Hola Mexico!

I was stressing a bit about bike boxes before we got them.  The boxes we got when we were leaving the UK were too small and it was only due to good fortune that we were able to get bigger ones from the bike shop in Glossop (see Leaving the UK: The Last Few Stumbling Blocks).  So I was worried that the ones we were scheduled to pick up from Bicycles Plus in Oshawa weren't going to be big enough.  There's not a lot of bike shops in Oshawa and we were heading into Thanksgiving weekend so if these weren't good enough we might be in trouble since our flight was at 8am Tuesday morning and we were getting dropped at the airport on Monday night.  Tom was relaxed about it and Rhi said that if we were stuck then they had tons of cardboard boxes in the basement we'd be able to fashion something from.  Of course, as is always the case, worry does no good and in this case it was absolutely unnecessary.  The bike boxes Bicycles Plus had for us had housed 2 sizeable fat bikes and were perfect for us.  Plus they had saved loads of awesome packaging for us too.  Major thanks to the super helpful dude there who made our bike packing so much less stressful than when we left the UK.  With that bit sorted we just had to get all our other stuff packed up, which was easy enough and left us with lots of time over the weekend to enjoy Thanksgiving.  We had a fantastic meal with all of Rhi's family at her sister's house; the full works - turkey, ham, potatoes, loads of veggies, stuffed squash, stuffed mushrooms, gravy.  Amazing!  Then there was a whole plethora of desserts - pumpkin cheesecake, brownies, pumpkin pie, cherry cheesecake, apple pie.  The following morning we went to a farm for pumpkin picking, which was a lot of fun and we left with a good haul of Halloween appropriate squash.

We said a sad farewell to Steve and the girls and then Rhi took us to the airport late Monday evening.  Toronto Pearson Airport isn't bad when it comes to providing space for people hunkering down for the night; we found ourselves a couple of benches next to each other, with space for the bikes and luggage, overlooking a section of runway.  We ate our turkey sandwiches while watching The Wire and laid our heads down for the night.  Not the best night's sleep it must be said, but we both got a few hours and when morning came round though we were both a bit bleary eyed we were both functioning.  We checked our bags in ourselves and no one weighed them.  We then took the bikes down to the oversize baggage area and had to undo all the duck tape we'd only just put on, but the security guy was very friendly and nice and they had extra tape so it all worked out.  We had some breakfast and boarded the plane.  It was so much less fretful than our last flight.  The rest of the journey went by without note.  We arrived into Cancun at lunchtime and spent about 3 hours reassembling the bikes and repacking our gear.  An English lady who'd just arrived told us how impressed she was with what we're doing and many of the Mexican staff of the airport came to ask us about our trip and welcomed us to Mexico.  We finally got underway and were pleasantly surprised that the road had a decent shoulder and was remarkably good quality.  It was about 5pm, it was hot, humid and sunny and the road wasn't too busy or tricky to navigate.  Until we reached the start of downtown Cancun then it got crazy pretty quickly; the shoulder disappeared, traffic increased, the road spread to being 3 or 4 lanes wide and buses, taxis and colectivoes pulled in front of us screeching to halt by the side of the road to pick up and drop off passengers.  As we neared the centre of town it got so nuts we decided to walk sections on the pavement as we were genuinely worried about getting knocked down.  Check in was easy and we got the bikes and all our gear up to our room on the sixth floor via the lift.

After showers we headed out for food as we'd not eaten anything proper since breakfast.  It felt thrilling to be in a new country that felt so different.  It reminded me in many ways of India, but for Tom it was something pretty different.  As we wandered along we were gently accosted by advocates for one restaurant or another trying to entice us in to their establishment.  Alejandro on reception had suggested a place which is where we headed for beer and tacos.  The next day we lounged around the pool and chatted with other guests who happened to be from Kings Heath in Birmingham (where our friends Mel and Paul live).  The next day we planned to take a trip to Isla Mujeres just off the coast but when we awoke the sky was deep grey and rain was lashing down.  Well it is still rainy season, though honestly I thought it would be similar to monsoon in India where it erupts into a monster electrical storm and torrential rain falls for an hour or so each day and the rest of the time its sunny.  Not here.  Since the rain started on Thursday morning its barely stopped until Saturday morning.  The streets outside the hotel were shallow rivers.  There were actual whirlpools around some of the drains.  When buses drive past waves of water flood over the pavement and splash against the walls of the buildings.  Since the rain was so sever we checked out buses so that if on Saturday morning the roads seemed impassable we had an alternative option for getting to Tulum in time for our course on Monday morning.  Buses are cheap and frequent and everything I can find online says they have no problem loading bikes in with the luggage so we knew we had a plan B.

This morning we awoke and there was a little lightness in the sky, still grey and cloudy, but not quite so foreboding and it wasn't raining so we were all set for our first fully loaded day on the bikes for over 3 weeks.  Leaving Cancun was again a bit hairy, lots of traffic and not much shoulder to speak of, plus an incident with a lorry where he turned right directly in front of us very nearly causing us both to crash and a couple of run ins with loose dogs.  We made good time and were happy that despite feeling a little unfit our speed wasn't too shabby which was good because about 6 miles from Playa del Carmen, our destination for the night, it started to rain.  Light at first so we pushed on and hoped we could make the town before it got too heavy.  No chance.  It tipped it down and in no time we were soaked through.  We stopped to put our high vis jackets on proceeded through giant puddles of rainwater.  Just before a major intersection on the outskirts of town we pulled over to check the map.  Just as we set off again I noticed my front tyre was flat.  We got some shelter under some porches and changed the inner tube.  Our pump is pretty broken at the moment and its pretty frustrating work pumping up a tyre so we took it in turns and finally got it up to pressure (or at least what we thought was right since the gauge is one of the things that is broken).  Flipped the bike back over and began to load the bags back on when BANG!  Ear-ringingly loud.  I had a moment of thinking a gun had been fired then I realised that it was worse we'd caught the inner tube when we changed it and had caused a blowout.  Time to change the inner tube again, more frustrating pump based shenanigans ensued, but we got it sorted and got on our way.

