And hip, and sunny, and friendly, and beautiful. Alex asked me the other day – “Where would you rather live – Vancouver or Seattle?”. I had no answer, I’ve developed a love for both cities; but for slightly different reason I suppose. So here goes my breakdown of Seattle:

Numero uno – it’s America. I have to say I like that very much.  Secondly – the environment; strangers were friendly and the architecture was exactly that – architecture. We spent much of our three days off cycling through the neighborhoods visiting shops, breweries, and ice cream parlors. Parks were everywhere. In Capitol Hill there was even a well lighted artificial grass field where recreation leagues played soccer at night. The neighborhoods were old and had character which is much of what Alex and I love about cities in general. The curves and eccentric style of the homes and buildings tell vivid stories even as they sit silently next to the road. An active imagination can bring alive what once happened there and often made us conjecture out loud who might live there now.

Gone are the endless kilometers of pine trees that plagued us for week after week in Alaska and Canada. Entering Washington, we were surprised (even though we knew it was coming) to run into dense forests of deciduous trees. Every once in awhile after making sure nothing lie ahead that we might hit as cycled along we could take a good long look to the side. Moss covered the trees, bushes with full leaves lined the edge of the forest, and no sun light could penetrate the canopy above. As we explored Seattle we were happy to find that the streets were covered with the same giant deciduous trees; they had to be hundreds of years old. The shade they provided was exactly what we needed on as the sun beat down on the city relentlessly.

Kristen met Alex and I in Seattle just as we bid farewell to the crew that traveled with us from Vancouver. The three of us stayed with Rob and David – two of the most gracious people ever. Their home was our launching point for exploration and cooking over the next three days. We visited a whole host of spots including famous Seattle Public Library, Pike Place Market, the original Starbucks, some local restaurants, a bike shop or two, the Olympic Sculpture Park, the University of Washington, and Elysian Brewery.

Far and away our favorite joint was Top Pot Doughnuts. Much to our mother’s dismay – we’ve become doughnut connoisseurs on this journey of ours. Safeway, gas stations, Tim Hortons, and now that we’re back in the US – specialty doughnut shops. We’re madly in love with the Apple Fritter at Top Pot. If you’re in Seattle pick one up. Your arteries will hate you, but you’re taste buds will do jumping jacks. Mmmm.

We left Seattle with our stomachs stuffed with blueberry pancakes and a little local coffee. Thanks for hosting us Rob and David – you were right, Seattle is GREAT!

David + Rob + New coffee machine

One of those nights at the Sheraton in Vancouver, I awoke from my sleep needing to use the restroom. I was a little groggy and couldn’t place where I was. I imagined that I was still in our tent with tall grass waving on both sides of us. I was lost somewhere between a dream and a nightmare when something finally snapped into place and I realized my location and that I could just walk over to the bathroom; there was no need for unzipping the tent or any of that other business.

So use the bathroom I did. What happened next I vaguely remember. I have a faint memory of falling and hitting my head. But mostly I remember waking up in a pool of blood in the bathroom. It was a frightening experience to be sure. Once again, I was groggy – not sure of where I was or what had happened. I knew the blood was coming from the back of my head because it hurt like hell. I briefly wondered if the hotel would charge us for bloody towels, but just as soon realized there was no other reasonable option. I slammed one against my head and sat on the toilet, hoping the bleeding would stop.

During those few minutes a number of thoughts ran through my aching head. Why the heck did I fall? It was a day off after all, I didn’t feel dehydrated. Heck I’d even had two donuts before bed. There was no way I was low on electrolytes. I knew I needed help, but how was I supposed to get it without freaking the other 5 people in the room out???

I decided to first wipe the blood off my body before I awoke Alex. Soon I was stepping over Max who was sleeping soundly on the floor. I tapped Alex on the shoulder several times, each tap harder than the last. “Alex, I need help – I fell in the bathroom”, I said. I showed him the damage and tried to describe what had happened. I was relieved to have him with me. And I was still terrified. My voice was quivering and my head still bleeding. He left the bathroom to grab my clothes and then we headed down to the lobby in search of a hospital.

