Author: jasonmytail_11ehe7

Two weeks after I rode this route on the Susie, I went back out on the Bombadil with clearer skies – thankfully, since this time I had no fenders. It was cool but not especially cold; maybe 7 or 8C. The snow line was still pretty high and I only saw the odd patch near the top of the visible hills.

The ride up Fishermans was more busy than even in the middle of summer, presumably because at this time of year you don’t pass up a sunny, above-freezing opportunity to go for a hike or bike. Fair enough, that’s what got me out here too.

As always, once at mid-valley and starting up Spur 4, the “crowds” had sharply declined, but I saw a few other riders. I was enjoying the somewhat different personality of the Bombadil with the KT bars, 11 speed trigger shifter, Rene Herse 55mm knobbies and most notably the lack of fenders. Felt a bit more like a vintage MTB, but more comfortable, and with better manners overall.

As always, the Hatchery Trail was magnificent and especially the Rainbow Creek loop – where I discovered to my bewilderment that I didn’t previously notice a second old growth tree just mere steps from the 500 year old Sitka Spruce. As far as I can tell it’s also a Sitka and approximately the same age, or close to it. It is the closer (right side) tree in the image below, left. And look at the moss covered lower limbs! I couldn’t capture the size nor statement this tree makes.

I also stopped into “See More Stumps” trail on the way back, which as you guessed, has a lot of stumps. Given how much presence the stumps still manage to have in this forest of younger trees, I can only imagine how incredible they were while they still stood tall.

Rob and I are two peas in a very peculiar pod. These rides Rob and I have been doing where we try to find the sneakiest, least likely routes up mountains have “inspired” me to create Bike Portage Club because despite failing spectacularly on a consistent basis as rideable, they’re still really rewarding days out with a bicycle.

In terms of failing, no other ride we’ve done has failed as badly as this one. Having to hike our bikes from 400m to nearly 900m elevation was not unexpected. What was brutal about this ride was we hiked down most of that elevation as well, and I feared for my safety more than once.

The temperature was mild for early February and had been for the past few weeks. However there had been some recent stormy weather and a lot of rainfall, so water levels were high and trees and branches have come down.

We worked our way to the first switchback on Cypress Bowl Rd via our rather optimized route, then headed to the West Cypress Creek trail.

West Cypress Creek trail ascends over 400m along the west bank of Cypress Creek. Just about every other trail is on the east bank, where the topology is significantly more hospitable.

Recent rains had done a number on the road. It was too steep to ride anyway, but it was damaged to the extent it no longer served as an access road for vehicles.

This went on for quite a while, but I’d set into a bit of a rhythm and found the elevation gain to melt away. Perhaps the ambiance of the fog along with the sound of the roaring river down to our right helped place me into a bit of a trance.

The grade eased as we neared the ski area, but the trail became especially wet. Reaching the chairlift, in early February, and there was no snow on the ground at all was eerie and scary.

The lack of snow at the chairlift may have lulled us into a false sense of security for the next stretch, where we travelled along what are typically the XC ski trails. While too patchy to ski, they were also too snowy to ride. Rob had skied them just a week prior I believe, but the mild temps and rainfall had washed away a lot of snow in a short period of time.

It was difficult to walk along, let alone ride.

I know these rider POV photos of slushy snow are getting repetitive, but that’s how we felt at the time as well – the snow would dissipate and we’d think we’re in the clear, only to be met with another patch of snow, over and over again.

The recent snowmelt left bare areas saturated with moisture. Once we were out of the XC ski zone, we descended a section of the Cabin road we were familiar with. It was especially wet today.

The next leg of our journey was to descend Old Brewis, an out-of-the-way hiking trail well to the east of the more popular trail network. Neither of us expected it to be this challenging.

Making matters worse, the first ravine crossing on Brewis involved a destroyed bridge so we had to clamour up along the remains of the bridge.

While the going was tough, the massive Hollyburn Fir rejuvenated our souls.

At the bottom of Brewis, we headed east along Skyline trail along the powerlines towards Lawson Creek. I honestly believed this is where things would get better, but they really did not.

When we reached the ravine that Lawson Creek was at the bottom of, we were sure we must have missed a turn. It was so steep, and such a long way down. Daylight was failing at this point and making it more difficult to see the trail, which fueled my anxiety about getting out of this challenging terrain as soon as possible.