Less than 10 minutes down the road I realised my front tyre was going down again.  ARE YOU KIDDING?!  What the hell?  We're not far from the airbnb place we've booked for the night though and the rain is just bucketing down so rather than stop and fix it we just get off and walk.  By the time we get to the apartment somehow my back tyre is also flat. This last hour and a half has to easily take our 'Most Punctures in the Shortest Time' award, especially since half that time was spent fixing punctures!  Not the best day ever on the bikes and the rain is still pouring so we are going to get drenched again when we head out for food, but it felt good to be back on my bike and we're really looking forward to starting our Spanish course so we can communicate with the super friendly locals better.  But right now its time to get out the puncture repair kits and fix some inner tubes!

From Sea to Sky, Paid for in Sweat!

We'd changed our minds again with regards to our route & decided we did want to head north, up to the Yukon. Our new northerly aim was Watson Lake and we'd heard that although it was unlikely to be bitterly cold, we would likely go through areas with no amenities so would need to carry more food to see us through. We made the decision to upgrade our sleeping arrangements and reluctantly forked out for a new double sleeping bag from Big Agnes. This meant we could unburden ourselves of two cheap sleeping bags, our duvet & fleece, our spare PJs, and a few other bits of useless stuff and free up space for food. We left Sara & Hamish's a little later than intended and enjoyed a leisurely ride around the Sea Wall and over the Lions Gate Bridge. Descending from the bridge another cyclist asked where we were heading and suggested that riding along the Upper Levels Highway might be easier than going along Marine Drive and since we'd already cycles along Marine Drive when we first landed on the mainland we thought the highway was a good bet. She reassured us it was well signposted and gave us directions. It wasn't well signed, at least we didn't spot anything guiding us and after a monstrous climb in the increasing heat we realised our error as we approached the sign for Grouse Mountain.

We'd rode 3 miles up a hill for no reason and at the sign I was worried I might pass out. I think I may have given myself mild concussion from my altercation with the scaffolding the day before as I'd been suffering from headaches and queasiness since. The mega climb did not help. We rested for maybe 15 minutes and then got back on our way. The highway to Horseshoe Bay was nothing special, but the Sea to Sky Highway, the 99, that heads north from there to Whistler and beyond is beautiful. The road winds along the coastal inlet towards Squamish and across the water the mountains tower above. We stopped for lunch in Lions Bay and experienced some steep little hills, as you often get near the coast. We'd been warned that the highway wasn't much fun for riding, but we didn't find it too bad; there was shoulder for the most part and the drivers were courteous enough. 

We made it to Squamish about 4pm, set up camp under The Chief and the took a nap. The heat and excursion of the day had wiped me right out and I was feeling pretty ropey. I felt a little better after an hour of sleep and we moseyed into town to get some groceries. Freshly baked pies were on offer and we bought a family sized one of the blueberry variety. We had wanted to walk up the Chief, but I wasn't up to it and after dinner, blueberry pie and stashing all our food and toiletries in the bear-proof food caches we went to bed.

We ate the rest of the pie for breakfast and headed for the Visitor Centre to get maps and info. Then to the bike shop for a spare chain and the phone shop to get our SIM card sorted. The latter didn't open until 10am so we weren't on the road until nearly 11am. We'd spotted three Korean touring cyclists in town and came across them again just down the road. We stopped to check they were ok and ended up being given a Hahoi-tal mask each for good luck. They must work as we noticed we had a very welcome tailwind for the first time in ages. We stopped for lunch at a viewpoint overlooking the Tantalus Mountains that had been suggested to us by Cliff, another cyclist I'd been chatting to while Tom sorted the phone out.

It was incredibly hot and although the terrain wasn't so tough we were wilting a bit in the midday sun.  On the outskirts of Whistler, where we going to have another break from the heat a motorcyclist had stopped by the side of the road and offered to cook us dinner and show us somewhere to camp in town, 'on the down low'. Although our aim for the day was Nairn Falls Provincial Park, about another 18 miles, we were both happy to accept the kind offer and give up for the day though it would man a longer day tomorrow.  Timmy gave us cold beer, showers and cooked us some seriously delicious noodles and rice.  He's a seasoned tourer and knows The Hunger that can grip you on a bike tour and fed us to bursting, no easy feat! After hours sat around chatting at his place he rode us to a secluded spot on the edge of a park at the edge of Whistler and wished us goodnight. It was late by the time we got to bed, nearly 11pm, and when I awoke at just after 5am and it was already light I woke Tom and we were on the move before 6am.  We made breakfast at a picnic table in Alpine Meadows and rather wondrously the cafe we were outside opened at 6:30 and we got coffees and used the bathroom.

It was great to be on the road so early as it was still cool and we made short work of the mostly downhill miles to Pemberton.  The mountains and lakes were beautiful in the clear morning sunlight and the roads fairly quiet. We knew we had a long climb out of Pemberton,  but it took its time to arrive and although we'd hoped to get most of it done before lunchtime we ended up climbing in the heat of the day. It felt steep and there was a particularly rough switchback when I unclipped a foot and fought hard against the urge to get off and push. I stayed pedalling, telling myself that even though it felt steep it probably wasn't that bad in reality as there had been no warning signs so it wasn't any worse than Teton Pass and I'd managed that so 'just keep pedalling'. After passing a runaway truck escape lane it flattened out a little and I looked at the signs on the other side of the road warning the trucks of the descent - 15%. 15% holy fricking moly!!!!! I yelled after Tom and we both felt proud that we'd both managed to pedal up such a grade. Seriously, this is a major achievement in my books.

