this drill before."
"We get one or two of your types through here, every now and again. In at midnight, out before dawn. That's your lot. What do you call yourselves again?"
"Randonneurs, ma'am. Here's the card."
"Well, help yourself to whatever's in the store. We've got water, fruit and basic camping supplies. Pay for whatever you pick up and pay for your room now. Then just drop off the key in the morning."
The room that we were assigned was spartan but functional, filled with the scent of bleach and reduced expectations. As a place where we could sleep for a couple of hours, it would do.