We descended into the ravine knowing that we’ve thus committed to finding a way up the opposite bank. If hiking, this would have been a moderate scrambler – but getting the bikes up with us was a challenge.

Once on the other side of that last ravine, the trail became much more hospitable and placed us back on a normal, reliable trail with views of the city below. I was extremely relieved to know that we didn’t have any more unknowns ahead of us.

Better still, a buddy of ours was at the brewery at the bottom of the hill. We arrived at the busy brewery and parked our bikes in the brewhouse. It was jolting to go from a day of wilderness to such a busy environment. After the brewery we worked our way along the bike route to town, stopping for a cheeky drink on a pier along the way.

There is a popular trail along the west side of Mosquito Creek that starts just off the busy Marine Dr in North Vancouver and heads north to Montroyal Ave. Beyond that it does technically keep going to the powerlines, but it quickly devolves from wide dog-walk friendly path to technical hiking trail, complete with climbing ropes in one section due to the grade and exposure.

Even more curiously there appeared to be some sort of trail on the other side of the creek at this point that doesn’t show up on most maps, including Trailforks.

We had to go see.

I had recently outfitted my Bombadil with drop bars and this seemed like the right kind of ride to really test that out. We traveled up McKay creek to start, and then jogged over to Mosquito Creek via some trails just south of the highway. These trails had what I would consider to be the worst possible surface: logs. Keeps you out of the muck, but unrideable and nearly unwalkable.

Thankfully that didn’t last long, and we pushed up a connector trail to the highway where we were met with police cruisers with their lights on. They had someone pulled over; they hadn’t come for us.

The traverse was short but it was also steep! This was pushing the limits of my comfort zone on a bike with drop bars and no dropper post.

The unknown trail, the one we came for, started behind a small fire station. It was immediately beautiful but also immediately challenging.

This is the kind of trail that exists only because enough school-age kids live in the area and play in the woods.

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The final push to the powerlines was the worst part. The trail was very deeply eroded and loose. Was it a trail? It might have just been a waterway during storms. I think it was a trail at one time, at least.

From there, things were a lot simpler. We were done climbing. We traversed the powerlines for a bit. According to the map and my prior experience, the powerline trail doesn’t go all the way to Braemar Rd. But does it? We pressed on and found it sort of does – not something I’d necessarily do again, but we got there.

We then noodled our way down through North Vancouver, jogging over to every green space we could. It was a trip to come across an unexpected horse pasture near Princess Park. From there we passed through Hunter Park, Hastings Creek, Kirkstone, and Loutet. Time consuming and unnecessary, it was a wonderful way to get back to my neighbourhood.

We are gluttons for punishment, clearly. Armed with a fresh idea of how to get up to the sub-alpine ski area of Cypress Mountain using as few roads as possible, Rob and I took advantage of the long daylight hours and headed towards the mountain.

I took the trust Wombat once again, this time featuring some gears thanks to the Problem Solvers adapter to run a derailleur.

The ascent started with winding roads up through the rich neighbourhood of the British Properties along with some cheeky right-of-way paths to shortcut to the next street up.

Some of it was rather silly. You might think we took the curved overpass in the image below, but we actually had just emerged from the bushes on the right.

Off of Chippendale Rd we took a barely visible trail that snuck around the railing of a small bridge. This trail ascends along a ravine up to the Cypress Bowl Rd lookout point.

It’s good fun coming down, but it’s hike-a-bike going up.

The lupins were out in full force next to the lookout. From here we descended across a deep ravine knowing that a lovely trail awaited us on the other side. Well, mostly.

The above photos represent the traverse across on Millstream, but then it was time to start going up again. We climbed the Millstream fire access road until we reached Baden Powell.

Being aware that Baden Powell is no-bikes in this area, we hiked our bikes and didn’t ride even when the trail was enticingly rideable. And for the first stretch, it was enticing! Smooth and well maintained, not too steep. However this changed markedly as the trail went on, and soon carrying our bikes became rather exhausting. The sporadic older growth trees gave us life, though.

As we reached the sub-alpine a beautiful little pond appeared.

When we reached the top end of Baden Powell we were deposited into an open clearing; we were over 800m elevation now. From here we hopped onto the old Cabin road which led us westward towards Cypress Bowl Rd. The Cabin road is chunky, wet, and poorly maintained. Which is to say, it’s lovely.