Wasn’t I in luck. The hospital was a mere 20 meters away — just across the street. Don’t forget that this was an international emergency, everywhere we stopped I had talked to people about the Canadian healthcare system, but now I was going head first (no pun intended) into it. The very first thing the ER tech told me was that to see a doctor would cost me $715 up front. That certainly made me think twice about seeing a doctor. I knew I needed to see one, but I sure as hell knew I couldn’t afford that price. And I was pretty confident that my current health insurance wouldn’t pay for it either. Immediately I began to think about the irony regarding my situation – there I was in a country with terrific health care (that’s the consensus from my conversations) – yet they were literally proposing highway robbery simply because I wasn’t Canadian. Seeing a doctor does not cost $715, they knew that, and I knew that.

They told me that if I waited for a few hours I could head over to a walk in clinic for 1/3 the price. I talked about that option with the nurse, and we both agreed that it would be alright if I waited. Alex brought me back to the hotel where I spent a number of hours lying on my back trying to sleep.

The walk in clinic was quick, easy, and efficient. The price had nothing to do with my condition, it was simply read off of a piece of paper. The receptionist and I read it together; clearly she didn’t have to do this often. Foreigner -> base charge for suture = $180. I paid via credit card before I even saw the doctor. 10 minutes later I walked out with a single suture. As far as I’m concerned $180 is still robbery. This sort of pricing is not unique to Canada; it’s the same in U.S. If we knew the prices that we paid for health care perhaps more citizens would be enraged. But not many people ask for the price, why should they – they’re not the ones paying. But that’s another conversation for my other blog. In the end, the system ran smooth and I’m quite sure that my money is helping to subsidize their single-payer system somehow.

Hands down, worst experience of the trip so far. But I guess it can’t all be gravy.

Our arrival into Vancouver marked the end of Canada for us. Both Yukon Territory and British Columbia were sorta hilly slash mountainous. In fact, we averaged 2054 meters (~6700 ft) of climbing a day since starting the trip on July 5. So you might be able to imagine that we’re hoping the coast has a little less altitude in store for us. It probably won’t, but we can still hope.

Vancouver was special for a number of reasons. Most importantly: friends. We hadn’t seen any along our route until Vancouver. To see smiling faces of people our age was a special treat. Not to mention just spending time with people our age who are actively exploring their life by enjoying (f)unemployment, sports, night life and all of the other goodies that Alex and I are interested in — our two days there were purely refreshing.

We were hosted by three of the most wonderful women in town — Lisa, Natalie, and Jess — who opened their home to us as if we were family. Lisa toured us around town with two of her friends (Annie + Ella = tree planters from the north) on day one. The rain poured down for hours, but that did nothing to soil our spirits. We visited Tim Hortons for starters (A must we learned from Kayle in Prince George) and then chugged over to the Granville Island Public Market where Alex and I split our first 1/2 kg of blueberries that day. Half of a kilo was a mere $2. So you can guess that we bought the other half just a few hours later.  Next was the Granville Island Brewery which got the jumping photos started for the weekend.

Visiting Stanley Park is a tourist obligation so we cruised it 40 km/hr in the driving rain. We made out huge trees, lush land, and some nutty pro cyclists through our drop soaked and foggy windows. As the rain eased up we neared the University of British Columbia. At UBC, per Lisa’s recommendation, we popped out of the car to pick some wild blackberries. They were both absolutely delicious and free. In fact, after that tour we started spotting berry bushes all over town. You don’t even need to buy them!!! It’s those kinds of niceties that make me think I need to move there when this is all over.

But I was talking about friends right? A car full of our buddies rolled into town that night after driving 20 hours. It was just in time to have a few beers before sleep sucked us in. Max, Taylor, Caroline, and Sarah treated Alex and I to two nights at the downtown Sheraton. Now that’s a change from the old two man tent we normally call home. Showers whenever we wanted. Unlimited water. A refrigerator. Clean sheets. Full sized pillows. Lights that filled the room. It was all super fancy and more than we deserved.