But we weren't at the summit, not even close, we pedalled on and on and on. The sun got hotter, we got more and more drenched in sweat. And the hill just kept going. There would be brief, blissful moments when we'd ride past creeks rushing below the road and the air would be cooled momentarily and we would relish this minor respite. We had no idea where the top was, so when we arrived at Joffre Lakes Park we decided to stop for lunch and have a break in the shade. We spent an hour chatting, eating, sitting and cooling down.  Tom hung his shirt out to dry. We met a British couple who were touring around the US and Canada by car for 2 months who had been to most of the same places as us. I asked a couple of cars that I had seen come down the hill how far we were from the top and got two totally differing accounts: 1) its maybe 300 metres to the top and 2) there is no summit, it just goes up and down for miles. The pair offering account 2 also filled up one of our water bottles.

We set off up the hill desperately hoping for account 1 to be right.  And it certainly looked right.  After a short climb we started to descend for the first time in about 4 hours of riding. Hallelujah! We stopped to chat to a couple of motor-bikers who also gave us some water and told us it was mostly downhill to Seton Dam Campsite.  This was very welcome news and we zipped down some 13% descents at probably the fastest we've ever gone on the bikes. But sadly it wasn't all downhill. In some respects the assessment that there was no summit and it was up and down was right. We had a few more sections of 13% climbs and were dripping with sweat again. The scenery was stunning though - giant snow-capped mountains reared up all around, you could hear the roar of big rivers carving their way along the floor of the valley and it felt really wild. We thoroughly enjoyed the final downhill into our campsite and arrived tired, achey but proud.

Introducing Mount Doom

We left Anacortes and headed south for our first ferry of the trip to get over to the Olympic Peninsula. The narrow winding roads were really busy and really not much fun to ride along but before long we were viewing some stunning scenery and enjoying a break on a low wall looking over the water. Our next task was to race over the narrow bridge at Deception Pass where we were lucky to find a rare break in the traffic so we didn't feel like we were holding up any vehicles. This is where we bumped into two other cycle tourists that had just started their trip down to Mexico from the Canadian border. We traveled together for a few miles but couldn't really chat because of the road situation and before long went our separate ways. We carried on down to the Coupeville ferry (that in fact leaves from Keystone) and boarded without any fuss and headed across the water over to the peninsula.

We had scheduled a pretty short day so when we arrived in Port Townsend we had some food in a little diner and watched the boats in the harbor before heading up to our host for the evening, Lys. Lys, and her husband Dan, had co-organised the first TransAmerican cycle in 1976, the bikecentennial, with the folks from the Adventure Cycling Association (Greg and June). Lys and her brother Dan showed us around their amazing garden that was producing a huge amount of fruit and vegetables. Dan, her husband, was working away but there was another cycle tourist staying for the night, an American called Peter. He had started in Boston, MA and had cycles down the East coast, west across Texas and had headed north along the Pacific Coast. We traded war stories regarding climbs, mechanical issues and the dreaded wind and since we were all heading across Canada starting in Vancouver we got contact details and said goodnight.

In the morning we left just after Peter and aimed for the main highway towards Port Angeles. Again it was a short day in the saddle for us because we wanted to pick me up a new waterproof jacket since the one I came away with had pretty much given up the ghost and needed to stock up on food because we had planned 5 nights of camping. The highway down to Blyn was fine, as far as highways go. A wide shoulder and no steep climbs. Once we got to Blyn, Lys had told us about the Olympic Discovery Trail that was pretty much completely paved all the way to Port Angeles. The trail was good but when you join at Blyn it is fairly wiggly with some short, sharp climbs but this is soon tamed and it's a gentle cycle in Sequim. While cycling through Sequim we were told that there was road works on a bridge and that we needed to get back on the main highway to Port Angeles. This we did and just outside of Port Angeles and we met a cyclist out for a ride that helped us rejoin with the trail.

In Port Angeles we decided to go to the supermarket first to have some lunch and buy the food for the coming days.  While we were loading our bikes with the newly bought sustenance a woman came over to say "I saw you guys earlier and I just wanted to shake your hands and wish you luck.  It'll get better", this took us completely by surprise because the riding had been really quite easy, the sun was out.  It took a couple of seconds to realise that she thought that we were homeless, which we are but out of choice.  It took us back a bit and didn't quite know what to say, maybe I do need to start shaving again?  From here we found me a nice new, blue waterproof jacket, however this does mean that Sophie and I are pretty much in matching kit if it rains.  With food and clothing purchased we started our climb up to the Heart of the Hills campground at the foot of the climb to Hurricane Ridge.

If you had asked us 3 months ago if we wanted to do a 17 mile climb to a summit 3,573 feet above us just to have a look around and then ride back down we would have probably just laughed, but here we were planning just that to climb up to Hurricane Ridge in the Olympic National Park.  We decided to spend the night in the campground at the base of the climb so that we could leave early and get it done.  We managed to find a nice site that had some free firewood so got to lighting a fire.  This was also the first opportunity to play with the new MSR Whisperlite that Chris had been unable to get to work.  After a good few moments fiddling on and a few more cleaning with the "pokey thing" we managed to get a roaring blue flame.  It was really exciting to get this to work after wanting one for such a long time and being insanely lucky to have met some amazing people that have gifted us one.  With the roaring, temperamental flame who's settings seem to be 'volcanic hot' or 'fire's of Hell hot', quickly boiling any liquid we throw on top of it in a bubbling, spluttering fury we decide to nick name the device "Mount Doom".  