We crossed over Cypress Bowl Rd and onto a trail that only shows up in some maps, which traces the perimeter of the Old Growth Conservancy near Blind Skier. It exceeded our expectations, starting out as a well-maintained path to some old growth examples before petering off into a low-traffic loam trail that needled through the dense trees with exceptional skill.

This tree (below, left) is a comrade.

Some appreciation for this capable rig. The rim brakes weren’t performing at their best during some of the water-saturated descending, but otherwise I rarely thought about the bike because it just worked for everything. Light enough to be easy to carry through hiking trails, but capable enough to send a couple spicy rock rolls.

We took the BLT access road down past all the Cypress MTB trails, onto Fern trail which deposited us near the bottom of Cypress Bowl Rd. From there, we took Rob’s favourite fence line along the highway before descending back into the city.

This year, local bike shop Kissing Crows hosted an official Swift Campout overnighter to Saysutshun (Newcastle) island just outside Nanaimo BC. I don’t typically camp in big groups but it’s really fun to do occasionally, and this was a really good group and a perfect destination for the large numbers.

It was an early morning start to catch the nine-something in the morning ferry, with a lumpy 30km ride along West Vancouver to Horseshoe Bay ferry. This was nearly all the required riding to get to Saysutshun, as once the ferry landed in Nanaimo it was just a stone’s throw to the dock where our adorable little water taxi would take us to the little island.

As we waited for our taxi, the summer rains hit. Not forecasted, this caught a lot of us by surprise – but a BC bike-packer always has a rain jacket on hand!

The showers were intense but short-lived. Most bikes were transported in a dedicated bike boat, but a few stragglers were piled on the outer decks of the taxi while the humans all piled within with their bags.

Once we dropped our stuff in the sprawling group camp area, we took off on a loop of the island. A small island, the perimeter trail is about 10 km long. The trail was smooth gravel in some sections but rooty and rocky in others. Beautiful riding all the way.

There is a distinct, unique feel that is common to all the gulf islands: the exposed rock, grassy knolls, proliferating arbutus trees jutting out at impossible angles. It brings me a deep joy to be on any of these islands.

After the loop I was pleased to find the lone cafe was open, and enjoyed a rather delicious halibut sandwich. After this, I spent time exploring the extents of the camp ground.

Fifty people in a group site would usually be crowded, but the group sites on Saysutshun are so large that we were plenty spread out. I found a nice spot by some mature trees, away from the social area. I love being social but it’s not a full time thing for me!

After hanging out for a while, having a beer and some dinner, as the light was starting to wane I made a spontaneous decision to do a second, solo loop of the island. Given the terrain it’s about an hour to complete the loop and the sun was already beginning to set.

I was able to get more photos of the loop this time around since I was travelling solo.

I returned to camp in the last bits of twilight and enjoyed some time around the fire. At right, being greeted by the morning sun the next day.

I was able to sleep in until around 7:45, and emerged to make coffee and oatmeal on the shoreline while deer wandered about the camp area.

The rig, all packed up for the ride home:

Riding onto the ferry never gets old.

I chose to take the more challenging, but more lovely route home which includes some hike-a-bike. The heavy camp load made it quite a challenge, so I stopped halfway to enjoy my remaining beer over a deep ravine.

I started to get real hungry as I passed through West Vancouver so I stopped for one of my favourite long-ride meals – fish n chips at Ambleside, ordered from a take-out window. I wish there were more take-out windows you can ride up to around here!

Upon returning home, I emptied each bag and photographed its contents as a curiosity. This represents a hasty re-pack as well as things migrating around as I went about my day, and not how I’d have packed them when preparing for a trip.

With the bike park coming to Grouse next year, access to ride all the way to the tourist area, with grizzly bears and beer on tap, was about to disappear. So we made one last go at it.

It was also the very first ride on my new Stooge Scrambler, which replaced the Tracker I had previously. All parts swapped over save the rear tire, since my original was too large for the new frame.

The ascent started clear and sunny, but at around 500m elevation we entered the fog. The fog was especially dynamic today, moving and changing at such a rate that you could watch it come and go in real time.

We broke through the fog a little while later, but we weren’t certain whether we’d get views due to the layer of fog between us and the city.

The switchbacks near the top are out in the open and the views are beaiutiful. I’ll miss being able to reach this by my own power.

Beer at the top is such a good motivator, as well. Checking out the bike park trails under development –

And while mixed feelings about the situation, it’s amazing to see a grizzly up close like this. We got a good show this time.