The crew spent the next 24 hours exploring the town with us (via bicycles). Together we soon learned that the sushi in Vancouver costs 1/4 the price of sushi in Boulder. And it’s easily twice as good. Our last night in town Jess + Lisa brought us to a small sushi joint that left the six of us in awe of yet another coastal living perk.

Cheap and healthy food, friendly people, and nice weather. More please. We desperately wanted to stay another night there, but the United States was calling. We’ll be back British Columbia; not to see your hills, but to visit your crown jewel — Vancouver. Thank you Jess, Natalie, and Lisa — we had more fun that we thought possible. We’ll see you in Boulder this winter.

Lisa!

Nat + Jess (Yep, they’re sisters)

The decision to take the Fraser Canyon turned out to be quite easy because wildfires blocked our way even if we had wanted to head through Whistler. Plus finding out we’d encounter smaller mountains and views almost as beautiful basically sealed the deal. What we didn’t know is that the route would provide headwinds that would plague us for hours on end. For two days headwinds sucked the spirit right out of Alex and I. Conversation ceased, we stared at the pavement, and the only laughs that could be heard were those that were uttered in disgust as we popped into our small chain ring to go down a steep hills at at the glacial pace of 16 km/hr  (10 mi/hr).

So to finish a day in the Fraser Canyon was grand for more than just being off the bike – we were done fighting the headwinds. On day 4 from Prince George we finally stumbled into a campground called the Kumsheen Rafting Resort. As we were leaving the office after paying for our site we stumbled into Florian and Bettina – our friends from Fish Creek that we had last seen 1400 or so kilometers away at the Meziadin Lake Provincial Campground. They had just finished up a day of rafting. We quickly drew up some dinner plans for later in the evening after hot tub, tent pitching, and showers of course.

Just as spaghetti has been the dinner of choice on our journey, it has been the same for Florian and Bettina. For some reason they continued to invite us to dinner knowing that they’d get the short end of the stick. Alex and I would bring over the worlds cheapest jar of pasta sauce that they graciously mix with some super tasty Paul Newman variety. The resulting mix tasted like the stars to Alex and I, but most certainly was less than impressive for our friends. Luckily, food wasn’t the reason we got together at the end of a day.

As you well know by now – we sit for the conversation, the comraderie, to learn about each others cultures, and to share stories of traveling and of home. And somehow Florian always managed to sneak a small glass of scotch in front of Alex and I. It’s an acquired taste he says, but clearly one we have yet to acquire.

The next morning we met for a chat before entering the headwind factory that waited so patiently outside of our campground. It took us a few hours to knock out 60 km where we stopped for lunch at Hell’s Gate – a particularly interesting tourist trap. The owners had planted their restroom on the opposite side of the canyon from the entrance, so that you had to buy a $12 ticket to their airtram ride if you wanted to relieve yourself in the comfort of a modern bathroom. Sure enough, no more than ten minutes after we had setup our PBJ kitchen, Florian and Bettina barreled into the parking lot offering up some rather tasty muffins they had bought just for us. A short conversation later we had plans to meet at a campground 40 km past the city of Hope – called Harrison Hot Springs.

We knew we’d be pressed for time since it was already 5:00 pm and the sun would go down around 9. With 80 km to go, nasty headwinds, and some super hills in front of us – Alex and I fought tooth and nail to get their by sun down. With 20 km left we were finally in a good groove and cruising at 32 km/hr when we an oncoming RV carrying our favorite germans honked and pulled over. The RV park was full! What?!? That threw a major wrench in our plans. But almost instantly the problem was solved. We threw our gear into their RV, and headed back to Hope where camping sites were aplenty.

You guessed it; that night we had more spaghetti, more beers, more tales, and deepened our friendship with our new traveling buddies. The next day they were heading to Vancouver, just as we were. So of course we made plans to get together one last time before they headed back to the motherland.

Alex and I biked across Vancouver for a 10pm night cap on Monday night. And man were we glad that we did. Florian and Bettina – we’ll miss you. We hope that we continue to meet people that have the same spirit, sense of adventure, and flexibility as you two. Thank you for the food, rocking times, and your helping hands. Schlaf gut!