Goodbye Mountains, Hello Pacific and an Exciting New Bit of Kit

The drive over Lolo Pass was wonderful, I felt sad we weren't riding it, but we didn't really have any other choice so what are you going to do?  Rick and Mary's house was incredible, loads of beautiful wood inside and amazing views including of the Osprey nest.  After unloading everything from the truck we chatted away and then they suggested we go for pizza in Winthrop which is a cute tourist town done in the Wild West theme with both the Chewuch and Methow rivers flowing through.  Mary offered to take us to the bike shop in the truck the next morning so we could set off straight from there rather than tooing and froing to their place.

As the bike shop didn't open until 9:30 we had an easy morning eating breakfast and talking about all sorts.  Rick kindly made us a couple of extra holes in our belts as they weren't doing much good any more!  After the 5 minute drive to Methow Cycle & Sport we said goodbye to Mary, got the new tire fitted, popped the new inner tube as we'd pinched it between the rim and the tire (more haste, less speed and all that), fitted a second new inner tube and got on our way.  We decided to call in at the store at Mazama about 14 miles away for our first break and had delicious chocolate and almond croissants.  There were lots of other riders about, our first encounter with so many cyclists for ages, although all these bikers looked like they were out for the day not touring.

From Mazama we had the long climb up to Washington Pass, about 18 miles away, then a little downhill and then up over Rainy Pass 5 miles after.  Mostly it was slow and gradual and pretty much the kind of climb we'd got used to, though there were a few somewhat steeper sections.  We stopped to look at our map and see how we were getting on and were heartened to see we were getting close to the top, but passing some people stopped at the side of the road I asked 'do you know if we're close to the top' and their answer was 'no', 'er no, you don't know or no, we're not near the top?' 'you're not near the top'.  Not the answer I was hoping for.  Oh well, keep pedalling.  The views back down the valley were impressive and the view up what I think was Liberty Bell Mountain was imposing.  Shortly after we spied what looked suspiciously like a summit sign and my hopes grew I pointed it out to Tom who said 'nah, don't think so'.  But I was right!  Woohoo!  We'd made the summit!  We stopped for lunch and got harangued by birds, but managed to eat ok.  Since we had another climb shortly we decided against putting on our extra layers for the mini descent we were about to ride, but even 3 miles of downhill at five and a half thousand feet, above the snow line, is flipping cold.  Still it was bearable and we were soon heading up again to Rainy Pass.  We soon summited that too and then layered up for the 'impossibly long downhill' we were now rewarded with.

Our destination was Colonial Creek Campground another 28 miles down the road.  A long fun descent was somewhat marred by a headwind striking up, still we were getting along fine.  We passed a sign saying 'Severe Side Winds for the Next 27 Miles' - oh great! My favourite!  But it wasn't so bad and I joked they'd not been to Utah.  Nearing the campsite the wind decided to show me it was no joke and the side winds really got to shoving us about.  This was not the triumphant end to the day I'd hoped, but thankfully we only had a few miles and then we arrived at our destination.  We set up the tent, ate dinner and were in bed before the kids on the neighbouring campsite.  We managed an early start the next day, excited to see the ocean again.  We stopped for our first break in Marblemount and treated ourselves to a coffee.  Amazingly we gathered a crowd, I think six people ended up talking to us, shaking our hands, giving us ice to cool down our water bottles and generally making us feel like quite a spectacle.  This was pretty funny, especially since we spotted five riders pass by on fully loaded bikes just while we stopped for break!  Our first bike tourers on the road for weeks!

The ride for the rest of the day was fairly unremarkable; good weather, mostly downhill, farmland and towns with the North Cascades disappearing from my rear view mirror.  I felt like we'd not really done this National Park justice, its such a wild place that you really need to explore on foot, driving or riding through it on the road is beautiful, but doesn't even scratch the surface.  But with limited time and inappropriate footwear I'm not sure we could have done more.  We had no idea about where we were staying that night as we'd had no luck with all the Warm Showers hosts we'd contacted and so munching our way through a 5 pack of Snickers ice creams in Burlington we finally decided we'd aim for the campground in Washington Park, Anacortes.

Pulling into the wooded campsite we were approached by an enthusiastic lady who seemed thrilled to see us.  She explained her daughter had rode across the States and asked if we would join them at their site and talk with them.  We parked our bikes, grabbed a couple of beers and our bag of crisps and wandered over to Catherine and Chris's camp.  While offering us all sorts of food Catherine gently interrogated us and tried to get hold of her daughter on the phone.  We spoke briefly to Hannah, who seemed lovely, understood the foibles of touring and thought her parents were just trying to 'repay' the kindness she'd been shown.  We'd forgotten about going to pay for our campground but when the ranger came around Catherine convinced him to let us pay the hiker/biker fee for the standard campsite we'd picked and then proceeded to pay our fee for us.  They only lived a couple of miles away but were training for a series of hikes they were going to do to into wild locations to get photos of the night sky.  They invited us to their place the next day to shower and do laundry and continue the interrogation.  Since we needed to figure out our plans for our last 10 days in the States and since we'd so enjoyed their company we took them up on the offer.

The short but decidedly uphill ride to their place brought us to incredible views over the bay towards the San Juan Islands.  Chris and Catherine have an amazing place and made us feel totally at home.  We spent the day lounging around the balcony, doing mountains of laundry and trying to figure out what to do next.  We had such a great time chatting with them and they told us more about Hannah's trip and let us have a look at the book she'd self published for her friends and family from her daily journal which was fascinating.