And a glamour shot of the bike with the iconic Grouse view of the city:

It’s not a great name. The reason it has this name is because it’s at the base of what is called suicide bluff, a predictably steep and treacherous bit of topography along the west side of Seymour mountain. Nevertheless, I had this far-fetched idea to try to connect from the end of Suicide Branch, a dead-end spur deep in the Lower Seymour valley, through the woods along the east side of the Seymour river to Bottletop trail, four kilometres south. I wanted to call this “trail” Suicide Dream based on one of my favourite songs.

I knew it was a long shot, but I enlisted a friend who is always up for a silly ride Rob. I took my Wombat, with its single 2:1 gear.

I had been down Suicide Branch twice before. As mentioned it doesn’t go anywhere, and it’s well out of the way. The first time I felt pretty spooked by the fact that virtually no one goes down the trail, thinking about cougars and bears, and chose to turn around after maybe 600 or 800 metres. The second time I made it further, only to have a branch get caught in my front wheel/fender and throw me over the bars at speed. Thankfully I was not terribly injured and able to ride out, but it was a sobering experience – no cell service, nobody likely to find me for days. I was not willing to go back down this trail alone. The name should have made me come to my senses earlier.

It was a beautiful early October day, a really special time to be in the north shore mountains. Big leaf maples were bright orange and dropping leaves, and all the greens were more saturated than they are in late summer. The ride out to Suicide Branch was Fisherman’s trail, which is a beautiful double track trail that hugs the west edge of the Seymour river.

Suicide branch itself is only a little over 2km long, though it certainly feels longer. It rather abruptly ends with a small clearing, which began the next chapter of our little adventure for the day. We poked around looking for signs of a trail, but didn’t see much. We opted to carry our bikes in about 10 or 20 yards to stash them and in the process found signs of a low-traffic, but existent, trail. Turns out the trailhead was intentionally obscured by a pile of deadfall.

We started on along the “trail” – it was barely visible on the forest floor but was particularly well marked – we’d never seen so much flagging in fact. We hypothesized about its use by rescue teams, especially during winter, or perhaps it’s a research plot. We found a metal tag along the way with some coordinate information that led us to believe the latter was a strong probability.

We had become so distracted by trying to understand the purpose of the trail, and enamoured by the beauty of the forest, that I failed to realize that my idea of a trail that one could at least walk their bike on was rather impossible. If you look at this region on a topographical map it doesn’t look so bad, but the maps gloss over gullies that are as treacherous as they are common.

Damn if the forest isn’t beautiful up here, though.

We pressed on for a while, but the actual distance we covered was laughably small. We covered about 200m in 40 minutes. Largely this was because we were examining and discussing every detail along the way, but that 200m was effort beyond the numbers.

Back to the bikes, we started to work our way back out. Before this ride I had noted that there was a trail on Open Street Maps called Suicide Jimmy that traced all the way from the ski area, at 1000m elevation, down to Suicide Branch some 800m below. Knowing the terrain I was extremely curious about this unofficial and largely unknown trail. We kept an eye out for the trail exit as we made our way back.

Paying careful attention to the map, we passed where it was supposed to be despite our best efforts to spot the trail – it was well obscured, yet once we got into the woods a little bit the trail was very apparent. I have to imagine it gets a lot more challenging further up where the terrain steepens significantly, but this section was beautifully loamy and rather chill.

Satisfied with our findings, we made our way back out to civilization. Not without the occasional stop to check out any potential trace of a side trail, which was consistently fruitless in terms of trail but fruitful in terms of cool mushrooms.

October is arguably the best month to be in the forests of the north shore. November is really good, too. There’s never a bad month out here, though.

I’ve written up previous experiences of this loop, but this day I rode a bike that I’ve only had a month that is extremely well suited to the terrain: the Susie Longbolts / Wolbis Slugstone, a “hillibike” by Rivendell. The name ‘hillibike’ is to signify its suitability for trail riding while distancing itself from today’s interpretation of a ‘mountain bike’ since it shares little in common with the modern concept.

The ride out was cool, damp but with little precipitation. Back in town it was a partly cloudy day without any rain in the forecast – but up this valley, the city forecast doesn’t really apply.

I took my time more than usual since I was alone, stopping to check out anything that caught my attention. I rode the full length of Fishermans trail along the Seymour river, which has had several washouts over the past couple years but is running very nice right now. While I didn’t stop for photos, there was a section that had clearly overrun with water during a recent storm event but remained rideable.