Most of the time Alex and I eat peanut butter and jelly for breakfast. Every once in a while we sneak in a liter of milk and a box of cereal. But when we were in Williams Lake, BC the other day we ran into a delightful surprise.

I was heating up our water for the nightly spaghetti meal when a couple walked by our camping site. We soon started talking. Their names were Linda and Francis and in their arms they were carrying the remnants of what could have been a raging dinner party. Mid conversation Linda offered me the wheat rolls and leftover desert that occupied her arms. There was no chance I could turn that away – what a tremendous addition  to our meal.

A little later in the conversation, after I had described what Alex and I were doing on our journey, she dropped the bomb. “If it’s OK with you, I’d like to make you breakfast in the morning.” I’m sure my jaw dropped open. Seriously? You want to make us breakfast? Unbelievable!

Sure enough – we were the lucky recipients of bacon, eggs, toast, blueberries, yogurt, OJ, and coffee. What a treat! And boy did it come at the right time. Just before we settled at our campground we had a particularly nasty encounter with a truck driver who may or may not have threatened to end our lives. Upon entering Williams Lake, we were ready to get the hell out of Canada. So when we met Francis and Linda – it was a great reminder of how gracious, giving, and kind Canadians are. Our journey continues to surprise us in both simple and amazing ways.

So after John dropped us off at 15th and Central yesterday in Prince George Alex and I were sheepishly cycling back, wobbly wheel and all, to Kayle and Kelly’s home. I can’t tell you how thankful we were to have them has hosts in Prince George. They taught us all sorts of things about Canada, toured us around Prince George, ran us to the bike shops, and even introduced us to the infamous double double at Tim Hortons (yummy!). But I’ll tell you more about that later. This post is about the journey back to their home.

As we turned the corner onto Foothills Drive a car pulled up next to us with their window down. We barely looked over until we heard a voice that said, “Hey we know you guys!”. Uh huh, sure you do – was the thought running through my head as I glanced over to see who was in the car. I had no recollection of their faces. We stopped to chat though – this was intriguing.

They then reminded us that they had met us at Congdon Creek Campground in the Yukon (more than 1,800 kilometers from Prince George). The reason I didn’t remember their faces was because they had been in a canoe on the lake and we had been chatting from shore. Remember the photos from this place where Alex and I were washing in the lake?

Here is a photo Neil and Anne from way back then…

Anyhow – we chatted for a bit on the side of the road. They told us that they’d been looking for us daily, figuring we’d come through town. Seriously? Well sure enough – they found us as we re-entered Prince George! PG is a town of 100,000 – the chances of finding us on any given day have to super close to zero. Neil and Anne then invited us over for some beers later in the evening. How could we pass that up???

At 8 o’clock Neil and Norm (his friend that we had also met in the Yukon) came whisked us a way for two hours of great snacks and a few Budweisers. This is the stuff dreams are made of. WE LOVE IT!

Receiving honks on a bike is downright confusing. The easiest ones to interpret are the 3 to 7 short bursts. Those generally mean – “Hey cyclists, pedal hard, right on!” But all others – when coming from behind – are generally impossible to decipher.

Alex and I have gotten our fair share of honks on this trip. Probably 10-20 vehicles a day. Anyhow, today came a series of honks that were clearly friendly. From half a kilometer back we could hear short bursts from a weak horn continually repeated as the vehicle approached us. Finally Alex yelled forward – “Ryan, look back!”. So, I did. Well, I’ll be damned if it wasn’t John, the fellow that gave us a ride back into town the day before. He was grinning from ear to ear as he passed me by. Man we love this trip.

Last night we stayed with Kayle and Kelly – two couchsurfers in Prince George, British Columbia. I’ll detail our couchsurfing in a later post – but the ending to this experience deserves its own. Alex and I finally got out of town at 11:30 this morning. The weather finally cooled down today, so we were were pretty leisurely with our departure time.