We were torn between spending 2-3 days on the San Juan Islands and 4-5 days getting to and around the Olympic National Park or spending all our time at the National Park.  Chris and Catherine suggested that the National Park was more wild and interesting, so decision made.  We contacted a Warm Showers host in Port Townsend and planned to get going by lunch the next day to make the forty-something mile journey in the afternoon.  Chris made us a delicious chilli for dinner and we talked for hours.  He's an ER doc and has done all sorts of interesting things including a stint being the doctor for an expedition up Everest.  He didn't climb to the summit but spent weeks up in the Himalayas, around Base Camp and higher and that's pretty damn amazing in my book.

The next morning after breakfast we were getting packed up to go and they gifted us the most generous of things.  They gave us an MSR Whisperlite International.  This probably doesn't mean a lot to some of you, but this is the stove I'd been coveting for a while, however since we had our cheap and functioning gas stove couldn't really bring ourselves to fork out for this bit of kit, although we were thinking we'd need to soon as it burns pretty much any liquid fuel so is ideal in places with no camping shops (rural Canada, Central and South America).  I protested, it was too big a gift, I wouldn't have expected something like this from our families, let alone from people we'd met about 40 hours ago.  Catherine sternly told me not to tell a 65 year old woman what to do and that they had new stoves and would love it to get a good home with us.  I nearly cried.  This is a huge gift, incredibly useful and a massive saving for us.  We went outside for a quick lesson on how to use it.  This did not go to plan, but better to know now that we needed to tinker with it to get it to work than fire it up for the first time with no other cooking options and be disappointed.  Still gobstruck we thanked them profusely, said our goodbyes and headed off down the road.

Snowy Mountain Passes and Tire Issues

The rest day at the Bacon Bike Hostel was well taken and it was fantastic to just chill out just the two of us for the day. The morning after we got up early to get some miles under our belt before the first of five mountain passes in four days. Unsurprisingly as we were now in the notoriously wet state of Washington we loaded the bikes in the rain and headed out to join the Adventure Cycling Association's Northern Tier route which follows Highway 20 all the way west to the ocean.  Since the trip began we have had very few wet days and you can forget how miserable it can get. Low visibility, invisible water filled pot holes and tidal waves of road spray from passing trucks all added to low moral and frustration. It feels important to add that even though we are from equally wet England, Sophie and I have very little wet weather gear. We have waterproof jackets and socks, and Sophie has some waterproof "Chilly Grips" (fleece lined, outdoor rubberised farming gloves) but my gloves are not even water-resistant and seem to just get drenched and chilly pretty quickly. We had been forewarned that the first pass (Sherman Pass) was the worst of the climbs but looking online it wasn't as bad as some of the other summits we'd climbed so when the junction came to turn onto the scenic byway we were fairly confident if a little waterlogged.

The climbing on Sherman pass was not the problem with the day. The issue was two fold. Firstly the dense forest and low lying cloud meant that there was no stunning vista to distract you from the pedalling so all your mental energy was focussed on the mile markers and time. So all I thought about what how far we had come and how far was still to go. How fast we were travelling and what time that meant we were planning on getting to the top; this slows the world right down and quite soon I found myself focusing on every turn of the crank arm. The second issue was my so called waterproof and breathable jacket. It was failing spectacularly on both fronts resulting in my body and arms being dripping wet and cold. As we climbed and the rain turned to sleet then snow my body temperature was dropping and head to toe I was drenched. At the summit sign the visibility was down to about 30-40 feet and the standard achievement photo was forgotten as we hurriedly prepared for the long downhill to Republic. 

From bitter experience we knew that as bad as the climbing was the downhill would be worse. The normal joy of screaming down the hill at speeds of 35mph is replaced with screaming obscenities as the cold fingers become numb and quickly agonising. And the long, sweeping descent from Sherman Pass was no different to the retreat on Boulder Mountain back in Utah, however this time there was no definite safe haven to warm up in and the descent was so much longer. As we rolled closer into town a bald eagle swooped low over us and followed the road for a brief distance meaning we could get fantastic views of the amazing bird. My sentimental mind took this as a sign that it'll be alright and that we were doing well and keep following the road; the cold can do funny things to one's mind. We arrived with our Warm Showers host after not too long and were welcomed with a lovely warm house and home cooked fish and chips.

DiAnne was a great host and looked after us when we arrived. The food was brilliant and her stories of cycling and her holidays were great. We left with dry clothes feeling rejuvenated and ready for our second climb, over Wacaunda Pass, towards the ocean. The weather for the climb wasn't brilliant but nowhere near as bad as the previous day and the scenery was much more inviting so it wasn't too long before we reached the top and were enjoying the downhill towards Tonasket.  We stopped at this little town for lunch and headed off towards Omak to stock up on supplies for the next few days as our food bag was running low.  Our routine for shopping is that Sophie does the shopping while I guard the bikes.  I think we both think the other person has the better task but we only have the one card which is Sophie's, so she gets to look at all the pretty things and walk around the aisles talking to all the wonderful people while I'm stuck outside dealing with whatever the weather can throw at me.  However, during this ordeal in Omak a guy came over and started talking about cycle touring and our trip, he was in a bit of a rush to buy a few things for his lunch but it was nice all the same to interact with somebody.  The next thing I knew he was back out the shop and presented me with a host of things to eat; then he ran off to what ever he was up to.  Soph came out a little later and we headed off to our destination of Okanogan.