This marsh at mid valley, adjacent to the start of Spur 4, is a really special spot to spend time. I don’t know of any similar marsh in the region, and the views are obviously quite stunning.

Spur 4 is a gravel FSR that is not accessible by motorized vehicle, which is unusual around here and makes it quite special to ride. While a relatively popular gravel route among local cyclists, it is still very low traffic and you can go quite a while without seeing another human – if you see one at all.

I took the short detour up to Lost Lake, located partway along Spur 4, but the water level was so high I could barely get a glimpse of the lake. The logs piled up by the access are usually in marsh and can be traversed, but today they were floating and had separated.

Spur 4 ends with a loose gravel single track connector down over the Seymour river near the dam, which was roaring today, and then begins the Hatchery trail, the highlight of this valley for me.

Hatchery trail is an extremely well-maintained gravel path that winds through the most exotic rainforest of the valley, covered in otherworldly moss and lichen, with large trees and a creek that hosts fish spawning. As the name implies, the hatchery is what provides the impetus to put so much effort into a trail that is so far away from the nearest car access – about 12km!

There are many bridges along this relatively short trail, and each one is as new and robust as the one above, with an engraved placard noting the creek over which it passes. I am still blown away by the effort that goes into such a low traffic, out-of-the-way trail but I am very grateful.

Speaking of these bridges, I came across one that is new since I was last on this trail a few months ago, connecting to a smaller side trail over Rainbow creek. Though I saw no signage suggesting it’s no-bikes, the trail itself is so low-intervention on the land that I treaded very carefully. Featured along this side-quest was a 500 year old Sitka spruce.

I hadn’t seen anyone else in quite some time now, and spent plenty of time just in awe of the beauty and texture of the forest – even though I’ve been coming here regularly for years, I never get used to it. A light drizzle was only making the experience better; this forest feels most alive with rain and cool air.

Noting that I was a couple hours from home, the increasing precipitation was indication I should start making my way back as it was only about 4C. I had my trusty buckskin gloves on as well as some wool layers, but I wasn’t really prepared to get soaked.

Unfortunately, what happened immediately next was I got soaked! The rain turned to hail as it ramped up in intensity, and I began to regret my decision to wear lightweight pants with no long underwear as the thin fabric wrapped itself, soaking wet, against my increasing cold legs.

I took the Hydraulic creek connector down to the mid valley lookout, which features a covered gazebo I was very much looking forward to. Two fellas were sitting under it listening to music and drinking hot chocolate, having arrived before the storm and now were enjoying themselves waiting it out. I showed up haplessly soaked, though I was amused by the weather more than anything.

If I managed to get to cover before I was thoroughly soaked I’d have stayed there for a while, but instead I was concerned that lack of movement at this point would cause me to take on a chill I wouldn’t be able to shake so I pressed on after a few minutes of chatting. One of the guys was really impressed by the Susie; he rode an older mountain bike with a heavy duty pannier rack but took keen interest in every detail of the unusual rig I was aboard.

Not many photos were taken over the next hour because my hands were cold as a result of my gloves becoming saturated, and taking off my gloves was not appealing. As anticipated, the weather eased as I reached the mouth of the valley and by the time I was in my neighbourhood, it was downright pleasant out. I stopped a couple km from home and enjoyed the beer I had carried with me the whole trip – I was saving it for the gazebo, thinking I’d be relatively dry at that time. Turns out I should have drank it along the Hatchery trail, perhaps on that small dock on the small forest pond featured above.

July 13, 2024

My pops lives in Chemainus, a small town along the coast of Vancouver Island between Nanaimo and Victoria. I’ve ridden to his place before a couple times now via a combination of paved MUP and quiet roads with a few kilometres of highway shoulder. But I hoped to find a way to get there that reduced my interaction with cars as close to zero as possible, and perhaps inject a little more exploration and adventure into the route as well.

I spent some time on RidewithGPS, Strava heatmaps, and Google streetview to piece together a route that spent as much time off roads as possible, and when not possible, on the quietest roads around. I did not get any input from people who actually rode these trails and I knew the inherent risk there, but for ~50km I was willing to take some chances.

It started with the ride to Horseshoe bay to catch a ferry to the island, and for this I took the “high route” that I prefer over the more popular Marine Dr. It involves some steep hills and a bit of stairs and steep loose singletrack, but has negligible car traffic.