Yesterday, I broke the second spoke of the trip on my rear wheel. The first time a bike mechanic in Smithers fixed the problem. But yesterday we were on our own. So naturally we busted out “Zinn and the Art of Road Bike Maintenance” and our toolset; it was finally time to learn how a bike works. No better time than on the side of Highway 16 in the middle of nowhere, British Columbia. In between pages Alex and I spent a little time laughing about how little we actually know about bicycle mechanics. How in the world did we expect to get through this trip with any mechanical problems? It just seems to be our way – we’ll figure it out when it comes. And that’s what we did. 1.5 hours later the bike was fixed and we rode on to Prince George.

Today is BC Day, a holiday that no one seems to know anything about, but a holiday nonetheless. And of course everything is closed. That’s why we figured we’d get out of town and hit up the bike shop tomorrow in Quesnel to perhaps rebuild my wheel or buy a new considering all of the problems it’s been having. So there we were 20 km out of town, chugging up and hill, when I heard a loud snap.

“Alex – how does my wheel look?!?” I yelled as we we traveled along at 35 km/hr. “Wobbly” was his answer. A glum mood hit the both of us immediately. We pulled over and we discussed our options. Plan A was launched – the goal was to replace the spoke and head on to Quesnel. Well upon further inspection, we didn’t actually have  a spare spoke. On to plan B, which wasn’t all that great.

Plan B was hitchhiking back to Prince George. We crossed the street and pulled my wheel off of the bike to demonstrate our the difficulty of our current situation. Luckily we were clean shaven as Outside Magazine suggested in their guide to hitchhiking. All morning highway 97 had been bustling with trucks and RVs – we figured we had a good chance of finding a ride back into town. Sure enough – within five minutes a local guy with an empty truck pulled over and asked us where we needed to be dropped off. Done.

John was an old lumber man who was driving into town to exchange his “Internet Stick” with Rogers – the Canadian cell phone company. A friendly old guy – we were super thankful to have met. He told us all about his life and his internet difficulties as we approached the city. He dropped us off at our requested corner; we found ourselves back in Prince George far earlier than we had ever imagined.

I sheepishly called Kayle from the Chevron station at 15th and Central – “Is there any chance we can take you up on that second night?”. “Of course,” he said. And here we are – 20 km back – waiting for the bike shops to open tomorrow. Hopefully we can get business taken care of early tomorrow and get out to Quesnel by nightfall. In the meantime we’re having a grand ol’ time with Kayle, Kelly, and Zach.

They did however make us work for the room tonight. Muhahaha.

A few days ago we desperately needed a day off after all of the hills/mountains on the Cassiar. We figured that once we made it to Meziadin Lake Campground we could probably find someone to truck us the 58 km to Hyder, AK to see some bears. After a series of conversations with a number of campers Alex found Sequoia, a spectacular tenter from Bellingham, WA. He approached, introduced himself, and then said something to the effect – “Hey, my brother and I are bicycling from AK to Panama – we heard you are going to Fish Creek tomorrow, any chance we could catch a ride with you?” Certainly a weird request we realized later. And we should have expected that the conversation would end with a “Let me sleep on it – I’ll let you know in the morning”.

With that sort of response we figured there was no way was she gonna take us. Wrong. She bounded up to our campsite the next morning and said we were welcome to join her on the journey to Steward & Hyder. Along the way we found out that Sequoia “doesn’t usually pick up hitchhikers”. We kidded with her about that and numerous other things. An hour later it was as if we’d known each other for quite some time. The laughs were frequent, the discussion deep, and the comfort level high.

The three of trucked on into the Fish Creek wildlife viewing area which is run by the US Forest Service in Hyder, Alaska – across the border from Steward, British Columbia. They’ve built a walkway above the creek where tourists can pay $5 for the chance to see bear fishing for salmon. When we arrived the salmon were steadily swimming up stream – which was quite a sight to see itself. Quite often they’d make 10 meters of progress only to extinguish their available energy and ultimately float right back to where they came from. We figured they’d be no match for a grizzly should one come along.

