150 Mile House – Prince George (275km, 915km total)
July 28, 2020
150 Mile House – Alexandria, 73km
After nine days of rest, a massage, and plenty of social activity, I was on the road again.
I left full of gratitude for my hosts, John and Sally, and their dog, Jack. For rides into Williams Lake, meals, a bed, conversation, insights, laughs, and more.
John had agreed to drive me to to 150 Mile House, where he had originally picked me up over a week ago. Despite this being in the “wrong” direction according to my route, it was really important to me that my bike tour be stitched together with no gaps, each ride beginning on another ride’s ending.
The ride began with a 3km hill, a good test for my legs, which hadn’t received much work over the last week. Weather was cool and overcast. Somehow, no mosquitoes, but I thought better than to ask why.
I made my way from Likely Road to Mountain House Road and eventually reconnected with Highway 97, heading north toward Prince George. Road names can be so evocative. Even if the story behind the name of the road (and town) of Likely was plain and straightforward (it is; it was named for a popular prospector at the time, John Likely), its name sparked my imagination, bringing to mind the precarious lives of early settlers. Mountain House Road promised me warmth and shelter at the end of a hard day, if only I followed it to its end.
Something was up with my drivetrain. The belt was creaking annoyingly. I knew it was an alignment issue, but I couldn’t figure out why. I had a general sense of how to align the bolts, but I couldn’t effectively do anything with my knowledge. Eventually, I figured that the belt was too tight, so I did what I could to take out some of its tension, and it worked. Success! Tour intact.
Highway 97 rounded McLeese Lake. Yet another lake with no inviting beaches for a quick swim.
I found out about a campground 40km down the road from the lake and decided to make that my goal for the day, bringing the day’s total to 90km. Not bad. The weather, however, had other plans.
Soon, I was riding directly into the wind. I ruminated on how I had encountered nothing but headwind since leaving Lillooet. As I pressed on, I became certain that pushing to make the campground by nightfall would have left me exhausted and miserable with no time or energy to prepare dinner. So, I started scanning the roadside for a potential spot.
A sign for a cafe came up on the side of the road. It was closed, but the property was large and inviting for a tent. I looked around for someone who might be able to give me permission. I didn’t want to be interrupted once I’d unpacked everything and set up. A nice man working on the property gave me the go ahead. What a relief! The place was as good as any campground, with picnic tables to spare; public toilets; water access off the side of the cafe; and firm, flat, and grassy land ideal for a tent.
By 6pm I was making dinner. The wind that had made my ride suck made preparing dinner leisurely: mosquitoes don’t do well with the wind.
Reflecting on comfort, convenience, and adventure, I felt it was almost too convenient that I’d had consistent LTE-speed cell phone service along the length of Highway 97 so far. I wondered if it would continue on the Yellowhead Highway, east out of Prince George.
If the weather patterns held, I’d be riding the wind out of PG. But that was days away, and do the patterns ever hold?
July 29, 2020
Alexandria – Quesnel, 68km
My resolve to start early enough to avoid the wind failed. The cafe was open in the morning, and I couldn’t resist a warm leisurely breakfast.
Late morning, I hit the road at last.
Highway 97 was boring.
Headwind sucked.
Street signs were apparently the most interesting thing that I would be seeing today.
I arrived in Quesnel and thought of how great company would be. I looked at Warmshowers hosts in the area, not expecting to find much, because previous glances had suggested to me that Northern BC was largely absent of active hosts.
But, a name came up in Quesnel! I read through their profile and learned that they’d toured South Korea for five weeks, and I had been living in Korea at that time. Surely, I thought, we’d have already been in touch if that happened, since Warmshowers hosts are few and far between over there.
I checked my message history, and sure enough, I saw that we’d already corresponded. Incredible. Though they had ultimately never stayed with me in Korea, our conversation had concluded with their offer of a place to stay in Quesnel, should I ever be coming through the area. At the time, a bike tour of my own was a distant idea, and I had certainly never planned on coming through Quesnel.
Yet here I was.
How good was the company, conversation, food, and atmosphere. Sorely needed. Perhaps I’d been riding too hard, tiring myself out.
Their spare bedroom was a private gazebo in their expansive yard. It overlooked the Fraser River. I fell asleep to the distant churning of the river and the susurration of the trees in the wind.
July 30, 2023
Quesnel – Prince George, 122km
A beautiful breakfast, more conversation, and the feeling that I could have stayed for many more days.
The first 15km were serene as I navigated the quiet farm road back toward Highway 97.
Highway 97 was all ups and downs: emotionally, physically topographically…any metric in which extremes might be contrasted seemed appropriate in describing the toll this highway was taking on me.
I arrived at Hixon, about halfway to Prince George. It was hot out.
After a massive lunch and a quick dip in the copper coloured Naver Creek that the highway passed over, I continued on. I was cooking in the mid-afternoon heat. I took every possible opportunity to soak my shirt, had, and head.
Traffic trafficked, and Joe joed in turn. And by “joe,” I mean “yell at anything and everything that presents itself.” He was simultaneously the experiencer of and witness to his rage fits. He wondered if he was missing something. He felt better after his tantrums, and he found himself unaffected by them once they had passed, but he thought of himself as a bit unhinged. The road wasn’t as he wished it would be. Nothing would. And yet he acted as if it could have been otherwise.
I arrived in Prince George and headed first to London Drugs to pick up a package. How cool was it to arrive at a town and immediately have something waiting for me? Very cool, in case you were wondering. I had received a letter from Japan and new sandals (why had I bought new sandals and had them mailed to me? I no longer remembered). A warm letter can lift any mood, and Hazuki’s did just that. Even writing her name down conjured up all the good vibrations we’d collectively generated since our friendship began back in 2018.
Naomi, whom you’ll recall I’d met in Lillooet, put me in touch with her mom, who lived just outside Prince George, and I was soon being whisked away to a beautiful log house on 15 acres; being prepared an incredible late dinner; and sharing interesting and edifying conversation about musical healing, massage therapy techniques, dad jokes, love, loss, compassion, finding equanimity in a brutal world, etc.
I had a few errands to do in Prince George, but I had reached the northern limit of this tour. When I started riding again, I’d be heading east, toward the Rocky Mountains.
I slept soundly.
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