The first few kilometres once in Nanaimo were familiar, and also quite pleasant. A few short blocks on a side road from the ferry terminal places you onto a rail-grade MUP, and this led me directly to Bowen Park which was beautiful, quiet singletrack for a short while. I was sure I’d see signs saying these trails were no-bikes because they seemed too good to be true, but I never did.

I was having such wonderful luck riding a combination of quiet MUP paths and smooth single track that I nearly got out of Nanaimo without a hiccup. Thanks to a closed section due to active construction, I finally hit my first re-route. Even then though – it was an easy and short detour on a road with a bike “lane” so I can hardly complain.

I rode past some sports fields where everyone seemed to be, and then into Colliary Dam park. All of this on very pleasant paved path that is largely away from roads and in the forest. Absolutely lovely. At the end of the park, the path deposits you right onto the parkway trail, which continues the paved MUP alongside the highway but mostly into the trees enough that the road noise is not bothersome at all.

I should say, it’s been hot as heck this day. Mild as far as 2024 heat waves go, but certainly over 30C when humidex is factored in. I am not a fan of the heat, and this was pushing my limits for comfort – lots of water. I drank an entire bottle at a fountain in the park I’d recently passed through at this point and was carrying three. By the end of the day I had drank seven bottles of water.

I was plenty familiar with the Parkway trail and really enjoy it. I was chuffed with how well the route worked out from the ferry to exiting Nanaimo – I would not consider Nanaimo to be a very bike-friendly town, so managing to link together a route that had quite literally only a couple blocks of time spent on vehicle streets felt like a cheat code.

However, at the end of the parkway MUP I turned right instead of the left I was familiar with, and headed into the first section that I didn’t know what to expect from. It began by descending a rural street to a dead end where no trail was apparent until I was greeted by a large “Private Property: No Trespassing” sign affixed to a gate next to a rural house with old pickups strewn about the yard. Beside this gate was a small trail; clearly low traffic but very much a trail.

While the sign had my hackles up, the first stretch was really pleasant: the trail was well enough established, smooth, and followed a ridge line full of birds and beautiful forest. I saw no other humans, but this was to become standard for the rest of the day.

Things became a fair bit more difficult shortly after. I ended up on an old network of what I now understood were moto trails. Where is this? Well, if you look on Google maps it’s a swath of nothingness next to a marsh, but Trailforks showed me there was a network of something here. Other than a few steep, rutted-out climbs covered in marble-like pebbles that my Vessi sneakers were no match for, the trails were really quite fun. I did have a few spots that I genuinely was unsure if I could get both me and my bike physically up due to the lack of traction, though. A lot of energy and time were spent taking a step, sliding back down, and repeating over and over.

It felt good to be through that and onto some quiet country roads as I made my way to the Nanaimo River where the highway crosses it. I rode down the slope under the highway to watch all the folks diving into the river, or using the giant rope swing. I became quite invested in seeing through a young woman’s fear of jumping – friends yelling from the water, coming up to coach. Many others jumped in turn while she built up the courage. Unfortunately my beer was empty before she jumped and I never saw if it ended up happening.

From the river, I hopped onto the highway shoulder for all of 300 metres before exiting onto a really lovely trestle bridge that placed me on a quiet street. A few kilometres of side roads then took me to what was the biggest unknown of the route, both in terms of size and my confidence (or lack thereof) on whether it sent.

Fittingly, I was greeted by a No Entry sign at the start of this large stretch off pavement. At this point I was just south of Cassidy, and I had headed inland away from all roads that would connect to where I was going. But the gate was open, and in I went.

I was only a few kilometres from civilization but it sure didn’t feel like it. Nobody was around, that was for certain. I made my way down “West Bush Main” from near Cassidy towards Ladysmith, with Mount Hayes to my right. There was no vehicle access to these roads except for whatever mining or other activities were in the area, but it was obvious that bicycles do not typically travel this route. Dirt bikes most certainly did though. Welcome to small town Vancouver Island. The surface was very sandy at times, rocky and chunky hard pack other times. It was rarely smooth enough to relax.

It was only a handful of kilometres but felt long due to the heat and being alone without anyone around. Funny how being a little bit concerned about your life makes you feel more alive. While this was all double track or wider, I had wished for my Stooge and its huge, knobby tires. If I do this again, that’s what I’ll take.