We arrived with Heather, from Warm Showers, just before she was heading out for dinner with friends and we had a brief chat about the birds in the area, about her job and how to use the hot tub. Oh yeh, that's right, Heather had a hot tub and while she was out we had a nice long soak resting our tired legs and enjoying all the amazing wildlife.  The next morning we rose early and started getting ready for the next mountain pass.  While loading Sophie's bike I noticed Sophie had a flat; no worries, a quick change was all that was needed.  Loading my bike I noticed a gash in my tire wall; bigger problem.  We don't carry any spare tires and had no way of fixing it so we needed to buy a new one.  A rushed journey to the local bike shop proved fruitless.  How were we going to sort this?  A quick message conversation with Heather resulted in finding a better shop in the next town over plus the offer of a place today stay and a lift there from a work colleague.  Winning.  The stress of it all meant that we needed a nice long soak in the hot tub; all's well that ends well.

Leaving the UK - The Last Few Stumbling Blocks

So in the last few days before flying out we encountered a few problems.  The first was that on Sunday, 5 days before our flight we went to do the online passenger registration thing you need to do to and couldn't find our passports.  I was absolutely adamant that they were in my handlebar bag in Rhys's basement.  I would have put money on it, I'd have put ALL our money on it.  But when Tom went down to fetch them they weren't there.  I went down to check.  It was pretty ridiculous of me not to trust Tom to be able to find the passports in the handlebar bag as a handlebar bag is about 6 x 4 x 4 inches and basically a little box, but I was so sure that that is where they were that I couldn't believe they weren't there.  But they weren't.  Now bearing in mind that we had spent the previous 2 weeks touring around the country from Scotland to Cornwall, depositing various stuff with family and friends the fact that the passports weren't there meant thy could be literally anywhere and we had no idea where we would find them.  About 20 minutes of panic ensued with us check my handbag and various other bags in the hope we would stumble upon them, but nothing.  Until Tom remembered he'd spied a couple of passports on Rhys's shelves next to his DVDs and lo and behold there they were.  Cue long sigh of relief.  I had completely lost from my memory the fact that just over a week before I had asked Rhys to send me photos of them as I needed the details for our Drivers License address change.  Rhys had dutifully got them out of my handlebar bag in the basement and emailed the pics before telling me where he had stashed them for when we turned up at his house the following week.

The other major problem we had was that the bike boxes we had kindly been given by Sheffield's Edinburgh Bicycle Cooperative didn't fit our bikes - we could only just fit one wheel in each box, leaving the other wheels without anywhere to go and Tom's stem stuck up over the top - not a great situation and despite planning to pack up the bikes a few days in advance due to other things cropping up and Tom being unwell we had left it to the day that my Uncle Bri was coming to pick us up that afternoon.  We did our best having run out of time, knowing that we had Thursday at Aunty Gin & Uncle Bri's to figure it out properly.  Thursday morning I gave High Peak Cycles in Glossop a ring to ask if they had any wheel boxes, they didn't but they had spare bike boxes we could use to try to fashion a box for the wheels and he would show me how the bikes came packed which may help us figure out a better way to do it ourselves.  So I went down had a look and picked up a box.  The type of bike they had in the box was short enough that they only had to take the front wheel off.  Ours, being touring bikes, have a longer frame and so were too long to fit without taking both wheels off.  But, wonderfully, amazingly, joyously the box from High Peak Cycles was bigger overall and I managed to fit my bike and both wheel in without any trouble.  So I high-tailed my way back to the shop for another box and we sorted Tom's out in no time too.  By Thursday afternoon we felt like we were winning.

Our flight left at 12:40 but due to not wanting to be sat stressing in rush hour traffic we left just after 7am and got the the airport at about 8am.  We sat around waiting for check in to open and toyed with the idea of buying a flight from Toronto to Mexico, but decided against it.  Once check in opened we joined the short queue. The check in lady had some issue as the ESTA thing on her computer wouldn't let her print out boarding passes for Stockholm to Oakland but her supervisor just came over & overrode it & said we'd just need to get our boarding passes in Stockholm & this was fine & normal. It was not fine & normal.

When we got to Stockholm no one knew what to do with us & we ended up having to go through border control to enter Sweden before checking back in again (massive queue) where we were told we couldn't board the plane as we didn't have a return ticket out the US.  We were advised we should buy a totally flexible (expensive ticket) from US to UK just to be able to check in & then cancel it at later date. So 13,000 Swedish Kroner lighter (about £1100) we finally managed to check in & pass through security.  The flight was great; nice plane, lots of films to choose from and we were sharing our row of seats with a really nice German girl.  But we were mega stressed about getting a grilling at the other end by US border control. After landing and spending nearly 2 hours fretting in a very long queue at Oakland, we were let through without any problem. The border guard just teased Tom, suggesting we should get married in Vegas since we're here. Phew.

By this point it was gone 10pm local time & Tom & I had been awake for over 25 hours (barring a couple of minutes of sleep snatched on the flight). Our Warm Showers host came and picked us up and we managed to get all our stuff and us in his car and arrived at his lovely home to find that we had a bed all made up. We hit they hay right away and were asleep in no time.

Optimus No. 5 - Part 2

So some of you may recall that one of my first posts was about trying to get the lovely Optimus No. 5 stove that was my Dad's to work so we could take it away.  You may also recall that we repeatedly set it on fire, not the controlled, pressurised blue flame we were aiming for but paraffin flowing all over the whole thing and engulfing the entire thing in orange fire.

Nevertheless we took it away on our 2 week trip to give it a go and after a somewhat faltering start did manage to cook our first night's dinner on it, albeit rather slowly and with the usual fire show.  After a second attempt the following day Tom pleaded with me to let us buy a gas stove which we did.  I must sadly admit that it was a lot more efficient and much easier.