There were no bears in sight after 30 minutes and I decided it was nap time. I found a bench on the walkway just as Alex struck up a conversation with a german couple. I woke up and meandered over to meet Bettina and Florian, a couple from just outside of Frankfurt. Alex pointed out that they were sipping beers from their Dasani water bottles. That gave me a good laugh – and then Florian leaned over asked if we wanted two for ourselve. Alex and I looked at each other – “Sure!”. Florian ran off to grab some from their camper and Bettina mentioned that Florian always misses the action when he’s fetching beers or tying his shoe. Sure enough a grizzly came rumbling down the stream, and Florian was nowhere to be found.

The grizzly was magnificent to watch but nothing compared to the next one we saw. Fortunately both Sequoia and Florian were around when the second approached the area. He was bigger and more strategic in his attempt to catch salmon. The tourist posse clamored toward the edge of the railing. About 50 of us sat there watching in awe as the bear did an about face, swatted a salmon against the creek bed, stuck his head in the water, and pulled out a fish as if it were a trophy.

The consumption of the salmon followed immediately. He ripped the skin apart with his paws and mouth and ultimately ate the whole thing – head to tail. Soon thereafter the crew decided that we were beared out for the day. Florian and Bettina told us that they’d be joining us back at Meziadin Lake for the night – and with that the five us headed back.

Upon arriving back at our campsite – Florian walked up and invited us down to his lakeside spot for some dinner. Sequoia joined us too; we all pitched in the various foods that we’d had been carrying along in our respective journeys. Unfortunately all Alex and I could offer was some bland spaghetti and sauce. Bettina threw in some german magic and converted our blandness into incredible tastiness. Sequoia’s salad marked the first time we had any sort of leafy vegetables on the trip. And Florian insisted that we have a couple of beers and post dinner he laid down the hammer. Scotch. Even Sequoia tried a little. We talked and laughed for hours. Our time on the Cassiar was ending in style, oh Canada we love ye.

At the campsite next to ours in Watson Lake, Yukon Territory we saw what we thought to be a pretty rad vehicle. It was a 1990 Mitsubishi Montero Sport that was outfitted with a tent on top and metal grill plates all around. A world map was painted on the side. From the inside we could hear the rumblings of what was clearly a foreign language – but neither of us could make out which one. After dinner we stumbled into the owners who over the next several days would turn into great friends.

Erwin, Isabel, and their dog Rico are from Switzerland and have been on a journey of the size it seems only Europeans attempt. Two years ago they shipped their vehicle and belongings to the tip of Argentina. Since then they have driven the back roads of South America and North America exploring the wilderness and cultures of the respective countries they have visited. Along the way Erwin managed to teach himself Spanish, a fantastic feat in and of itself. Once, tired of traveling, they settled down and worked for room and board at a hostel in Ecuador for two months.

In Yukon Territory the sun refused to go down before midnight. We sat their that first night chatting until 11:30 or so about the wonders of the world and traveling. Erwin suggested we take the Cassiar Highway citing its renowned beauty and shorter route. Little did we know that soon we’d take his suggestion for all it was worth.

A few days later we had nearly completed the Cassiar when we set up camp at the Meziadin Lake Provincial Campground where were taking a scheduled day off. Alex and I had hitched a ride into Hyder, AK to go see some of the famous grizzlies fishing (which I’ll detail in a later post). As we were leaving Hyder, heading towards Stewart for lunch, I saw a guy standing on the road. I lightheartedly had a thought that I recognized the fellow. A few seconds later Alex let out a “I think that’s….” And I finished… “Erwin!”. We jolted to a stop as Sequoia could sense we needed to say hi. Turns out Erwin was trying to hitch a ride back to Fish Creek to see some bears while Isabel napped back at camp. We spent a little time catching up with one another. We learned that Rico had been sick and that they couldn’t resist sticking around in Hyder – they just couldn’t resist seeing more grizzlies.

Two days later Alex and I were well beyond Meziadin. We had slept at Kitwanga and were making a break for Smithers. There were a few climbs that day that made us feel as if we had drained our bodies off all liquids. Shortly after one of them a car had pulled off the road. As we neared, we realized it was none other than our favorite Swiss couple. They refilled our water bottles and gave us a farewell as they head back to the states to plan their departure back to Switzerland.