West Bush Main, which I’m not sure I’d recommend, eventually spit me onto a smooth dirt road that apparently is part of Trans Canada Trail as I neared Ladysmith. It was a gentle descent too, so I was finally cruising at speed without fear, hooting and in high spirits.

I was quite perplexed when my GPS unit told me to take a hard right off this wonderful road when no junction was apparent. Oh. I see the path now, it’s a tiny, partially overgrown path up a steep embankment along the powerline cut. Wonderful.

That first ~50m of power line trail off the road took me about 30 minutes to climb. It was so steep and loose near the top I had to first climb up without my bike to make sure it was worth it, then remove the bags and take them up, then spent a stupid amount of time sliding around trying to get my bike up it. The loose-over-hard conditions were killing me today. Thankfully, that first 50m did prove to be the worst of it, and the power line trail became more gently rolling in topography as well as a little more trodden.

The heat was definitely getting to me at this point and I was having a pretty hard time – but I don’t think this stretch of trail is particularly difficult even though I was cursing it at the time. However the last major descent (right image, above) was so steep and loose – photo does no justice as usual – that I had to sit on my pannier rack, drag my feet while skidding both wheels to get down it. I couldn’t even walk the bike down it without falling constantly, but this proved to be a really useful way to descent it.

This last section was the Rotary club’s trail, and they had the grace to put a rest point in at a particularly scenic and shaded spot which I took full advantage of. Once I found myself out of the trail and into civilization, I immediately peeled into the grass and cracked a now-warm beer to celebrate surviving that.

While I sat there sipping my beer, an older gentleman slowly made his way up the hill in front of me pushing his e-bike. Turns out it ran out of juice, and this ~20% grade was no doubt plenty challenging to push up let alone ride, especially in the heat. He plunked himself down next to me and we spent about 20 minutes chatting about the trails in the area – he knew full well what I had gotten myself into, and he had ridden some of the same trails this day to my surprise.

The last ~8km or so were on Chemainus’ excellent rail trail that begins north of Saltair and is not well represented on Google, yet most certainly exists. See my Strava route below for full detail!

In February, a friend noticed that all three of the small cabins at Sooke River Campground, a campground I was entirely unfamiliar with, were available and for a very reasonable rate during an April weekend that they had available. Impulsively, I booked one while friends booked the other two. Given that April is typically a wet and cool month, the cabins would be a welcome respite from the potential weather. 

The route to Sooke was the exciting part: from the ferry, it is over 70km of almost exclusively bike path, made up of the Lochside Trail and Galloping Goose, and a significant portion of this is gravel path in the forest, all at rail-grade. It was truly magical to spend so much of the ride in nature and out of earshot from cars. 

I chose to ride my Bombadil which was currently set up with drop bars, with my dual Fab’s Chest bags (small front, large rear). This proves to be a little shy of volume for camping for me, but being able to leave the tent at home freed up the space I needed. The cabins are very rustic, with plywood sleeping surfaces and without any supplied dishes etc, so the tent and my stove setup were the only omissions from my full tent camping setup. 

We rode out as a group of six, stopping fairly regularly and generally not rushing. It took over six hours to make the 73km distance, but we arrived fresh and feeling great. It was hard not to feel energized when spending so much time in the forest, without major hills, and far away from the noise and danger of cars. The Lochside trail is nice, having some very beautiful sections and is mostly pretty well protected from vehicles.. but the Galloping Goose is the star. Absolutely stunning, mile after mile.

We reached our destination, the Sooke River Campground, and settled into our cute but very basic cabins. The remainder of the campground was basically large RV’s and trailers; not the kind of vibe that interested us, but our cabins faced away from the remainder of the campground and thus provided a more private setting.

When I say basic, I mean that we still had to bring our full sleeping kit minus a tent – the “beds” were plywood, which matched the rest of the decor within. I’m not complaining, though – all we needed was a roof over our heads where we could keep our stuff dry. In this respect, they were just right. When the intermittent showers showed up on the morning of our departure, the shelter of the cabins couldn’t have been more appreciated.

We stayed two nights, giving us a full day to explore our surroundings. We opted to continue up the Goose to Sooke Potholes. Trestle bridges, the ruins of a vacation hotel that never opened, and beautiful scenery were some of the hightlights, as well as lounging riverside for a beer.

Our ride back to the ferry was pleasantly long, and the monotonous nature of the gravel rail trail through the woods never became boring – in fact, I couldn’t even get used to the beauty.