But I was still determined that if we could only fix the seal that it would suddenly be a totally different beast, though Tom was far from convinced.  So I gave the stove to my very talented metal-working Uncle Bri and asked him to see if he could figure out what was wrong with it.  Here's his verdict, delivered via text from my Aunty Gin:

"Unky Brian experimented with your stove.  He really doesn't think you should take it away.  You will need to carry 2 lots of fuel and if they spill they will taint everything, plus they may not be easy to find in the US. He also thought it was a bit erratic and difficult to tame.  However he thought it was a beautifully made object and would love to frame it for you when you get back!"

So there we go.  Its being relegated to being just an object of beauty, not of use.  But there are worse fates.  And it really was much easier cooking on gas.  Not entirely sure what we'll do once we leave North America as getting gas canisters in darkest Peru for example will be nigh on impossible, but that's months away yet so we can cross that bridge at some point in Canada.

What is a Rohloff hub and why do you keep banging on about them?

LONG TECHY POST ALERT!  We got asked to do a post about what a Rohloff Hub is so this is it.  I am in no way a bike expert or bike geek so this will be in very simple terms.  Basically there are 2 types of gear system for push bikes - external derailleur gears which is the type found on most bikes and internal hub gears which is what we've opted for on our touring bikes.

This is your average external derailleur gear system.  You probably recognise it.  There are a series of different sized cassettes at the back and often a number of of different sized chain rings at the front with a chain running between the two and derailleurs to move the chain up and down the cassette and chain rings.

                   

An internal hub means that all your gears are packaged neatly away inside the bit in the middle of your rear wheel (the hub).  This has a sprocket attached to it and at the front, where your pedals are there is one chain ring.  These are connected by a chain, which continually runs in a straight line, unlike with a derailleur where it moves up and down the cassette and chain rings.  How does all the internal stuff work?  No bloody idea.  You can read about it on Wikipedia if you like or watch this video on the Rohloff website.

All I know is our Rohloff hub (Rohloff is the make) is a masterpiece of German engineering and we are already very fond of them.  So what is so good about it I hear you ask?  Well these are the reasons we chose them instead of the 'normal' external gears:
1)  Reliability.  There are stories galore of people riding thousands and thousands of miles on these guys with pretty much zero maintenance apart from the oil changes.
2)  Sturdiness and durability.  Because it is all enclosed it doesn't rust or get clogged up with mud/dust/sand.  There aren't any fragile bits sticking out from the frame to get bent or broken.  And because your chain is continually running in a straight line it doesn't wear out so quickly.  You change gears by means of a gripshift on the handlebars, which again means nothing sticking out to break.
3)  You can change gear when not pedalling, i.e. when stationary or coasting.  This might not sound like that big of a deal, but how hard is it getting a bike going if you've accidentally left it in the hardest gear?  Now multiply that by 20 because the bike weighs a ton.  I absolutely LOVE this feature.
4)  It has 14 gears, which doesn't sound like a lot when you get bikes these days with 27 or more, but unlike with external gears each gear is different.  With external gears because it is to do with the ratio between your cassette and chain ring there are a number of combinations you could be in with virtually the same feel.
5)  Amazing customer service.  On the relatively few times I have read about something going wrong with Rohloffs they are renowned for their excellent customer service.  The same goes for Thorn bikes so we're in good hands.

So if they're so amazing why don't all bikes have these instead of external gears?  Well I'm guessing the main reason is probably price, they are very expensive bits of kit.  They added around £1000 on to the cost of each of our bikes, but we personally felt like it was worth it for not having to spend time repeatedly fixing and fiddling with external gears.  Something we have to do on our commuter bikes a lot and don't really enjoy.

There are also these things which people have said against them:
*  They are relatively unusual and so in many parts of the world your average bike mechanic wouldn't know what to do with them, meaning if you do have an issue you do have to rely on customer service 'back home' and waiting around for couriers to deliver a new wheel rather than external gears which are ubiquitous around the globe and fixable by almost anyone.  True, but we trust in their reliability.
*  They can be a bit noisy, especially the seventh gear which is a bit gratey.  This is sort of true, but for us is of utter insignificance.
*  They're heavy.  Well maybe if you're an ultralight touring type this makes a difference, but for us, honestly, we're the heaviest component on our touring bikes and we'd probably eat the equivalent weight in day so...
*  They are really expensive, better to just spend the money on the adventure.  Again we'd agree with this, and if the choice was own this bit of kit and not go away or have external gears and go away then the choice would obviously be the latter.  But we are lucky enough to have saved enough to do both and we are generally of the philosophy of 'Buy Cheap, Buy Twice, or Thrice or...'  So if you have the money to buy the best quality do it as it'll save you in the long run.  We don't expect to ever need to buy new touring bikes, ever again, for the rest of our lives.  So this seems like a good investment to us.

First Few Days (Testing, Testing)

Our first multi-day adventure with all of our kit; figuring out what works, what doesn’t and if we like this kind of thing.

So on Sunday we set out from Sheffield, on the train, across to Lincoln.  We decided to hop on the train because we would have been just covering the same ground as the micro trip in July.  It’s always quite nerve racking using trains around Sheffield because on so many of the lines they only really allow two bikes, which means that if anybody else had decided to take a trip on their bike at the time to Lincoln, or any stop on the way, then our holiday would be off to a bad start.  Fortunately, the line started at Sheffield and we were the only folks with bikes so we headed east.

Once we arrived, we disembarked, got fully laden and had a bit of a fight with the tiny lifts at the station which only just fit one bike and rider at a time, but with the loaded bikes probably weighing in at over 30kg carrying them up the stairs and back down was not really an option.  Making our way out the station we headed to our first campsite in Fishtoft, just outside of Boston.  We found ourselves on some very picturesque back roads with no traffic so we could cycle side-by-side and just talk away the miles.  The roads were good quality and almost spirit level flat and we made pretty easy work of the 30+ miles to the campsite; all in all a great start to the first day.  We even managed to get the paraffin stove to roar away, I feel it wasn’t amazing and it took a long time to actually heat water but Sophie is determined and adamant that in Central and Southern America that we will be able to find plenty of fuel for it and any gas powered alternatives won’t be viable.

The night brought heavy rain and restless sleep, while the morning was spent battling with a wet, soggy tent and preparing for the day.  The Monday was the first time we’ve woke up in the tent, cycled, then set up camp again.  It was a full 60 mile day and I wasn’t sure how shattered we’d be after a full day cycling on heavy, very heavy bikes.  The cycling started off fairly dull; just mile after mile of main road with Monday morning traffic and rain just beating down as we just ground it out towards Kings Lynn.  After refuelling and buying some food for the next couple of meals we planned the route to Deepdale Backpackers, and pretty much by chance found a CTC route (Route 1) than followed a similar route to what we were planning, but with the added advantage of passing through Sandringham.  We joined the route and from the get go I was complaining about why I hate this kind of marked out route.  It takes you all the way round the houses to get to the same places.  It covers more miles but hinders any proper speed by making you cross roads or navigate tight turns and gates.  But then, it pointed us back onto the road, turned us right up a country lane and we yet again were cycling next to each other without the issue of cars.  Cycling this way is such a nice way to travel.  You get to see more because there are the two of you looking around and spotting things (like the crazy amount of dead frogs on the roads in Sandringham grounds), you have company to chat too and the miles just disappear and everything just seems easier especially now that the sun was shining.

Wednesday morning we set off in dreary mist along what we thought was the coast road towards Cromer and round to Great Yarmouth.   I say ‘thought was the coast road’ because we only managed the odd fleeting glimpse of the sea and despite being a fairly small road it was busy with traffic and presented us with rather undulating terrain.  Whenever we have talked to people about our holiday they have always commented about the flatness of Lincolnshire, Norfolk and Suffolk.  Maybe it’s the routes we are choosing but the roads are not that flat.  Don’t get me wrong; Sheffield is a very hilly place and I love a good climb, and the hills over the last few days have not been a scratch on the Peak District.  But it interesting how people often comment on the gradient of an area, but only have experience of it by car, where unless a hill is something major it presents no obstacle or even real feature to a driver, but the even slightest incline on a loaded touring bike is noticeable to the rider, and those comments about how flat and easy it will be echo in my ear as I’m spinning away up the hills.  So after a hilly morning of seeing next to no coast line in the rain we have some warming noodles in a car park in Cromer.   The final leg before our rest day was a fast (flat) 30miles to Clippersby Hall in glorious sunshine.

All in all the first days have been a major success.  The heavy bikes have been difficult at times but we’ve managed to get them where we need them to be.  The camping has been a little uncomfortable but I’m sure our bodies will adapt to it.  We have about week of cycling still to do but so far all’s well.

Optimus No. 96 and the Hunt for Fuel

When looking at possible stoves options I remembered that somewhere amongst my Dad’s stuff that I had put into storage in Tom’s folks’ attic was a small brass stove, with a name ending in ‘…mus’ if I remembered correctly. 

So we dug it out of the attic and I unpacked the contents of the small cardboard box emblazoned with the name ‘Optimus’ joined by Colin (Tom’s Stepdad) who told me that they’d had a stove like that when he was young.  My Dad had kept all the bits together and I pored over the instructions, spare parts and soon had the bits of the stove assembled.  It’s a beautiful little thing and when I told my Godfather, John, about the stove he said he remembered using it with my folks in India many years before I was even born and I loved the idea of taking this little piece of Swedish kit that my Dad had used away with us.

The instructions say that it requires methylated spirit for the spirit cup and ‘best quality paraffin (kerosene)’ for the actual burner.  It seems a bit faffy to have to carry 2 types of fuel, but I figured these would both be easy to come by and relatively cheap.

We’ve got ourselves some meths from the hardware shop down the road, but getting hold of kerosene or paraffin has proved nigh on impossible.  We’ve tried Go Outdoors, Towsure, B&Q, Wickes, local hardware shops and The Bike Tree which Optimus have listed as a dealer on their website and nothing, no joy.  But on the recommendation of one of the guys at Towsure we tried the garden centre and managed to find lamp fuel with ‘hydrotreated light kerosene EC265-149-8’ on the label having googled this and coming up with an MSDS we were pretty sure we’d found kerosene and this would work in the stove.   Then lo and behold I was in the massive B&Q near my work with Faye, my colleague, and her eagle-eyes spotted a lovely big canister of paraffin.  Bingo!

Since we’re off on our 2 week practice cycling holiday on the 14^th September we wanted to have the stove working for this little trial so we had a go in the back garden with the paraffin and meths.  Not entirely sure how to evaluate this first attempt...  We got it to light, but you can see from the photos that this was rather uncontrolled and regulating the flame and keeping it alight were not really achieved.  I am sure this is user error and that with a little patience and practice we can get it working a treat.  Tom isn't so sure.  So we'll take it on our little trial run and report back in a few weeks.

Ordering the Bikes

After months of consideration we have finally ordered our bikes; we have gone for two Tonka Yellow Thorn Nomads with flat handle bars and Rohloff hubs.

We visited SJS Cycles in Bridgwater in October while we were doing our first multi-day tour from Sheffield down to Lynton for a friend's 40th birthday bash and were pretty much convinced then to go for these machines but thought it best to keep researching, look at other bikes and get some other opinions before parting with that much hard-earned cash.